The City

I step onto the train and find a seat
There are two other people in the car
Both men
One at each end
I make note of the nearest exit

A man starts to sing loudly
I can't understand the words
But his voice is strong and clear
I'm irritated and wish he would stop
I notice a Rosary in his hands
I realize that I was annoyed at his prayers

Trash-filled lots fly by below us
Glittering in the sunlight
How many broken bottles does it take
To make it sparkle so brilliantly?
I notice concrete under the grass and weeds
What used to be there?

A man catches my eye
His look is a little too friendly
I look away
I ignore his attempts to recapture my attention
I await my destination

The streets are bustling
Every person has their own purpose
Every face it's own story
I remember:
"If we saw people the way Jesus does,
we would all fall on our faces to worship God for His masterpieces"
The masterpieces move on
I never worshiped

The Red Cross is seeking donations
I ask for a website
Someone wants to pay me $10 to take a survey
I walk past
"Streetwise! Streetwise!"
I turn around and the woman has already moved on
She assumed I didn't care
She holds my coke as I dig into my purse
I barely have the $2 to buy her newspaper
I wonder if the exchange gave her dignity

The platform for my train home is crowded
People with suitcases look lost as they try to find O'Hare
I gawk at a girl
Her stone-washed jeans and neon-striped high tops are startling
I've read all of the ads already
The train is taking forever to arrive

I settle into my seat
I unwrap my lunch
A recording reminds me that eating is prohibited
The train roars as we emerge from the tunnel

A young girl cautiously enters the train
Under her arm is a cap and gown
Graduation is awaiting her
Will she stay?
Did she fall in love with our city too?
Or did she just endure it until she could leave?

Some people are reading or listening to music
Some are sleeping
Others stare out the windows
Their faces show the weariness of life
One man looks as if he is dreading his destination
"Doors open on the left at Western"

The cars on the freeway are passing our train

We go through a tunnel
On the other side of it is the end of the city
It bids us farewell with a tent
Ripped and strung between a fence and a tree
The man who lives there is panhandling on the street below
I shiver at how cold his nights must be

Did you read that?
It bears repeating
There is a man who lives in a ripped tent
In Chicago
In March
And January
And July
And all of the other months

The city I love
Magnifies my hypocrisy
Amuses me
Arouses my curiosity
Captures my adoration
Breaks my heart

"Um, sure"

This is another post with snippets of things that Ayden is saying and doing today.

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My phone just chimed to indicate that there was a new text message. It was sitting on the coffee table next to Ayden, just out of my reach. So I asked Ayden, "can you hand me my phone?" His response, "um sure."

"Um" entered his vocabulary earlier this week. "Sure" entered it today. Both sound way too grown-up for him to be saying, especially with proper use!

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He just (incorrectly) sang the entire ABC's. When he was done I asked if he wanted to sing it again with me singing along. He got excited at that suggestion and said yes. So I started singing. He started singing along. But by the time I got to about "D," he looked at me like I had just offended him and collapsed into a fit of tears. I have no idea what I did wrong.

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As I type this, Ayden is stacking all of his cars and trucks onto Judah. Judah is loving the attention. Stacking piles of things onto Judah is one of Ayden's favorite pastimes. Having piles of things stacked onto him by Ayden is one of Judah's favorite pastimes. At least they are in agreement about it!

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Ayden just walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, opened the drawer, pulled out an apple, and took a big bite out of it. I love self-sufficiency!

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A song in my head....

It's probably been at least a decade since I last heard this song by Rebecca St. James (is she even around anymore?). But it's been in my head for a few weeks. She sings it acapella on a "hidden" track at the end of another song. It is so simple and I really love the lyrics.....

Psalm 139

You search me

You know me

You see my every move

There's nothing I could ever do

To hide myself from You

You know my thoughts

My fears and hurts

My weaknesses and pride

You know what I am going through 

And how I feel inside

But even though You know

You will always love me

Even though You know 

You'll never let me go 

I don't deserve Your love

But you give it freely

You will always love me

Even though You know

The Shame and Humiliation

Last week, after increasingly improving more and more every day, I had a bad day. A really bad day. Luke and I had a fight before he left for work, and we were both too immature to just resolve it before he left. Then Judah decided it was a good day for his 6-month growth spurt, but of course it took a long morning of much screaming on his part before I figured that out. On the heals of such recent improvement, that bad day felt like an even deeper failure. 


By midmorning, I found myself looking for ways to get rid of my children. Not just for the day, but for someone else to raise them. I was convinced that I was never going to get better and therefore I was a terrible mother and the best thing I could do for my boys was to just give them to someone else to adopt and take in as their own.* 


I desperately needed help that day. I didn't ask for it. I was ashamed. At such an intensely weak point, I was too proud to tell the people around me that I needed some support. I wanted to keep up appearances that things were fine. I'm strong and capable. I don't need help. 


In the midst of it, I fessed up to an anonymous online community of moms--there's no shame if it is anonymous. The response was immediate. Countless women offered to come over and help if I lived near them. Complete strangers from all over the country were offering help, some even offering to drive up to 2-3 hours! Many others told stories of their own (past) despair, and how much they regretted that they didn't seek out help sooner. 


Then an email I received a few weeks ago from a college friend came back to me:

I just wanted to remind you of the ways that you let people come into your life and help you when you were in college.  I remember coming to get you at your apartment . . . The point is, please let people do that again for you.  Whatever that looks like now, whoever that is in your life now.  I love you, but I know there are a lot of other people who love you too.

By the end of the day it was clear: I needed to ask for help.**


So I did. Yep, I fessed up to my inability to manage even the littlest tasks and I asked for help. It feels so wrong to ask someone if they might be willing to come and clean your bathroom for you. It feels even worse to watch them do it. To stand there and know that you are physically capable of doing that task, you even have the time to do it, but the mental exercises necessary to accomplish it are outside your reach. 

Last night Luke needed to study late into the night so I had a friend come over to help with the boys. By the time she got here, I was completely stressed from the afternoon, and more than ready to have help. She spent the next few hours feeding and bathing my kids, while I helplessly stood nearby answering her questions about what they needed. 


After the boys were in bed, I flopped onto the couch, exhausted from the efforts of the day. She proceeded to pick up toys, put away clutter, and clean up the kitchen. I again found myself immobile while someone else did my job. 


It's humiliating to repeatedly reach the end of your patience for your children. It's humbling to allow someone to take them aside and play with them for awhile so you can have a break. It's humiliating to have a babysitter in your house when it is trashed from a week's worth of living but no cleaning. It's humbling to come home and find that everything has been cleaned for you. It's humiliating to show your weaknesses. It's humbling to allow others to lovingly help you when you need it. Humiliation is an acceptance of the shame that comes with people having a lower opinion of you because of your imperfections. Humility is an acceptance of the love of others as they reach out to help you. 


Last week, I felt ashamed and humiliated at the thought of allowing the people that I know to see me so weak and incapable. But when people respond with love and support, it isn't humiliating or shameful. It's actually quite beautiful and amazing. 

*Thankfully, I had a counselling appointment scheduled for the next day, and was able to work through the of the effects of that day and get on the right track again. I have no intention of giving up my kids. :~D 
**This post is NOT a plea for help. If it was, that would be passive and manipulative. I've asked people who are nearby and have the time and resources and who I have a secure enough relationship with that I'm not worried about them hating me forever judging me. It's one thing to tell everyone you know that your house is a mess, it's a completely different thing to ask someone to try to scrub that mess away.