7.30.20 Tomorrow


As a writer who focuses on the whimsical, deep, and beautiful … who tries to surround herself with elements of faith, and wonder, and magic … can I just say it’s a bit of a reality check when life happens?

Last night I captured this image of a halo moon. I imagined the incandescent symbolism behind a night sky lit with a golden echo. It was magnificent. It was a moment I was so, so blessed to catch because tonight … well … tonight I need to hold onto the truth that the moon is still out there, even if it is hidden by the clouds. The wishes I wished were still spoken … even if today they seem farther from coming true than they ever have. The feeling of peace was real then … even if I don’t feel it now.

Today was hard, and then harder … but the moon is still out there, and the stars, and a piece of peace I’ll chase again tomorrow.

Love. Always love.


7/23/20 Believe Me Yet?


“And she loved the little boy very, very much … even more than she loved herself.”

– Shel Silverstein

My precious, precious boy … today you are turning 13. I would ask where the time went, but I already know – every moment slipped past me as I was busy watching you. So here it is little one (for you will always be little to me) … a history walk of you.

In the beginning, Daddy and I didn’t know if we could have kids. You were SO prayed for, and I began to doubt whether or not you would be a reality, or a beautiful wish. But then … oh then … you were an answered prayer, and a life within me. You became a dream made real, and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but I was wrong.

Because then you were here, and you turned one, and your wonder-filled eyes missed nothing. You were the best listener, and we would have the most grand conversations about important things like chivalry, shooting stars, the magic of adventures, and being kind. You never interrupted and always gave me your full attention, and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but again, I was wrong.

You turned two, and then it was my turn to listen because you had so much to say. You talked with me and showed me new treasures, pulling me along with tiny fingers and a strong will, and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but I was still wrong.

Because three was about the greatest age I’d ever come across. Your laughter rose out of you like a kaleidoscope of colored bubbles … light and whimsical. You loved books, blocks, blankets, and baths. You loved dancing and music and nothing tired you out. Every night you stood at the top of the stairs and said, “Mommy … just one more thing …” and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, yet again, I was wrong.

You turned four and it seemed nothing was fast enough for you. You didn’t walk anymore, you ran, you skipped, you flew. We dove deep into our imaginations that year and discovered the world of pirates and princes and the privilege of pretend. Every day was enchanting and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but I was wrong.

Five was the year you became a little gentleman. You learned to open doors for others and loved to wear your newsy cap wherever you went. You were a master of please, thank you, and charm. I was so proud of the dapper demeanor you grew into, and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but I was so wrong.

When you turned six, you decided to be a professional soccer player, as you’d had three whole years under your belt. I remember watching you completely unafraid to run against kids twice your size, and also unafraid to snuggle with your Great Grandma, Mae Mae, Daddy, sister, and me. And I was in awe of your strength and sensitivity – and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but little boy, I was wrong.

At seven, you discovered the true magic of the tooth fairy … and her bank. You had a penchant for giggling like it was a contagious condition you couldn’t help but share. You discovered your favorite teacher and your best friend who happened to have a family from Pakistan. You prayed for the country of Pakistan every night before bed; your daddy and I were amazed at your little global heart, and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but again, I was wrong.

When you turned eight, you were fascinated with ancient Greece, and realized that your artist hands had something to say. You would draw the most complex tiny creatures, robots, battles, ice-worlds, castles, bridges, and forests. Sometimes I would just stare at your drawings and imagine you in the worlds you created, fighting or befriending the dragons, depending on the day, and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but I was still wrong.

At nine-years-old, you became my music man … playing drums, piano, and singing in the school talent show. Your daddy and I were so grateful for your brave heart and open mind. It seemed you were unafraid of anything, and for a mommy who sometimes feared everything, that was the year you became my little hero, and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but I was wrong.

When you were ten, you loved the idea of travel. Daddy flew all over the world for his job, and your favorite thing was to collect the treasures he brought you from places like Dubai, Germany, France, Morocco, England, Mexico, and Australia. With eyes-wide-open, you held each piece like a prophetic talisman of where you might want to go … but that same year, you took your job of, “protecting mommy and your sister while daddy was away,” very, very seriously. You always did and I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but boy – I was wrong.

At eleven, a very hard thing happened. We turned your whole world upside-down and moved you across the country. The school you’d gone to since you were six, the friends you’d known for ten years, the soccer team, the town … all of it was now behind you. But you NEVER fussed. You NEVER complained. You braved the adventure of what was coming next without losing the connections, friendships, and memories. I am still amazed at the easy way that you made something impossible seem. I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but – you guessed it, I was wrong.

Turning twelve in a new state, school, and house made your wanderlust for the world grow. You quite literally fell in love with Asia. You made friends with the Chinese exchange student who didn’t speak English, deciding to spend your mornings before school conversing with him. You asked us to find a Japanese tutor so you could take lessons. You joined Model UN at school, and recognized the value of God’s greater world. And you know what? I thought I loved you more than I could ever love anyone, but I’m going to go ahead and predict the future here and say I’ll have been wrong.

You are thirteen now my sweet son. You have lived over four thousand days … can you believe that? I cry with gratitude to know that I have lived them alongside you. Sharing my love of Neverland, I know that sometimes growing up is wicked scary … but you’re not alone in it. Daddy, your sister, and I are growing up right with you and figuring it all out on the way. We all get lost sometimes, but somehow when I’m with you little boy, I just feel found. And do you know what? I’m going to go ahead and say it, because why not? I don’t think I could ever love you more.

Believe me yet?

7.14.20 Beyond the Brink


There has been an edging darkness

a coming storm

that just



Thick clouds spiral emotions that

pour and pound

persisting and insisting on pushing us

to a brink we can’t see beyond

to a reality we don’t recognize

Inconsistency is currency

as the powerful veil truth from the powerless

ever searching with blinded eyes

ever listening with deafened ears

eager to climb, to cling or comply

to anything that offers more

than the absence we’ve now intimately known

There has been an edging darkness

a coming storm

and it might keep coming

But The Light is still behind each laden cloud

and gilded margins become radiant sovereigns

when given their chance to rise

So whether or not you believe you can carry on –


Whether or not you see the end –


If you can’t see … feel

If you can’t hear … imagine

Defy the ache and the ebb

with audacious joy

with ineffable hope

with resilient conviction

Until you wake to the glorious morning

after the storm

7.4.20 Dear America


Dear America,

Hello beautiful.

Happy birthday. I know you have had a really challenging year, and you might not feel very much like celebrating, but I celebrate you still. I celebrate your tenacious heart and the spirit of what you strive to become, even if you’re not there yet. None of us are. Be gentle with yourself precious … look at what you have accomplished and focus on where you are headed. In your short life you have achieved so much and idealized a dream of freedom that embodies the hearts and minds of every individual that calls you home. Whether indigenous or adopted, you desire us all … to love and live in unity as one family, even when we fail to listen – even when we misunderstand what you try help us be. You say, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” We misunderstand and abuse and distort … but that is on us America. Please don’t abandon your ideals for our misgivings. Help us. Wait for us. Keep us close in mind. Hold us while we fall. Pick us up as we fail. Trust us, even when we don’t deserve you.

I know it is a lot to ask, but I love you. I believe in you, and I know you, in your star spangled glory, will rise and rise again, echoing the anthems of ages … listening to every voice that yearns to be free.

Stay strong dear America, and please know I’m so, so proud to be yours.