Who said growing up was easy?

I am extremely blessed to have some amazing girlfriends with whom I can always be honest. Whether it's a bout of depression I'm dealing with or anxiety over one of the many things that can cause me angst, they always listen and give me their advice (because isn't that what females do??) Even better, two of them have degrees in counseling and one is a soon-to-be licensed marriage and family therapist. Over the past few years, we've gotten together on a weekly or bi-weekly basis to talk, pray and listen. There's been droughts here and there due to a new baby, scheduling conflicts and winter hibernation; but for the most part, we've tried to make it a priority to set aside this time for ourselves and one another each week.

During our last gathering, we listened to the first in a series of talks by Tim Keller on marriage. He made several good points about marital relationships, why so many couples end up in divorce and how men and women can improve their marriages. The point that really struck home with me dealt with an issue I (and everyone who will admit it) deal with, self-centerdness. Raising a child has taught me that we, as humans, are innately self centered. Lately, Simeon gets upset just about anytime he doesn't have my undivided attention. Of course, as we mature and become adults, we hope that we can "get out of ourselves" enough to realize that we are self centered and that we really have to work at selflessness. Becoming a parent is a surefire way to become more selfless. I've noticed a big difference in myself since Simeon was born. I don't get so worked up about small things like I did before becoming a Mom. For instance....if I'm in an ice cream shop I don't take 20 minutes to decide what kind of ice cream I want and then pout after I've made my decision because it wasn't reaaallly want I wanted. Of course, a squirming one-year old who's fighting to run crazy always helps speed up the decision process. But truly, I just don't care as much as I used to about petty little things like this. It's been really freeing. As far as my marriage goes, I can work on being less self centered by remembering that "my way" isn't always the "right way." Letting some things go will allow me to learn more about Ryan and learn more from Ryan.

I took Simeon to Wal-Mart today for what turned out to be an exhausting shopping trip. As we were leaving the store, I noticed it had started to rain heavily and I was wondering how in the world I would manage to get Simeon and our purchases to the car without getting soaked. Lucky for us, one of the Wal-Mart greeters ran over to tell me he could walk us to our car; and that he did, covering us with an umbrella and loading our bags into the trunk while I quickly strapped Simeon into his car seat. "You have been a bit of sunshine in a crazy day," I told him, "Thank you." He told me to have a great day and kept the umbrella over my head until I was seated in my car. I drove off thinking that he must be a Dad, a Grandfather and a husband, and that if his selflessness made such a big difference in my day, that my selflessness can make an even bigger difference in my marriage, my friendships and the lives of others.

Growing up too fast

This week I was given a glimpse into a darker side of the world that I, thankfully, rarely see. It began when, one sunny afternoon this summer, I checked my mail to find a summons for jury duty. Since I had come up with an excuse for the prior two summons only months earlier I figured it was time to do my civic duty and be inconvenienced in exchange for enormous freedom and every U.S. citizen's right to a fair trial. Little did I know I would actually be selected to serve on a jury for a trial that delved deeply into a case that I'd preferred to know nothing about.

Through the two-day trial I met a sweet, well-spoken nine-year old girl named Autumn whose father was on trial for sexually molesting her since the age of three. She was forced to sit on the witness stand and describe for us, the jury, every detail she can remember of this horrific experience. Her tears and facial expressions were enough to tell me this was not something a three, nine, twelve or sixteen year-old girl should have experienced. The innocence that should accompany anyone's childhood had been stolen from her and she wasn't even able to fight for it. Even worse were the statistics I heard from expert witnesses about sexual molestation of children and how often it actually occurs. How many young girls and boys have been forced to grow up too fast because of the sick nature of some adult's obsessions or desires? Autumn's foster parents said they weren't even sure they would be able to keep her because she exhibited so much promiscuity and served as a bad influence on their younger children.

Thankfully, Autumn's father won't be free to commit this heinous crime again. We [the jury] found him guilty on five counts of child molestation, three of them being Class A felonies. This will sentence him to at least 60 years or more of jail time. But what about Autumn? How much of her life will be spent in an emotional and psychological jail that even the best counseling and therapy can't break her out of? I realized how, unlike several potential jurors who were dismissed during the "voir dire," I couldn't recall anyone I personally knew who had been molested as a child. It's nothing I think about on a regular basis yet it happens more often than I'd like to imagine. I'm glad schools have begun implementing programs to educate students about the "good touch, bad touch" and hope that this is one step towards saving innocent childhoods and preventing a generational curse that oftentimes can't be broken. As a parent, I know I will be more vigilant about Simeon's future caretakers and friends as a result of this case. I just pray that God will bring someone into Autumn's life who can teach her about His unfailing love, acceptance and forgiveness so she can experience life as His child....forever.

How do Grown-ups Grieve?

I've been thinking a lot about grief this week. On Sunday, we lost our family pet MuShu to the kind of death no pet owner wants for their dog. She was hit by one of the many cars that speed down 30th St. just north of our house after escaping through the back gate. The "if-only's" have raced through my mind as quickly as she disappeared into her new found freedom...only to have her 6-year-old life taken too soon.

When my cell phone rang and I saw an unfamiliar area code, I almost didn't answer; but my curiosity led me to say "hello." It was a woman asking me in a very calm voice (with what I now recognize as solemnity looking back) if I had a little white dog named MuShu. "Yes....did she get out again? She always does that," I replied. The next few words are what triggered the beginning of my worry that later turned into gut-wrenching grief. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but she's been hit." My heart sunk. "Where is she?" I stammered. I shouted out the intersection to Ryan and paced as he grabbed the car keys and ran out the door.

Simeon was safe in his high chair, confused by the flurry of activity, as I acted on my first reaction in most emergencies like this...to call my Mom. I told her the news and we processed what to do next. I quickly got online and Googled "emergency vet, Indianapolis." Ryan's call that came in on the other line immediately stopped the search. "Sarah, I'm sorry, but she's gone." And so my grieving began. My knees, along with the phone, fell to the ground. I covered my head with my hands and began to wail. Everyone experiences grief differently, but when I'm faced with devastation such as this, I've always felt as though loud crying and fist pounding will somehow bring a loved one back or heal a broken heart.I immediately realized the severity of my mourning when Simeon began to scream from his high chair across the house in the kitchen. I was able to pull myself together long enough to comfort him before I heard the Hyundai pull into the back and saw Ryan carrying MuShu's limp body through the gate. I lost my composure again, as did Simeon, and we cried together.

After Ryan laid MuShu near an evergreen bush in the back, he came inside and took Simeon from my arms. He reminded me that I was scaring Simeon, so I decided to take my grieving outside. I kneeled beside MuShu to stroke her still warm body and weep. After I had said good-bye, I walked back into the house with my head down and looked at Simeon. It was then that I realized I wasn't just grieving for myself. I was also grieving for my son. Simeon, not being old enough to understand death and the emotions it evokes, didn't know why I was crying and couldn't feel the sadness that would linger in our house for months to come. He didn't have the foresight to know that MuShu wouldn't play tug of war with him after dinner that evening, or make him laugh when she wagged her tail in his face, tickling his neck; but I did, which is what made MuShu's death even harder than it would have already been. I wouldn't see Simeon's face light up when we got home from running errands and MuShu ran to greet us. MuShu wouldn't play fetch with Simeon anymore and humor him by retrieving a toy he threw only a few inches from his feet. Simeon had lost his first true best friend, and would never remember all of their special moments together.

This is why I feel like I've grieved as a grown-up for the first time in my life. Not because of my mature composure or how I handled myself (I'll be the first to admit it wasn't well). I grieved as an adult because I was also experiencing grief as a parent. Unfortunately, this won't be the last tragedy in the Noel family. Losing my parents will mean the loss of Simeon's grandparents. There will be family friends who will pass away, and other pets we won't be able to save; and while I will never be able to lessen my or Simeon's pain through cries or wails, I will be able to explain to him that death is a natural part of God's plan for us (even dogs like MuShu) and that it will one day lead to the joyous reunion with Him in Heaven.