I am someone who likes to record -through photographs, with words.
Sometimes I wonder if that means I am obsessed with looking back but then I disregard that notion because there is so much I look forward to!
I’m curious.
What do you do?
Do you record, through photographs, albums, diaries?
If not, is it for a reason or do you wish you would?
Tell me, what about you?
And then the people said,
Rain! Rain!
What we need is more rain.
After pandemics, murder hornets and riots,
What we need is more rain.
Rain to trap us inside.
Rain to make us feel sad.
Rain to flood our streets.
Rain to remember what we once had.
Rain! Rain!
What we need is more rain.
Rain to grow our flowers.
Rain to make us think.
Rain to wash it away
Rain to begin again.
For when the sun shines once more
We will soak in its sweet rays
Remembering what we’ve endured.
Appreciating what we’ve gained.
Let it rain. Let it rain. Let it rain.
“Momma,
oh, Momma.”
Here I am, child.
Here I am.
The Times.
They’re hard.
So count ’em twice.
Those blessings.
Count ’em all.
And count ’em twice.
Count them all.
And count them twice.
In my lifetime, I have been abandoned.
Each time I racked my brain for answers. What had I done? How was I responsible?
If you know me at all, you know that I love learning. I am an open book and daily, I shine the light on myself and all of my imperfections.
As a sought-after keynote speaker, my mother frequently listened to motivational leaders on our family road trips, long before TVs or phones in a car. So, I listened to them too.
And what was drilled into me then has never left me: Only I am responsible for my actions. In each and every decision, I have a choice on how I will respond. If I am wrong, when I make a mistake, it is up to me to figure out what happened and how I can learn from it so that I can grow into the best version of myself. Growth cannot happen without mistakes and mistakes aren’t mistakes unless I didn’t learn from them. They are lessons!
I remember so clearly the pain I felt the first three times. I felt misunderstood and desperately wanted to defend myself.
After this last time, I asked my husband and other friends, “Please, tell me. What is wrong with me? If this has happened this many times in twenty years, surely this is on me. What do I need to do to fix myself? To be a better daughter, friend or version of myself?”
And then, without them saying, I knew.
I knew exactly what was wrong with me.
I realized how wrong I had been to take responsibility for something and someone I was not. responsible. for.
That these people are human, too. That they make mistakes and it is their responsibility to learn from their own, not mine to try and fix the damage of the abandonment by proving myself worthy.
My mistake is my lack of self-confidence in knowing that I am already worthy. I am loved by God, my husband, my children and the rest of my family and friends.
And for those who choose to inexplicably check out of our relationship, well, they can keep on walking.
Because I am worthy.
And it’s their. damn. loss.
He’s tired.
And I can see.
I sit on the edge of his side of our bed and rub his face.
Motherly.
I am here.
I will take care of you.
I love you.
And I support you.
Together, we will.
Together, my darling, always.
“There is no fix.”
That is what I told him after our last argument.
This is not a fixable issue.
This is just the way it is.
Him, working home full time surrounded by me and our four young daughters.
Me, overwhelmed with the rearing and education of our daughters on top of the insurmountable housework.
Our fuses are short. Lit quickly by the tiniest flame.
And right now? During a pandemic with stay-at-home orders? There’s no out.
No, there’s no way to fix that.
But we can talk.
We can argue and let. it. out.
“Keep talking.” I told him. “And I will, too.”
No, we can’t fix it. But we can talk.
And that’s our release.
My darlings,
What I want you to know
is that
You Already Know.
She resides inside.
Drown out the rest.
Listen closely.
She will not lead you astray.
She resides inside. 
Oh, my!
The labels.
The reasons.
The excuses why we aren’t already who we aren’t meant to be.
What does it take?
Truly.
What is it going to take?
To be true. To be real about who. we. are?
When will our “character flaw” stop becoming our excuse?
When will our excuse stop being our character flaw?
4 A.M.
And the moment I’d been dreading for 39 weeks.
No movement.
I sat on the side of my bed, sobbing. Begging my husband to get the baby to move, knowing I had waited one day too long to induce.
See, the day before had been my daughter’s spring concert and I figured delaying a day wouldn’t make much difference.
But in this moment, I regretted it all.
In a panic, I called our doula and midwife first and next, our neighbor.
She arrived within seconds. I folded into her arms, scared of what we would find when we arrived. She steadied me, reassuring that our three daughters at home were safe and off we went to find that baby Elizabeth was indeed alive and well.
Fast forward 18 months.
Same kitchen, same neighbor.
Our friends left and she stayed to ask the simple direct question: “Are you OK?”
“No.”
No, I wasn’t and all it took was for someone to ask.
I unfolded right in front of her, releasing the floodgates and once again, she took it. She held it. She steadied, reassured and stood me upright.
She looked me in the eye and said, “You are going to be OK.” And then she followed through.
She called to check on me. She invited me to run with her.
She held my hand.
And because of her, I made it.
There she is.
My superwoman. My angel. My friend.
New Leaf Parenting 