Landfill Rings and Unlikely Friends

My father was 23 years old, a recent college grad with shaggy blonde hair and big aviator glasses, when he decided that he was going to marry the brilliant brunette he had known his entire life. He bought her a beautiful gold ring and promised to love her forever. Her strength, her determination, her beauty - ALL of her, until his last day. And fifteen years and two children later, he loved her all the same. Or more. But one seemingly ordinary day in the mid-1990s, that wedding ring would be thrown into the trash, never to be seen again.

Papa and Momma Bear - 1983

To clarify: my parents have been happily married for nearly 30 years. Their partnership is something unmatched by any other couple I have ever seen. They balance each other to near perfection. So no, the ring was not thrown into the trash in the middle of an all-out, no-holds-barred argument. To this day, I have yet to see my parents have a serious fight. Props on keeping minimal drama in our house, Mom and Dad. You rock.

I was the one who threw away my mother's wedding ring. It wasn't out of anger. It wasn't some evil plot to get even with my mother for not letting me have seconds on dessert. It was a mistake. Plain and simple. I was learning to count money so I went looking through her purse for spare change. In my attempt to de-clutter my mother's purse, to help free her busy life from one less task, I tossed what I thought was a used Kleenex into the garbage. What I didn't know was that my mother had an allergic reaction that made her hands swell so she had taken off her ring, wrapped it neatly in a tissue, and secured it in a small pocket of her purse to "keep it safe." But it still wound up in the trash, then a garbage truck, and eventually a landfill next to God knows what. 

Off to learn my numbers, letters, money counting... ughh :(

I've heard that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Throwing my mother's wedding ring was the first, but surely wasn't the last, of many decisions in my life that paved my way to Hell so to speak. From the day I threw that ring in the garbage to this very moment, wearing a wedding ring of my own, I would estimate that I have made about 3,736 oopsies. Some big. Some small. Some mean spirited. Some unintentional. Some careless. Some meticulously planned but oopsies nonetheless. 

One of my greatest uh-oh moments to date caused a smart, beautiful 16-year-old's first heartbreak. Long story short, I was a gullible, selfish brat. I was in my senior year of high school. I didn't think past the weekend. Despite my own instincts and better judgment, I took a silly boy at his word and ended up being a player in an evil little game of lies and jealousy and resentment that would carry on for years. And though I denied my responsibility in what happened for far too long, I can admit now that I made a mistake. I didn't respect myself or other relationships enough to keep my distance. 

I was surely paving my road to Hell. We both were, me and that beautiful 16-year-old girl. We tortured each other with awful nicknames and rumors. We armed ourselves with evil stares and catty whispers every time we were in the same room. But underneath it all, beneath the jealousy and disrespect and pettiness, was a common denominator - the same thing that is at the root of almost any argument - FEAR. Fear of being hated. Fear of being ignored. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of being talked about behind your back. Fear that the things being said to your face are true. Fear of never having the right answers to make it better. Fear of not being good enough.  

But the most beautiful moments can happen in the middle of all that fear. Grace happens. Redemption happens. Understanding happens. Time mellowed both of us to a point that we dropped the insults and drama. When we realized just how time consuming and mind numbing the backstabbing and insult hurling could be, we stopped hating each other and realized just how similar we were. One of the greatest lessons I've learned is that, with time and forgiveness, even the most bitter rivals can turn into the most trusted friends. 

 

This is life: where flaws are expected and mistakes are inevitable. The best we can do is keep learning and growing. Own up to your imperfection and remember that there are lessons to be learned in every uh-oh and every oopsie. Take some of my lessons to heart... Double check before you throw things in the trash. Try not to call anything "f**king bullshit" in front of your mother. Remember that two wrongs never make a right. Never use oven mitts with holes in them. Make note that speeding in Minnesota is much more expensive than in North Dakota. Trust that important words left unspoken will leave an aching in your chest. Learn how to sincerely apologize when you're wrong. Love exactly who you are, in this moment, and appreciate the stumbles it took to get you there. Trust that no matter what you've done, it gets better. It always gets better. 

To Lauren From Lauren

Alfred Adler, a world renowned and highly respected psychologist, believed that the core of an individual's personality is fairly set in stone by the by the age of 5. Lauren Jean Wold Trefethren, a world citizen and highly respected barista and borderline know-it-all, agrees whole heartedly. 

The core traits of my very being, the signature "Laurenisms" that make up a complex whole, have been there since the days of mid-day naps and snack time. But who am I kidding, I still enjoy a good mid-day nap and snack time. Proving Adler's point. And I'm still stubborn. Sensitive. Worrisome. Loyal. Spontaneous. Genuine. And, displayed so clearly above, unable to stay very serious for very long. 

Yet regardless of our similarities, young Lauren and I have some stark differences. The blonde, freckle faced, preschool version of me concerned herself with the tiniest lies and disloyalties of her friends at recess, working herself into a frenzy and inevitably breaking down into tears. Now, particularly over the past decade, I have been devastated to a point where I forget how to breath. I've had my heart broken. I've attended friends' funerals. I've made mistakes beyond anything little Lauren could have ever imagined. The everyday tragedies of being a teenager and young adult have impacted me to a point that I sometimes feel that I'm losing her, that part of me that was so sure of herself, sure of her relationships, and sure of the world around her. I fear the pain of my past has mellowed me to a point of being jaded and disconnected, the very thing that I swore I would never let happen. So in an attempt to reconnect with that sweet, innocent version of myself, a girl so filled with hope and optimism and just a few years later so much angst and rebellion, I decided to write her this letter.


My Dearest Lauren, 

This is an older, hopefully wiser, you. I'm the same silly girl I was sporting that Barney tee shirt and pencil behind the ear. Good look for you, by the way. And keep on rocking those bangs because they become a trademark. You're 22 now. Married. Buying a house. Happy. And yet, all these years later, your questions are still a part of me: Will I be liked? loved? ignored? lonely? Will I be happy? What will I be when I grow up? 

I hate to break it to poor, inquisitive little Lauren but you may never find the answers to those questions. Some days you will feel liked and, yes, loved - loved so intensely that it will make your heart race and your head spin. You will meet boys who set your world on fire, who make you dance, inspire you to dream bigger. You will marry your best friend. But there will be days, many of them, when you will feel confused. Frustrated. And, your least favorite, lonely. As for what you will be when you grow up, I would love to tell you that you will be a pediatric neurologist like you always wanted but math and science skills are sort of a prerequisite and you missed the memo of where to pick those bad boys up. I can tell you this: Continue to write. Get better and better. This will be your outlet, your therapy, and your passion. I don't know what you will do for a living but I do know that you'll be happy. More days than not, you will feel SO happy and SO blessed.

I'm the same anxious teenage girl I was sitting in that car next to a gorgeous 16-year-old boy, full of insecurities and unlimited potential. How does he see me? What is he thinking? Why was I cursed with these short legs and man hands?

I want to shake you, girl. I want to tell you that her "short" legs are strong legs and you "man" hands are your dad's hands. And that boy, the one that makes your heart pound so loud you're afraid he will hear it, he sees you more accurately than you think: a girl full of insecurities. But he likes you. And what is he thinking? I think you know the answer to that one. He is thinking what most 16-year-old boys think about while alone with a girl in a car. Obviously. But cut him a break. Don't be too hard on him when he makes a mistake. You'll learn too quickly that nothing lasts forever. Not pain. Not jealousy. And not even life. When he apologizes, forgive him. Hug him goodbye. You won't get the chance again.

I'm the same giddy college student I was sitting in the passenger seat of my future husband's car. Where is this going? Does he love me like he says he does? Am I really willing to commit to one person... forever? 

Simply put: it is going somewhere wonderful. YES he loves you - the kind of love you always prayed for. Steady. Unconditional. Strong. That's the kind of love worth committing to.

I know that you're scared. I know that you are filled with doubts and questions that seem suffocating. The best advice I can give you is deceivingly simple but I promise it will help. Be you. Work hard. Call home. Sacrifice. Be smart. Listen for God. Trust your gut. Keep learning. Never lose your humor. Pray. Don't get jaded. Remember to breath. And, above all else, love each moment for what it is and not what you wish it were. That, my dear, is the greatest lesson you will ever learn. 

Love Always, 
Lauren 

P.S. Don't ignore mom and dad's calls when you're at parties. They're not idiots. They'll make you do yard work.. with a hangover.. in the July sun. Just trust me on that.