I have decided to end my blog. Not my writing, just my blog. With the kids all grown, I think it’s time the shoe must go on…to other writing projects, other stories and other endeavors.
I want to thank all my subscribers and readers. Thank you for all the comments and encouragement over the past 13 years. I’ve had a lot of fun writing From The Shoe. Thanks to the friends who helped proofread and edit my blog posts. You know who you are. 🙂
It’s funny, I no longer feel like a mom. With the kids grown and living their lives, my role as mother has formally ended. They don’t need me like that anymore.
I know I am still their mom, and will always be, but the work of a mother with minor children is over. And most of my columns were about raising a bunch of wild and crazy kids. I’d like to write different things now. We’ll see where the shoe goes.
I am in uncharted waters. I have never been this old. I haven’t been this alone (not lonely) just alone, on my own, in nearly 40 years. I look at how my folks navigated retirement and pre-old age, and still can find no map. They were well-rooted, grounded people unlike their hapless hare of a daughter. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths” will have to be my compass, the One Quiet Star. He is definitely trustworthy.
Nearly 40 years ago, I embarked on another unknown journey after I graduated from college. Then, too, I looked to the One Quiet Star. The Star I first saw through a bedroom window in my parents’ house when I was a teenager. I wished upon it. This was before I knew its Maker. I saw it that first semester at St. Mary’s sitting on a cold concrete stair looking at the blue-orange western sky, and it was brilliant. It comforted me as I started my last leg of college work at a new school.
I saw that Star in the San Pablo sun-setting sky amidst the happy chaos of rambunctious little kids, and even through the sad times when the course took an abrupt turn. It hung over the tempestuous Pacific during those difficult years. I see it from the back porch of my house, still guiding me on the journey I set out on in 1979 when I decided to follow Jesus. And even this past week, as I traveled home from the mid-west, the One Quiet Star shone almost as bright as the Strawberry Moon somewhere in the California desert, reminding me again of Who walks with me.
I am not going to worry like I used to about where I’d end up. Now, I am trying to be content in this moment, this day, this place, and with those who are around me now. Because I know, it’s not gonna last. One day, probably soon, the last of the kids will fly. Then the house will be really quiet. So, I want to continue “to be a pilgrim on the right journey, never to lose sight of the One Quiet Star on the horizon” wherever It may lead.
One of the Helicopter Mom’s greatest tools is texting. I know many would say the Life 360 App is the best, but, I confess, I have never used it. I’m still old school. I still remember the days when my parents had no idea where I was and what I was doing. And, primarily, for that reason, and the fact that if I used that app, I would be a wreck, I have refused to use it. But my kids use it for each other, so when I am tempted to know where someone is, I tread the unpredictable waters and inquire from one of the kids. But I was a habitual heli-texter. Yes, you heard me right…”was”. I am proud to announce most of my heli-texting days are probably over.
Heli-texting, what the…heck is that? Well, I made up the word last night. Backstory… I live with three nocturnal creatures…my daughters. They go out every night, even after a long day at work or at school. And one of them is like a four o’clocker…almost always a very late night. Horrible conditions in which to quit heli-texting. I don’t know where they are. I have been long exiled into the “need-to-know basis” territory. Much to my chagrin.
Anyway, last night, I was home all alone, all the creatures, even the ones next door, were out. I didn’t know where most of them were. I had been working on ditching heli-texting for almost a month, but I did panic a little last night before I went to bed because one of the kids said they were coming home before going out again. Didn’t come home, didn’t text. So general anxiety panic disorder (GAPD) set in. (I made that up too.) And I fell off the wagon, and began to type out a text, copy it and sent to each of my offspring. To which I got two answers. Then I finally heard noises downstairs from one of those nocturnal creatures who had returned home. I went to check it out. I asked, “Where is everyone?” One of the persons present told me of a potentially harried tale while the other person present tried to throttle him. And all I said, “If they’re home safe, I don’t care.” And I added, “Hey, haven’t you even noticed I haven’t’ been “heli-texting” anymore?” To which, my daughter replied, “Hella texting?” “No, heli-texting…helicopter texting. Hey, I just made up that word.” She wasn’t too impressed. I went back to bed and went to sleep.
Heli-texting, or known as hella-texting apparently in the Bay Area, is helicopter parenting via text. That’s it. It’s blowing up their phones. I even googled heli-texting and couldn’t find any match for that word. Therefore, I hereby unofficially patent the word and take ownership. And why not? I am an expert…albeit a retired one.
I wrote a blog, “Hope For The Helicopter Mom”, about an incident when my oldest son tried to check my rampant heli-texting. Heading over to the City back when he was like 17, he told me I only get five texts. I sweated through the evening and he arrived home safe and sound just using five texts. But that was twenty years ago, it’s only recently that I’ve quit heli-texting.
A few weeks ago, I don’t remember exactly what happened, but as I’ve tried to emotionally distance myself from my grown kids and put the mothering to rest, I decided to quit bugging them via text. Just quit bugging entirely. They’re grown, they’re doing their own things (nail biting) and unless they loop me in, I’ve got to find something else to do. In a conversation on a podcast, the interviewer reiterated some of Jordan Peterson’s words to him: “I heard you recently talk about a mother’s ability to let her child go out into the world knowing that they’re still vulnerable and that it’s now down to them and the world to look after them, that’s one of the bravest things…” To which Jordan Peterson finished the thought, “It’s the female crucifixion.” He went on to describe the Pieta and Mary’s grief after the crucifixion.
Yes!! Letting them go, go out into the world – a place you know is dangerous and evil as well as beautiful and glorious – knowing they are so young and inexperienced is likened to something as traumatic as a crucifixion. Letting them go has been that hard. And what keeps me on track to not worry, be anxious or fretful is that, as a Christian, I am called to JOY, PEACE, LOVE and HOPE, things that cannot survive in the hazardous environment of fear.
Lest you think I’ve arrived at total acquiescence and indifference to my kids’ independence and activities, I do still peak out the bathroom window after I wake up and count the cars, and, sigh a heartfelt “Thank You, Lord.” So what am I supposed to do now? Read my last blog post here.
“I am old now…” like Orual in C. S. Lewis’ “Til We Have Faces. And like Orual, I have “this lean carrion that still has to be washed and fed and have clothes hung about it daily with so many changes,” well not so lean. Perhaps one of my new dreams is to get back into some better health. My old roommate from 1978 sent me photos from the “good old days”. I was trim, pretty and had all of my original teeth. I was even pretty athletic, maybe I can get back to that “lean carrion.”
One of my first dreams was to get married and have a big family. I wrote about wanting lots of kids, running around with animals, laughter, baking and fun. I wanted to raise them with a knowledge of the Lord so when they were adults they would chose His way. Most of that dream came true. The reality, though, was a little different than what I had imagined. But I did it…and I did it to the best of my ability with the tools I had. The regrets I have, I can live with.
My second dream was to get a house for my kids, especially after our lives exploded by divorce. I was obsessed for years, I was determined to find a place of our own one day, at least for the kids who were still with me. I was a regular on Redfin, scouring the site for houses I could afford. It took years to build my credit, and income to get to a place where I could buy. And finally, a couple years ago, thanks to my Mom and Dad, I had the new house, but before I knew it, the kids were all grown.
Some of them still live with me and enjoy this beautiful home…and I am grateful for the time I have left with these adult kids. Sometimes they will even hang out with me, like when a couple of the kids went to Paint Night with me or when one introduced me to a cool Irish pub in Berkeley last March. A couple even came with me to Vegas to see Barry Manilow back in 2023. Even though I see them daily and hang out sometimes, I feel a little like an outcast. They are into their own lives now, which is perfectly natural. But, nonetheless, I do think I may be suffering from a little post-maternal depression. It’s tough letting these guys go.
I am grateful though and glad that they like to hang out with each other. They are each others homies, well some of them are. There was a time when THEY were my homies (literally), they were my best buds and I hung out with them all the time. They were even my “Get Out of Social Events Free” card. Handy when you’re an introvert with social anxiety. They did everything I did, pretty much. Then they grew up. I’m not their homie anymore. That part of the dream of raising a big family is over. Boy, it seemed to go by fast.
Now, what am I gonna do? I have to work for a while longer…but soon I will retire. My imagination has withered, I can’t think of anything to do. Probably because most of the folks I hung out with for the past 35 years are otherwise engaged. All of the things I’ve wanted the past three decades had to do with the kids. And, now, poof! They don’t need me anymore.
But…what did C.S. Lewis purportedly say, according to that beacon of reliability, the Internet, “You are never too old to set a new goal or to dream a new dream.” I guess the Shoelady needs to find a new dream and a new goal.
I guess I could continue writing. I’ve had some success with my little screenplays. I could still do that. Writing is tough though, I spend a lot of time wrestling the self-doubt demons. I am determined to sell at least one story to Woman’s World Magazine. Si, se puede!
I should also probably be more active and get into better shape like those old 1978 photos, sans the beer. Especially if I am going to do the next thing.
I’ve had this dream of traveling around the world. Inspired by a photo taken of me by my friend on our Alaskan Cruise. “Shoelady Shoots the World” is the idea. Since I don’t drive freeways or fly, this world tour will be trains, boats and taxis. It’s a great idea, right? But I’m afraid I’ve become somewhat of an agoraphobe. I’m getting very comfortable in my room with my own library, my spa-like tub and my washing machine unit. I don’t even need to go downstairs and try to mix with the cool kids. Me and Columbo are having a good time up here.
But, then I remember the trip to Rome in 1996, my mother was pushing 67 (my age when I retire) and she was awesome. Running here and there, from the Coliseum, to the Catacombs along cobblestone streets and even chasing down the Pope in his Popemobile. I could do that, well maybe not chase down the Pope. I don’t have to resign myself to who knows how many years of Columbo reruns and self-pity parties. Come on, Donna. Dream better, dream wider, dream bigger.
My co-worker, who is a year older than I and wants to retire about the same time, was recently telling me about some trips he and his wife have booked. He even mentioned that they may plan a Christmas Markets trip to Europe. I googled the markets….oh my, cool weather, holiday lights, baked goods and hot chocolate smack dab in the middle of Europe. Europe, a place I’ve wanted to revisit when I’d have more time. Cathedrals, libraries, art museums…what’s not to love? Could I do that? That’s certainly new dream material, right?? Maybe my World Tour will take shape. After Europe, then Asia…Istanbul, the Holy Land, maybe India, Australia…my imagination can go wild.
There was a poem from one of my devotionals that was timely when I was just about to start working full time (about 12 years ago). I had to put my youngest into after school care and manage the after school activities of the other five kids who were still school age. I was terrified, but it was a great opportunity, and a stepping stone to providing for my family.
“Step out on the waves
that would crush you!
Step out in the storm
that would hush you!
And you will find,
As you touch the crest
You feared so much,
And walked on its breast,
There was One walking there,
The whole night through,
Walking, watching,
Waiting — FOR YOU!”
Dare I ride that wave again? Dare I dream of going to places I’ve wanted to see for decades? Dare I trust the Lord to guide continually, even in this endeavor, this new dream, this new goal?
What say you? (heehee a little LOTR reference) 🙂
So to be sure of what to desire in the future, I will cling to Psalm 37:4: “Delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the desires of your heart.” I will each day try my best to delight in Him, in prayer, in Bible reading and in trying to work out this faith in my daily life. As a co-worker, as a “mom/roommate”, as a woman stepping out onto another wave. The pastor in a recent sermon recounted a time where he called out to the Lord in prayer: “God, I want more of You. I don’t know what I’m looking for, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just need Your Presence here.” Although he recounts this as his point of conversion, I like the prayer as I enter a new season of my life. I want more of Him…I want to delight in Him…and then He will reveal to me the true desires of my heart. Amen.
Images generated in Canva AI. Canva AI is too much fun.
Daffodils have been abloom in Pacifica this past month. I love this flower — it is so delightful, so innocent, so cheerful, yet, sadly, so short-lived. At the end of January, the green shoots are standing tall. I was excited to see them. I knew the flowers were coming. Seemingly, overnight, the blossoms bloomed. There they were, in their yellow glory. But, now, the stalks are leaning and the flowers are beginning to fade.
Isaiah writes, “All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades…” Daffodils as well as all flowers represent the brevity of life. I remember the lives that have faded from my life, and one life, especially, that was cut off before it was fully abloom.
As you know, my dad died four months ago. The hardest death I’ve experienced. Everyday, I think of him…and the ache…the sense of loss…the sadness overwhelms me. He was no daffodil, he was like, as my niece Katie described, the redwoods he loved. He lived a long life, his flower never faded, but the tree was struck down by the Great Inevitable; and the subsequent loss has shook our family like no other event. His presence will be missed, his voice, though many times formidable, is sought for…many changes are going on in my life right now, changes I’d normally ask his advice on. He was the one I turned to for stability, for wisdom, for continuity. The strong pier I latched my little barque to. And now it’s flooding, and the pier is gone. Thankfully my Heavenly Father provides an eternal mooring.
My uncle died six years ago. He lived a full and active life. His bloom lasted as long as one would expect. He was a teacher who was a perpetual student. His home was filled with thousands of books, a haven for a bookworm like me. His homes were the places where I fell in love with books, and for that I will always be thankful and blessed. He traveled, he entertained, and he only slowed down a month before his blossom faded.
Finally, this day seven years ago, my family and I (and many others I know) remember a flower that didn’t have the time to fully bloom or ever fade. He died at 22 just reaching the full, vibrant bloom of youth. He was a beloved son to his mother as well as other women, including me. He was a beloved brother to all my children, all ten of them. Many of them mentioned that Jesse was the only one that knew them. He was like that – he noticed you and he listened to you.
I was an overprotective homeschooling mom in the middle of a divorce when this kid came bounding down the stairs with my boys into my home. I smelled trouble. So I was apprehensive — but this kid’s irrepressible charm and contagious smile won me over. At a time in my life when I felt not only invisible, but defeated, dejected and definitely down in the dumps (I was progressing in my housekeeping, though), Jesse noticed me too, he even called me “sexy” when I felt and I am sure looked quite the opposite. I am still amazed at the capacity and depth of love that not only my children, but their friends felt for this young man. And to this day…we miss our Jesse, our “Jelly Donut”.
Leo Buscaglia wrote: “What love we’ve given, we’ll have forever. What love we fail to give, will be lost for all eternity.” We who loved Jesse, Robert, Uncle Bill and Dad will always have that. This life is so short….the blossoms bloom for a short time, then the flowers fade, let us heed the psalmist’s admonition: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Wisdom that will cherish our brief stay here on earth, and those who are among us.Â
FROM THE SHOE 