Posts Tagged ‘hope’

Life beyond the leash

I started a new job two months ago.

I will leave it next Friday.

This is not typical for me.


From a February 2014 post. Yes, really.

I cherish stability, a fact I recognized long before I learned my DiSC personality type is C for “conscientious.” (Is anyone here surprised, looking at the description? No? Right, then.)

But there can be a dark side to stability. Sometimes it means staying with someone who hurts you because the pain you know can seem better than even the possibility of worse pain somewhere else. It can mean sticking with something that limits you while keeping you comfortably, predictably “safe.” It can mean living with your wings wrapped tightly around you because you know you’re less likely to fall if you don’t even try testing your wings.

Of course, avoiding falling means you also never learn to fly.

I only saw this a few months ago.

I used a different analogy then, though. Read more…

Rise like the sun

Horror movies are scarier at night. So are shadows in the closet and unexpected bumps and thumps from corners of the house where no one should be.

These sounds are usually just the dog scrounging for scraps when he thinks he won’t be caught. (Try remembering that immediately while half asleep at 2 a.m.!)

Who, me?

Who, me?

There’s another kind of clarity that comes at night. With all pretensions of day stripped away, it’s somehow easier to see what’s right.

Life won’t always be merry. Sometimes, like times of mourning, simply getting from one moment to the next takes every last ounce of will.


But most the time, it’s a sign something isn’t right if most heartbeats, most breaths, most thoughts ache.

If that’s the case, something’s gotta change.

Somehow, the dim artificial lights of deep night make it easier to see that peace, contentment and laughter shouldn’t be cherries on top. They should be the glue binding everything together.

happy run

There’s too little time in one life to waste much just getting by.

By light of day, that recognition can seem sad.

By night, it’s beautiful reminder to make the most of each morning we’re lucky enough to rise like the sun.


I believe you

(also an apology)

I believe you.

Those three plain words have stuck with me for two and a half decades.

My younger sister was ten years old when she testified against the family friend who had molested her for three years.

I was not allowed to be present in the courtroom while she testified lest my own testimony be tainted by hers. I, her older sister and should-have-been-protector, watched helpless through a window as she sobbed through her testimony just feet away from the molester.

I hated him then. I hated my inability to comfort my sister. I hated the narrative that turned my mom into the de facto defendant. I hated damn near everything about the trial except those three words.

A law student watching the trial followed my sister out of the courtroom and knelt down in front of her.

Read more…

To be free

A new year nears,
And I wonder:
What dreams
Dare I seek?

In asking, I find
The things I want
Aren’t things
That can be
Store bought, or
Grasped with my hands

They are:
Seeing (the better to know)
Knowing (the better to change)
Changing (the better to uplift)
Uplifting (the better to soar)
Soaring (the better
To show my sons
What it is like
To be free)


Here is to our taking flight in 2015!

Freedom to walk outside without fear

Last week I wondered about the color of justice in my country.

Last night’s delivery of the Ferguson grand jury decision played out about as I expected it. Even anticipating it, I awakened feeling gloomy about prospects for real change in the United States. I continue to wonder

What it will take for police officers everywhere to approach men of all melanin levels in the exact same way, treating shooting as a last case resort in all cases.

I wonder how change can take root when bystanders support status quo by focusing attention on property damage over fatal violence.

changeAnd yet, with all this heaviness in my heart, I find reason to smile in the tiny men who own that heart. I can’t help giggling at how my baby is doing headstands–yes, headstands–while my husband tries to change his diaper.

I watch him dance and wonder what else will inspire him to dance in the years to come.

I pray freedom to walk outside without fear will carry his dancing feet far.

My last day

Today I say farewell to one job.

I say farewell to the things that frustrated me and the people who made me laugh.

I say farewell richer in knowledge and friendships than when I began. I smile at the goodness of what I will take with me after today, most especially friendships with one of the two best managers I have ever had and the treasure who inspired this post.

I am smiling wider still at the prospect of all that is to come: a little extra time with my babies, whom I’ve barely gotten to see most my long days away, and steps toward fulfilling my own long term objectives that have very little to do with paychecks. I will be pinching pennies while relishing presence and prospects.

It feels amazing to follow my husband’s lead and, for once, take not the safe route but the right one.

I am not my work. Indeed, I feel poised to discover who exactly I am meant to be.

What uncertainty! What joy!

Hand in hand: much better than either in the garbage can!


Compelled to share

I appreciate each “Like” and cherish each comment, but it’s shares that most entice me.

I don’t share others’ posts as much since I deleted my Facebook account, but I still feel the urge once in a while. In those cases, I send emails or surface briefly on Twitter, share, and disappear again.

What compels me to share a post? It usually touches on something I’ve felt but never found the words for. It makes me ache and question and find answers and feel like I am part of something bigger than my own life.

After posting yesterday’s words of thanks, I got to wondering which of my own posts touched others enough for them to share. I perused the list and was surprised how some posts I didn’t care for were shared oft, whereas others that bared my soul barely registered.

I decided I’d share both the top ten posts I wish had been shared and those that actually were. In order.

If I Could’ve, I’d’ve Magicked Others Into Sharing These Read more…


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