emily p. freeman

Creating space for your soul to breathe so you can discern your next right thing.

In sickness and in health

six years and counting

It was the night of June 23, 2001 and my husband (of 4 hours) and I had just pulled away from our wedding reception. We sat closely in the way back of the limo somewhat surprised by the silence that greeted us as we watched our familiar town pass by through the window, the smiles and waves of those closest to us still a fresh memory. I remember looking down at my gown all gathered in my lap and then over at this man sitting close beside me with a crooked smile, both satisfied and loving, on his face. And in that moment an overwhelming and unexpected feeling swept fast through me: as a couple in love, we were finally free. Free to love and be loved without boundaries or fear of rejection. The way it was meant to be.

Fast forward five years to last night…sitting with my husband on the floor of our twin toddler’s nursery, he holding one and I the other. It was nearly 1 am and he had just cleaned out a crib full of throw up and I, seven months pregnant, was trying to navigate through my cloudy thoughts to decide what to do with a sick little girl in the middle of the night who was sure to throw up again, if not multiple times. It doesn’t matter how much time or money you spend when picking out cute bumper pads and pretty cribs for your babies. They all smell the same covered in last nights dinner.

She and I ended up in the living room and daddy took twin number 2 to the guest room with him…but because I couldn’t sleep for worrying about my daughter (and for fear of getting sick myself, if I’m completely honest) I began to think about my husband and about the transition from wedding to life. This is real life, I thought to myself. But I also realized something sweet and comforting as I tossed and turned on the couch. There is no place I’d rather be than sharing life with this man and these children in this place.

What a funny choice love can be. Why would I choose throw up and sleeplessness? Because this is life, real life…far removed from the lacy dress gathered in my lap, but no less sweet. It is all wrapped up in perspective. I like the way Paul Colman puts it: Life is where you are. And I choose to love it.

Sometimes you have to choose the pencils

She wanted the pencils, I could tell she did. Her daddy was sitting in the too-small chair in the children’s section of the bookstore and she was vacillating between a small, brightly colored and obviously educational activity book…or the set of pink princess pencils. She held them both, one in each hand and she quietly asked her daddy which one he thinks she should choose. He repeatedly told her it was her decision to make, she could choose either one. No sooner had the words come out of his mouth, than he was giving her a list of pros and cons about each potential choice: the pencils are pretty, but the activity book might last longer; the pencils have to be sharpened and then they get smaller and smaller, but the activity book has pages and pages of endless fun. “But the choice is yours to make,” he was sure to add.

I smiled to myself as I noticed the fathers’ inability to remain uninvolved in her decision. It was obvious to me which she would choose after his comments…what 5 year old would choose the pretty pencils after daddy clearly explained how impractical they were? I missed what happened next as my own daughter came up to me with several copies of the same board book and I realized she was rearranging the entire Sandra Boynton collection. I was somewhat glad for the distraction as it helped me maintain my cover.

When I looked up again at the daddy/daughter duo, I realized they were standing up to leave and she seemed very satisfied with herself. As they passed by me, I noticed in her hand she held the pretty princess pencils and in that moment, a strange realization came over me. I never would have chosen the pencils no matter how badly I had wanted them. And it made me think of all the other things that I do to please people or in attempts to make the “right” decision. Not only did the little girl make her own decision despite the implied frivolousness of that choice by her father, but her dad actually let her make that choice and seemed glad that she did so. And he was happy to buy the pencils for her.

I want to be more like that. Not making foolish decisions in haste or greed, but in those things where the outcome is neutral but the process is the point, I want to give myself permission to make the choice that is fun and exciting. I think as a kid I was always so worried about making the “wrong” choice in things that I had a hard time just being a kid. Sometimes you just have to choose the pencils. I think it is a liberating experience.

Calling all magic-bean-buyers

“If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer. If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!”

~Shel Silverstein

Filed Under: art

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