We live in a county where 9 year olds get pepper sprayed.

The 9 year old little girl (because think of any 9 year old you know and if you would use the adjective little at some point to describe them) who was handcuffed, put in the back of a squad car, surrounded by about 8 cops, yelled at and pepper sprayed....remind me again why this is ok? Before you say.... 'they feared for their life' 'they just needed to calm her down' 'they had no other choices' 'why didn't she just comply' 'blah blah blah' I want you to watch the video footage again. Without bias of back the blue, without disdain for 'disrespect' of yelling at cops, without thinking of the nice cop you know who would never do such a thing....and put the face of a 9 year old you know and then share your thoughts about why they shouldn't be fired? Cops having immunity, being protected by their unions? That has to go. Period. In this situation the police were called by her mother because she was having a mental health crisis. She was reportedly yelling that she wanted her dad, threatening to kill herself, threatening to kill her mom. She had no weapon. She had no known immediate intent. She had not attempted to kill herself or her mom. For all of the 'well what would you do' folks.... Do you know how many times a month-week-young people are supported through de-escalation and resetting their emotions. Talked through the process of regulating their emotions by trained professionals? With patience. With approaching the human being with the intent of understanding and helping....not controlling? Not policing? Do you know that there are people who go to school for the very purpose of helping human beings through these kind of traumas and pain? And how many times that leads to someone running away from them? Calling them names? Maybe even spitting on them, hitting them, biting them? If you don't know how many times, let me share that it's many. It's often. And you don't get to respond with force or anger or agitation or spite just because you are the authority figure. Because you are in charge. But let's say you aren't a person who understands or has compassion for human beings suffering a mental health crisis. Let's say you think 9 years old or not, she was out of control and out of line.... She was handcuffed and in the car. Maybe not sitting exactly as they liked. But in the car nonetheless. All they had to do was shut the damn door. Let's even say that you think all that's needed is some 're'training so 'better' decisions can be made... What kind of monster needs training to know that there is no reason to pepper spray a 9 year old who is handcuffed? Can you train humanity? And before you fix your lips to say some bullshit like, 'you wouldn't care so much if she was white'... Yes the fuck I would. The problem isn't she's black and so people are making it 'about race'. The problem is that, if she were white...many more would care...so it's really about racism. Not race. Can I repeat that? There isn't a race issue. There's a racism issue. Seriously. Watch the video again. And see the many times that different decisions could have been made. And then think about the fact that the police union rep stated that the officers did nothing wrong. If you agree with that? There is something wrong with you. Honestly. No shade. No petty. Your moral compass is broken.

1987; One Moment More

I was 16 and I wrote a note.

Despair was too deep.

Pain too much for one moment more

I took a bottle of aspirin, I laid down and waited.

And in the morning I woke up.

 

And maybe I should, should have felt a sense of joy, 

A sense of purpose and renewed hope.

I had planned for my life to end the night before and yet,

it was morning and I was still here.

But I didn't and I'm not sure why

 

I was still numb.

 

 On the outside I'm sure that I looked all in place

My smile and laugh Were there and many days

They were authentic

But some days not

 

Life became busy and easy to fake

Because many moments were sweet and beautiful

And sustained me... I learned to mask the empty

The pain and even while

Accomplishing much, becoming a mom

Finding my voice and standing tall

 

Some days I was still numb.

 

Mid to late twenties brought marriage and more

Deeper understanding of myself

Therapy to reopen and close wounds

A bi-polar diagnosis to make it all make sense

Medication to quiet my mind and help.

And it did until it didn't I felt like a guinea pig

It was never ending-the cycle

Of good days and bad of trying to determine

if I was capable of this this one moment more

 

because I couldn't escape the numb

 

My thirties were a roller coaster but so busy

I was distracted and able to hide from myself

I had so much joy My smiles were easy

And my heart was full I cherished my roles

as wifey and momma bear

It seemed hard to imagine

I had been broken and sad

Most days ignoring as this was what 'was' because

I'd 'arrived' by now and knew how to handle the empty,

the pain that lingered still

 

My nagging moments of numb.

 

As I've travelled through my 40s

and become comfortable in my skin

I see things so different

the one moment more

I'm accepting of myself and all that

I am and am not

 

Where I shine and where I'm tarnished

I no longer fear the empty and pain

the numb that still lingers

some days more than others

but i have love and authentic joy

 

i embrace my brokenness

and remember that day 33 years ago

It seems so long ago and yesterday at the same time

I can't give you answers

There is no special sauce

I have no idea why I'm still here

 

But I do know this.

Every day since

Even those when I'm numb

Those when I'm weak and feeling alone

When the lies fill my head

That nothing is real and hopelessness begins to reign.

I remember that morning

Opening my eyes

And rereading that note

Declaring that I could not hold on one moment more

 

And cling to the truth that I can.

Do the work.

I don't know much about fishing.

I mean, I've been fishing a couple of times. It's not pretty. I have no clue how to cast my reel, I will NOT  touch the worms, it's soooo boring, I'm too loud and definitely not patient enough. It seems to pretty much just be luck but I know enough to know it's not.

I could learn about it. I have friends who fish, I live near lakes and rivers. I could afford fishing equipment if I wanted to. I could find information online. And of course I could even watch a YouTube video if I wanted.

So I guess that's the real bottom line.

I don't want to.

As I've been mulling over how there are still individuals in this country who are willing to look the other way regarding racism...who really just desire to go back to what life was like before George Floyd was murdered before our eyes on May 25th, 2020...who almost seem to dig their heels in more to be pro law and order, pro white supremacy, pro hating BLM and anything to do with dismantling the systematic racism that permeates our country and systems....I've come to this conclusion.

Racism and racial tension....is their fishing.

They could learn more. They could educate themselves. Even though they may not have experience, they could look to those that do.  I'm convinced, for whatever reason, they don't want to.

Long before Derek Chauvin, J. Alexander Kueng, Thomas K. Lane, and Tou Thao murdered George Floyd...police and others have been brutalizing and murdering black people. Often without consequence. There has been outcry and marches before.  There has been looting and rioting. There's been tension and polarizing viewpoints. There has also been silence.

I want to talk about that silence.

Are you staying silent because it's just easier?
Are you uncomfortable by friends and family who have racist viewpoints?
Are you really wishing everyone could just behave and respect each other?
Are you frustrated that there doesn't seem to be an end in sight?
Are you feeling emotional whiplash, sometimes getting on board, sometimes questioning?
Are you angry that everything has changed for you?
Are you feeling guilty but you aren't entirely sure why?

I'm imploring that you lean into all of that. Lean into those feelings rather than your desire to have it all go back to 'normal'. To remain silent.

We need you.  The movement needs you. We need you to lean into that queasy feeling and educate yourself. We need you to push through your silence.

If you know it frustrates you that people fly the confederate flag, but you aren't really sure how to articulate it…..if you sometimes question why people can't just be nice and kind, yet you know that isn't the answer....if you know it is wrong to make assumptions about black people but you don't know how to tell others why....if you honestly believe that things aren't equal...

You need to do the work.  I'm begging you to do the work. Find the people, the articles, the documentaries, the social media groups, the activists to learn from so that you can better understand and explain what you believe in your gut to be true.

I often say that Oscar, Tamir, Alvin, Trayvon, Eric, Laquan, Breonna, Philando, Micheal, Alton, Jordan, Walter, Atatiana, Botham, Ahmaud, Stephon, Freddie, Dontre, Sandra, Jay, and so many other hundreds of names could be my husband; could be my sons.

And it's true. Because there is not just racism in white people's hearts. There is also racism in the systems and power of this country. It is the definition. I have studied this, experienced this and observed this since high school when the idea of sociology and people groups first became something that I was passionate about. It is true. But I can't convince you it's true if it's not your reality. You will either believe me because I have studied it, experienced this and observed this. Or you will choose to do the work so that you can better understand and accept it.  If you don't? Then you will remain ignorant.

And like me, if I walked out on the pier and cast my line into the lake, having no clue what I was doing, I could likely pull off looking like a fisherman.  But I can almost guarantee that I wouldn't catch a fish. And I very likely might hinder someone else from catching one. When I'm ready? I'll have to seek out the answers and information I need to learn and excel.

If it's your time? Do the work.

That's all I got today.

We the People....

There isn't a lot of space to be neutral about a lot of things lately.  But if we are really honest, much of what we love to remain neutral about? We really have no business remaining neutral about.

I have to say that since 2012 when I began to lose Facebook acquaintances at a record pace, this is the largest number of posts, anger, movement I've seen from white folks.  For those who 2012 doesn't ring a bell, Trayvon Martin was murdered by George Zimmerman in February 2012. He was not immediately arrested and it was only after much protesting, phone calls/emails and civil disobedience that George was finally charged. And while he was charged....he ultimately was acquitted.  At the time my sons were 15, 14, and 13 and while I have been quite aware of the ugly of this county long before 2012, there was something so incredibly personal about Trayvon's murder that propelled me to speak out more, care less about other's opinions and create my mantra 'We can be casual but we can't be close'.

In the years since....it's been tiring to say the least. And yet, not even an iota of tiring as it is for my browner and black friends. Because while I know and claim all of the fullness of my Mexican heritage, I am not naïve to the fact that to many, while they know I look different, they see me as white when they look at me. Or maybe Italian. Truth be told, only other minorities normally recognize that I am not white upon meeting me.  White folks love to claim me.  This has it's own disturbing reality that is another blog for another day.

The other day I re-shared a bunch of blogs I had written over the years from a tired wife and mom of black men. Who has had more conversations than I can count to try and educate, implore, teach my fellow folks about race and injustice. About the two America's that exist.  You may have even seen this past week, as my heart and head remain in a constant state of potential explosion that much of my time on social media has been sharing live streams. Or if you've blocked or unfollowed me, maybe not ☺ There has been a lot of really good material shared in the last week; articles, books, resources to bring awareness and help white people who desire to move from silent bystander to a vocal ally who understands as much as they are able to. Please seek out those. Find them and read them and memorize them and then teach your white children to think different and respond different and move different so that the possibility for change increases. Help them grow up to be white people who understand privilege and fragility and believes that they are real, that things aren't the same and this country is fucked up and has been fucked up since jump. (feel free to say it nicer!)

And as I've cried. And fumed. And agonized. And fought the desire to cuss folks out. I've been mulling over and over; how to put all of the jumbled thoughts in my head into a coherent format as many have asked me my thoughts and opinions. What's inside, I need to get out. So here it goes.

     We must first acknowledge that this country was never designed to uphold justice for all. The constitution is a joke that we keep trying to revive and redesign so that it will serve our purposes. But it can't. Because at it's core, it is hate filled, written with ill intent, ignoring entire people groups who built this country without ever fully enjoying the fruit of it. The farce is that white people love to sing and stand and pomp and circumstance the fuck out of anything red, white and blue that represents the "great melting pot". Flags, bandanas, desserts, tattoos, country singers belting out God Bless the USA. But they do so all the while ignoring the truth that 'We the people....' is a slap in the face to all the people who are not recognized in the eloquent words of white forefathers. If you try to discuss differently they are gonna 'All Lives Matter' you to death. The amount of information that one could take on, discover and learn about privilege and what it means and how we throw that shit around like it's fertilizer on the farm could take someone forever. But we choose not to take it on, discover it or learn it.  Because that also means unlearning all of the racist and biased 'truth' that we've been brainwashed to swallow and regurgitate....like God doesn't see color and we are all equal. And we don't want to do that because we don't want to know. Or even worse, even worse?  We like to pretend we know, that we're just so woke. We act like we've learned because we kissed that black guy back in the day, have one black friend, danced to Biggie when we were young, sit with our black co-worker at lunch, read one author or saw 'Do the Right Thing' and suddenly we're an ally and love to tell others about the plight of black people. But suddenly, in the midst of proclaiming our wokeness, we end up in a deeper sleep than before. But it's worse because it's hidden. Not just to others but even to ourselves. Until one day, a racist white woman calls the police on a black man in Central Park and not just calls the police on him, but ANNOUNCES, without any shame that she is going to tell them that she is being THREATENED by a black man because she knows what that means.  And we respond with....I mean we don't know that she's racist!  Yes the fuck she is.  Or we hear about any of the horrific real life stories that have made our headlines (and the millions situations that don't) and right away we try to justify, defend or 'try to make sense of things.'  I'm so fucking tired of folks trying to make sense of things. You can't. Period. You can't make sense of it because it is what it is.
     Racist ideology runs thick through the fiber of this country and thus, also runs through any system that has been put in place since the beginning it's time. And from the moment that Natives were lied to, murdered, tortured, and tucked away from the pristine lily whiteness of 'merica; it's been that way.  Healthcare. Housing. Education. Financial. Until EVERY white person can acknowledge that truth, stand up for the oppressed in every circumstance they encounter, there will be no justice. So there can be no peace.
     I know to some I am extreme. It's easy to take my socialist views and disregard me. It's easy to say I'm too emotional because my husband and sons are black. It's easy to roll your eyes because I'm just always blah blah blah'ing and being so mean to nice people.  Fuck nice people. The definition of nice is being agreeable and pleasant. I refuse to be agreeable and pleasant about racism and the racist ideologies that must be dismantled before there can be real justice and real peace.

That's what I've got today.

Love and Grief

My friend Linnea asked me to share about grief. Intrigued by the way my family walked through my Grandmother’s death, she asked if I would share a little about that. Processing that all evening led to this. Hopefully she can glean what she's looking for from this.

I think if we’re honest, maybe we always function in a state of grief. Because for many of us who understand how precious each day is…..we know that death is always present with life.

What does it mean to do grief well? in a nutshell, I think it means clinging together while allowing each other to go bat shit crazy a bit with no judgement.  (well sometimes judgement but then remembering we aren’t supposed to judge and get our attitude back in check.)

For my family….my Grandmother was the matriarch, the rock and beloved. She was respected and I think we all felt that she was something special. Not perfect, but perfectly her. The process of grief began years before her earthly life ended. As her health deteriorated, I know our very large family interacted with this truth differently. In my opinion, there’s no wrong in that. If we’ve been created individually and uniquely us…then it would make sense that we would journey through grief individually and uniquely.  Each hospital visit left her body weaker. And each time it became more difficult to see. I loved her so much.

In her final weeks…quite honestly there were differences between family members. Emotions were on 10. Pain and heartache were ever present. Arguments, hurt feelings, frustration. But always, always leaving it at her bedroom door. Always, always entering that room with reverence and devotion for the cherished woman lying in that bed.

Family was everything to her. From the time I was little, she hated it when we didn’t get along. It hurt her heart that there was division and separation. It didn’t matter to her if we were all different, had different opinions, lived differently.  She wanted us to remember that family was everything and in the end life is too short to hold onto anger. She wanted and expected us to get along. To stand by family.

And so. We did.

For our heritage, honoring a life in death means a novena. It’s a Catholic tradition of 9 days after a death, gathering for prayers, food, family, remembering. I know there’s deep tradition involved and it’s celebrated, honored differently so I am certainly no expert.  But that's what it's meant to us.

And so we sat, stood and kneeled in that living room. With her rosaries. And prayed. And cried. And ate. And argued. And reminisced. And ate. And cried. And laughed. And prayed. And cried.

And remembered.

Because perhaps death, and thus life should be bigger than ourselves. And in those moments it didn’t matter who had said what when. Whose secret was biggest. Whose skeletons were piled higher. Who was right or who was wrong. I don't know how to explain it. I just know that in that room I felt incredibly proud to be her granddaughter. And incredibly awed by her sacrifice.

Those 9 days. I'm sure there's many important things a devout Catholic could tell you about those 9 days. But what I can share? Is that those 9 days create a bond through grief, a bond of history and tradition. A bond of united love for her, which connects us forever. 

Doing grief well....I think it just accepting that in order to love authentically, at some point you will grieve. And then you will love again.

 

can i save the world....

Most days
i'm overwhelmed
by what i can
and what i cannot
do

my world is full of love and joy
but also heartache and longing
of seeing struggle
of different sorts
and having no way to hold it all

can i 'save the world'
no way
don't even wanna
but i want to see
us all succeed
and each home
really oughta

but it's so easy to judge
someone elses's journey
when you see it through your eyes
your belief of what'd you do
if their life was yours
to live
and how you'd be able to thrive

'i've worked hard
why haven't they'
'i've made right decisions
what got in their way'
'i've handled my pain
and turned out just fine'
'i really just don't have time for
what isn't even mine'

so no judgement back
but i've just never been
that person who sends
thoughts and prayers
who waits on the sidelines and
watches to see how their
story will end

can i 'save the world'
no way
don't even wanna
but i want to see
us all succeed
and each home
really oughta

because between us all
there's more than enough
we all have something to share
it's not always money
or always things
it might be a smile, a hug
sharing a meal
or taking a walk

maybe just listen
and let someone cry
without 'having the answer'
to make their life right

without giving advice
that you expect them to do
and only offer help
if they're willing to follow through

can i 'save the world'
no way
don't even wanna
but i want to see
us all succeed
and each home
really oughta

here she goes again
who else has a need
guess what
someone somewhere always does

and it really isn't easy
to focus on the future and
dream of what might be
when you can't
feed your babies
clothe your babies
get to work
get ahead
make too much, yet not enough
to get the help
you think they should apply for and get
i mean our taxes-goodness don't they handle that?

not trying to shame
not trying to guilt
just trying to share
that humanity is there
and there's nothing better
than being a part
of helping someone sleep at night

can i 'save the world'
no way
don't even wanna
but i want to see
us all succeed
and each home
really oughta

can we 'save the world'
i believe
most definitely
because when we all work together
to give what we have
and sacrifice even a bit more
i believe
each and every person
can stand a little taller
and reach a little farther
and open up their heart
to hope
to make their story sweeter.

That's what i got today....

The dream you don’t want to dream...

There are times I don’t write because the things that are in my heart and deep in my subconscious seem too dark or morbid or angry to put on paper. For the most part I don’t worry about what other people think… But I must admit that sometimes even I am caught off guard by the anguish that pours out of my soul.  But yesterday I was talking with my husband about the dream I had. It was the kind of thing that has crossed my mind before and that I most likely would’ve held inside because I would’ve felt it was too horrific to say out loud or share with others.

I find myself in a space right now where I am going to need to start sharing those thoughts… Those dreams…those fears. Because the weight of the world is harsh in my shoulders. I know that it shouldn’t and many often tell me that I need to do a better job of letting things go or I need to not obsess about the things I have no control over. And I know they mean well they do and they are worried about my psyche, I get it. But I have found that it does not matter, even when I try they permeate my head so I’m going to try instead to put them on paper. If they’re too dark and painful for others to read... if it makes them uncomfortable then maybe this will just be for me. Because this really is just what I got today.

The dream begins with someone I love so much being murdered by a cop. Pulled over for something in-coincidental or nonexistent and ending with their blood being spilled. All of the horrific things you might imagine would happen...happen.  The hashtags, the viral video, the lack of charges, my wailing. In the midst of the marches and all of the Thoughts and prayers posts… I am planning a funeral. I start to think of all of the people I know… Random acquaintances, coworkers, fb friends, some friends some family… Who have at one time thought ‘all lives DO matter’ or ‘why didn’t he just comply’ or ‘he just made a mistake’ or ‘he feared for his life’.  And I begin to seethe.

 And in the dream as the day approaches, I make it quite clear that not a single one of those people will be allowed at the funeral. Some close to me and upset by this fact try to tell me that I need to let people grieve and say their goodbye-that it isn’t right of me to deny them the chance to come. But I do not falter because I know that I will not have peace and cannot allow my spirit to be disrupted by their presence.   So the day comes and I hire security and I gave them a list and pictures of all of the people who are not allowed inside. And they are turned away. And many are upset.  And many think I am wrong and mean and selfish. And I do not care.

All I can think is how many times my heart is broken for other mothers and wives who have been through what I am going through. And how many of these folks who are being turned away have at some point thought I have been silly For the fear I have shared that I feel. And I have no feelings left to feel anything for them.

I wake up sweaty and full of tears. And I take a deep breath and remind myself it is only a dream.But my soul is disturbed and I know there will be no more sleep this night. So I share it. Because my soul  cannot bear it.

That’s what I’ve got today.

Thoughts and Prayers.....

I think I've shared before how the weight of the world sometimes weighs on me in ways that are hard to explain. I have very well meaning people who love me and remind me that this isn't healthy, that remind me to let things go and that might even get frustrated when I fall into my 'eeyore' zone...but honestly? It isn't something that I have control over. I'm sure at times it might a part of my battle against my diagnosis...but more often it's just that the world can be ugly and overwhelming. If I'm honest, lately, for months actually, I've been clinging to love and to hope. Because there is so much hate.

I know there's good.
I regularly get to be a part of it through my job
and BLOOM
Through my church and my friends.

But sometimes.
Sometimes when I focus only on what's good....
I fear I will become one of those
'Thoughts and Prayers ostriches
Hiding behind jolly quips
and sunny memes.

Who can read about kids in cages
And tsk that their parents sought refuge
Who can hear about mass shootings
And be sad the shooter was bullied
Rather than horrified he was in possession
of such a weapon.

Who see another unarmed man being shot
And think 'why didn't he listen TO A TEE'
Yet not speak out against white folks
Who think it's ok to yell at the cops
And even more
Are unable to see the connection, white privilege
At the least white fragility....

Who focus just on their own and what they have
And judge those that don't
Who think it is just about desire
And if you wanted to have then you would
Who forget the support they have
to help them get through.

Who make their kids live lies
Because they can't accept them as they are
Hiding and pretending
to be something they are not

I could tell myself
All is well
And truly believe it
If I put my head in the sand
Then I wouldn't have to worry
Because 'all things work together for good'
And the 'sun will come out tomorrow'
Here, take these 'thoughts and prayers'
But

Life is hard.
And good doesn't just happen.
You can't smile and pretend
Unless you are choosing to
Live in a bubble
Ignore other's struggles
Please don't

Because there is a world of folks
Who need you to see
Need you to fight
Need you to stand up
To call others out
Even if you might have to shout
To stop sending your
Thoughts and prayers
But get up, go out
And feed someone
Clothe someone
House someone
Protect someone
Hug someone (if they want)
Love someone.

Sometimes I'm tired.
Sometimes I'm weary.
And the days are long.
But even if tomorrow is dark
And a situation just doesn't have good.
I'm still going to cling to love and hope.
I'm still going to get up.
Stand up.
And I'm banking on my tribe
To be right there
So I'm not standing alone.

Mommy Thoughts

So this Mother's Day I'm alone. I mean I've been with people and will be with my mom, sister and mother in law tomorrow...but I am without my hubby and kids. I say this not looking for any sympathy because this isn’t anything when I know there are so many who would love to have children, who have lost children, whose mother's aren't around or who don't have good relationships with their mothers. Even knowing that, if I'm honest, I was kind of worried that I'd be really sad and well, while it is kind of weird, it's also allowed me to be really reflective the last 24 hours. Of my own mommyhood, those that have mothered me and my mommy friends.

I always knew I wanted to be a mom and hoped that I would be. And it's a role that has transcended beyond the 4 children I gave birth to. I not only have a wonderful mom that I can look up, I also have had other mother figures throughout my life that I've been able to learn from. And finally, I've come to have some dear mom friends who are in the trenches with me. 

When I think about all of my extended kids, I can't help but smile. I have loved being Mrs. Coach, Mama Pitch, Mama Melinda, Work Mom, Miss Mindy and all the other 'mom' nicknames I've been given over the years.  There is something unexplainable about giving that mother love to another person...lifting them up, helping them see their potential, encouraging their dreams, holding them accountable, putting them in check when needed, and of course giving them "the look". That young people who do not HAVE to look up to you, respect you or love you--do?  That's humbling really.
We can all seek to be that in someone's life.

My mom has been such an amazing role model for me. She has always worked very hard, put our family first and encouraged us to follow our dreams. She is a realist and honest and a planner. She organizes and coordinates. She takes charge and handles difficult situations. She has expectations and challenges you to reach them. She is funny and silly and likes to laugh. She is a caregiver. And she loves my dad. Through thick and thin, for better or worse and now, as retirees, they are now getting to enjoy their happily ever after.

The other mothers that I've had?  They're family members, coworkers, mentors...women who have taken time to love me, teach me, correct me. They've shared stories and insight and allowed me to ask questions. They've comforted me when I've messed up or are anxious and worried.  They've inspired me to be better and to look forward to the next stage of being a woman. They've shown me how to stand up for what I believe in and how to be fully free to be myself.

My mommy friends? Honestly, in the early stages of my kid's lives I didn't have a lot of mommy friends. My world was full and my time was limited. There were a lot of acquaintances. Moms that I spent a lot of time with because our kids were friends or in activities together, but it wasn't until they started getting a little older that I was able to make some true friends. Other moms who I could be honest with and share all of the deep, dark hidden places of struggle....as well as share triumph and laughter when joyous moments happened. As we've now crossed into parenting adults....we have new experiences to share and learn from and it makes it that much easier knowing that I have other people to travel through it with.

And finally. My own four gems. Jordyn, Isaiah, Elijah and Israel.



Ok. they really look like this now.







They are dynamic human beings. And I am so lucky to be their mom.

When I started out as a mom I was young and nervous. I worried about things I didn't need to worry about and tried to follow all of the guidelines and rules to make me a 'good' parent. Soon I learned to throw those ideas and steps out the window. I have done a lot right and a lot wrong but no matter what I've put every bit of myself into loving them, encouraging them and guiding them. From those tender mommy moments when they were little and idolized me to the proud moments of seeing them accomplish their goals as they've all become adults...it has been sweet and hard and special and unforgettable and fulfilling all rolled into one. They have taught me so much and I am who I am because of who they are. Kind and honest and funny and strong and devoted and loyal and hard working and perfectly flawed. I could not love them more fiercely if I tried.

Reach out to the people around you...you might be able to be their mother or their daughter and fill a void for yourself and them.

As always, thanks for reading what I got today.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

My Sailboat Ride

So I'm watching Super Soul Sunday and Oprah is interviewing Barbara Brown Taylor (who I have never heard of but is sharing much I resonate with) and she makes a statement that many of us think of life like a train ride. We get onboard with a destination in mind and then we take the track to where we are going. And we take time choosing the right train to get on to get to the exact place we are going. And we tend not to deviate. But she's come to believe that life should be more like a ride on a sailboat. It changes daily-sometimes even moment to moment. You have to adjust and tend to the sail, the wind might take you off course for a bit, you might have to change your direction or even choose to change directions based on the elements....

I love this metaphor.  And not just because Oprah said she loved it too.

But when I look back over my life thus far, and at 47 I'm beginning to feel like I have some life to look back on....I see how this sailboat metaphor is so fitting, even though I believe I started out on a train.

On the train...at times I almost went on autopilot. I don't know that I always actively stayed engaged with the ride. I could zone out, check out so to speak. There were others around me but i didn't necessarily have to engage with them. From time to time the conductor might make comments or give instructions...but in general not a lot of input was needed. From time to time I might gaze out the window, intrigued by the beauty I was passing....even taking a moment to acknowledge it, but the motion of the train did not allow for lingering observation or appreciation. Sometimes I might not even be sure of what I just saw.  It was so easy to doze off. To allow the certainty and rhythm of the ride to lull me to sleep. I might wake up disoriented but still confident that I was on course to my destination. And everyone around me was heading to the same place.  And when I got to my stop.  Sometimes I'd realize that this was not quite where I wanted to be. And I'd have to wait for another train to come so I could get onboard.

On the sailboat?  There is a freedom that comes with the sailboat.  Because there isn't a direct course. There is also some fear that comes with the sailboat. Because the elements cause uncertainty. I am not sure when I will arrive because the wind and waves might cause me to change course. I can't zone out because I need to stay engaged in the ride. If I want or need to stop....I can change the sails so that I can linger and enjoy and breathe.  I am working with the others around me, whether on my boat or a neighboring boat...because we are sharing the waters. I might have to protect myself from the environment or even take cover for a bit....but mostly?  I can be in the wide open air--face in the wind, sky and sea around me, leading and guiding...very 'Moana' ish so to speak.

On the sailboat I've been led to leave unhealthy places and seek new horizons.
On the sailboat I've been led to revisiting past hurts and embracing new experiences.
On the sailboat I've been led to bear away when heading into trouble and follow the beacon set ahead for me.

I've discovered that on the sailboat I don't have to be headed where everyone else around me is. In fact, it's more interesting when we are not. I also do not need to know when I am 'arriving'.  This relieves pressure of who and what is 'waiting' for me at the station. On the sailboat I have moments of angst and unknown, but there is also peace and beauty and rest.

On the sailboat. I am free.  To quote Moana, 'See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me and no one knows how far it goes. If the wind in my sail on the sea stays  behind me one day I'll know, if I go there's just no telling how far I'll go.'

I'm never getting on the train again.

That’s what I got today.

Those 'millenials' and 'post millenials' you complain about.....

I'm back in Mankato again for my son's track meet. It's conference weekend and that always brings a different kind of energy...there's something so magical about the excitement that builds and then erupts as athletes beat their personal bests, win their heat to advance or even break long standing records in their event. I have two sons in Mankato, one who recently graduated in December and is now coaching at the school and will begin grad school in the fall and one who is still an student athlete competing in the triple jump.  A fun bonus to this weekend is that my youngest son came into town with his girlfriend for the weekend as well.  My cousin's son, who is like an extra son to us is also along and it's always a fun time when they guys are together. The only thing missing is having my daughter and her boyfriend here. I love spending time with my kids. I love that they humor me with pictures, let me hug them as tight as I need to and still tease me.

Yesterday I sat at the track from 12-6:30 watching the meet. My son has some hip issues, quite possibly from 7 years of triple jumping under his belt, so he only took one jump in the long jump and then the decision was made to rest so that he can triple jump today. Some might think I'm crazy to have sat for that long watching young people I don't know, but the reality is this is my 5th year of sitting in the stands and cheering for NSIC athletes I don't really know...watching them improve and also grow older....just as my own.  And in all actuality, as I looked around, there were young people that I do know. And many who come and sit with me for a minute to say hi, get a hug and catch up.  Some are still competing and some have graduated.

And what struck me about that is how happy it makes me that I have been an adult in their life that they want to come and greet. That they hopefully see as someone on their side and who they can count on for encouragement and honesty.  An adult who is for them.

In the midst of the past couple of days I've also had contact via social media with 2 younger people I knew as teenagers and now as adults stay in touch with from time to time. And again, I am so happy to continue to have the privilege of being invited into their life. It's heartwarming to have them reach out from time to time or share something exciting that's happening in their life. 

My husband as well, has recently been given big compliments, the kind that bring tears to your eyes, from young people who love Yoda (his nickname) and thanked him for being in their corner and for the words of wisdom that he's given them over the years.

And as I mused over the hugs and laughs and advice, I wondered how many of us, and of course at times myself, have missed the chance to stay connected, to see the young people around us.  Do we stop seeing these 19+ young adults who still might need us? Do we think they've gotten too old to need us? 

Not everyone has older adults who are there. Not everyone has older adults who have instilled wisdom and knew how to love. Not everyone has older adults who continue to guide them and help them navigate young adulthood.  These transition years can often be very lonely and difficult as they try to do things on their own but yet still need support.

I'm not talking about financially supporting, taking over, or making decisions for them. I'm not talking about judging their choices, trying to change or laughing at them.  But honestly seeking to understand. Rejoicing in their accomplishments. Offering advice when asked for. And sharing your own stories of mistakes.

And sometimes just giving a hug, a word of encouragement or a wave to acknowledge that you see them.

I've often said that my favorite two age groups are those 4-7 year olds and 18-25 year olds.  And when I think about the 18-25 year olds that I know, who I continue to root for and see trying to figure it out...it motivates me to continue to see them. And to continue to let them know that I see them.

If this age group frustrates you, or if you've fallen into believing the negative viewpoint that is often shared about them, I challenge you to take the time to actually see them. 

It will be worth it. I promise you.

That's what I got today.

Stories from a Momma (and Wife) Bear #7

This might be long
and fragmented because
my mind is on fire
when I think about
the hate that permeates

I wish that those who feel
my men don't
experience hate
because they may be light
or because they were
'raised right'

That they
Could fully see and know
that people who hate
don't care about that
they see their skin
and it's a wrap

We were watching
The Hate You Give
and knowing that they
likely knew this truth
Code-switching to survive
high school
and daily experiencing
hate.

Driving while black
with a stop that isn't
'routine'
Watch what you do in this neighborhood
but it's where they live

Working and offering a cart
wife tells her husband
We don't take a cart from 'him'
yet takes one from another.

Meeting with their advisor
Stating they desire a degree
in mechanical design
and being told
'Wow, now that's a suprise'

Or in high school
the guidance counselor says
that's probably not your field
That math is much too hard
You're probably not that smart

Crossing the street
I mean black boys
must mean trouble
'I'd cross if they were white'
that might be true
1 out of 10 times

Being called the 'n' word
We've already discussed that
Why do white people
Wanna say that word so bad?

Tossing around the words
Thug, Nigga and ghetto
Yet refusing to learn
the impact of these words
and their hate
filled hearts
of malice and distrust.

I want the world to know
that each life has value
and my son's are your sons
my husband is every man
and they aren't safe
from police brutality
because they are light
or because they were raised right
they aren't safe from
your hate because
growing up their neighbors were
or even some of their blood is
white

BLACK LIVES MATTERS
matters
because this country
and maybe even
you
want to pretend
that racism is dead
and we're all
treated the same
well I can tell you
my friend
that you are wrong
and that's making
it harder
to turn things around

So I pray every day that
my men return
without any more scars
without more battle wounds
That might also be your prayer
But is it solely because they are black?


That's what I got today.

I'm Tired. But.....

I'm tired.

This morning my husband and I got up to have breakfast with our sons at 8am. Not super early. We didn't go to bed super late. Ran an errand or two and dropped my husband off at the track meet. Since I don't have to be there until later, I came over to the Caribou by campus to lounge for a bit before heading back to the school. And as I'm sitting here watching the young college folks come and go, study and laugh, move with quickness I realized....I'm tired.

Not necessarily like I need more sleep tired. And not necessarily like #45 has me drained tired.  (although on any given day those things might be true) But in a what am I actually accomplishing kind of tired.

Truth be told, this is a slippery slope for me. It can mean the start of a snowball affect to a dark place of 'why are we here' or 'does anything even matter'. That is not good or healthy and as many of you know I've spent decades getting the right mix of medication to combat that.

But.

If I'm able to stay on the cliff, peering over at the tiredness and what is propelling it....it allows me time to reflect on what truly is, where good is and restores a hope in me that puts me back on solid footing facing what's to come with renewed energy. I can see past the ugly to what might be.

There is definitely enough ugly in the world to go around. People lying, dying....pain and destruction....hate that permeates a soul and seeps into society....abandonment and judgement....opinions based on nothing but ignorance. And in a tired place that can become so overwhelming. I mean how does one person tackle that?  It seems too simple and almost a cop out to say, 'Well you can't change the world-there's only 24 hours in a day-you can only focus on who is in front of you.'  That may definitely be the case at times. And there is nothing wrong with operating that way-because that is important too. But if you think of all great social movements that have changed our reality....there are always folks in the mix who are consumed with the whole. And not just the individual. There has to be those thinking big picture; those carrying the weight.

Slaves aren't free focusing only on the individual.
Women aren't voting focusing only on the individual.
Same sex marriages aren't legal focusing only on the individual.

As I'm peering over the cliff today...

I'm tired of hearing talk about a wall that people think will keep us safe.
I'm tired of seeing us not supporting others around us that need our help.
I'm tired of knowing there are some who won't have food tomorrow.
I'm tired...

What holds me over that cliff?  And then pulls me back?

The people I see around me who are interested in learning more about those who aren't like them.
The people I see who are brave to tell their stories knowing they might be met with hate.
The people I know who are ready and willing to roll up their sleeves and do the hard work of caring.


The sociologist in me battles between the one and the whole. Because the whole has always been mine. This is who I am. I am weary and tired at times, but by making sure I have adequate breaks and self care, I am able return to that focus and refreshment I spoke of earlier. And I am very blessed to have a wonderful support system who checks on me and reminds me to care for myself.  So I take a deep breath and close my eyes. And I open them with a heart even more ready to hold the heavy weight and burden of others.

That might not be you. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Then you can focus on the one. And that is so so vital. The one that needs you. Engage with your community and sphere of influence and become a part of someone's support system. And I challenge you look beyond your own little family. They are important--of course they are. But you are their built in support system. Place yourself into the support system of someone who doesn't have one. (PS. This doesn't necessarily mean poor people here. Think of the college student without encouragement, the co-worker with nowhere to go for the holidays.)

Imagine a world where there was no fringe. Where everyone had a place to sleep, a plate to eat and someone to care that they were there.  Can you see it?

We can be tired.  But we can't stay there.  The one and whole need us.
Who and how are you going to support today?  
And maybe it's just living out loud, choosing to exude love.
Sometimes you never know who are you are reaching and how it will affect their day.

That's what I got today.

Love is love.

Love is love.
and to be human
is more
than having a penis or vagina.

Why do we care what
someone else has in their jeans
Why would we try to deny
their existence
their humanity

My world began narrow
there were men
and there were women
and once in awhile
you'd whisper about
another human
who just didn't seem 'right'.

As I left that small place
and saw a fuller view
of every kind of human
that God had created
I saw that the whisper
was hatred in disguise
fear and ignorance
veiled as right

We give things a label
because it's just what we do
our need to categorize
created LGBTQ

And I hear ugly around me
Speaking with hate and rage
instead of a desire to learn
there's determination to ruin
how do we deny a human's existence
when they are standing right there?

I see you Aeryn Raven
with all your glorious joy
You slay me dear Kristina
for your honest bravery every day
I love you Benjamin Buttons
and your kind and thoughtful ways
You are valued and loved
worth not determined by what
someone else says
I'm standing here with you
and not going anywhere.

That's what I got today.

My Mama Heart is Full.....

When my kids were babies
I used to pray and hope
that one day
they'd learn to walk and dance
to share and to listen
to be close and stay

When my kids were little,
I used to pray and hope
that one day
they'd learn to listen and wait
try to understand and
have something to say

When my kids were middle
I used to pray and hope
that one day
they'd make their path
follow their own dreams
go their own way

When my kids were almost there
I used to pray and hope
that one day
they'd see that path right there
that they had dreamed about
and fly away

Now my kids are grown
with some growing left to do
and I continue to  pray and hope
as I see them
stand firm in their beliefs
and love all that they can
they fall but still get up
even if they fall again

And my mama heart is full
And I'm grateful because

I see them making choices
and decisions on their own
I see them being far
but always returning home

What's Your Dream....

Today is a day where many love to share Martin Luther King Jr. quotes.  They love to talk about what he died for. They love to talk about choosing love over hate and loving their fellow mankind and the unity that has come to be from MLK's famous speech, which has been coined, 'I have a dream.' 

If I seem jaded, please understand that I recognize there are many folks, of all colors, who truly understand that MLK was a revolutionary forward thinker, who challenged the status quo and who was MURDERED because of it. That he didn't live to be a wise old man but was killed when he was only 39 years old. But I honestly believe there are so many more who want the wall built, but also will share an MLK quote today.

While the 'I Have a Dream' speech is not the MLK speech that resonates the most with me....it has always caused me great stirring when I hear him say with reverence, 'I have a dream today......'  Those words alone are spoken with such conviction and determination that they make me have hope that they one day will come to be....even if around me the tattered and fractured reality of racial tension and economic divide still permeates our country, leaving me to feel that not only will we never be great again, but we actually have never been quite as great as we like to reminisce we were.

What would it be like to have that kind of purpose?  That kind of belief in not only your vision and yourself...but in the rallying of the folks around you. That kind of prophetic influence that caused a stirring in the souls of others, such that they began to cling to the hope that it just might be.

I guess we first would need to have a dream to begin with.  A dream that is outside of ourselves. I'm not judging dreams of a special vacation or a certain kind of job, of financial security or a fancy car.  I understand that our society feeds into that kind of dream being a primary focus. And I understand that many people want to enjoy the fruits of their labor. But I'm speaking more of a dream that truly moved beyond ourselves and would cause a ripple affect for the greater good? A dream that not only led to increase for you....but an elevation for those around you. And this dream didn't just exist because it was the trendy bandwagon to jump on...but instead was birthed out of  a desire to see your fellow humans flourish.

I challenge you today....that instead of romanticizing harmony and unity....that you truly allow yourself to see the brokenness that is around you. The forgotten fringe of our society that is all around us and recognize their humanity. Instead of finding the perfect quote that fits what you wish was...that you grieve for the dream of MLK that has not come to fruition.

And allow that grief to propel you into envisioning your own dream. That you might see and know the people around you. That you might seek to understand someone's struggle that is not your own. And that you might embrace ways that you can meet them in their struggle, even if it causes you discomfort.

I have a dream....that today will be the day that you truly see someone for the treasured gift they are....and how you can be a bright spot of light and love in their world....and thus see the spot of light and love they can be in yours.

That's what I got today.

The basement at Herman Crown Center

my freshman year of college I was a musical theatre/dance student at Roosevelt University. It was an incredibly amazing experience for me. my first time away from home. my first time not being a minority as a minority. my first friendships with openly gay humans. my first time learning how to do laundry. my first time going to class in my pajamas. my first time hanging over the roof of the university dangling over Michigan ave. after feeling like I didn't want to be away from my boyfriend and family I went home after only year. but the impact that the one year there in Chicago had....was mighty.

that year in life has been on my mind a lot lately. one particular memory actually.

the basement had small rehearsal rooms. music stands and pianos. and we spent a lot of time down there. craypas and tape cassettes....sheet music and tape recorders....in our jammies and stocking feet.  and we sang and cried and laughed and sang some more. those rooms represented a reprieve from the crazy. a sanctuary from judgment and critique....from self doubt and disconnect.  in those little rooms I belted out a song in front of other people in an intimate setting for the first time. I talked in silly voices, learned about being fully free and wrote and wrote and wrote. it wasn't just about the space...it was also the choice to venture there....to stop whatever we were doing and run, skip or dance to the basement.

I remember thinking that I was surrounded by such incredibly talented people. and I remember thinking that life would always be like this. grabbing a notebook and writing. finding a quiet place to create. letting all of my sorrow and angst and joy and exhilaration out. sitting with an odd, mismatched yet connected group of people who both understood me and knew nothing about me at the same time.

I've never had that same freedom of creativity since.  but i also know that i haven't created the margin for it either.

I have created since then. and although my path led me away from a career in the arts....I minored in musical theatre and dance in college. i taught dance class to littles for a brief season when my own kids were young. i have written for pleasure off and on over the years. and of course, i love singing and have irritated many a co-worker with that over the years.

other things have taken priority in my life. marriage, children, ministry, mental health needs, work....and while I've attempted to keep creativity in my world through leading worship at church....writing from time to time...singing when i get the chance....there's always been this missing piece.  this difficulty focusing. the inability to still see myself as a creative, artistic person.

the basement. or at least what the basement represented. is missing.

as i write this....I'm not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do with this epiphany.

but i would encourage you not to lose your basement.

and i believe that i need to find my basement. whatever that is, that can give me what the basement at HCC did.  freedom and space. time and devotion. confidence and ability. a reprieve from the crazy.

all of the sorrow and angst and joy and exhilaration is ready to pour out.

I'm Loving Me.

Today I was able to spend a few hours with 8 other women and just be.  We had coffee and breakfast goodies. We laughed and chatted and disagreed. We shared. And in that sharing we were able to see that while there are likely many many things about our lives that are different.  There are some things that are the same.  We want to be heard, to belong and to be loved.

I've been thinking about love a lot lately. I'm surrounded by a lot of love.  And yet, in the midst of that, it can be so easy to focus on the ways, times and places how, when and where I don't feel loved. 

It's a constant internal battle for me.  And it has always been.

I grew up with love all around me. But there was a critical spirit that permeated my soul.

You aren't good enough.
You aren't pretty enough.
You aren't smart enough.
You aren't.
Enough.

It's taken me decades to start to love myself. Honestly and unconditionally. Warts and all.  But I've started.

I withheld love from myself when I wasn't doing or being or acting the way that I felt I should.  If my house wasn't clean or if I feel behind at work or wasn't attentive enough to my husband or my kids, in my eyes...it was so easy to do. So easy to allow disappointment in myself lead to withholding love. Sometimes I still do.

A few things have inspired me to challenge that thinking.

1. I want to love myself the way my daddy loves other people. Seriously. I do not know anyone who loves as unconditionally or openly as this guy. For all the things he might have gotten wrong in his life or regrets he might have?  How he loves should NOT be one of them.  He just accepts what is. And loves just the same. It doesn't mean he might not get disappointed or frustrated. But it does absolutely nothing to change the love that he has.  If he loves you....even if he is angry with you, even if you have hurt him....he would give you the shirt off of his back if you needed it.  If he loves you, you do not ever doubt it. Ever.  I want myself to know that no matter what I do or don't do....where I excel or fail...I will love myself just the same. I am worth unconditional love. How high might I fly if I treasured myself?

2. I need to practice what I preach. For much of my 30s and 40s, I've been a strong advocate for women to learn how to love themselves. To learn that they shouldn't allow their self worth to be dictated by outside influences and that true love means accepting all of yourself. In teaching and coaching others to do this...I thought that I was there. I really did. And then these last few years have turned everything about my internal point of view upside down. It's been a culmination of so many things....things that will be another blog post on another day...but these things made it very clear to me that I did not honestly and unconditionally love myself.  My love was withheld when I was angry with myself. It was withheld when I was disappointed in myself or when I was feeling that I didn't deserve it. I tell other women all the time---be gentle with yourself. Be patient with yourself and forgive yourself.  Love.

3. Tomorrow is not promised. It's funny because I've always known this. But what's recently caused this thought to be a new inspiration is seeing my Grandma's health slowly fade. And witnessing the struggle that she's had with herself, with God, with dying, with her quality of life diminishing....it's inspired me in a new way to grab hold to each day, each moment and live fully and freely and full of love. Not just for others (which I really do try to do well) but for myself. Not to wait until things are just right or just how they should be. I need to love myself NOW.

Right now. I want to unconditionally love all of who I am. The tattered pieces and the mangled frays...the dark spaces and the hidden mazes...whether I'm empty or full, cowering or standing tall.

I am enough.
Love.

What I'm Thankful For....

Today there's so much
frustration abound...
there's hate in the world
so much darkness around

But in spite of that ache
in spite of that pain
There's much that makes me
Feel joy again
With a grateful heart
I remember each thing
remember each one

So I can begin again

A son graduating
Another finding his voice
One pulling his own
A daughter finding her joy
A marriage sustaining
And still growing closer
Finding new friendships
And growing strong

Able to withstand

I'm grateful for courage
For transparency
For clarity of mind
And more than anything

I'm so grateful
Today was a day
to be grateful.

You Being More

A mother working hard
Cuz each dollar counts
So every hour that she can
She's there on her grind

But this leaves a dilemma
Because suddenly there's
no help
no net
and she's truly alone.

No family or friend
Who will lend
a hand...
Just a society that
says well
what did you expect...

But she's steady working
and steady treading
water it seems
there's no end in sight
what more can be done
but work
one hour more.

And they scoff
at her tries
and wonder
why
her kids are a mess
and her house might be too
her cupboards are bare
don't you know
there's places to help you

But where can you go
when you work all you can
cuz each dollar counts
and there's no safety net
and the help that they think
you can easily get
is no longer there
does anyone care

so you who is working
as hard as you can
barely staying afloat
barely able to stand
don't quit
just know
that there are those that see
and we're trying to
be
what we can
be
to make a difference

and you who is judging
and sitting so far
why not leave your bubble
why not see who
'they' are
these 'those' that you
tsk
and shake your head at
please quit 
and know
that there are those
whose lives
aren't as easy as yours
and we need you to
be
what you can
be
to change the world

and not just
one blanket
one sandwich
one sweater
one scarf
one chair
one washcloth
one ride
isn't enough

we need you
to give more of
yourself.
your time
your talents
your friendship
your love.

Because she's steady working
and steady treading
water it seems
there's no end in sight
what more can be done...

what more can be done?

you being more.