Family – Page 9 – The Dolly Mama

Celebration, Family, Grief, Marriage, motherhood, Thanks

Kitchen Table, I Will Miss You Most of All

Posted on October 18, 2019 by Esther Goetz

Kitchen Table,

Here I sit on one of your chairs, spending some much-needed time with you today. What a mess you are, strewn with apples just bought at the farm stand, my purse, books I am reading, an open cereal container, a dirty plate filled with the remains of eggs and toast, my phone, some unpaid bills and a piping hot cup of tea.

You couldn’t be more perfect.

I am so sorry that I am not bringing you with me next week when we move.

You have been such a strong, yet inviting friend to me. Out of everything I am leaving behind, I will miss you most of all.

I will miss choosing you at the furniture shop over 28 years ago, my thoughts of the future with you swirling in my head.

I will miss decorating you for every.single.reason. From apples to pumpkins to snowflakes to birthdays to easter eggs to whatever tickled my fancy.

I will miss babies being pulled up in their high chairs next to you, surrounded by faces of those who love them.

I will miss the spinning lazy Susan in your middle that holds napkins, salt and pepper, the standard balsamic vinaigrette, butter and some spicy seasoning I refuse to try.

I will miss dogs licking up all the crumbs off the floor beneath you.

I will miss spaghetti-faced toddlers “coloring” you with red sauce.

I will miss sheets turning you into a fort for Dad and his little ones.

I will miss the small missing piece on your leaf where one of us dropped something hard and you paid the price.

I will miss your chairs where each one of us sat in our “assigned” places.

I will miss dishes being set on you for large family gatherings where you became the “kid’s table.”

I will miss laughing and crying, listening and talking, whispering and yelling, all of it.

I will miss nails being painted, pumpkins being carved and homework assignments being mostly finished on top of you.

I will miss the dreams shared, the scoldings given, and the “you have to try it” mantra being repeated every single night.

I will miss friends throwing purses on you and coats on your chairs as hearts were shared in another room.

I will miss birthday parties with cupcakes crumbled in your crevices and balloons tied to your chairs.

I will miss Thanksgiving soup being prepared as veggies and turkey were chopped into tiny pieces on your very sturdy, formica (but wood-look) top.

I will miss the way you endured beer-sampling, game-playing and appetizer-eating on all those crazy extended family holidays.

I will miss arguments, raised voices and quieter apologies with you right there in the middle of it all, holding us together.

I will miss how you held Easter baskets, babies, fondue sets, games, legos and gingerbread houses, displaying for everyone to see.

I will miss flowers, invitations and decorations scattered all over you as showers and weddings were being prepped.

I will miss normal family dinners when someone got trouble for poking the person next to them. (NOTE: It was never Dad.)

I will miss how you watched from afar as silly pictures were being taken on the computer only a few feet from you.

I will miss Friday pizza nights when you were sprinkled with paper plates and plastic cups filled with everyone’s favorite drink of choice.

BUT what I will really miss is the way you stayed with me through six kids, four houses, one marriage, lots of hellos, many goodbyes, and all the celebrations and sadness that made up our family. You stayed with me.

How good and precious for me to be alone with you right now, just the two of us, saying our goodbye to each other. Thank you for being with me as tears sneak down my cheek, a lump forms in my throat and I not-so-secretly hate leaving you behind. I couldn’t be more grateful to you. Thank you. Thank you. You have held my heart well.

You have been a mess in the past. You are a mess right now. But you have been perfect. You couldn’t be more perfect.

I will miss you most of all.

Esther

Faith, Family, Grief, motherhood

Two Babies

Posted on October 16, 2019 by Esther Goetz

I wasn’t good at listening to pain in those early mom years.

I was good at getting things done.

I wasn’t good at facing loss in those early mom years.

I was good at never looking back.

I wasn’t good at sitting in grief in those early mom years.

I was good at looking at the “bright side.”

I lost two babies in the middle of all the other pregnancies that bore children and never skipped a beat. I got things done. I never looked back. I looked at the “bright side.”

This morning, as the reality of moving away from our family home in just a few short days, along with my grown-up children sleeping in homes far away,

I choose to skip a beat.

I choose to listen to my pain. I choose to not get things done. I choose to remember those babies whose names I will never know, who didn’t get to live in our family home and who are not now sleeping in homes far away.

I choose to face my loss. I choose to look back. I lost those babies. I am losing my home. I am losing my heavy-duty, active mom years.

I choose to sit right here for at least a few minutes with this gentle friend called grief. I choose to look at the shadow side. Those two precious souls who live with Jesus in heaven makes this mama heart sad. The truth that I will never sit around my beat-up kitchen table again with my kids makes me sad. The memories of little ones clutching my pant legs and teenagers sleepily coming down the stairs on Christmas morning makes me sad.

I choose to not rush to joy this morning. It’s really good in this place.

Charity, Faith, Family, Friendship, Thanks

LOVE is Still Winning

Posted on October 9, 2019January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

It can feel like HATE is winning. Fear creeps into our skin and buries deep within us, tearing our souls in shreds. Despair tangles her knots around our spirits, attempting to blow out the tiny flickers of hope we carry inside.

Hate is NOT winning. It will never win.

LOVE is winning. LOVE will always win.

LOVE WINS WHEN A…

…mommy and daddy hold their newborn and shout, “We are so in love!” on social media and then take 1,345,428 pictures for the next year.

…married couple look deep into each other’s hurting eyes and say, “We will fight for each other. Let’s go to a counselor.”

…toddler giggles at the sight of their aunt coming in the door, arms filled with gifts that only she can get away with giving.

…friend texts in the middle of the day and says, “I’m here. Call me day or night.”

…teacher pulls her “spicy” student aside, and says, “I believe in you.”

…top executive makes his way to an inner city soup kitchen on a Friday night in the pouring rain.

…garbage collector rings your doorbell to remind you it’s Tuesday because your trash cans are still in your garage and then waits until you go running downing the driveway in your jammies with said cans flailing behind (#personalstory)

…gangly middle-schooler takes a risk to befriend the new kid who moved into the neighborhood.

…hospice worker cares tirelessly, going many extra miles, for the victim of a dreaded disease.

…person on the “other side” shares these words, “I hear you. I see your point of view.”

…boss reminds a new and confused worker that failure is part of eventual success.

…grandpa plays “peek-a-boo” for the 48th time in the last 10 minutes.

…customer in the grocery store line steps aside and says, “Go ahead of me.”

…Savior sends a gorgeous rainbow to remind us of his promise never to leave us or forsake us.

…mechanic takes the time to help a stranger in need in the middle of Kansas on a cross-country trek (#anotherpersonalstory CLICK HERE)

…victim chooses forgiveness over revenge

…knowing smile that says, “me too,” sneaks to the lips of a stranger across the room.

…doctor takes the extra minute in the room and says, “I’m here to help. You will not fight this alone.”

…roommate utters the precious words, “I’ll do the dishes tonight.”

Overwhelming peace quiets our desperate souls. Hope is lit brightly again far down in our fledgling spirits.

It’s everywhere. It’s all the time.

LOVE is winning. LOVE will always win.

Family, motherhood

Sometimes We Just Need to Be the Mom

Posted on October 1, 2019 by Esther Goetz

Sometimes we just need to be the mom.

Not the teacher who makes sure they have all their facts straight.

Not the coach who makes sure they have all their moves right.

Not the pastor who makes sure they have all their acts together.

Not the mouth that speaks, but the ears that hear and arms that hold.

Sometimes we just need to be the mom.

Faith, Family, Marriage, motherhood

This Felt Almost Creepy

Posted on September 19, 2019 by Esther Goetz

This felt almost creepy when I checked my TimeHop earlier this week.

I dug deep inside my cerebellum, to no avail, trying to recall what was going on 10 years ago to make me write this (especially as a Facebook status).

My kids were 17, 16, 13 and 9 at the time. My husband was working in New York City, commuting about three hours a day. Enough said. I needed a lot of trusting God.

I still do.

Some days, I march into the beautiful mess of my life, fully alive and filled with hope and peace. Trusting God comes almost eerily easy.

Other days, I wake up with my heart racing. Getting out of bed and facing the challenges in front of me seems daunting. Trusting God feels impossible.

This little reminder (thank you technology) stopped me in my mental tracks. WOW! God was worth trusting for the last 10 years. I am living proof.

He’s shown up in ways unimaginable then. He’s guided and guarded our family (through our own crappy choices and circumstances). He’s walked beside me, holding me in the darkness and cheering me on in the light. He’s been worth trusting.

Today, my kids are 27, 26, 23 and 19 and live in four different cities. There’s now a son-in-law and toddler in the mix. My husband works in Pittsburgh, commuting on an airplane three days a week. Enough said. I need a lot of trusting God.

So TimeHop, I know 10 years from now, this post is going to come up on my screen (or whatever we have then). Another gentle reminder to keep trusting God for the next 10…

(yikes, I will be 63)!

Family, motherhood

TEN MOM QUESTIONS I AM DEFINITELY ASKING GOD WHEN I SEE HIM 🤣

Posted on September 10, 2019 by Esther Goetz

I have a little beef with the Creator of the Universe (even though I secretly know He’s smarter than me)! 27 1/2 years of “why?” “huh?” “why not?” swirling around in my parental cerebrum. It feels good to finally get it out on “paper.” Don’t stress. It’s all in good fun!

ADD YOUR OWN! You’ve got something swirling around!

Family, Grandparenthood, Grief, Marriage, motherhood

I Want to Numb It!

Posted on September 2, 2019 by Esther Goetz

I want to watch Law and Order.

I want to eat coconut almond joy ice cream.

I want to wash every sheet and towel in the house.

I want to take a nap.

I WANT TO NUMB IT.

I don’t want to sit with the sadness of saying goodbye to the summer.

I don’t want to sit with the sadness of saying goodbye to my husband and children and their loves.

I don’t want to sit with the sadness of saying goodbye to the squeals of laughter from my most adorable grandson.

I don’t want to sit with the sadness of saying goodbye to the fireworks, the sandy flip flops, the bike rides and eating pizza without guilt.

BUT I WILL.

I won’t watch Law and Order at least until later tonight.

I won’t eat ice cream until tomorrow.

I might wash some of the sheets and towels, but not all of them.

I will stay awake, sit on the porch and make friends with this place I find myself in. I am sad and that’s EXACTLY where I am supposed to be.

I am also strangely okay.

Front porch, summer’s end, here I come.

“A time to laugh. A time to weep.” (Solomon)

Childhood, Family, motherhood, Thanks

FOR MOMS: When You Want to Bite Back! Some HOPE!

Posted on August 21, 2019 by Esther Goetz

Your toddler just threw a temper tantrum and bit you.

Your seven-year-old yelled at dinner last night that he wishes he lived at Jimmy’s house.

Your middle-schooler, in no uncertain terms, rolled her eyes at you with disgust.

Your teen slammed his bedroom door and you could hear the angry muffled words, “I hate you!”

Moms, in the middle of the quagmire, I feel you. I hear you. It takes everything in you not to bite back, wish for a different life yourself, roll your own eyes and scream, “I hate you too!”

You wonder why you ever did this mom gig. It’s gut-wrenching as your own heart is torn in shreds when most of what you’ve done is LOVE this child with every fiber of your being.

Older moms told me over and over and over again a million times that one day, these children of mine would actually realize what I’d done for them. One day, all those times of seeming distaste for me would be swallowed up in gratitude.

It was hard for me to even fathom such a thing. No one could have convinced me that it would ever be true. But it gave me just a flicker of HOPE when I needed it most.

HOPE to not bite back.

HOPE to not give up.

HOPE to pray for help.

HOPE to say “I love you.”

Today, I extend that same HOPE to you. One day, you will get a message like this and your heart will leap right out of your chest and it will settle back down with deep satisfaction and joy!

You’ve got this, Sweet Mama!

***Feel free to share with any mama out there that needs some hope herself today***

Celebration, clean water, Faith, Family, homeless, Marriage, Thanks

Happy Birthday Allen!

Posted on August 11, 2019 by Esther Goetz

“The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green.” (Thomas Carlyle)

Allen. A word that comes off my lips probably twenty times a day. A word that sometimes is surrounded by love and other times by frustration. A word like no other in my life. A word that encompasses kindness unlike I’ve known before, integrity that quietly makes a profound statement, humility that lifts others up and spirituality that is deep and genuine.

I’ve struck gold in the landscape of life. This man, who I’ve known for almost 30 years just keeps getting better and better. He’s the best gift I’ve ever been given. And he gave me four more gifts in our incredible children, as qualities I see growing in them reflect who their dad is.

Allen embodies the spirit of “being kind over being right” (and thank God for that, because I like being right just a little too much). I watch it play out in quiet moments with close friends and strangers alike. He is considerate to both immediate family and the homeless that wander the streets of New York City. Co-workers who spend every day with him and the poor who don’t have access to clean water benefit from his heart of benevolence. His gracious spirit permeates his times with his partners in ministry and the engaged couples we minister to together. As you can see, his kindness is genuine, often and without boundaries.

Integrity is the suit of armor Allen puts on every single day. He does “the right thing even when no one is watching.” I would know. I live with the guy. He doesn’t cheat on his taxes, on his expense sheet at work, or me. He is the same person in the morning at work, in a board meeting at our church, on a weekend with the guys, and our family at home. I trust him completely and utterly. What a gift!

I struggle with thinking I’m better than everyone else (#notabigsurprise). I know. I’m working on it. And one of the reasons I’m working on it is because of this man named Allen who shows genuine humility. I want to be seen and heard. He wants others to be seen and heard, including me. He’s the biggest reason why I started this blog. He wants my voice out there. He actually, deep-down-inside, believes that others are valuable and takes the role of a servant much of the time even though he is a highly successful business man with mad skills. You can find him washing the dishes, folding the laundry, performing menial, unseen tasks no one else wants to do and never expecting the notice and applause of others. I am so blessed!

My favorite thing about Allen, and probably why he’s all those other things, is that he is deeply spiritual. His inner life matters more to him than his outward persona. He seeks God with ferocity. He spends time in prayerful solitude in all kinds of places (the woods, his favorite chair in our family room, the airport as he’s waiting for a flight). He seeks wise counsel with me as we work to have a better marriage and partnership for this journey. He has a group of male friends called the Muckmeisters who meet every other week to encourage and be encouraged along their inner journeys. We share our lives with a group of couples where Allen is vulnerable and open with his struggles and successes. He voraciously reads anything he can get his hands on (at our local library because he is an accountant and keeps our money under control) that will help him on his path to becoming spiritually and emotionally whole. He is the real deal!!

Allen is not perfect by any means. No one is. That’s what makes this post even more precious to me! I spend a lot of time thinking about and dwelling on all the things he is not, the ways I wish he was different. But today, on his 57th birthday, I am shouting for all to hear the things that HE IS, the parts of him that are his truest self.

To my boys: you have a great father. I don’t want you to be him. I want you to be yourselves. I want you to see, by Dad’s example, that you can be your truest, best selves in all that God made you to be. You are already great men and a lot of the reason you are is because of the amazing dad that you have.

To my girls: you have a great father. He has been more than enough for you and shown you what a good man is. Sarah, you have chosen wisely and have two good men (one big and one little) yourself. How blessed they both are to have you as their wife and mom. Rachel, you are still to choose. I know you will choose well. Dad will be a blubbering mess when he walks you down the aisle!

To Allen today: you are amazing! You are to be celebrated! I am so grateful to share my life with you! Keep doing what you are doing! Don’t change who you are (even though at times I’m shouting otherwise)! You make the world, and especially mine, a better place just because you are in it! I see you! I salute you! Happy Birthday! I hope we have 57 more of them together!!! And even that won’t be long enough!!

Celebration, Childhood, Family, Grief, motherhood, Thanks

To the Mom Who is Saying Goodbye…

Posted on July 28, 2019 by Esther Goetz

I’m awake. It’s 4:00 am. Just 45 minutes ago, I heard the garage door open and close for the last time at this ungodly hour. I ran downstairs to give and get a hug from our youngest.

You see, tonight was the night of nights. After a final dinner celebrating our two graduates, Rachel and her best friend did what they always do. They drove around enjoying our sleepy little town and the surrounding areas, talking about all those things BFFs talk about. This was their last time to do that as neighbors who’ve known each other (and been mostly inseparable) since they were just six years old. That’s why it’s an ungodly hour. I don’t blame them. It’s really hard to say goodbye.

After crying and hugging when she came in, and clinging to her (and secretly wishing I never had to let go), she went to sleep in her childhood bed for one more dreamy night and after trying to venture back into my own fitful sleep, I gave up and decided to process just a tiny bit of the swirling emotions coursing through my very bones.

You see, today is the day of days. I begin the long goodbye of driving my precious Rachel across the country to her new life on the other coast in Burbank, California. 2,764 miles from our house to her new apartment. That’s really far. We leave in just 11 hours.

When she burst on the scene 19 years, 10 months ago, I never fathomed the ache I would hold in my heart this morning. The proud and painful and thankful and joyful and awful ache. It’s the universal mom ache that comes every time we say goodbye.

It starts when our babies take their first toddling and tentative steps away from us. That initial ache comes unbidden as we grasp a glimpse of all the future steps they will take away from us, all the goodbyes to come.

The goodbye of walking onto a school bus or into a classroom for the very first time. Tiny hands turn and wave. The ache rears and settles.

The goodbye of a first sleepover or summer camp. They are not “right in the next room,” safe under the cover of our home. The ache rears quietly and settles quickly.

The goodbye of their very independent, “I’ve got this,” preteen self. This one smacks loud and jolts abruptly. The ache rears ferociously and settles slowly.

The goodbye of a challenging teen mishap. Their childhood innocence door slams shut. The ache rears dragging fear along with it and settles in fits and starts.

The goodbye of backing out of the driveway moments after receiving freedom in the shape of a gift from the DMV. The ache rears with memories of a toddler in her car seat and settles with some much-needed freedom from late-night, seemingly endless pickups.

The goodbye of a graduation cap and a college dorm room. Stopping here for a moment. This one was really rough for me. This ache rears and settles, rears and settles, rears and settles, every time they come home and leave, come home and leave, come home and leave.

The goodbye I find myself in this morning. The goodbye of moving out and moving on. The goodbye that speaks to adulthood, active parenting job done, “will they make it on their own? This ache rears fresh and raw this morning. I am hopeful it will settle.

There are more goodbyes to come. The goodbye of weddings and births of grandchildren (I’ve experienced those with my oldest and she is experiencing her own goodbyes now). Every time, the steps are further and further away. Every time, the ache rears and rears and rears. Every time, the ache settles and settles and settles.

I know that with each goodbye comes a settling hello. A settling hello that brings newness, possibility and life. Believe me, I know.

But in the wee hours of this morning, I sit in the real, raw ache of the goodbye, not rushing the pride I feel, the pain I feel, the thankfulness I feel, the joy I feel and the awfulness I feel. It’s beautiful here. It’s sacred here. It’s momentous here.

The sun is not up yet. I sit quiet in the dark. The ache will settle soon enough. I like the ache for now. It’s my very good friend.

********************************************

(To those of you who have said the worst goodbye in the loss of your child, I am just so sorry. I wonder if there is ever a settling after the ugly rearing of the ache. It’s okay if there’s not. Maybe there shouldn’t be. Either way, I wholeheartedly salute you. I stand with you. I sit with you. I am just so very sorry. You never should have had to say this kind of goodbye.)

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I have a little beef with the Creator of the Universe (even though I secretly know He’s smarter than me)! 27 1/2 years of “why?” “huh?” “why not?” swirling around in my parental cerebrum. It feels good to finally get it out on “paper.” Don’t stress. It’s all in good fun!

ADD YOUR OWN! You’ve got something swirling around!

Sharing is caring

Sharing is caring

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