Don’t be the other woman

The brain has an amazing ability to protect itself. Wounds from our childhood can cause us to hemorrhage unless our brain stops the bleeding. It does this by blocking out all traumatic memories. My brain has taken the opposite approach, however. It can recall in the greatest detail good and bad events from my childhood. Even though I was not quite talking, I can recall my favorite dress, the shabby playhouse in our backyard and even the toys I loved. Those were all pleasant memories. But I also remember the not-so-pleasant ones: those are the details my brain will not let me forget.

Around the age of nine, I spent an enjoyable day at the fair with my parents. As we were leaving, a young, beautiful brunette ran up to my dad and threw her arms around him. My dad graciously accepted the hug. He was good-looking, with a bright smile and charming ways; these qualities made him very attractive to women. The woman was flirtatious and wasn’t as excited to meet my mother or my dad’s three children. This seemingly minor event caused a major argument. My parents fought for the full forty-five-minute drive home and well into the night. This was not the first time a woman had been overly friendly with my dad, and not the last time my mom would be jealous.

I know my dad was not innocent in this situation. He loved to add to my mom’s insecurities. She accused him of cheating, though he denied it. This was the same argument, just a new woman. But this one event shaped who I am today. As a young girl, I decided I would never want to be the cause of such intense jealousy, or damage someone else’s marriage. The unknown woman probably never realized the uproar she had caused. I came to understand that when you’re married there is no such thing as “innocent flirting.”

As a wife, I have an even deeper appreciation for women who don’t flirt with my husband, but I also understand that not every woman will be so considerate. Some women crave attention from men, even when they know they’re married. They never give a passing thought to the wife, who has invested her life in this one individual, or the insecurities it may bring to the surface. Some husbands will encourage this behavior which only adds to the cycle of jealousy. Security in a marriage is priceless! I understand the struggles, which is why I respect other wives, and I have made a vow that I will never be the other woman.

PERSEVERE

This is my mantra: PERSEVERE, PERSEVERE, PERSEVERE! What is perseverance? Adherence to a course of action, belief, or purpose with steadfastness. To stay the course, to hold steady in the wind, to be firm and resolved about your purpose. I would much rather be flighty, restless and squirrelly (as my dad would say). If you have seen a squirrel trying to cross the road in a frantic, confused manner, you can picture how I usually live my life.

Persevering means to continue on a course even when it’s lost its pizzazz, sparkle and newness. It’s looking at the path far ahead and plotting the right direction. This can be difficult in an instant-gratification society. When you don’t like your job, you quit, when your car loses its new smell, it’s time to upgrade, when your spouse seems dull, you trade them in for a new one.

Anyone who is truly successful has learned to master perseverance. They have experienced all the phases: Phase 1) Newness and excitement. Phase 2) Challenges and overcoming difficulty. Phase 3) Mastery and monotony. Phase 4) Persevering.

I love the first stage. The "what if" stage. The possibilities are limitless. A new love, a new job, a new business, a new house, a new town. It's easy to want to stay in this stage, to live only on excitement. When phase two starts and you feel the slight twinge of discomfort from dealing with challenges and difficulties you are ready to abandon ship. But if you do, you will never make it to the crucial stage: the phase of perseverance. Without it, we give up too soon. With it, the rewards are finally realized, and our efforts and endurance are returned with interest.

Life gives you character

I love to drive down a road full of houses with character. The ones that have stood the test of time, that are unequal. Age only makes them more remarkable. They are not cheap, and are truly unique—they have been built with patience and quality. They have a personality all their own. That is how a home should look, and how it should feel. Unfortunately, most homes today are built in a rush, without thought for excellence.

Based completely on emotion we decided to buy a house that is exactly 100 years old. It is slightly quirky and by no means perfect. Some days I adore it, other days, it's faults drive me crazy. It has a personality all it's own, and it feels like home.

People can also posses this same amount of character. Age only seems to enhance their excellence. They have let time refine them, and they have built their lives with patience and quality. They are not perfect but when you are with them, you feel like you are home. If you have a chance to meet someone like this, savor every moment, be in awe! Learn from them!

We are not born with character; life gives us our flavor. It may be bitter, sweet, sour, spicy, even odd. Someone with character will tell you where you stand. You will be able to trust them with your life. Their trials have enhanced them. They are empathic. They are wise. You are better, because of knowing them. They have stood the test of time, they are unique: life has given them character.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket

This is one expression both my parents could agree on. I heard it over and over as a child. It is very easy to put all of your energy into one thing. It may be a job, a relationship, money, your mate, your friends. Your identity is based on that one thing. If it fails, you’re a failure; if it succeeds, you’re a success.

My husband was a good example of this. He worked at a winery, where most of his time and energy was spent. He loved it! It gave him value and worth. He had other priorities, but this was his biggest. But this all changed the day we had our daughter. Now the winery didn’t seem as important. He knew he had to make a change. So he did the unthinkable, and quit. When he quit, he lost all his eggs. He lost his identity, his value, his worth.

This was a valuable lesson that he willingly learned. Some people are not given the option. Many don’t realize they have put so much emphasis on one thing until it’s gone. Maybe they have neglected friends and family in order to put all their energy into their marriage. Perhaps they have neglected all of their friends and family to concentrate on their career. The disaster is just waiting to happen. The day the basket breaks. The day the mate leaves, or the job is lost.

Just like the stock market, the safest course is diversification. To have many assets spread evenly across the board. To keep all things balanced and in proper perspective. Develop friendships with a variety of people. Enjoy your mate, but don’t neglect your family. Appreciate your career, but know it’s just one of your assets. Remember that all things in life are transient. A job can be gone tomorrow, a family member lost indefinitely, a friendship severed. Choose the best eggs carefully, treat them delicately and make sure you don’t put them all in one basket.

Struggle transforms

It seems that things often work out, for a reason beyond our comprehension. The things we fight and deny are the same things we need the most. I have seen a golden thread spun out of many bad situations. Perhaps you would rather avoid the grief; but if you can’t, at least you can let it mold you.

The last time I had dinner with my family, I felt overwhelming gratitude. I was happy and content. Sadly, it has taken me many years and much struggle to reach this point, but I have finally found peace. My husband asked me later, “Would you have believed ten years ago that you would feel this way?” Not a chance!

My dad’s death has opened many doors for his wife. I am sure she would have preferred to avoid the sadness of his loss, but she couldn’t. The choices she has made since his death are probably not the same ones she would have made before his death. She has taken a bad situation and found the golden thread.

Being an awkward child, I fought learning how to ride my bike. I was content running after all the kids on our block as they glided around on their bicycles. Finally my family had enough and I was forced to learn something most children can’t wait to master. It took much patience, and quite a few tears—mostly from those trying to teach me—but I finally got it. After all the struggle, my life improved. Something that had seemed impossible now was effortless.

Life can be the same way. We instinctively recoil when a difficulty is placed in our lap. As if it were a snake, we panic and push it away, pretending it doesn’t exist. We try to get as far away as possible. But this often just prolongs the agony. Struggling is an indicator that we are under construction. It means that we are changing and learning, not only about things around us, but about our own strength. It may require patience and quite a few tears, but after all the struggle, something that seemed impossible will become effortless. We will emerge like butterflies, amazed at our own capacity to transform.

Sainthood

It’s easy to turn those who have died into saints. You overlook obvious flaws and overemphasize the goodness. An ordinary, average person can become extraordinary the day they die.

Now that my dad is gone we only seem to remember his amazing attributes. This is a source of contention for my mom because we have not shown her the same forgiveness. We have turned my dad into a saint: St. William Arnold. He would get a good laugh out of the whole situation. His final revenge.

My dad was able to pull this same maneuver when we were teenagers. He left town for an extended period of time after my parent’s divorce. Even though I felt angry and abandoned at the time, I soon forgave him. Then and now, only remembering the good, bright and sunny moments can ease the pain. It somehow makes the separation bearable. I gain much comfort recalling the positive qualities my dad displayed. But he was not a saint. He had flaws, he made mistakes, he was human.

Around the time my dad died, I learned some valuable information about my great-grandfather, who had passed away when I was a child. All my life I had been told about his amazing, saintly attributes. But no one ever talked about his flaws. I was shocked to learn of his failings. To know he was human.

The irony is that when you die, you are forgiven of the mistakes that follow you when you’re alive. This is a natural human tendency: to memorialize those who are gone, to set them on a pedestal. The sad part is that we can’t seem to do this when the person is living. For most of us death may be the only time we achieve sainthood.

Every child is unique

My mom told me how much character her grandchildren have. And then she said, “I don’t remember you guys having such unique personalities.”

But I have a feeling we did. The sad part is that sometimes as adults we get so caught up in the stress of life that we don’t appreciate the truly unique individuals growing up before our eyes.

To this day, my brother, sister and I are very distinct. You would never confuse our personalities. From the day each of my children were conceived, I noticed their individuality. My type A daughter was the one who bruised my organs, kicking vigorously in the womb. She arrived on a Saturday when all her people could be there to greet her. The drama continues to this day…

Because my son was so lethargic in the womb, I worried something was terribly wrong with him. He was born healthy, but not happy. He seemed bugged by the whole event. He has a temper and can hold a grudge, but is still not in a hurry to do anything. My youngest came on her due date and has been consistent ever since. She is spirited and opinionated, and I wouldn’t have her any other way. They all came from the same parents, but that is just about all they have in common.

There are little people all around us, waiting to shine. Every one of them has the potential to be magnificent. It’s easy to think that children are too young to have feelings and thoughts. We don’t acknowledge them or take them into consideration. This can break a child’s spirit. They need to be valued. They need to learn to be themselves. So each day that I am allowed to be a mother I hope that I will treasure my children, encourage their creativity, and smile when they show their amazing, never duplicated, uniqueness.