What is thanks?

What is thanks?.


A Mother’s curse

Every mother says it, wishes it on their children.  You know it before I type it, you are saying it to yourself….”When you have children, I hope you have one that acts just like you.”

The more that I think of that statement, the more I dislike it.  Children are not a curse, nor is their behavior something to wish upon another.  There are times that my children act like little monsters…stomping around the house, throwing toys, muttering curses under their breath that they have no intention of executing.

This morning, like most mornings with my oldest,  I awake with bated breath.  I wonder how wound up he is going to be.  I wonder if the breakfast he is given will meet his expectations….I approach every morning like walking on eggshells.  I wonder if he will remember his bag, where his gloves are that i sent with him yesterday, will the outfit be ok for him today….I try each day and night to anticipate the frustrations that may result in full fledged temper tantrum from an almost 8 year old.  Most mornings he is up before i go in to wake him, I know he is up because he is running throw the house at Mac 10, screaming for something….Usually I am too comatose to fully understand his desire.  With breakfast comes the first installment of his meds.  Right now the focus is on attention and helping him calm down a bit.  If the frustration level for him raises too high, then we see the battle within him rage.  Highly intelligent and perceptive, he is able to see more in a situation than many usually acknowledge.  This compounds the need to be on pins and needles.

His rage, when it shows itself is something that I cannot control.  There are times I can do nothing but place him on my lap and rock with him as I did when he was a baby.  Back and forth I rock and whisper into his ear and pray that the time will be shorter next time.  Luckily, the times of rage are decreasing.  You see, this is not the kind of behavior that I would wish my sons experience with their children.  It hurts to see him when he is out of control.  It hurts  my soul, my whole being when he says terrible things about himself…that he is crap and that all people hate him.  It tears at my heart to know how intelligent and tenderhearted he is, and then to watch him give up so easily on something because he can’t focus.  I don’t wish that on his children.

I remember my own areas of frustration as a child and my temper tantrums over what seemed “global” issues.  I remember being angry enough to see red and feeling like no one understood me, I don’t wish that on my child.  There are moments etched in my mind that speak of great peace and calm and creativity. That is what I wish for my children.  There are also moments that are murky and dark, and filled with questions and frustrations….I do not wish those on my children.  I pray their path be filled with light and wonder.

I look at my oldest son and I can feel his pain, his lack of focus, the desire he has to do it perfectly…I wish I could take it from him.  I was never diagnosed with an attention deficit…I probably should have.  I watch and I wait for him to calm, I pound my head, looking for solutions that may make the journey a bit easier…I try to smooth out the rough spots and anticipate as much as I can.  I wake each morning, hoping this morning will be a better morning.  Instead of the screaming and running around the house, he could settle into his morning with a smile and a hug as he takes off for his day.  Then again, it is what it is.



I Want my Blankie

I went to a leadership meeting this last Monday, in Chamberlain.  I was seated at the table with leaders from the Bush foundation, Rural South Dakota, and other national leadership foundations.  The women that I spoke to talked with me after the main meeting about my time in school coming to an end.  Moms, sharing the burden of school, family, finances, and life. I agreed that it is a tough, tough balance–one that I am glad to see some to an end.

I made the comment that if my children were older than 4 & 7 I would probably not have heeded the call to go back to school.  As it is, my oldest and I have been in school together since he started kindergarten–that is kinda cool for us to share. Would I have done it were my children older?  I don’t know.  I do not have kiddos older than elementary school.  I do know that as they age, the number of activities grows exponentially.  I wonder how I will keep them involved but not over-involved.  I have also been aware of some covert judgment coming from fellow moms.  What a number we do to one another—as if we do not personally heap enough guilt upon ourselves…we seem happy to do it to one another as well.

I am not sure why I decided to go that direction….Ah, I just got my wavelength.  It is Friday after Thanksgiving.  I am so wiped I can hardly stand it.  All I really want is a warm blanket, my darkened room, and someone to take care of me.  I am 37 and I am yearning for a weekend of quiet and solitude with someone to check on me, tuck me in, and let me sleep, sleep, sleep…..  I am wondering why I am so wiped and I have come to a premature conclusion.  We women, moms included, give so much.  As I near the end of my schooling, I pray the time slows a bit, but I know this will not really happen.  The time I spent studying, writing, and learning will be replaced by something else that I deem important and the moments of self care will slip further on the back shelf.  If we could be as kind to another and keep each other accountable for our self care, we would be a much less stressed population.  Today, I yearn to give myself permission to sleep away the day, to not feel guilty, to lean into what my mind, body, and soul seem to need.  I would give any of you permission to do so.  I would hand you the blankie and direct you to your room.

I am not sure why I wrote all that….or what it’s purpose may be.  Someone may respond…someone may not.  All I know is that despite a large mocha mint coffee, I am wiped.  BTW, I have purchased nothing this Black Friday, and I do not intend to do so.  Blessings on your weekend.



What is thanks?

It is mid morning on Thanksgiving and I have checked my email and my facebook and seen all the posts of people giving thanks for various incidents, people, or situations in their life.  I am among those that are thankful, but it still has me thinking.  Why are we thankful?

Are we because someone carved out a holiday that mandates that we set aside time to spend with family and friends?  If we did not have this day mashed in the middle of fall and winter, would we take the time to say to one another what we think and how we feel?  Do we take the time to break bread together and share the impact we have made on each other’s lives?  I know that I do a poor job of this.

I instruct my children when they have received something to say “thank you”, but am I telling them to do that because it is the polite response or because I look to foster gratitude in them.  If it is from a gratitude standpoint, then I have done an even more poor job at that.  As each commercial infiltrates my screen and the ads pour into my home, they screech “I want that!  I need to have one of those!”  I want to scream that “No, you don’t!  You already have far more than many around the world, and yet you want more!”

They mirror what they see, and they see us wanting more.  I wonder what we truly want–what need are we trying to satisfy–for what do we yearn?  I confess that I tussle with these questions constantly and try in vain to answer them effectively.  I have found no easy answer.

I am most thankful for what I have.  I have 2 little boys and a home that keeps me warm and protected from the elements.  Someone older than I chose to keep me around as his forever companion, something I never thought would happen. 😉   I have access to education, books, literature, and moments to continue learning and self differentiating.  I am thankful for the influence of my parents, they taught me many lessons, some of which I emulate–others I look to adapt for my own life and family.  I have friends that are as dear, if not more so, than family.  Friends that have chosen to be on the journey with me and that is pretty important…when I think of people choosing to hang with me in spite of all my “me-ness” I am left humbled.  They speak to what and who I am without reserve, without fear of condemnation, and out of love.  There is no better gift to receive true friendship that transcends the surface…

What was I talking about?  Not completely sure, but I smell the wonderful scent of……coffee brewing and I need me some caffeine.  There is no turkey in this house, no mashed potatoes, fresh bread or pie….what remains is….truth.



What Ails

Pill upon bitter pill

tumble amidst

tne another.

Take this, not that-

make sure you take this

wiith food.

This will surely be the remedy

for that which ails

you today.

“I have the answer” as they scrawl

their name


“Listen, wait! You don’t understand!

these are only the symptoms

I have.”

“I said, take these every four hours

to relieve that which

ails you”

The pain? Relieve the pain?

but it’s telling me

something bigger

If you ask me to mask it, hide it, treat the

symptoms only, the problem


Speak to me, share my journey,

hear my story

see me

A placebo won’t alleviate the deep

yearning we each have

to connect.

Hurt beats on hurt, apathy throws up

its weary hands


The Way is light, the Truth is

we all need

one another.

cindy a heidelberger 15 november 11 1:40pm

Virgin Territory

Oh no!  She didn’t!  Did she just type Virgin in the title spot and think no one would notice or think something instantly?  Yup, I did!  I will continue to do so and push the envelope as long as I draw breath if it helps me to better understand this world and my reaction to it.

Doesn’t she know that a 37 year old mom of 2 and a would-be seminary graduate cannot talk like that or people will judge her accordingly.  Well, if you are more willing to judge me on my choice of title then I would love to hear more from you.

I have 2 little people that rule my world, one is 7 and is diagnosed with  ADD, as well as being dubbed highly gifted, there may be some other “schtuff” at play but as yet we are mum on the word.  His brother is 4 and is just as intelligent as he is, but has yet to be diagnosed with anything at this time.  I will write often about what it looks like to navigate this and what it does to the household, the marriage, the psyche’ of all involved, and career in ministry and education.

I am a painter with words, a curator of story, which means….I make pretty pictures with words.  Sometimes I hit a homer, sometimes I strike out without a single batter on base.  I will depend on you to tell me when my crap stinks.  To you I promise truth and transparency.  I will not BS you and I hope you hold me to the same standard.    I will write the truth, even when it is not so pretty to behold.

With all that said, I embark on my virgin voyage this Thanksgiving eve.  My husband and child are playing rabbit hunt on the Wii–Raving Rabbids while my other son contemplates his next game as he stands in the middle of the livingroom, naked and dripping from his latest bath.

Ahhhh, it begins.

%d bloggers like this: