I’m the One...

This week I opened the family history book I started writing in January of last year.  The last time I worked on the book was

March 1st, 2021. I had just finished most of the chapter pertaining to myself and my nuclear family so it was Brett’s turn to chime in. 

This is the last thing I’d written in the process of telling our story before receiving the news that my brother was gone (Easter morning, 2021). 

“Brett Alan Patterson is my big brother.  By rights he was my first friend and we remain close to this day.  Our paths diverged when our folks divorced in 1977 and Brett moved to the north side of Indianapolis with dad.  I got to see Brett every other weekend after that and in 1987, we became a tag team again when he moved back with mom for a time.  I’ve asked him to share about his life here while teasing that he should make it count because this is his shot.  I mean really, who else is going to write his life story?  So here are some thoughts about Brett in his own words…”

Brett and I had been talking and sharing stories and photos for several weeks before his death.  Over Christmas I’d shared with everyone that I was starting our book so everyone was excited and the information was flowing. Until it stopped.

I have a folder full of memories and photos from my brother, and many more I’ve pulled from scores of family and friends that have reached out since his death.  I’m determined to pull them together and answer the question I vividly remember teasing him about. “Who else is going to write his life story?” 

Me.  I’m the one.

Mom On Fire...

Some days are heavy and I can’t help but want to wash it all away. Some days I’m reminded that I can’t do it all. That I can’t have it all. Fix it all. That I can’t change it all. Like last night when my son called to tell me there was a man with a gun who’d barricaded himself (and maybe a hostage or two?) inside the Indiana University Memorial Union. The building on campus a block and a half from the kiddo’s front door. The place where he likes to sit at Starbucks and study and meet friends. The campus living room of sorts. Yeah, that place.

Disbelief. Fear. Shock. The emotions that washed over us in the moment were BIG. And all at once I felt like I wanted him to run to me, I wanted to run to him, and I wanted to just run away. But when you’re a mom and your kiddo calls for advice/help, you don’t have the luxury to lose it. There is no running. So we did what we do best. We talked through the situation, calmly and objectively, and decided on the best course of action, a course that was logical for my kiddo, the young man who’s on his own (mostly), given the information we had at the time. 

Sometimes it's easy to remember that there’s so much I can’t change in this world... That there’s so much I can’t change for him... But then I hear the words of my magnificient friend Stacy Green ringing loud and clear. I can change me. I can do things differently. I can control how I act and how I react. And I can control my own weather, which means I can choose how to handle what comes at me and how I help my tribe when they call. 

And when things like last night come at me, I can pray like a mom on fire. #Build2022