He said, “I wasn’t sure you still had it in you. You’ve been inside so much.”
I laughed.
Oh, you think?
You think I’ve been inside a lot the last 12 years of raising our children?
Yes.
I’ve been inside cooking meals and folding laundry.
I’ve been inside doctor’s offices and school buildings.
I’ve been inside the heart of our family.
But please don’t lose sight of me.
My soul has always lived outdoors.
I’m still here.
I’ve been here all along.
I spent the better part of my first forty years desperate for others to understand how far I’ve come from where I started.
Surely, they’d respect and understand me more?
But now I know, we all have stories, untold.
And it’s best to approach all with the grace we’ve always wished upon ourselves.
Hold my hand.
Lean in.
We’ve come so far.
So long,
Farewell.
It’s time to say goodbye.
Goodbye.
I had been in labor for 37 hours when my mom entered the room and walked straight to my husband, with a breakfast sandwich, exclaiming, “You must be so tired.”
My husband was so confused.
She had not acknowledged me or the baby.
And I guess that’s what I want people to know.
Privilege comes in many forms.
Imagine sand.
Some of us build from a deeper hole.
And yet, we’re on the same team.
Friendship break-ups are the worst.
I’ve been having this conversation with one of my daughters on the reg lately.
Listening to podcasts, reading books.
Explaining that I’m thrice her age and still figuring it out myself.
Suddenly, your people aren’t your people anymore.
What’s a girl to do?
Find new people.
The teacher asked us to take notes.
I had no idea what she meant by that.
Pauli saw the panic.
She met me where I was.
She calmed me down and step-by-step, taught me how.
I will never, ever forget her kindness.
“Look for the helpers.” Mr. Rogers said.
I did.
And I still am.
In fact, I’ve become one.
“Just pick up fast food!”
My husband was out of town.
Gosh, if only it were that easy.
I feel like I’ve spent adulthood explaining this notion of “privilege” without realizing I’ve even done so.
Fast food?
That’s privilege, at least for my family.
We have a child with severe food allergies so “fast food” is not an option.
Instead, we have to plan painstakingly ahead.
“You were meant to be her mother.”
Was I, really?
What did I do in my past life to deserve this honor?
That’s what I would like to know.
It’s not her fault and it’s not mine either, or maybe it is- I don’t even know anymore.
What I DO know is that giving grace to any and everyone is the very best thing we can ever do.
Because, how otherwise, could we ever truly know their story?
We cannot.
So, we give grace.
Always, we give grace.
It’s been a lifetime of regret
For a crime I never committed.
I was born.
The illegitimate of a love affair.
Forever, a child, apologizing for my existence.
I’m so sorry.
And yet, Here I Am.
You’ve welcomed and accepted me,
Flaws, painful memories and all.
I’m so sorry.
I was born.
It’s been a lifetime.
But, here I am.
Here I am.
I used to feel so uncomfortable
With Gray.
Black and White were concrete, comforting.
But Gray, blurred the lines.
And I sought certainty.
Anyone with children will explain how humbling it is to feel powerless
Be it the pregnancy, the birth, the unexpected complications or simply the milestones
All of a sudden, you are no longer in control.
I spent a long time fighting the current
But started to enjoy the ride once I let it lead.
And that’s my approach to life these days.
There’s no need to know what comes next;
Instead, let’s wait and see.
Destination unknown.
Gray.
I realize, now, why it came so easily to me.
Because it was easier than living my truth.
Assign me a role.
Hand me the lines.
Anything but live. my. truth.
What was I so afraid of?
Oh, I know.
Fitting into a shattered family.
Don’t make waves.
Instead, belong.
What a sad, little girl I was.
And what a strong woman I am becoming.
New Leaf Parenting 