6.26.18 Broken Angels

“Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.” Michael J. Fox

Today I had the privilege of meeting a fresh from heaven darling for the first time – the beautiful daughter of my sweet friend, only two-days-old. I was immediately drawn into every detail of the encounter and tried to memorize the feeling of just being in the presence of this special moment. I took in every thread of their growing tapestry … from the way her daddy smiled a new smile, seemingly reserved just for her, to the way her toddler sister bragged about her new baby, to the precious handful of nicknames her mommy designated with each tender cuddle or kiss. It was holy, this love. It was pure. It was family in the way family should be. She was an angel born into a home that adored her. How I wish this was always the case.

A few weeks ago, I experienced quite the opposite. I was in a restaurant with my mom on a trip. I had just come off of an interview for a piece I was writing and I couldn’t wait to tell her every detail. But just as we both got our waters, a family was seated at the table behind us, and my concentration to the conversation was shattered for the next forty minutes. The family of five was soon to be six, as evidenced by a supremely uncomfortable and exhausted looking wife. She had dark rings under her eyes and did not smile once in the entirety of their visit. I’m not sure why she would however, as her husband was constantly berating the three kids whose ages ranged roughly between two and six. Between arguing about the expense of things, to nitpicking the way the oldest son was eating, to refusing to get his child a refilled drink, to displaying annoyance at having to cut food into pieces, or push up sleeves, or pick up a fork that fell … it literally hurt to witness such distain, such anger.

I kept losing my place in conversation and had to apologize to my mom over and over again for my distraction. She understood of course – the whole restaurant did at that point. My stomach turned in knots as I wrestled with determining what bothered me more … the fact that the three small children barely looked up from their plates out of fear, or the fact that another young life was being born into this already love-starved family. And as simple as it sounds to state it – I was so mad! I was so angry at the absolute disrespect this man had for the lives he brought into this world, and at the woman who not only allowed him to speak with such force, but then reinforced his words with her own jabs of disappointment and criticism at the children.

I hate doing nothing. I loathe when people say, “It’s not my concern,” because it’s just NOT true. Statements of copping out due to social graces are a weak excuse for doing the right thing. Being humane is everyone’s concern. Being kind is within everyone’s capability. After having taught for the past fourteen years, can you guess which type of family I see more of? Can you imagine why I might desperately wish to adopt so many of the past students I’ve taught? Do you understand why I spent as much time nurturing their emotional health as their educational growth? Because by the time so many of these middle school children reached me they were broken angels … and I had to wonder how long it had been since they had someone absolutely adore them. If ever.

Before leaving the restaurant that day, I stopped at that family’s table and took a moment to gush over the kids. I said how well behaved they were. I talked to them. I looked them in the eyes. I chatted about how I bet they were so excited to be great helpers to their parents with the new baby and how lucky their mom and dad were to have them. They looked up. They smiled and sat up a little straighter. And that was it. It was nothing … but it was everything I could do within that moment not to cry – not to yell, “How dare you,” to a complacent set of parents who didn’t realize the triple blessing before them. Hearts, after all, only turn hard to protect what once craved the love they weren’t given.

As for tonight … I am going to focus on this morning. I have to. I am going to see the sunlight that filtered into a room littered with new baby toys, with big sister joys, and with a mom and dad overflowing with tired exhilaration at the fact that their hearts just multiplied the amount of love they thought they could hold. I am going to imagine tiny, perfect breaths, rosebud lips, twitchy smiles brought on by invisible memories of heaven. And I am going to do my best to dream the impossible dream, that every child will be loved the way they deserve to be loved, appreciated for the miracle they really are, and found before they are ever lost.

Love fiercely, protect just the same … whether they are yours, or not.

Elle

6.18.18 So, So Glad That We Did

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”
― Jane Austen

Friendship is the place for absolutely

for let’s do this,

let’s try that,

and I can’t believe we actually did.

Friendship is for

did he really just say that?

she didn’t –

and for are you serious right now?

Friendship is never saying no to a weekend –

a dinner

a drink

a dessert

or a midnight snack.

Friendship is the comfort to have uncomfortable conversations,

it is the assurance that no topic is unapproachable,

it is the reality that you’re never too far from one another’s truth.

Friendship is the belly-aching laughter you cannot contain …

the giggle you can’t suppress …

the middle-of-a-memory snapshot you’re forming every minute that you’re together.

Friendship is the ability to let time pass without offense,

without guilt,

without the need for recompense.

It is ageless … a mural drawn in portion each time you’re together –

a story

lengthening like an epic,

yet steady in its delightful character choices.

Friendship is never allowing one moment to be stale,

cliche,

or tired.

It is always new, learning pieces and parts,

bits and actualities that ever clarify the reasons you chose one another.

Friendship is the place for without a doubt,

for let’s do this again,

let’s try that next time,

and I am SO, so glad that we did.

 

Go love your friends, RIGHT NOW!

Elle

6.11.18 Three Words Seem

 

It wasn’t love at first sight

it couldn’t be

because your heart wasn’t free 

But you saw me

and in seeing me

somehow

knew

that later …

that someday –

someday might be ours

Within the turn of three moons

within the shifting of stars

the constellations hung bright

over a gated garden

Filled to the brim with silent secrets 

exposed

You kissed me then,

but someday

still didn’t belong to us

A walk in the forest later

safely tucked beneath shadowed branches

atop a bed of leaves let down to soften our footfalls

truths were exchanged …

scars were bared …

and we gave one another the gifts of our darkness,

In doing so, who could have known

that touching the broken places

illuminated the light 

that always tried to surface beneath the cracks

That was my someday –

you became my someone

My anxious fingers trailed over white lace,

waiting to be stilled in yours

waiting to carry the new weight of a promise

sealed with a ring 

and a kiss

and a covenant

I promised

and I meant it

We have had many seasons since,

our trips around the sun have bathed us in both shelter and storm

Some adventures are met with bravery and joyful defiance

others are met on our knees

but we face them with a legacy that sustains us

On our worst days you ask me if I’d prefer it were someone else

and heart full of frustration 

I am crestfallen

Because always, 

even then, 

even there, 

even when we are surrounded with ashes and maybes …

You are my person

and this is our someday – however raw and real it may be –

and I am yours

There are two sets of eyes that blink back at us now

setting our hearts and minds ablaze with glimpses of the future

And regardless of reflected personalities –

the set of his jaw,

the line of her brow,

they are the multiplication of us …

twice the benediction of grace 

the result of passion personified

In them – you made me 

a whole new rendering of what I used to be

How can I thank you enough for that gift?

The capacity of being more through you and with you

than I could have become a thousand times over alone

I cannot ever

adequately describe how light 

three

words 

seem

When I need them to carry the weight of the world

my world –

you

So while it wasn’t love at first sight

because time didn’t belong to us 

yet

You will forever be my

love in foresight

owing to the fact that all my tomorrows 

in this life

and any someday’s beyond …

belong to you

6.7.18 Outwitting the World

“So often we treat ourselves as expendable – a habit the world taught us to master. Untruths haunt us like shadows that stretch across our reflections, dimming our view of what’s real.”

Be sure to check out my vlog below to hear all about my newest published piece!

6.1.18 The Last Time

 

“Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go – and then do it.” Ann Landers

So tomorrow is the last day of my son’s fifth grade year. This is monumental for many reasons, but the greatest of which is because he has been in my class all year. Let me begin by saying with emphatic resonance that I WOULD NEVER, EVER CHOOSE THIS. It was supremely difficult for numerous reasons I’m sure you can imagine, but mostly because I was paranoid for a YEAR that I was going to screw him up (even more than the poor kid is already likely to be with having me for a mother).

Imagine having your mom see you in your most formative time of social development on a daily basis. Imagine her seeing the way you interacted with friends, with less-than-friends, with girls! Half of the year I just wanted to close my eyes to give the poor kid some privacy and the other half I wanted to give him a, “What do you think you’re doing” death stare. Either way – it is supremely unfair. I was way harder on him than I’ve ever been with anyone else in my fourteen years of teaching. And I was way harder on me too.

But somehow, after all the prayers, and the tears, and the what if’s … I’m sad that tomorrow is it. I’ll be honest … my son is amazing. His nickname from day one was Mr. Handsome Face. He gave me hugs whenever I asked for them and even sometimes when I didn’t. He forgave me a million times for embarrassing him. He told me he’s learned more this year than ever before … me too.

I learned that this boy is courage personified.

I learned that this boy has integrity, just like his daddy.

I learned that this boy does know when to fight for what’s right, he does defend the weak, and he does put the needs of others before himself … even when mom “isn’t” watching.

I learned that this boy isn’t afraid of asking why history had to be that way, and if there’s really a chance we won’t need to repeat it.

I learned that this boy internalizes way more than I thought he did, that he most definitely cares what mommy and daddy think, and has more stress to live up to an invisible standard than I gave his little heart credit for.

I learned that this boy deserves my respect, my defense, and always, my love.

I learned a lot in fifth grade.

Sometimes I look back at pictures when he was nothing but a bundle of gurgling smiles. Other times I can’t bear it because it hurts too much to think about the times I might’ve missed a “last time” without even noticing. When was the last time I lifted him into the sky for an “airplane ride” at my feet? When was the last time I played pirates in a bubble bath? When was the last time I tucked tooth fairy money under his pillow when he still believed? When was the last time I rocked him to sleep?

Did I know it was the last time?

Did I even realize it was close?

Or was I too busy DOING motherhood instead of BEING his mommy?

Well … tomorrow is a “last time.” I can’t miss it even if I tried. Tomorrow is the last time my son will raise his hand to talk to me in class. It is the last time he’ll give me a mischievous grin across the rows of desks at some private joke only we understand. It is the last time I’ll have a son in elementary school. It is the last time I’ll be afraid that “Mrs. Harris” didn’t measure up to mommy and vice versa.

I always struggle with the end of the year – with students moving on, and beyond the memories we’ve formed toward those awaiting. I hate goodbyes. And it is surreal that somehow, though I’ll take him home with me in the afternoon … I think it is my son … this beautiful fifth grade boy … that I will miss the most – for the last time.

My heart hurts a little – okay a lot.

Elle