The Bittersweet Beauty of Our Children's Growing Independence

I’m not sure when it started, this fixation of taking photos of my children while walking or standing behind them. It must seem strange to some, I’m sure, this view of the back of my children’s heads and bodies.

It has always seemed natural for me, however. What no one tells you before you have children is that parenting is just a long series of letting go, of allowing freedom. In many ways, both literally and figuratively, our children spend much of their lives walking away from us. The events are too many to list here and they begin the very moment of birth:

-The first time that you hold them outside of your own body, your stomach mourning the loss of the movement and life within.

-The first time your baby eats table food, instead of the nourishment from your own body.

-The first tentative steps taken, which quickly turns into running and, for the first time, you are chasing after your child-- the same child that spent the last year safely in the confines of your body and then your arms.

-The first day of preschool, when they run excitedly to play with other children and away from the safety of you.

-The first time that you realize that they would rather spend an evening with their friends, instead of with you.

-The first time that they keep a secret from you and you realize that they have parts of their life that you aren’t a part of.

There are many of these moments. They often come suddenly, these flashes of your child’s independence. It’s enough to take your breath away. It is the way of parenthood, a natural happening and, yet, it can be so painful for the parents who want so desperately to be able to keep their children safe and loved forever. The days often pass so slowly, but the years pass so breathtakingly quickly as a parent. 

So, these pictures of my children walking away from me seem incredibly natural to me. It is natural for children to grow up and learn to live a life separate from their parents, even as painful as it can be for me as their mother.

It is our job, however, to raise our children as independent souls who will thrive on their own in the world. So, while it often hurts my heart to think of how my children are growing up and will be someday off on their own in this big old world, I am proud to see them becoming amazing young adults.

I am trying terribly hard to not view these photos as walking away from their mother, but to see them for what they really are-- my children walking towards an extraordinarily beautiful life for them out in the world.

My children will have their own journey in this life. They will have a life completely separate from mine. That is such a lovely and wonderful part of life. It is my job to prepare them to explore the world, and themselves, at their own pace as they step into themselves and their purpose in the world. I admit that it pains me that they will someday leave the safety of my nest, but I am embracing the beauty of my own journey of motherhood and the journey of what will come for my own life after my loves leave my home to make a place of their own.

These pictures of my children walking away from me are a beautiful reminder to me of the impermanence of the time that my children will spend in my home and in my arms. However, motherhood is not impermanent-- I will love and support them forever and always. 

 Keep walking, wandering and discovering the big world outside of the safety of my arms,  my littlest loves. It is okay to leave your Mama behind- I will always be waiting for you to fly back into my arms when you can. I can’t wait to see the mark that you leave on this world and you cannot do that if you live your entire life sheltered by me, as much as my mother’s heart longs to keep you safe. There is a great, big world out there and it is yours for the taking.

To The Moms With Messy Homes and Happy Kids

Am I the only one that admires a certain group of women from across the schoolyard?

You know the ones- Perfect hair, perfect looking kids, works full-time but somehow manages to be the classroom mom, volunteer at various charities across town and cook amazing organic meals from scratch that she uploads to her Pinterest-worthy blog every night.

Hell, I'm tired just typing that.

Well, this week I had an opportunity to talk to two of the moms at my kid's school in the "Perfect mom's club". And, do you know what I realized? They are just as screwed up as I am. Maybe even more so. My screw ups may be ever so apparent in my habitually disheveled appearance, the fact that my house is chronically messy and that I have dressed my youngest daughter up twice this year for picture day ON DAYS THAT WERE NOT PICTURE DAY.

God. I am not rocking this mom gig.

Earlier this week I posted on my Facebook page about my shame around a messy house and then did a Facebook Live about it(going live is uber scary). And, apparently some of these moms read my blog(this is also scary). Some lovely women that I've never spoken to before approached me and wanted to let me to that they, too have messy homes. I was in shock because, frankly, these women- with perfect hair and makeup, stylish clothes and shiny minivans- ARE FLAWED JUST LIKE ME.

*insert audible gasp*

I guess the good news is that the perfecto moms aren't always rocking the perfect mom gig, either. They are just better at not letting it show. I am thankful to these brave mamas for showing me the imperfect lives underneath. It is a lung-filling, heartwarming reminder of the fact that we are all so much more alike than different. A reminder that everything that I worry about is something that so many others are worrying about at the same time. That we all want to be perfect parents but that is not something that could ever be possible for imperfect people in and imperfect world.

So, this is me. The mom with the messy house and the happy kids that feels that she's screwing it all up everyday. I just didn't realize that the Perfect Mom's Club felt that way too- that, as hard as they try, they're screwing this mommy gig completely up.

Color my mind as blown, ya'll.

So, I guess I learned a few lessons this week.

-Things aren't always as they seem.
-We're all imperfect.
-We're all doing the best that we can and that's really all our children care about. That we're trying and we love them.

So, I'm off to drink a glass of wine and celebrate a week of heart-affirming lessons.

*Pours all of a glass and raises her glass for a toast*

Here's to all the Mamas with messy homes and happy kids. May we all be a little kinder to ourselves. We're doing the hardest job in the world, after all. 

Five Ways to Make Busy Mornings Easier

I think most parents have been in the situation of having mornings that are frantic or anxiety-filled or full of frustration. Mornings that can end in tears with both the parents and children feeling lousy about the start for the day.

Mornings, particularly during the school year, can be challenging at many homes. If you are experiencing this, you are certainly not alone. I know that the commercials and sitcoms show parents that are perfectly dressed in tidy business suits baking up pancakes and bacon for their smiling, happy, easy-to-wake-up children. Maybe there are actual, live houses in which this is a reality but I know that I certainly have never been in a home like this!

I have three children, all at different developmental stages- grade school, middle school and high school. The struggles for each of them are different, both because of ages and personalities. I also have a highly sensitive child who experiences anxiety in the morning, particularly around school. There have been times that my heart would start racing at the sound of my morning alarm as, even in the very first moments of the day, I was feeling anxiety and dread at what was to come over the next couple of hours. It is a terrible feeling and horrible way to start the day.

I've learned a lot about how to support my children in the morning to ensure a smoother start for all of us. I'm still learning. I'm sharing today the tips that I've learned that may be helpful to your family.

Center yourself first. 

We all know that our children sense our moods and follow our lead, no matter their age or personality. I've found that if I spend time centering myself and getting my mood in a positive place BEFORE waking my children, that it can have a massive impact on the entire mood of the house. 

I now set my alarm just a bit earlier than I need to wake my oldest kids to get ready for school. Before even getting out of bed, I list things that I am grateful for(in my head, still cozy under the covers). I set a daily intention for a peaceful and happy day. Some days I do a very short yoga routine(I personally do Tara Stiles routines off of youtube), a short guided meditation or simply sit and have a cup of coffee in silence before my kids wake. What works for you could be anything that you enjoy that takes just a few minutes everyday. 

Be prepared. 

It seems obvious, doesn't it? Yet, we are so tired by bedtime that the idea of setting out outfits and lunches seems like the furthest thing in the world from what we want to do. I struggle with this but realize that if I do a few simple things in the evenings, such as packing lunches and placing them in the fridge(or at least figuring out which kids want hot or cold lunch), setting out outfits or reminding each child to pick out clothing and preparing each child for their day by going over their schedule(tests, quizzes, extracurriculars, etc) can make a MASSIVE difference in the morning.

Before bed, ensure that homework is done, bags are packed and the kids are ready for the upcoming day. One of my kids sometimes sleeps in the clothes that she is going to wear the next day so she can lay around in bed for a few more minutes in the morning. It works for her and no one knows this little secret of hers(well, at least no one did before I wrote it in this blog post!).

Have a routine of positivity

Are there things that put your children in a great mood? For my kids, it means a solid breakfast(which doesn't necessarily mean me cooking- it can be a low-sugar cereal with fruit), positive music and a low-stress morning. 

We have a playlist of positive, up-beat songs that we all like that we often listen to(and sing along with) on the way to school. It helps us view the day ahead from a place of positivity.

Allow a Buffer of Extra Time

If your mornings are constantly strained by time, even after preparing carefully the night before, you likely need to set that alarm back a little earlier. Yes, I hear your groan. It's already hard to get yourself and everyone else up at the crack of dawn, isn't it? You'd be surprised how much easier an extra 10 minutes can make in your morning routine. Of course, this also means that bedtime should be rolled back, too by the same amount of time. 

Place a List of Reminders Near the Door

Do you have a child(maybe ALL of your children) that is consistently forgetting something- gym shorts, their band instrument, the signed permission slip for the upcoming field trip? Make a list of reminders- which day they have band and gym, due dates for upcoming assignments, etc. to place on the front door so they can see it right before they run out the door for the bus. I started with a pretty white board on the door, but we've ended up using post-it notes just as often. You can make this as pretty as you want it, but it really is effective. We  also place things like band instruments by the door the night before so it is nearly impossible to forget them in the morning rush. 

Leave the Morning on a High Note

Make the last words to your children as they walk into school or rush out to the bus loving ones. I've recently noticed at school drop off that many parents are tuned into their phones and are missing this important moment. Just as we set the tone when we wake our children, we need to set the tone as they go into their day so that, upon reflection, the last memory of the morning will be a no-stress, loving moment with a parent. 

Get off of your phone. Put your own to-do list aside for a moment. It will all still be there when you are done. Hug your kids. Tell them you love them. Tell them what a great day they are going to have. Remind them that you can't wait to see them at the end of the day. 

Even if, with every tool in place, you had a rough morning you can still have this moment of peace and love with your child. After all, the days are long but the years are short. We blink and they grow up on us. It is in these little moments that we remind our children that, no matter the stress, we are in this together and they always have a loving place to fall- in your arms. 

The Woman Beneath the Mother

In the years after my three children were born, I lost myself. Slowly and then all at once, the parts of me that I had always held sacred began to slip away.

We aren’t supposed to talk about this loss though, are we? Mothers are to be blissed out in Motherhood, sacrificing all willingly in order to serve our brethren. And, I am blissed out, sometimes. I am grateful to be a mother to the best children on the planet. However, underneath the love and gratitude, aside the constant stream of needs of my three children and husband, and beneath the expectations of what a modern-day mother should be, I was losing myself piece-by-piece. Losing myself so slowly that I did not realize it until the woman that I once was inside was completely gone.

A few years ago I found myself inside a deep depression and was lost for hours each day inside the darkness of contemplation of my life. I realized that I had slowly let go of all of my friendships, so shamed to spend any time away from my children to maintain any semblance of even a solid acquaintanceship with anyone other than those whose circles intersected with my children’s school or other activities. I had stopped writing a decade before and the words that used to spill out of my fingers without heed were now stoppered up somewhere out of my reach. Every moment of my day was about my children, my husband, my patients in my work as a nurse. I was lost inside the rote and rusty movements of service of others, in a pattern so familiar that I no longer had to think much about anything. I felt much like an empty vessel and did not know how to fill myself up again.

At the same time that I was realizing how deeply I was immersed in a sadness and emptiness beyond my own help, a co-worker noted my writing in a presentation that I had given. She asked if I wrote professionally. I had not written more than a professional document in more than ten years. The poetry, short stories and essays that used to spill from my hands unto the page had stopped so long ago that I no longer considered writing to be one of my strengths- my strengths now were all tied up into helping others in a non-creative way. That simple question, however, made me wonder if the words—the words that I used to string together that brought me untold joy—were still somewhere deep inside.

I began to write again, the words rusty and unwieldy at first but slowly coming out of my fingers again like the constant, easy stream that I once remembered. I found myself again on the page. I found that the more I wrote, the freer I felt—unburdened, lighter. I was redeemed slowly, letter-by-letter. With this newfound freedom, I found myself reconnecting with others and burgeoning friendships abounded in my writer’s group and with those that reached out after reading my published work.

My greatest worry—that I would be less of a mother if I spent time away from my children doing things that I love but that did not involve them—were greatly unfounded. On the contrary, I now connect with my children in a more authentic way then ever. I now communicate with them as myself, not the shell of a woman intent on martyrdom of motherhood.

I’m certainly not saying that writing regularly has made motherhood or life simpler in any way. In fact, it is another item that I must find a way to cram into my already frantic schedule. It has not made life perfect in anyway. My children sometimes grumble about me typing away desperately on my computer instead of spending those minutes with them. They also know that Mommy has a passion for writing, a passion for something outside of them.

I am whole again. I no longer feel empty and void of any purpose outside of my work as a nurse and my work as a mother. I am more that any one title that society has slapped on me. I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a nurse. I am a writer. I am so many more things than just these labels.

In my actions—in the late night tapping of my keyboard that lulls them to sleep after I have tucked them in, in following my heart, my passions and my dreams—I am reminding myself with each keystroke of who I am and am, hopefully, inspiring my children to live their lives as who they are not as the one dimensional being that society may expect them to be if they choose to be parents themselves. I will always be Mommy first—always. However, I choose be everything else that I am too. I choose to be me.

I am an Unattractive Mother Raising Beautiful Daughters

I'm not society's idea of beautiful. I own that. I'm not seeking compliments or for anyone to disagree, I just know that a perpetually chubby, often disheveled woman with strong features and a large nose isn't society's idea of beauty. As I get older, I'm becoming much more okay with this fact, even as there is lingering pain over such memories as no one telling me that I was beautiful on my wedding day.  I have so many other things about me that are beautiful and, frankly, I have better things to worry my mind about. 

I also happen to have two beautiful daughters(and one handsome son). Watching the world react to my daughters has been an education in itself for me. The world at large treats attractive females differently, in both ways good and bad. I have a unique vantage point as their mother, who tends in her plainness to blend into the woodwork and not be noticed(a plus, actually, for this introvert Mama). My daughters, unlike me, are noticed everywhere we go. They are complimented on their hair, their fashion sense, their bright blue eyes. Yet, no one asks them about the books they are reading or their school work or what things they might love outside of their own appearance. They are so much more than their pretty faces but the older woman at the grocery store, the mailman dropping off packages and the secretary at the doctor's office don't know that my daughters are talented dancers, love reading and have a wicked sense of humor among many other things. What they do know is that my daughters are beautiful and that fact sometimes seems to overshadow everything else. 

 When I was growing up the attention always went first to my little sister. She was a petite blond-haired beauty. The compliments would go to her first- "so pretty!", "what a cute dress!" and so on. Then they would stumble onto me, stammering over what to say.  They would ask about school(straight a's), what book I was reading(I carried books with me everywhere) or something similar. My lack of beauty in many ways allowed me to pursue my intellectual pursuits and receive positive attention over the things that I loved to do, not the way my exterior looked. In that way, it was a great blessing and made me who I am today. 

I want my daughters to be encouraged in the same ways. I want them to embrace their physical beauty but I want so much more for them. I want them to know that beauty fades but the time that they spend on what is inside will never leave them. I want them to have a chance to be whatever they were meant to be without society pigeonholing them into tiny beautiful pegs.

 I am coming to terms with my own looks, in part as I see myself reflected in their beautiful faces- my nose(yes, the large one!) on my youngest daughter's gorgeous face, my hair and eyes on my middle daughter. The features that I once loathed now seem so lovely on their precious faces. I am also recognizing that my appearance, the mediocrity of it, was just as much a gift as my daughters' beauty is to them. My plainness gave me wings to fly beyond those mired in outwardness. Now I must be sure that my daughters are given the chance to own their beauty AND fly towards their forever purpose. Now that, my friends, would be truly beautiful.

 

Not One of Us Are Perfect Parents

I am saddened tonight and wondering what in the hell kind of people we have become. In the wake of a week of horror in Florida, I woke this morning to the horrible news of a little boy snatched into the jaws of an alligator at a Disney Resort. 

If that news wasn't awful enough, the commentary has been of people damning the parents and blaming them for this child's death. Blaming the grief-laden, shocked parents of a sweet two year old boy that they will take home from the "happiest place on Earth" in a body bag. A body bag. Let that image sweep through your mind. My children are no longer toddlers but I can image their round cheeked, dimpled handed toddler selves as though they were right in front of me. What I cannot imagine is my sweet children lifeless, their short life taken in a single moment in the shallow waters of a man-made pool that, by all accounts, had never before seen an alligator.

This death could have been my child. It could have been yours. This little boy was doing what two year-olds do-- exploring the world with his loving parents nearby. This Nebraska family that had likely never seen an alligator before was suddenly fighting with an incredibly strong and fast animal to save their young son but he was quickly swept away into the dark water.

These parents likely did what many of us do-- saved for months to give our children the perfect memorable vacation, because we love our children so very dearly. Their dream became a nightmare. One that most of us cannot fathom.

I understand that by twisting these stories into an idea that it is parental error, that we somehow can imagine that it would never happen to us and that allows us to sleep at night. After all, our children are the most precious things in our lives. I, too, do not like to  confront the fact that one of my children could die while in their youth. It is my very worst nightmare. However, I know--as a pediatric nurse and a human being-- that children do die. Everyday, in fact. Even the children with the most diligent parents can die. It is a heart-crushing fact.

However, if this is consciously or unconsciously your way to spare yourself sorrow-- you are doing it at the expense of the grieving families who may come across your heated damnation on that news article or in their twitter or Facebook feeds. These families that are swimming in the dark waters of grief are, instead of being buoyed by kindness, pushed farther into the black waters and are being drowned in a public crucifixion of sorts--a modern day witch hunt, with cruel words thrown instead of pitchforks.

We all have a choose. Our words can help to heal the world or they can create pain--great, blistering pain. Please choose with love.

The Beauty of Scars

My daughter has a tiny scar next to her mouth from a fall out of bed years ago. Tonight, as I tucked her into bed, I noticed that it glinted subtly silvery in the glow of the night-light. It is beautiful to me although I remember the night that she fell out of her bed with a cringe, even four years later. 

I know that my insides are full of unseen scars. After seeing the beauty of my daughter's scar tonight, I imagined the inside of my body held together by a mass of silvery threads- the glittery by-product of years of hurt. A body truly held together by shiny threads-- threads which once burned with pain but have weathered into beauty.

Our scars are what make us different from one another. 

And, what makes us different and unique is what makes us beautiful. 

Your beauty doesn't lie in perfection. The real beauty is often in the scars and the pain and how we carry ourselves when we are weighted down with burden. 

I see your scars. And, I think they are beautiful.

To the Parents of the School Bully – You Have Created This Monster.

Every school has at least one bully. The child that, no matter how vigilant the school is, finds a way to make other children miserable. Sometimes this child appears to have lovely, engaged parents and no one can make out how this bully was created. More often, however, it is wildly apparent to all of us that the parents are the direct cause of the child that feels free to be cruel to the other children.

Maybe it is a naïve thought, but I believe that the vast majority of parents have their children’s best interests at heart. That fact somehow makes it even harder to watch from afar as parents make choices that not only negatively impact the other children at the school, but also will one day impact their own child.

There is a boy at my children’s school that I have watched from afar as his parents slowly and surely created within him a selfish and cruel child. I have watched as they asked for special treatment of their son time and time again, thinking their beloved son to be better than the rest of the population. I have listened to their public rants each year about why his teacher isn’t good enough for their son. I have watched, horrified, as they witness his poor behavior and do nothing to stop it and sometimes even encourage it.  I have watched as they, the parents who should be setting an example instead broke school rules themselves over and over again.

They have fostered a son who believes that the world should and will bend for him. With their own actions, they have not only raised a son that often makes the school day hard for those around him but they have also raised someone that will likely struggle to achieve much in this world for the world will surely not bend to accommodate their child’s every whim as they are teaching him that it will.

I simply cannot believe that these parents wish for a bad life for their son or those around him. I try to find compassion for them, even as their misguided actions have led to tears for my own child. I wish for them to see what those around them can see so clearly. 

What I wish that you could know for yourself:

Your child does not deserve better that anyone else.  Of course your son is special. All children are special, especially to their parents. Expecting your child to always be treated better than those around him is creating a child that believes that the world should and will place him on a pedestal. As much as you would like for the entire world to see your son the way that a mother does, it will never happen. Do you truly believe that any boss will allow him special treatment, even as he breaks the rules over and over again and publically shames his coworkers? Will police officers and judges give him his own set of laws to follow because he is “special”? I shudder to imagine the adult life that is ahead of him if he continues on this path.

Kindness must be cultivated.  I believe that kindness is innate in most children. However, as they grow up, it is important to teach them to be kind even when those around them make mistakes. I’ve seen the way that you treat school staff- with disdain and expectations of them witnessing your superiority. Your son treats his peers in this same way. If you treat others with kindness, they will follow your lead. Cruelty can be fostered in the same way and it is toxic to everyone.

Bullies never win in the long run. It may give your son, and maybe you as well, some feeling of superiority to act in the unkind way that you do. It must be serving you in some way for you to continue in this way.  However, in the long term, this behavior leads to a very lonely life. It is impossible to foster relationships when one is frequently cruel and submissive. I cannot imagine that you wish for your son a life of loneliness.

Humility is always better received than egotism.  Your child is a human being and, therefore, cannot be the best at every, single thing that he does. He will have strengths and weaknesses and there is nothing at all wrong with admitting that you aren’t great at something. It’s also important to be humble and admit when you are wrong. Everyone makes mistakes and it’s necessary for both parents and children to be open about their own mistakes and apologize when necessary. No one wants to befriend someone who only flaunts his or her own ego around.

If you do not have consequences for your child’s poor actions, they cannot learn from their own mistakes. People always say that the best way to learn is by making mistakes, something that most of us have learned firsthand. However, you cannot learn if there are not consequences. If you continue to make excuses for your son’s behavior and continue to expect the school to treat him differently than others, he never has an opportunity to learn and grow from his mistakes and-possibly even worse- believes himself to be above the rules.

The school is your ally, not your enemy.  I know that school decisions aren’t always correct, for teachers and staff are human, too. However, the school system is full of teachers and staff that work incredibly hard for little pay- they are doing this grueling job because they truly care about children and want them to succeed. Fostering in your child a belief that the school system should be bucked and fought at all costs is creating a strain on the staff, students and even your child. If you have a concern, treat the school as team members and treat everyone involved with respect. Always listen as much as you speak. You will likely find that they are eager to help you make the best life for your child.

I’m not holding my breath and assuming that you may read this piece and miraculously change the way you parent your child but I cannot help but hope that you will, for your son's sake as much as for the other children at the school. It is very hard as a parent to place limits on your child and to discipline them when necessary. I understand that pain. However, I believe your child will someday thank you for giving him the tools to be a kind human being and, hopefully, someday be a productive and compassionate adult.

Technology, Connection and Modern Day Prisons

The above picture showed up in my Facebook feed this morning. It is an older Twitter post by the artist Banksy(click photo to be taken to his original post). It is an iPhone depicted as a prison.

I was frozen by this image.

At the moment that I came upon the picture, I was sitting in my bed with my two girls while they watched a Disney movie- waking from their slumber slowly and cuddled around me. I wasn't present in the moment as I should have been. These moments of my children's childhood are fleeting and I have been painfully aware of how quickly they are growing lately. Yet, instead of basking in the warmth of their cuddles and laughing at the cartoon along with them I was... on my iPhone.

My morning tradition has become browsing through my social media feeds while my first cup of coffee swims into my veins. Usually, I do so before my children wake up. However, it's not unusual on weekend morning for me to do this with a sleepy child on my lap.

Has my smartphone become a prison for me?

The thought swam through my head with fervor after seeing the Banksy image. I believe that it has. Social media has allowed me to connect with many people, both personally and professionally. It has been a blessing in many ways. But there is another side, isn't there?

I wonder if I am losing the ability to be present in my life, to experience joy without sharing it with my myriad of friends and followers. I no longer appreciate the beauty around me without pulling out my phone to snap a picture, edit it and post it to Instagram. If I have a thought which seems to me to be profound, I share it on Twitter. If my children have a program or a ballgame or a dance recitals, the photos are loaded onto Facebook for all to see.

I find myself wondering...

When is the last time I stood in front of a sight of great beauty and kept the image only in my heart and mind, trusting memory to hold it for me?

When is the last time that my children had a great accomplishment and I  did not share it publicly but instead trusted that my fervent praise and pride would be enough for my children, without sharing it with the entire world for their praise to be added?

When was the last time I stayed off social media for an entire day and trusted that anything that I missed did not matter at all? After all, important news always found its way to me before Facebook and Twitter, didn't it?

I am losing myself and many precious moments in the time spent in front of my phone, mired in the harsh light streaming from my iPhone and missing the life that is happening beyond the screen in the moments of now. 

The photo that I posted on Instagram of a summer's day cannot replace the memory. My memory is complete with the feeling of the blades of green beneath my bare feet, of the smell of summer- hot sun and sunscreen, of my heart singing with the magic of the day. And, I cannot have that memory if I stand at the corner of the world and hide behind a camera screen.

The status that I posted on Facebook of my child's latest accomplishment will never light up my child's heart. The moment spent writing that status would likely be better spent hugging my child and telling them how much I love them, accomplishments or not.

Browsing trending Twitter hashtags will not help me to better understand the world. If I want to have a better understanding of the world and the people in it, I must be present.

Here's to a life of breaking out of our many prisons, Dear Ones. Life is too short to be trapped inside anything that does not serve you. A life trapped in the hypnotic trace of social media is little life at all. I demand of myself to be more present and less a slave of modern, shallow connections. I want deep connections, moments of wonder and a life lived to the fullest.

 Let us all live every moment of today. 

Please World: Be Kind to my Children

When I look upon my children, ages 13, 9 and 5, I do not see them as the growing children they currently are. I see them as defenseless babies. I imagine that I am not alone in this.

As I send my children out into the world- to school, to church, to sports... I send out a silent wish for the world to be kind to them.

To be kind to them when they, too, are kind.

To be kind to them when they are flawed and forget to be kind.

To be kind to them when they are loveable.

To be kind to them when they are not so loveable.

For they are my babies and I am entrusting them to a sometimes cruel world. I know their hearts and the purity within and I simultaneously want the world to see this innocence and fear that the world will take advantage of such purity.

I remember after the birth of my first child, my son- taking our first walk down the hallways at the hospital. He was snuggled into the wheeled bassinet. Me, waddling gently with one hand across my c-section scar. We wheeled over to the nursery and I gazed upon the sleeping children within. I looked upon my son and my knew that my heart had swelled to many times its former size. As I looked upon the infants in the nursery, I knew that there were many mothers in this hospital feeling the same feelings. It was a profound moment for me.

We are each a mother's child. Someone out there loves us in an unspeakably deep way.

The sweet curly-haired child at the park- Some mother's child.

The infant crying on the bus- Some mother's child.

The perpetually dirty, loud-mouthed boy who bullied your daughter at school- Some mother's child.

The cranky secretary at the dentist's office- Some mother's child.

Every child, every adult. Kind or cruel in this moment- Some mother's child.

We are each a mother's child. I grant you that all mothers(and fathers) are not capable in loving in the way that all children are deserving of. This fact alone should make us love each other more, not less.

Please, Dear World: Please, please, please- Love my children as your own.

Please, Dear World: Please, please, please- Love EVERY child as your own. For they are each some mother's child.


Love on, Dear Ones. For YOU are some mother's child. You are treasured, whether you know it or not.

Bloom Where You Are Planted

I was driving home from a long day at work this week. As a visiting nurse, I serve primarily those living in poverty and have become someone accustomed to driving through bleak areas of town. That afternoon as I drove, I was crying a bit and wishing that I had been able to help a client in a desperate situation more than I had. You could say that I was having a one person pity-party.

I was driving on streets riddled with pot holes, surrounded by small, dilapidated homes that I knew often housed multiple families inside their drafty, bleak interiors. Then, I spotted a glorious sight. There were two children holding hands as they walked along the battered sidewalk. Their winter coats were thread-bare and dirty and I'm certain the mittens full of holes were not providing them with much warmth against the brutal winter wind.

Yet, they seemed oblivious to the biting cold and the poverty which surrounded them. They clasped hands and spun in circles until they would fall dizzy and delirious onto the dead, winter grass. If I allowed my tears to blur my vision so that their clothing and the houses behind them were unclear, they could have been two children living anywhere.

Just a boy and girl.

Brother and Sister.

Choosing to live in joy, despite terrible circumstances.

Choosing to be in the moment with someone they love.

We hope to instill life lessons into the children around us, but isn't it often those same children who teach us how to live?





Bloom where you are planted, Dear Ones. Choose joy. Choose love.

Shine On.

For the Mamas

Do  not take in the big picture. 

Forget the unloaded laundry that's been laying in the basket for days.

Look past your sleep deprived and swollen eyes in the mirror.

The dishes will be done tomorrow, disregard the sink.

Instead, gaze upon your sleeping child, your screaming child, your playing child.

Those cheeks will soon lose their cushion, those tiny hands their dimples.

So look beyond the mess, the fatigue, the stress. For but a moment.

Today you have the sweet moments with your children that you will long for when they are grown.

Do not forget that these are the halcyon days-
the days that you will dream about,
yearn for,
lose yourself in years from now.

They are here today.

Live today.

Embrace the perfection within the imperfection today.

Love yourself today. 

Shine On, Dear Mamas(and Papas)! You are the brightest of lights to those little souls that you are ministering to everyday. May you be blessed in your giving.