Author Archives: angie wirthlin

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Ok ya’ll.  I say ya’ll because this is South Carolina, and that was how I was raised.  I like it. Tonight,  I’m going to let it fly.  Random thoughts.  I don’t know if this post will ever see the light of day, but oh my, how I have missed you. It’s 8:30 , I’m eating nachos (gasp), I still have on every part of my work costume, from the earrings to the shoes….I came in to a storm of  he said, she said…where is she ? Can I go here ? He hurt my feelings. Thomas is working on at least 4 things at one time, and I think…aaahhh work was nice.  Just kidding.  Now that I work, I live for the weekend.  It’s solid gold to me. Even cleaning is a pleasure.  God, I miss Erin. (i mean that as a prayer).  Thomas has been so good since the whole work thing, keeping it all together, thats a gift of his.  And I am grateful.  Keeping it together….not my gift. Tearing it apart ? yes, can do….causing  a scene, losing all hope ? Yes, and yes.  Again, I say, I am grateful to him. I love him.  BUT…..since I am letting it fly, I thought I’d write a letter.

Dear friend that could’ve been, but is not,

Why do you make me feel like I am not worth your time ? My heart is good, and real. My stories are funny, and my advice right on. You don’t actually have it all figured out. I give up. No more liking your photos on facebook, fake air kissing at church, my heart is done. I wish you well, but I won’t sit around wondering why you don’t give me the time of day.

Signed,

the best friend you never had.

Please don’t take offense at this. It’s real. That’s all. I’m venting, and letting my fingers fly. I am a daughter ( not the best, looking back), a sister ( selfish), a wife ( hard to deal with  at times), a mother (all in…to a fault), and a friend (loyal, sensitive, over analyzing, sweet, sad) , to some.

Time for P.J. ‘s….this week has lasted a year, and my head is full.  Man-child is at the football game, and the littles (who are not little) are playing a game of RISK with their dad.  And there you have it.

 

 

 

 

 

Heightened Senses, and such.

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I could write a book about all the things that I have learned in my first two weeks as a full time working mother.  But I won’t, at least not tonight.  I have learned some very trivial things, like, the fact that I CAN get up early, And I can walk in heels. Both very important, and nothing to do with this post. I’ve learned that it feels good to have some purpose outside of my home, and it feels good to have people say that I am smart, and capable. Really good, in fact. Mostly, I’ve learned just how much I love my kids. I have missed them like crazy. When I get home, the hours that we have together are like gold to me. I want to hear their stories, EVERY detail (this wasn’t always the case before), and I want to hold them, and stare at them.  It’s as if my senses are heightened. No joke.  And that is worth the getting up early, the late night laundry…all of it. Thank you to everyone who has prayed for our transition, we are doing great.

A family that we met when we lived in Fort Mill lost one of their treasures this week.  He was 23.  He was a violinist,  he was a student, a son, and a friend.   And he is gone.  I am praying, and praying, and believing that the peace they need is coming. This too,  has made me acutely  aware of my children, my life.  It’s so good.  Even in the struggle, it’s good. So tonight will be the night of a thousand kisses, and snuggles , and sweet words.  And somehow in the hustle and bustle, I will try to hold on to these heightened senses of mine. goodnight.

And goodnight to Jonathan Dailey’s  family, may all the prayers of all the people that you know, and don’t know cover you, and keep you.

Answer on the first ring….

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I talk a lot about my kids on this blog. A whole lot of lamenting, as well as boasting.  Today, I will be boasting, but I know better than anyone pride goes before a fall,  and so I will preface this post by saying I cannot take all the credit for the decisions my kids make,  good, or bad.

This one, here to the left, is a freshman this year, he is V.P. of his class, running on the XC track team, and part of the civil air patrol.  He is a good boy.  Yesterday he asked permission to ask a girl out.  Without a doubt, there was a part of me that wanted to panic, and maybe even cry a little. But the main part of me was overjoyed that he was sharing this with me. That he is handling it on the up and up. He is listening to me as I talk about perimeters , and boundaries…it sounded like a strategic battle meeting, and still he heard me out, and agreed to my terms.

Now this one, here to the right…she is a hand full, I always say she is just like me, but she is not…she is so much more. I gave her a hug before church this morning, and stuck my hand in her pocket ( I’m just like that, I snoop, I suspect…its a problem).

I pulled out a tiny, folded piece of paper with an – AHA ! I opened it up, tears came when I realized that it said…you are beautiful, Jesus loves you, Live for him. Yeah. Her goodness surprised me. That made me feel bad, but it was a short lived emotion, because I was too busy PRAISING GOD that she KNOWS him. And so, I am praying today. If you have sons, and daughters, small, or big….join me.

Abba- There is a generation rising up to  meet you, to know you.  I know because my treasures are part of that generation. They are calling you. Answer them on the first ring, the first ring  Papa. They are calling out through the darkness of the culture that surrounds them looking for your light. I’m asking that you not let their call go to voice mail, but that you will pick up on the first ring. Love you- Angie

the written word.

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I got a job.  A full time job.  Talk about a shock to the system.  I am tired mentally, and physically.  I have been in pjs all day today ….just because I can be.   I have worried about the transition a lot.  That is putting it mildly, I have obsessed about how the kids will do, and how the house will run. So far …so good.  I had an idea to get a notebook for Belle, and one for Z.  I write in this notebook every night before bed, and then leave it out in the kitchen for them to read when they get home from school the  next afternoon. It has a list of things for them to do, get a snack, start homework, take out the trash….and then I write a paragraph or so asking about their day, telling them that I can’t wait to get home,  and see their faces, and to write me back if they want to.  So far Belle has written both days, Z none.  Shocking.  Not really. I’m not sure the notebooks mean anything to them yet, but they mean everything to me. There is power in the written word. The power to speak to their spirits even though I’m not with them. There is power in showing them that you have the time to sit down and write, even though you don’t get to come for the field trip.  That notebook goes a long way toward easing my mommy guilt. I recommend it, even if you don’t work.  Sometimes you can be far away even when you are at home.

The husband of a dear friend of mine wrote her a poem. He is not a poet, or a writer, but his spirit is connected to the LOVER above all other lovers, and he listened to his heart, and wrote the most beautiful love letter. There is power in the written word. Power, and healing, and…hope.

News Flash

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While thinking, and stressing, and obsessing about getting a job, I had a revelation.  I am NEVER going to remember everything that I need to remember.  With, or without a job outside of this house, I will NEVER remember the one million things that I need to remember.  Dr’s appts, tests, quizzes, projects, lunch menus, afterschool clubs, before school clubs, snacks, for test days, snacks for cross country meets, FCA meetings, student council meetings, youth group, civil air patrol, birthday parties, gifts for birthday parties, volunteering at church, before school bible study, sunday afternoon bible study, game night, orthodontic appts, signing the reading log, and the agenda, packing lunch…..This could go on, and on, and I know that your list looks similar.  But there was something great about realizing that it is impossible to remember everything, all the time. And something incredible in realizing that all those things that I listed are NOT, what make me a good mom. Those things represent a piece of the mommy pie, a sliver. It’s the bedtime talks, and the broken moments, the silly laughter, and dinner conversations, the prayers …if you forget every appointment, and never volunteer on the pta, it’s going to be okay.  As long as you don’t forget the prayers. That is where I find calm in the midst of all this fast moving chaos.  I pray for their health, their safety, their friends, their teachers, their study habits, and their future spouses.

That being said, if we miss something…oh well.

Broke.

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I haven’t written.  Not because of a lack of subject matter, it just seemed too overwhelming.  There are so many directions that I could go in.  I’ve stared at the page for several days in a row…what do I want to tell you ?

I’ve been broke.  I’m broke every time I hear God call my name.  I break when he reminds me that I’m in his hand, that no matter what HE has a plan.  This past couple of weeks have found me broken again.  There has been need, and want, sickness, and sadness.  There have been questions that threaten to drive me insane. But he is there…here.  While I wallow, and wade through the what ifs, I hear him call my name, and it is not so much a command, more like a revelation.  He is with me, and he knows me, he reveals me, and I break.  Again. It’s good.

Adam is turning 15 in a few minutes, and I have struggled with that this week.  It seems like I can remember every day of his life so far.  I know that is impossible. So many moments, so many memories.  First words, then funny phrases…the way Adam couldn’t fall asleep alone until he was 6, the joy that I have felt every single day since he was born.  Yep, breaking again.  Letting God pour in.  And so it goes, moving forward…learning to love.

Seasons.

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Yesterday I sent out ten resumes.   I was pretty proud of myself, and thinking it was the right time.  Literally,ten minutes after said resumes had been sent, and a post on face book had been made…the school nurse called.  Isaiah had a stomach ache,   and had been in twice, could I pick him up ? Was that a sign ? Coincidence ? It makes me a little wary to get a job right now.  I might be rushing it.  Whether his stomach ache was a virus, or brought on by stress…it was there.  He is doing a great job with school, and I am very proud of him. But my job here, at home, is not done yet.  I will trust my gut on this one.

Adam won the election for ninth grade vice president ! His first cross country meet is today.  We are excited to see him run,  he has put a lot of work into it.

These kids….I have to get Belle a new pair of glass,  like right now ! And Sidney is preparing to move out this week.  There is never a dull minute !

It’s true, I am guilty of being bored at home, and wanting to do my own thing for various reasons, but the truth is…being a mom is the most important thing to me.  Giving my kids what they need is my main priority. They are not babies,  I can’t just give them a bottle,  and put them in fresh jammies,  and call it a day.  I have to give them real food,  nourishment for their spirits, and encouragement for their souls.  They won’t always be here with me, they are going to have to navigate this world on their own.  It’s a big job preparing them for that.  Sometimes, I want a do over, a time machine that could take me back to the chaos of them being 10, 5, 2 1/2, and 6 months. My flesh wants that, because they needed me for everything.  But in my heart, I know we are in a special time right now, they don’t need me for everything, but hopefully ….they want me.  Life lessons.

random, runaway thoughts… on the loose.

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I am not dressed.  That makes me lazy, right ?  It’s 10:55, and I’m in my robe.

Why is it so hard to dress, and look cute on the days that you don’t need to go anywhere ?  Why is the perfect Stay At Home outfit so damned elusive ?

Isaiah has a stomach ache.  Or does he ? I don’t know.  Does it matter ? I don’t know.

I let him stay home.  I use the term let, loosely.  What choice did I have ?  Risk a melt down, or him running away from school.  Failure, failure.  No chanting.   I’m trying not to panic.  The what ifs  …grip me.

Why did I neglect to buy emergency ice cream for a day like this ?

What if the fleas never leave ?  I’ve spent so much money getting rid of the fleas.    If the fleas don’t die , the dogs may have to move out.

What kind of person would say that ?

Is Adam going to win the election for vice president of his class ? And if he does, will he be able to keep up ?  I mean what will come of his X-Box addiction ? Not to mention, academics, and athletics ?

Should I be telling him to slow down ?

He is going to get married one day.

Wonder how Thomas’ meeting is going?  Wonder what he put in the goody bags for his employees ?

California ? Really ?

Are these thoughts dangerous ?  Should  I be taking them captive ?

I’m hungry. Calories in.  I hate to work out.  It’s likely that I won’t do it.  Maybe the hunger will go away.  It’s like my own little version of the hunger games.

We are being tested.  God is good.  We are being tested, but…God is good.  Remind me God, rescue me, restore me, refill me, re-invent me, re-boot me, re-start Isaiah’s courage. Do all of those R things that only you can do.

Chocolate.  And salt.

Okay, that’s it.  I’m wrangling these thoughts in.  They have had free reign long enough.

 

Aging.

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  Why is my husband getting cuter with age ? Does this happen to every husband ?  Why does the gray hair on HIS head look so darn good , while the gray in my own just leaves me looking worn out ?  Why do the crinkles around his eyes remind me of years of laughter, while the ones around mine send me into a panic ? I am certain that God thought about this…and yet, I don’t have it figured out yet. What I do know is that I fell in love with a much younger, less charming man than the one I am married to now.  Hmmm.  We have been married almost 17 years, and I am charmed, and infuriated by him. He is better at most things now. Time is a great teacher, you can’t tell that to young people.  And if you had told the young me, 17 years ago, that I would find my husband, more attractive, more attentive, and harder to resist after all this time….I would have thrown back my naturally dark ( without gray) hair, and laughed at you. But its true. Hopefully, for you, too.

Second week…

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Still going at break neck speed.  No signs of stopping.  Adam decided to run for vice president of the ninth grade class.  And with that comes…posters, flyers, and of course, a video.  Why does it feel like I am the one trying to get elected ?  Isaiah is getting adjusted to the bad word abbreviations on the bus.  Don’t judge me people, I love the bus , and he has heard the words before.  At least this little boy on the bus is using abbreviations !  Belle got invited to a boy/girl swimming party.  Son of a B ! What to do ? Top all of that with a…. flea infestation,  and there you have it.  Our week.  Oh yeah… it’s only Tuesday.  So, prayer, and solutions…

  1. Adam/politics- he is far more clever than me. I am butting out.
  2. Belle/co-ed- party- PRAYER, and most likely some type of diversion.
  3. Z/ bad words- nothing. done.
  4. fleas/ the fact that they moved in- wage war, spend all our money on grooming, bombs, collars, and sprays, and if all else fails…give dogs away.

So, that’s it.  Let’s talk soon.