Here it is:

That moment where she connects a face to a voice
and he a dream to reality.
Here it is:

That moment where she connects a face to a voice
and he a dream to reality.
Today, millions are mourning the death of the passengers aboard the helicopter carrying basketball legend Kobe Bryant and his 13 year-old daughter.
The response seems right in line with any shocking news: Life. Is. Short. Live each day to its fullest. Tell those you love that you love them. Apologize before it’s too late. Don’t take today for granted.
But what does that truly look like for people around the world?
The thoughts are moving but the reality of taking my dream vacation today is unreachable.
So, now what?
I crawled into my attic to retrieve the mementos I’ve saved in my lifetime, curious as to what I considered important.
And, you know what I found?
Pages.
Pages and pages of what I’ve written since I could write.
And photographs.
Thousands of prints.
My treasures.
Meaningless to few others than myself, but invaluable to me.
It begs the questions:
What do you treasure?
What are you going to do with it?

What do we do
in our daily life
that is bigger than ourself?

Look here.
Look there.
Look to him.
Look to her.
Look online.
But let’s not forget,
to look inside.
For there is where the true answer lies.

Turn the page.
Begin again.
Start over.
Try something different.
Or . . .
just keep on, keeping on.
New. Leaf. Parenting.
Every day is a fresh start.
Every. Day.
So start.
Freshy-Fresh.
Happy New Year to You!

It’s a little window of time.
Filled with excitement, mixed with worry, mixed with wonder.
Waiting at the airport.
Waiting for the call.
Waiting for the kiss.
Waiting for the letter.
Waiting for the pass.
Waiting for the decision.
Waiting for the ring.
Waiting for Santa.
Waiting for the next contraction.
Waiting for the fish.
Waiting to begin the journey.
Waiting.
Anticipation.
And then . . .
and then. . . .
it’s over.
Until the waiting begins again.


Hey, little girl.
Soak it up.
All that love shining right towards you because
It’s real.
I’m your momma and I love you through and through.
There may be other babies but to me,
You are you.
And I love you just the way you are.
I’m your momma.
And I’ll never stop loving you.

I feel the same, little girl.
You can touch him.
He’s real.
He’s not just the man of your dreams.
He’s your daddy.
And I chose him just for you.
He will show up.
He will know your favorite color.
He will teach you how to fish and how to garden and pass a ball.
He will tell you he loves you and even better,
He’ll show it.
He’s a good, hard-working man.
And he’s your daddy.
Anyone who has been faced with a chronic illness or disability can relate . . .
You pray.
You hope.
You beg.
You wish it away.
You bargain.
You break.
You resign to recognize there are so many others who wish the same. . .
For it to go away.
Until the sickening realization that it may not.
It may for some, but not you.
For you, it stays.
And you wonder- why me?
You look to God, you look to your family and friends and you know,
it’s your burden to bear.
So what are you going to do with it?
We weep. We mourn. We lament.
And then. . .
And then. . . .
we rise.
We rise again.
And again.
And we wish it away again every day.

The holidays are here and with it a storm of emotions.
Joy, anticipation, dread, and resentment all in the same room mixed with a warm and fuzzy expectation.
For some, it is a time to celebrate.
For others, sadness and anger dominates.
And yet, regardless of our buried relics, this season demands a cease fire.
Patience in the face of indignation.
Understanding in place of incredulity.
Kindness over judgement.
Because on Christmas of 1914, even the Germans and the British ascended their trenches to sing Christmas carols.
And if they can, so can we.
