3.15.23 7 Letters I Can’t Send: Dear Poetry

“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” – Carl Sandburg

Dear Poetry,

To put it quite simply. Thank you. Thank you for always giving me a place to sit with my thoughts. You never rush me, or force me to explain myself. You let me invite only the words I want to entertain, and give me just enough space to get cozy with them. You allow me reflection and pause. You not only inspire me … you give my voice a platform.

Somehow, you always find a way to turn my chaos and confusion into stanzas that make sense. You block and build, settle and swell. And even though sometimes you take the long route to take shape–you are always lovely and dressed just exactly right for whatever mental occasion I’ve invented.

With or without the accessory of punctuation, the confines and constructs of labels and rules, even there you are the elegant expression of every emotion a story would be too watered-down with words to tell. Thank you for your gravity … for grounding wild hearts and wandering minds. Thank you for giving my fleeting thoughts a place to land and my imagination the space to expand.

You are the last ringing note of the song of my spirit, and for that, I love you.

3.12.23 7 Letters I Can’t Send: Dear Elliot

“. . . sometimes one feels freer speaking to a stranger than to people one knows. Why is that?
Probably because a stranger sees us the way we are, not as he wishes to think we are.” 
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Dear Elliot,

I know that you will never receive this letter, but that didn’t make me want to send you one any less. I wanted to thank you for taking the time to talk to me the other day as we were both waiting in line for our orders. You were so polite, asking, “Excuse me?” Before then following up with the essential question, “Do you have dogs?” I think that is an excellent question, and I wish more people would kindly-interrupt one another to ask important questions like that. I was so happy to hear that you were not only excited to know their names, but also interested to know mine. There is power in a name, Elliot, and I am so grateful you shared your name with me, because I will not soon forget it. Or your smile. Or your red jacket. Or your cool glasses frames. Or the fact that you are seven (which is my favorite number, by the way).

To be honest, Elliot, I was sad to get my order so fast, because I really enjoyed talking to you. I know your parents thought I was, “being kind,” but they were wrong. I was not being kind, I was genuinely interested in your questions and enjoying your precious company. You broke my heart in the most precious way when you shook my hand goodbye, and then reached your arms out for a hug right after. THANK YOU! Thank you for taking the time to give me that essential gift.

As I left, I was wishing that I had a reason to turn around. I was SO grateful that I remembered I had picked up a smooth stone earlier in the day and put it in my pocket. I don’t normally pick up stones, but something about that one was special–like you, and it gave me just the excuse I needed to turn around and see you one more time. Thank you for receiving it as the treasure I meant for it to be. Thank you for understanding me.

I hope that no matter how many sevens you get to live in this life, you remember this seven. You remember how fundamentally important it is to keep meeting people. Keep capturing their attention with those bright, hopeful, curious eyes. Keep asking them if they have dogs, and what their names are. Keep following up handshakes with hugs (which are undeniably more important). And Elliot, dear boy, keep being you. No one could ever do it better.

All my love,

Elle

2.23.23 Earned

I like the holes I earn myself–the worn denim jacket and the life I had to live with just enough fray to make it happen. I like the scars that tell stories and the incidents and accidents that turn into tales.

The more I see of life, and the more I genuinely, intentionally try to live it, the more I see that we are given so many opportunities. Every day. Every week. Sometimes minute-by-minute. We are given first and second chances, happen-by encounters, and “fancy meeting you here” moments that offer us glimmers of possibility. Like catching the glint off of a fallen penny, waiting head’s up for you to claim its luck, these opportunities shine coppery-gold, the color of hope personified. 

So what about you … what holes are you going to punctuate into your imperfect, beautiful life?

Elle

2.7.23 Seven Small Truths: Day Seven

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.” Mary Jean Iron

So here we are … day seven of seven days of mini truths. As important as all of the admissions I’ve shared have been to me, I think this one might be one of the most true and most necessary for us all to acknowledge, if for no other reason than to prove that we need one another.

DAY SEVEN Truth: Heaven is entirely too far away. Recently, I had a sweet follower ask me if I had any pieces I’d suggest she read to help her healing heart … she shared with me that she was still desperately missing her husband who passed away. My spirit entirely shattered, because what do you say? I have written about loss so many times over the years, and yet there is no consolation for grief that does more than offer a fleeting moment of warmth in the seemingly endless cold.

My faith has been the only consolation that ever offered me any peace–knowing that this is not the end of the story … the relationship … the love. Knowing that on the other side of the star-dusted sky lies another chapter, another conversation, another chance to hold and be held across the galaxy. To me, so many times, that promise has kept my broken heart beating.

Whenever someone I care about loses someone they love, I pray that their memories remain fresh and present. I pray that their dreams be vivid and their sensorial recollections be distinct. It is never enough … but maybe, just maybe, it will suffice one more day. And if I, myself, am missing one of the loves of my life to the point I can hardly bear it–I pretend. I tell myself that I’ll see them soon–that we’re only a memory apart.

I believe our imaginations can be holy … that if we open ourselves up to the divine we were designed to hold, heaven inches closer to us. Let hope be your light. It will be enough.

7.23.22 Fifteen

“She did not believe he could have really gone, because for her, to leave the person you loved was impossible.” Jodi Lynn Anderson

Dear boy,

Today is your birthday, and I am on the other side of the world. I have never, in all glorious 15 years of you, been away from you for as long, as far, and as monumental an occasion as the day God gave you to me. My, but love hurts.

Even though I’m not with you, there are a few things you should know … fifteen things actually.

1. Your kindness humbled and astounds me.

2. I love the way your mischief smile trails a wake of dimples across your face. No one has a chance against that smile.

3. Your passion for people is inspiring. You make others comfortable just by being you!

4. I love the way you love your sister. Fiercely. Protectively. And with best-friend-status joy.

5. You have your daddy’s sense of calm measure. It will and has already served you well.

6. I adore that you love board games as much as I do, even if I never win.

7. The way you carry on a conversation brings me such pride. You are charm itself.

8. Every time I tell someone who didn’t know I was your mom, that you are my son, they literally tell me how awesome you are. I glow. What else can I possibly do?

9. Your curiosity is contagious and wonderful.

10. Sometimes, my favorite thing is just a hug from you. Somehow, they’re never long enough.

11. I truly believe the world is better for having you in it.

12. I love seeing your tenacious and audacious sense of hope and possibility. Nothing keeps you down.

13. Your sense of purpose in this life is wise beyond your years. I wish I could bottle your character.

14. You are always polite. No one can say that, but you seem to be the rule’s exception.

15. Being your mom is ultimately, irrevocably, and inarguably, my greatest gift.

I wish, as ever, to slow time … to be with you without the constant knowing that the moments, and minutes, and days carry on. It would seem, birthday boy, that not all wishes come true … but God, I am so grateful for the wish-come-true of you.

Love you to Neverland,

Mom

9.7.20 Birthday Wishes

My birthday wish is for you. ❤️

9.1.19 The Cost of Hope

“Sometimes I think I might be a bit of a naive optimist, a bit of a wishful thinker … In a world where light blinks out, where forecasts dim, I imagine that hope really might conquer all … if only a few more people looked for it.” – Elle Harris 

 

This quote is a small snippet of my newest piece in Bella Grace Magazine. Fresh to the local bookstore stands, this bookazine, as I’ve come to call her, is just stunning. From Autumn-crisp colors to inspiring quotes, photographs, and articles, I hope you’ll find half as much joy reading it as I did being one of the writers.

This piece in particular meant a great deal to me because I wrote it soon after the passing of my grandmother. I realize that being in my mid-thirties, I was lucky to even have her this long, but logic and the heart don’t always coincide. I miss her every day. And yet, just as the poem shows, life takes turns with our emotions. If my grandmother taught me anything, it is to pursue joy and hope at all cost … and if believing in hope costs you everything, well, then it is still well worth it.

I hope this fall season has you believing in the beauty and magic of this extraordinary, ordinary life.

All my love,

Elle

6.4.19 Esse Quam Videri

“Esse Quam Videri” 

So our family is about to embark on a new adventure … we are moving from one part of these amazing United States to another. We’ve never before been out of the Midwest and now? We are about to be Southern y’all! The problem is … I love people too much – fiercely so, and with moving comes goodbyes; and goodbyes wreck me.

This past week I needed to say goodbye to my school … my students (present and former) and my friends. Do you know that the word goodbye actually comes from the 1500’s when the standard greeting was, “God be with thee.” I wish we still said that … a prayer in parting instead of a single word ringing with finality. I’m blessed enough to be going from a place that believes the same. I was grateful to be sent off with a jar of words … glitter … and a motto to live by.

Esse Quam Videri means, “To be rather than to seem.” Authenticity, love, and intention have always been my primary ambitions, and I am ever-so-enchanted to know that in this place … among these people, I have been nurtured to be myself, and encouraged to be more than I ever thought I was worthy of becoming – a bringer of hope, a believer in change, and now a dreamer of what lies ahead.

In these next days and months there will be a great deal of change for my family and myself, but one thing is for certain … wherever I go, I want to be, rather than seem … and I never want to say goodbye to anyone I’ve had the chance to know.

Please pray for me; I need you readers … your encouragement carries me more than you know.

All my love and God be with you,

Elle

 

 

5.21.19 Twenty Ways I’m Pretty Sure I’m Still a Kid

“There is a certain part of all of us that lives outside of time. Perhaps we become aware of our age only at exceptional moments and most of the time we are ageless.” – Milan Jundera

I decided a great long time ago that I was never going to grow up fully. I can’t say exactly when I made this magnanimous decision … maybe when I read Peter Pan for the first time … maybe when my dad held me to his chest and said, “My little girl is growing up?” It might have been when I decided to be a teacher to stay with kids longer,  or even when I had my own babies and tried to raise them to have their own golden childhood.

Though some days (like today) I feel ancient and tired from my long, weary schedule … I’ve been reflecting on the twenty ways that I’m pretty sure I’m still a kid.

1. I drink chocolate milk regularly … like … every other day.
2. I dip animal crackers in my coffee.
3. Converse are my favorite shoes and I have about fifteen pairs in different colors that I often wear with skirts – at work.
4. I write children’s books because they are the genre I still most enjoy reading.
5. I celebrate Dr. Seuss’ birthday in my class with readings no matter what age I’m teaching.
6. I believe in the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, Yeti, and other unproven creatures … the way I see it is … if they haven’t proven they don’t exist – why not?
7. I often wear my hair in double braids like Dorothy or double buns like Princess Leia … depending on my mood.
8. My favorite animal changes every day.
9. I am more excited to go to the zoo than my own children.
10. I wholeheartedly believe in the power of pretend.
11. I want to be a fairy and sprinkle glitter generously and often.
12. I will eat ice cream any time of the day it is offered to me.
13. I love stickers.
14. I think pizza tastes best on Friday because it is my favorite day of the week.
15. I still ask my mom, dad, sister, cousin, and best friends before making any decisions about important things.
16. I still ask my husband for five more minutes when I wake up (and he gives me ten because he’s amazing like that).
17. I love cartoons. I even watch them alone.
18. I have a Disney playlist that I pride myself on because I know all of the words to every song and my kids don’t.
19. I have a yearning to play kickball every day of recess duty.
20. I wish on everything … eyelashes, 11:11, stars, candles, sometimes even airplanes if they’re flying fast enough at night.

Come on … be young with me! I can’t wait to see what you’ve got on your kid list and if any of our kiddish tendencies overlap! Please reach out and tell me a few so I can add them to my life habits!

Yours kiddo,

Elle

4.12.19 The Beauty of Slow

Today I was asked to guest blog about “The Beauty of Slow” for Jamie whose blog is https://asnailsspace.blogspot.com so please visit me there, and while you’re there, check out this lovely soul! You’ll see a short introduction about how she found me, and then my piece (also found below) will be featured! Happy reading darlings!

The Beauty of Slow

There is a beauty to being slow … and it is a beauty that took me some time to appreciate. Slow, to me, is an acquired taste, and in younger years it was only bitter – not sweet. I remember so many instances where time was my enemy – every minute a wrestling match for what I could get done next or cross off my never-ending list. At that time, I wasn’t so much a human being as a human doing, and while I believe we were given hands and feet to do … more and more I am coming to understand that we were also given minds to reflect, lungs to breathe, and a heartbeat … slow and steady … with which we were meant to keep time. 

What a difference my life would have felt, and still would feel, if I only paid more attention to that heart – to that beat. When I do take the time to listen to the parts of myself that speak quietly, I hear a great deal of questions … questions I don’t know the answer to, but I want to. Like when someone asks me to tell them what I did in a weekend, I have to start backwards or I literally can’t remember. Why is that? Or when I was a little girl, I used to sleep like a starfish – open and free – limbs tossed this way and that haphazardly. Now, I sleep curled up on my side. What happened to that little girl? What am I protecting myself from? Sometimes I have a sense of urgency to accomplish more, and I run myself ragged from the first rays to the last, only to exhaust myself for those who want the best of me. Why do I waste those best parts on a thankless  day, instead of a precious night? 

As you can see – I’ve not genuinely figured it out yet, but I’m thinking, and I’m trying, because when I do get it right … the beauty of slow seeps in and enchants me. Slow looks like watching the sleepy dreamer beside me, whose chest rises and falls in peaceful rhythm to his unconscious reverie. Slow feels like stretching every limb to its limit as I walk, and hike, and run to explore the hidden magic of nature. Slow sounds like hearing the words behind the song – becoming a part of the melody itself as it reaches the deepest parts of me. Slow tastes like the sea-salt air, the lilac wind, the damp dew of grass, the whispered sweetness of lilies. 

It is the afterglow – the lullaby hum – the perfect contentment of still. And I may not have figured it out yet, but there’s one thing I know … there is never such beauty, as the beauty of slow.