So. If you haven't already figured it out, I'm going through a very ugly divorce. So ugly, in fact, the word ugly doesn't begin to touch it.
Insane?
Most definitely.
Nasty?
Pretty much.
Let's just call it the most ug-in-nasty divorce ever in the history of divorces. That is, of course, just my opinion. But it's my divorce so I can have that opinion, right? Right.
Moving on....
I've had quite a few low moments since this whole thing started.
Like every time my children leave to go spend their night and/or weekend in Utopia.
Down - because I don't like being without them.
Low - because I don't like being alone.
Lower - because the quietness of my house only amplifies their absence and brings on the lonely aching that grows out of divorce.
Lowest - because I know so well the insinuations and cutting remarks that are being made about their mother in the presence of the kids. Whether the adults involved care or know if they're listening or not.
Oh - they're listening, alright. More on that in another post, another day....
One of my lowest moments was about 2 weeks ago. It was my baby's birthday and she wasn't going to be with me. It was her weekend to visit Utopia with her brothers.
My sweet baby girl. My last one. And I wasn't going to see her on her birthday. For the first time in ten years, I was not going to be with one of my children on their birthday. The actual day of their birth. We always had a little celebration and danced at the exact time of their birth.
Thank goodness all three were morning babies!
I know - there are worse things in life, but this was hard for me. She's only five. Birthday's are still a big deal. I want to savor that for as long as possible because I know it will eventually end. I did get to speak to her early that morning, but after that I pretty much just cried for the entire day.
A few days later I was speaking with one of my neighbors. She reminded me that it was her daughter's birthday and we both remembered that our daughters are only 4 days apart in age. (For some reason we always forget this. Every year. Until right before or right after. Some neighbor I am.) The Good Neighbor invited us to Little Miss's party the upcoming weekend.
Then she asked the question. The one I was praying she wouldn't. "Did y'all have a party for Toodle Butt?"
Of course she was going to ask. And I was going to have to explain. Oh. Hell. I could not hold back the tears.
Out it came. All of it. Thank goodness they already knew about what was happening with Crazy Kinky Boy, so it wasn't that much of a shock. But I could not stop the tears, no matter what I tried. I held my breath. Looked at the sun. Nothing worked.
So, I just kept talking. I told her how it was Toodle Butt's weekend with her brothers at Utopia and I only got to talk to her for a few short minutes the morning of her birthday. How much I'd missed her that day and hated that I couldn't be with her. I even shared just how broke I was. That all I could afford was a few dollar store toys as a gift.
She asked me the ubiquitous questions anyone would ask...."Did *they* give her a party? Didn't they invite you? Couldn't they have let you come see her even if only for a few minutes?" It all made me cry more. My sweet neighbor was furious for me.
I finally slowed the crying and chest heaving to a lull. We exchanged giant bear hugs and I actually felt a little better getting it all out to another mom who could understand.
The party day came for the Good Neighbor's Little Miss. Mr. Good Neighbor had come by twice just to make sure we were coming and reminding us not to be late. (Weird. I couldn't figure out why, but it was weird at the time.)
Luckily the location wasn't far from the house, as we had very little gas in the kid bus. I'd saved what was in the tank just to get us to that party and home again. The kids donned their bathing suits and we loaded up the towels and took off. I was determined to enjoy being with my babies on the bay....splashing in the water, playing in the sand.
We were the first guests to arrive. Mr. Good Neighbor told me an earlier time on purpose. That's why he'd come by the house twice. Little stinker. He had a surprise in store for me & my brood.
All the kids were happy to see each other. Hugs were given and squeals rang out. Then the Good Neighbors took me and Toodle Butt aside. There were two cakes on the table. They lifted the top from one to reveal a homemade creation of the most beautiful kind.
A cake that said
"Happy Birthday Toodle Butt".
They made a cake for my little girl! And brought it to their daughter's party. Too much. Just way too much.
Then Mr. Good Neighbor explained that the party was for BOTH Little Miss and Toodle Butt. He and his wife could not stand that I was not able to be with her on her birthday or even see her for a moment, much less give her a party. They had to do something for us. They told me how much they loved me and my kids and wanted to do this for me.
Of course, I cried like a baby. Again. I really could not stop this time. But at least they weren't sad tears. They were joyful, blessed, supported, touched, heart-warmed tears.
As if that weren't enough, they had a huge bag stuffed full of trinkets and toys for my precious girl. A belated birthday gift that I couldn't afford to give her. Blessing after blessing. My cup was definitely overflowing.
That's a pretty special story all on it's own. But it's even more poignant once you know more about the Good Neighbors......
You see - these people are not your average family. The mother is 40 something (close to fifty)and the bread-winner of the family. The father is almost 70. He had triple bypass surgery roughly six months ago. He's unable to work and the wife supports all four of their family on a $9/hour job. They barely have two nickels to rub together. Their children are 7 and 5. Yes. You read that correctly. 7 and 5 years old - the same age as my middle and youngest kids. The kids were obviously a surprise.
So much for vasectomies!
I do believe this family would fall into the poverty bracket if placed on an income scale. Their house is tiny. Some would refer to it as a 'shack'. It's old and rickety and falling apart. 4 rooms total. The yard is full of junk, complete with the even tinier home of their ancestors in the front yard that's falling in on itself. With Mr. Good Neighbor unable to perform any kind of work, things are really hard for them. He's been a fisherman his entire life and their dinner often consists of his catch-of-the-day and a can of beans. Seriously.
Over the years, they've always been good neighbors. Watched out for us. Brought us fresh mullet or stuffed flounder to return the favor of some fried chicken or homemade cookies I've shared with them. But I never knew just how good a neighbor family they are until now.
They exemplified the meaning of the word SELFLESS.
selfless |ˈselfləs|adjectiveconcerned more with the needs and wishes of others than with one's own; unselfish : an act of selfless devotion.DERIVATIVESselflessly |ˈsɛlfləsli| adverbselflessness |ˈsɛlfləsnəs| noun
These sweet people. They've taught me one of the biggest lessons of my life. A lesson that churches and the people in them *talk* about all the time - but do not live.
They didn't have to do any of it. No doubt they could put the money they spent on my daughter/family to very good use of their own. For their own. But they chose to give instead. And they gave from their heart. Much more than anyone has given to me in a very, very long time. Because, let's face it - they did what they did for this Mamma. They have left their mark on my heart and I am forever changed.
Selflessness. Too bad it isn't the newest fad sweeping the globe. It'd be a different world if it were.
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1 comments:
Wow! I got teary eyed just reading this! What a wonderful story, and what fabulous people your neighbors are!
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