Family

A Tale of Two Parents

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment
Ending the year with thoughts about parenting

Sometimes in life, my brain ponders a topic and ultimately it ends up here. Admittedly, it’s been a while since this has occurred! So let’s say adios to 2023 with this post! Here we go.

Parent 1 – A Faith Crisis

Once upon a time, there was a middle class mother who was a hard worker, very family oriented, devoutly religious. Her first son died shortly after being born and was followed by the birth of two daughters and a son. They were raised in the Midwest, followed their mother’s religion, and grew up in what many would call an American dream. When her son graduated college, he joined the Navy and was based in Southern California, where he would meet his future wife. This situation was very distressing for his mother, as the woman was divorced, already had 4 children, was nearly 10 years older than her son, and did not follow the faith that the mother so loved. This did not concern her son, who had long stopped following the basic tenets of his mother’s faith despite being so entrenched in it throughout his life.

The mother was at a crossroads – so much of what she held very close to her heart, her very worldview and understanding of eternity, was being broken by her son. The fact that he no longer participated in the steps of their faith meant that his soul was in peril. The woman he had fallen in love with would lead to a marriage outside of their faith, and eventually their children that were also outside of the mother’s faith, which made his life beyond this world potentially even bleaker. Should she remind him of these facts and double down on her religious beliefs, drawing a line in the sand until her son sees the errors of his ways and gets right with God? Should she remind him in every interaction that she fears he will be closed out of heaven (aka, go to hell) and now she has the added burden of the same fate for his offspring? Should she refuse to meet his wife and their future children because of what she views as his poor decisions? 

Ultimately, this mother chose love. While it is uncertain if she every became close with her daughter in law, she never held back her love for her son, reminded him of the religion of his youth, nor did she ever make her grandchildren feel less than. In fact, she welcomed her daughter in law’s four children into her heart and referred to them as her grandchildren. She was extremely close to her granddaughter, who would attend church with her but never became a member of the religion the mother loved so much. She never hinted to her son or grandchildren that they were going to hell, that she was disappointed in them, or otherwise limited their relationship around any of this. In fact, her granddaughter would often feel that her grandmother held her in the highest esteem on the earth. To this day, over 20 years after the mother’s/grandmother’s death, her granddaughter is impacted by the love and relationship that existed.

Parent 2 – A Faith Crisis

Once upon a time, there was a middle class father who was a hard worker, very family oriented, who became devoutly religious in his golden years after having spent most of his adult life not attending any sort of church services. He married young, had four step children, and was blessed to add two bio children; a daughter and a son. He had been raised in a devout household with loving parents, but forged his own life after leaving home at 18. He was a loving father, made time to bond with and lead his children, showed compassion for people such as homeless veterans, and was very generous with his love.

Many years down the road, the father was at a crossroads – he had since divorced and remarried and had became very involved in a different religion than what he was raised in. His adult daughter had divorced her husband, had married a woman, had adopted children……so much of what he now held very close to his heart, his very worldview and understanding of eternity, was being broken by her daughter. The fact that she was in this same-sex relationship meant that her soul was in peril based on his faith. Should he remind her of these facts and double down on his religious beliefs, drawing a line in the sand until his daughter sees the errors of her ways and gets right with God? Should he remind her in every interaction that he fears she will be closed out of heaven (aka, go to hell)? Should he refuse to meet her wife and their adopted children because of what he views as her poor decisions? 

Ultimately, this father chose religion. For 17 years he refused to meet the children that his daughter adopted when they were 5 and 3. For 17 years he refused to interact with her wife, despite having no problem with her before he confirmed their true relationship. For years when they’d interact on the phone or in person, he would point out that he was praying for his daughter or share that he was worried about her soul. Ultimately, he accused his daughter of being indoctrinated because she claimed to be a member of his religion, which he felt was impossible due to her sexuality and insisted she was wrong. When his daughter’s adult children defended her via text, he accused his daughter of sending them under her children’s names. When his daughter begged him to just be her dad, to just let her be his daughter, and not discuss this topic with her, he refused.  And now because his daughter could no longer emotionally or spiritually handle this, they no longer interact. Nor does he have a relationship with any of his grandchildren. And, ironically, he doesn’t have any sort of relationship with his son, either – who is heterosexual and adheres to the same faith as the father.

Fighting for “Life”

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

Life is precious, and this year when Roe v Wade was overturned by the Supreme Court, many people celebrated. The crux of the celebration for many was the protection of life. Sounds pretty legit. We all are here today because our lives survived our mother’s womb, and once born we were raised, fed, hopefully loved and cherished…….but no matter how we were treated after being born, we all can say without hesitation we have life today. In that regard, I think we can agree it worked out for us!

A close family member was pretty stoked, too. Their FaceBook timeline was full of memes to emphasize how this was the right thing to do as life is precious. I don’t begrudge their position or views really – that is their right – but I have to admit…….it confused me a little. On one hand, this person walked the walk in the “precious life” arena. I mean, when they married their first wife, this person accepted four children as his own, loved them, provided for them, called them sons and daughter, and for some even gave them his last name. Despite having no genetic connection to these children, he stepped up and loved them, showing without any fanfair that he celebrated the fact that they were ALIVE! That their lives were precious. When this person had two biological kids of his own, he raised them not with words of “half brother” or “half sister”, but emphasized the family unit being whole. I always admired that. After all, these kids did nothing to deserve being rejected or accepted, and to really appreciate the gift of life, one must extend love to the gifts of God, right? That message has been shared by many of my friends and family since Roe v Wade was overturned, and it does have some teeth to it.

This is where my confusion starts. You see, the same person who accepted 4 children into his heart, who raised them as his own, who treated them the same as his two bio kids, and who also celebrated the overturning of Roe v Wade under the guise of “protecting life” and “protecting the innocent”, has acted differently when the situation was slightly different, and I surmise feels justified in doing so. You see, over 15 years ago Deana and I adopted two siblings from Russia. These two beautiful, innocent children would have had a very high chance of dying by drugs or violence before their 18th birthdays had they not been adopted. If they beat the odds and passed their 18th birthday, they certainly faced an uphill struggle to survive as (at least at the time) their birth certificates would have clearly been flagged as orphans (the document is used in hiring) and due to the judgment of most citizens at that time, would be viewed as undesirables. By adopting them, Deana and I literally saved their lives. We celebrate their precious lives everyday and also acknowledge how their lives have blessed us beyond words.

These two children did nothing to deserve being flagged as undesirables. They did nothing to deserve being put into an orphanage. They were innocent, and despite their circumstances, their mother at least loved them enough to give birth to them instead of aborting them. Bottom line, they are precious and we’re worth protecting, as much as or perhaps more than the babies this person and others are screaming to protect.

However, this same family member who showed so much love and compassion for his 4 step-children has never met our Russian children in the 15+ years they’ve been in our lives. Why? The stated reason is “they are not family”. The underlying reason is more like this……”Gina, you and Deana are lesbians.”

This man who loved so much now directs his life around religious dogma that would turn his back on two innocent children who did nothing to him or anyone else, two precious and innocent lives, because of his disgust for their parents. This man would argue that only “family” deserves to be interacted with, while also saying “save the babies” that he will never meet and also interacting with people and children ALL THE TIME that are “not family”. He would disregard two innocent lives and treat these children as lepers because the parents that adopted them (to which they didn’t even have a choice) love them and care for them, but are also lesbians.

Yes, you go on “fighting for life” and “celebrating life” and the overturning of Roe v Wade, but know your hypocricy and lack of love is seen by more than the person typing these words. Every few years, my now adult Russian children ask why they’ve never met you. When they were little, I’d make excuses and then share funny stories about how great you were or something fun that happened in my youth. But now that they’re older and see the duplicity of so many things in the world, I admit that somewhere on your journey of faith, your heart was somehow changed and you no longer have the capacity to love anyone you deem tarnished or outside your religious belief system, including your own daughter. I know you also insist that you DO love me, but…….. I am not sharing this to belittle you, or to slander you, but to emphasize that life IS precious, and that should be enough. My Russian children are just as important and worthy of love or at least acknowledged as much as some random fetus. But too many times, as is the case with you, there are supposed justified caveats to this, which really translates to “only lives I approve of matter”. And that is a shame, because your Bible clearly states that Jesus loves us all, and more importantly, that love is not just “praying for their souls”, but having a meaningful relationship with them without judgment. You know, like Jesus hanging out with prostitutes, tax collectors, and sinners.

If this is your Christianity, I have to say, YOU are the one that’s been indoctrinated.

What I Would Say If I Could

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

Today, it is calm, though rainy, where I live. I have been enjoying the day move from sunny and warm to overcast….and still warm. The rain started and somehow its building rhythm distracted me from the book I am readying to thoughts of my Mother.

Most of my life, I felt a disconnection from my mom. She defined what I didn’t want to be, while I found comfort and security in my dad. She was loud, had huge mood swings, while he was always even keeled and calm. She pushed me to want to scream, and he soothed me. I always considered myself more like my dad, and I would emphasize that in numerous ways, year after year. I wasn’t ashamed of my mom, really, but the things I recognized in her I wanted to minimize, and the things I saw in my dad I emphasized.

Having the benefit of age, of days like this that allow me to gaze back on the years that brought me here, I realize so many years were wasted with my myopic view of my parents. I don’t mean to suggest the hugely important and real impact my dad has had on my life; but like many things we humans do with people, I created a fantasy of my own truth that I suppose I needed, but nonetheless fractures upon inspection. I cannot separate from the goodness and love my dad provided for me, but my mom was not the woman I believed her to be, at least not the extent I manufactured in my mind for too many years.

My mom, born in a generation where many words used were not considered racist, was the first person I really knew who accepted all walks of life without hesitation. She raised eyebrows by having friends that were black, Chinese, Jewish…..the list goes on. I don’t recall her ever saying a certain race was bad or anything negative. She never said I couldn’t have a friend due to their race. She divorced an abusive man when the stigma for being a single mom was worse than being a prostitute. She bore on her shoulders the thought that her own mother did not love her and was often a shadow in her own family history (distant relatives I’ve come across through Ancestry knew of her brothers/my uncles or even met them, but never knew they had a sister). She always seemed to want to be loved, but somehow built scenarios in which even the strongest love didn’t work. She definitely had her demons to content with, many of which I witnessed throughout my years and often ran from in dismay, but somehow always offered unconditional love and acceptance no matter how heated the last exchange might have been.

I see now that the woman I defined mostly as negative for most of my life was not this angry, irrational being. No. Instead, she was supportive. She was fearful. She was hungry for love. She was confident. She was intelligent. She was resilient. She didn’t step on those beside her, fighting to survive as she was. Instead, she shared what meager tools she had to assist them, too. Most often, she’d make a friend while doing so. I thought hard today, trying to remember when she spoke badly about someone or uttered words of judgment; I couldn’t. Even during the prolonged years of my own parent’s tumultuous divorce, she’d focus on the issues she was fighting for and never once spoke badly about my dad. Even as our own strained relationship ebbed and flowed as I grew into adulthood, trying so desperately to be anything but like her, she never told me I was not her daughter. She never made me feel like I’d failed her. She always spread her arms wide and welcomed me. Even when I exposed how broken I was, or how hurtful I could be, she loved me and shone with pride.

So I sit here, regretting the time I lost with her. How I failed to come to this realization completely when she was alive. How I failed to ask simple questions like how it felt as a little girl during World War II, or what her favorite meal was as a child, or how she reacted to her first period, or what country she always wanted to visit. How she survived such a hard life (and it was very hard) and yet come out loud, emotional, but always loving. How, in the years when she was home bound and fighting COPD, she avoided becoming a bitter, mean old woman. How, even as I overtly fought being like her, she never once said she was disappointed in me or suggested I lacked in anything. How, in fact, she built me up even if I was too ignorant to notice.

So today, I looked up at the cloudy, rain soaked sky, and spoke to her. I apologized for not asking those questions. I apologized for sitting days after her death, listening to horrible things be said about her, and doing nothing to defend her memory. I said I was proud to look so much like her, and yes, even act a lot like her, and admit I am glad that I do. I thanked her for all the unrealized gifts she provided throughout my life, feeling their weight like a gift and not regret. I thanked her for creating a model that I am just now embracing wholly, instead of as an example of what I should avoid.

I am forever thankful that she knew my love, that she heard from my mouth that she was a great mom to me before she died. I am thankful that I could feel her love once more before she left. And I am thankful that I am so much like her, even if just realizing it.



Questions

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

It has been ten months since my mom passed away.  Of course, dealing with that has been a journey; sometimes something reminds me of my mom and I laugh, or sometimes I get tears in my eyes, and I often miss her.  That is all normal…..to be expected.  Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror – especially when my hair is wet and slicked back away from my face – and I get a little freaked out because I look so much like her.  Sometimes I just ruminate about my life with her, the moments we’ve shared, etc.

I have been traveling to Kentucky for work lately, and I never expected it to create such a stir with memories about my mom…….I never thought it would create a serious of questions that I have no way to answer.  My mom moved to Los Angeles when she was two years old and lived in California the bulk of her life.  When she and my dad divorced in the early 90’s, she was working for her brothers.  However, some were retiring and eventually the company was sold.  I BELIEVE my mom lost her job at that point.  Not sure what she was going to do to support herself, she and a friend she met at work moved to Kentucky, where her friend grew up.  I was a young mother at that time, focused on taking care of baby Kirstie and making my own marriage and life work, so I wasn’t as involved in my mom’s life as I usually would be.  I remember we exchanged letters during this time, and honestly she was pretty bitter about her divorce and I emotionally pulled away since I felt I was put in the middle of it.  But, the bottom line is she moved away from everyone she knew, went to a place where she basically knew no one, and was on her own.

Being here, I wonder where she lived.  I wonder what she thought about the green hills, the pictures of horses everywhere, did she like the Bourbon BBQ that is so prevalent here?  She ended up getting a job at a Taco Bell out here, she really couldn’t find work (the economy was struggling at the time) and I wonder how the heck that felt.  I wonder if she was scared, if she felt isolated.  In one of her letters she mentioned that there was only one phone in the neighborhood she lived in and the owner would take messages for the neighbors and it was difficult to connect.  She said she got a message that someone called her but they didn’t think to get a name, so she wondered if it was me.  Reading that letter in my mind now and being in this state triggered so many things to wonder about.

And that led me to so many other questions.  My mom was born in 1935 – she was alive during all years of WWII and was 10 years old when it ended.  How did that impact her life?  Did she and her family have rations during this time?  Did she fear Germans at this time, when Germany was easily the targeted “enemy”?  Was she ever scared that the war would come to California?  Does she remember the Japanese Internment Camps and what did she think about them?  And why the hell did I never think to ask her about this?  I know SO MUCH about my paternal Grandma during the depression, even about her early marriage during this timeframe, but not my own mother?  I have no idea why.  And now I can’t even ask my mom.

So, here I am early in the morning blogging about it.  I feel a connection to my mom here in Kentucky and that also seems strange.  But I guess while I write this as a form of personal therapy, I also yearn to remind you something you probably will nod at but maybe not think about again – treasure the time you have with family.  Don’t take it for granted.  Inquire about life details that may not seem important really now and maybe even feels mundane, but are actually pieces of gold that will be lost forever if you miss the opportunity to ask.

And mom, I miss you.

Firsts

/ Gina Marie / 1 Comment

Life is filled with “firsts”.  First laughs, first steps, first time driving, first kisses.  So many momentous occasions that we often look back on with smiles and warm feelings.  I remember clearly the day Kirstie was born 26 years ago – my first day as a mom – as the feelings were so fantastic and amazing.  I am sure you have a list of “firsts” as well and understand what I am describing.

But there are other kinds of firsts, too.  Your first speeding ticket.  Your first broken bone.  The first death in the family.  Your first heartbreak.  These events aren’t as sought after and do not bring the cozy feelings we often like to sit through as if a great movie has shown up on the TV.  No, these sort of memories are the ones that definitely impact our lives, but we don’t embrace them when they come to mind.

2016 presented itself with a few firsts I’d rather have avoided – I was attacked for being gay for the first time this year.  That truly sucked and changed a lot about me, though I am working through that.  What really hit me harder than I expected, though, was going through my birthday, Christmas, and the New Year for the first time with my mom not being on this earth.  I have not lived in the same state as my mom since December 2009, so it’s not like I had recently SPENT those events with her.  Even so, not being able to call her or hear her voice……to hear her say, “when am I going to see you again?” (as she always asked that), and to tell her I love her hit me pretty hard.  And, for some reason the pain and the loss I felt surprised me.  And that was a first of sorts as well.  Perhaps it was exacerbated by the fact my older kids were not with me for Christmas this year for the first time as well, which magnified my sense of loss.  But it was hard, across the board.

I am not sharing this to complain or fish for “poor Gina” comments.  I guess I wanted to share that sometimes life is hard……even when we think we have things under control.  And, well, it’s okay that it gets hard.  It’s okay that we sometimes feel punched in the gut and we had no idea to even prepare for it, and it is no measurement of our strength (or lack thereof) when this happens.  There is no deficiency in our faith or belief in heaven when we miss those that are no longer near us.  And finally, that sense of loss and pain is not permanent, even in the case of my mom.  I was able to see my older kids the week after Christmas, and I am surrounded by my mom’s paintings and tons of memories.  I was also in California recently and spent some time with my brother David, and he gave me one of my mom’s favorite rings that he found as well as the Bible that Edgar and I had given her on her 52nd birthday.  THAT surprised me, given that I am almost that age myself!  Ha.  So, really, this post is to acknowledge that we have highs and lows…….to acknowledge and feel both…….but to step up and move to the next segment.  I didn’t say that well, but hope you get the drift.

Happy New Year, and may 2017 be filled with more highs than lows, but know you are loved through them all!

Happy Birthday, Mom

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

June 17, 2016  would have been my mom’s 81st birthday – 1 month and 1 day after she flew to heaven.  I miss her, but I am so glad my memories are with me and I carry her in my heart. I DO hear her voice sometimes say to me “I still think you’re the best” when I mess up or whatever. I also know she definitely loved me even when I hid the “true Gina” so many years ago, and continued to love me when I began my journey of authenticity.  I love you Mom, and I know someday I will see you again! Thanks for loving ME, all of me. Enjoy your day celebrating in Paradise.

Jan

/ Gina Marie / 4 Comments

My mom.  She was many things.  She hated the name “Janice”.  She loved her kids and grandkids so much – we are her legacy.  She was an artist, and now I appreciate her paintings more than I can explain.  She used to blot her lipstick on envelopes, pieces of paper, junk mail……her lip imprints could be found anywhere.  She used to drive like Mario Andretti, though I was never scared.  She was an amazing dancer back in the day.  Some songs would make her cry even if she wasn’t sad.  She always had long fingernails, and they were super strong.  My Dad never called her by her name, at least where I could hear, but instead called her “babe”, “honey”, etc.  She had friends from all walks of life, from tons of different races, and made equality a way of life not a byword.  Okay, so she met my Dad in a bar when he was in the Navy, and may have been nine years older than he was, but hey she was smoking hot and had pull.  She was a real estate agent for over 20 years and her clients became family; most were repeat customers multiple times.  She was not afraid to stand up to anyone, especially when someone was being a bully to someone weaker/smaller.

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She had an amazing laugh.  One look would shut up 100% of her kids – no yelling needed.  She loved to play the slots in Las Vegas or Laughlin.  She was an amazing cook, and as an Italian always made way too much food.  She was generous to a fault.  She was 5′ 3 1/2″ most of her life – and yes she always said the “and a half” part.  She was pretty witty for most of her life.  She could be awfully scary too (remember, she was Italian)!  She was an imperfect soul that I loved immensly.

Janice “Jan” Lorraine Gates Fakelmann Minard.  You will be missed and will remain forever in our hearts.

Reflection of Life

/ Gina Marie / 1 Comment

Those who have known me for a while know I had some rough times relating to my mom over the course of my youth.  Her being bipolar has had a lot to do with that, and reality is – we all have some form of dysfunction in our lives.  None of us are perfect.  Yet, if you’ve known me more than a week, you also know I often tell people I’ve had a pretty amazing life, my childhood was pretty legit, and I am pretty proud of the person I have grown up to be.  (Okay, so I am still pretty immature, but that’s besides the point.)

I am currently in the ICU ward of a Southern California hospital, my mother having been moved back here a few hours ago.  Right now she’s resting well, is under wonderful care, though due to that care it is difficult for her to communicate with us.  She has a face mask on and it’s pretty much impossible to hear anything she has to say.  Add that her voice is still recovering from the breathing tube that was only removed a few days ago, and well……the only real thing we can understand is her nodding yes or no.  Yet her eyes are so expressive, I could sit hours just gazing into them, reassuring her of my love, that she’s been a wonderful mother, that she’s doing a great job, and the like.  But, as she rests I thought I’d write some thoughts, as that is my therapy as I fight to stay strong but would rather fall in a messy heap and sob my heart out.

So, whether or not I struggled with my mom, no matter if there were times when I was not sure I could deal with her…….every negative thing I might have easily conjured up in the past lays silent as my mind and heart are overwhelmed with love and appreciation for her.

When I was about 6, my mom and I went grocery shopping.  I am not sure but I think we had guests; maybe my Grandma Minard was visiting or maybe it was someone else.  But we were there and we were buying items.  At the checkout I asked for a candy bar, which I usually didn’t do and by the way…..we hardly EVER had candy on the regular.  That was for special occasions.  Anyway, my mom said yes and I was shocked, EXCITED even!  But then I remember her getting really upset (not at me) and things being moved around and my mom acting weird.  But I didn’t understand it at all though I sure did enjoy that Snickers!  Come to find out later, as my Dad pulled me aside, and asked me to not ask for candy again.  He explained that my mom didn’t have enough cash for all the things we had to buy and that it was hard when she had to put things back.  I didn’t appreciate that as much when I was six, but as an adult who once upon a time had similar situations occur, I have to give my mom props for saying YES to the candy, and then letting me keep it even though she had to put back groceries.  I am sure the candy bar was not the tipping point, but you get what I am saying.

I was in a musical in kindergarten – I played the triangle BOOM – and my mother told me she would not be able to attend.  I was sad, because even back then I was extroverted and wanted nothing more than for my mom to see me rock the triangle.  I will always, ALWAYS remember the moment I hit the side of the instrument, looked up, and there was my mom standing in the back row!!!!!!  That filled my heart with happiness..

I have more to share, and I expect to do so in the coming days, but the truth of the matter is this – my mom did the very best she could.  While she may have made mistakes or regretting doing (or not doing) some things, that doesn’t matter.  And when I sat with her yesterday, all she could do was struggle to get the words formed in her mind and tell me what was heavy on her heart.  She didn’t let her confusion or her recovering vocal cords or her health get in her way.

Mom:  you are well liked

Gina:  thanks mom

Mom:  no, no (pause as she thought of the words) you are well loved

Gina:  awwww mom, thank you I love you too

Mom:  that’s it.  I love you.  I love you.  I love you.

And that, my friends, is all that really matters.  Love, and knowing when to share it.  And really, it should be shared always.

 

 

 

 

The Circle of Life

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

I have been blessed in many ways in my life, abundantly so.  One area that is a huge blessing that often fills my heart with gratitude is being a mother.  This area runs the gamut of emotions; joy, uncertainty, frustration, fear, excitement, pride, love……and the list goes on.  Sometimes it seems like just yesterday I was holding my first born daughter for the very first time, amazed that I was actually a mother, freaking out that I was responsible for this precious little bundle of joy……..and then to be hit in the face with the reality that she will be 26 this year.  What the HECK?!?!!?!  How did this happen?????  To watch videos of my oldest son learning to ride a bike, showing a determination and tenacity that was amazing, as I plan what to do for his 21st birthday.  To receive a text of my 15 year old son’s haircut, realizing he STILL has a pretty darn big head and has become this young gentlemen that blends the best of his father and me.  To pump up bicycle tires for a family ride, and notice all the hair on your 14 year old son’s masculine legs, as his 12 year old sister impatiently rides around you, seamlessly using the best project manager’s tone with perfection.  To have these thoughts running through your brain as you fall asleep, and then to wake to this video by Nichole Nordeman that a friend posted to Facebook…….WOW!!!!  My friend warned that we’d need tissues, and she was right!

 

Time DOES need to slow down, and as a mother of five kids I can attest to that.  But an interesting dynamic also exists in my life, and the last few days I’ve been pondering it.  Recently, I’ve been dealing with my mother being ill; she has struggled with her health for many years, though at the age of nearly 81, it seems her struggles have become more……I don’t even know the right word to write.  She and we have realized there will come a day, and perhaps that day is not as far off as it felt before, when she will graduate to heaven.  And that realization has made me think of my own childhood, of all the memories I have shared with my mom, and with my dad, and with my siblings and friends and aunts and uncles and grandparents.  And, even when these memories have been the most heartwarming and fun to reminisce over……..looking at my mother in her diminished state, hearing her voice that suddenly sounds old, seeing her hands shake or her skin bruise so easily…….seeing her now even as the memories of her back in the day taking no crap from anyone…….I wonder with awe where the hell the years have gone.  Even with the years of illness she’s been through, I feel almost blindsided by the reality that my mother is nearly 81 years old and somehow became this person that needs gentle care, needs mothering and gentleness and words of comfort and compassion, and will not be on this earth forever.

And as I have emotionally and physically been trying to process this realization, not always holding it together….and in fact losing it occasionally as I regress to an 8 year old girl that needs her mommy while also fully existing in the role of the parent, coordinating updates with my siblings and talking to doctors and making sure she has money to pay for food…….I can’t help but acknowledge my support system.  Of course Deana has been there for me in thousands of ways for which I can’t express enough in words.  But to sit here and ponder……my own children have stepped up into a new role as well.  Kirstie flew with me to California to visit my mom, and neither of us realized how much she’d be a tower of strength for me as I would swing between 8 year old and 48 year old Gina.  She was there for me when I cried, she validated my anger when I raged, and she encouraged me when I felt hopeless.  She saw her own grandmother struggle, and the compassion and empathy she displayed, the love she extended to the woman that used to hold and care for her as an infant was a blessing to behold.  The maturity in which she balanced the fact that this could be the last time she saw her grandma, while ALSO comforting her own mother as I dealt with this same realization……made me realize the dynamic of family is so complex and robust and strong and……and…….beautiful.

I could go on and on about each of the kids.  How Kenny seems to have radar and calls or texts me at the perfect time, knowing if I need to laugh or to talk or to just hear his voice.  How Josh speaks to me, even as a teenager that has a full social life and sometimes moms aren’t as cool, but still enjoys interacting with me.  How Zack always, always asks if I’ve had a good day, but more importantly follows up if I admit my day has been rough.  Sophia, who is truly a mini me, gets when I am stressed or feeling inadequate because I really DON’T have the answers or the solution, even though she’s only 12.  Through it all, even when I sit here watching that video and ponder where the time has gone, I must also admit these children that rely on me are also a huge support system.  They feed my soul and care for me in ways I never planned.  And, really, I thank God so much that He provided them to ME, that the very people I’ve taken care of for so many years have turned the table and are taking care of me.  It is weird and majestic and awesome.  And I am thankful for this, even if I just realized it.

2015 In Review

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

I suppose it’s not that original to create a blog entry to recap a year.  However, I do think it is a great exercise to focus on the blessings that have occurred, especially when so much online and in the news seems to focus on what is wrong in society.  Perhaps I’ve buried my head in the sand, but there WERE many great blessings for me 2015.

  • After Deana received her new awesome job at the end of 2014, we put our house on the market in Texas.  Selling during the winter/holiday season can be stressful, and I often worried that we’d be waiting for months for any real offers.  However, a little over a month on the market and we got a WONDERFUL offer that was honestly perfect.  Even with me being in Australia, we were able to push it through.
  • Concurrently, we also had found a wonderful home in Georgia, thanks to Tiffany who gave us a heads up about it!  The selling of our Texas home was the missing piece, and since that went through we were able to move forward with our relocation.  Moving with two families that are changing states can be a logistical nightmare, but in our case it was VERY smooth!  The dates worked out perfectly!  I thank your buyers as well as the sellers as they were very accommodating across the board.
  • Moving is never fun, and there were quite a few hiccups throughout the process, but looking back from the advantage point of “today” made me realize – in the scheme of things – everything went really okay.  We are settled in our beautiful home, we have more than what we need, and we have friends and family to love.  What more do we need?  AND, I so love living in “the country”!
  • January 2015 another work milestone was accomplished – our Australia locations went live on our ERP system.  This was a pretty big endeavor, and with the distance it made it quite interesting.  SO MANY were on the team for sure, and we had our hands full for a few months after they started, but as I look back I am very proud not only of the Aussie Staff, but for the IT Project Team that made it happen.  Blake, Cary, Tiffany, and Scott THANK YOU.
  • June 2015 kicked of the UK portion on the ERP system rollout.  Many faces continued on this leg and I have to admit this is probably the biggest and best rollout to date!  Internal staff absorbed many of the tasks and it has totally rocked.  We go live there in a few days and I am very hopeful.
  • On that note, I was very glad to add Matt to the mix, which is totally awesome.  He came from our vendor and rocks, except for his love for the Green Bay Packers.
  • Speaking of football, 2015 has proven to be a great year for the Vikings!  We made the playoffs and are tied with the Packers going into the post season.  While I am still being encouraged to consider switching alliances by becoming a Cheese Head, for now I am waiting for next Sunday to see who wins the GB-MN match up.  Purple, after all, is still my favorite color!  (Marisa and Sarah……green is not bad, I just apparently need more time to consider this and maybe walk more win prep for running from Deana!).
  • This year also proved to continue with the kids growing and maturing, despite my demands that they stop.  I cannot believe the old pics of the kids in comparison to their pictures today!  I am ALWAYS blessed when I look at them and am grateful that the Lord has placed them in my life.  ❤
  • Of course, there’s my hot wife.  We have continued to work our marriage (and, HA!, marriage can sometimes be WORK!), and I am forever thankful that the Lord has blessed our marriage and has reminded both of us to look through love, especially when “life” can be the biggest distraction.
  • I was able to have ALL my kids in my house during the holidays, which blesses me beyond words!!!!!

Our prayer for you today, the last day of 2015, is that you feel peace and love!  And we also pray that you feel and receive tons of blessings in 2016.  Happy New Year!