It is human to look in the closet of broken dreams and wonder if you’ve done enough or been enough to sustain the hope.

But the closet holds so much hope! Never underestimate who you were and who you are now!

There’s no magic formula that makes us great. It’s in the showing up. Am I willing to show up today and tomorrow and keep going?

That is where the magic lies. Show up. Shine! Greatness is in a life ready to do the best one can tomorrow.

Will tomorrow be great? It’s up yo you. Screw today! Get out there and LIVE!


I have all these heroes in the faith..people who shine bright amidst the noise and impact the world with light.

Tonight I wonder if I’m a “hero”.

Can I be one who shows a glimmer of light in darkness? Am I beacon to someone holding on, trying to breathe when the air seems thin?

Is it enough to live and love? Is it enough to show up everyday?

I think it is. We don’t need megaphones, we need presence. We don’t need lights and applause. Maybe a smile is enough.

Think about who impacted you the most on your journey. Did they need accolades or were they just there?

The beauty in life is in showing up in the small things. The big things are great but the small things are magic.

Shine when the light is missing. Shine when the dim overwhelms.

Be, unapologetically, you. You were born for this!


You are me when the light dims.

You are me when the light shines bright

We are one. We are whole!

Who knew?!?

If tomorrow were another moment in the realm of eternity, would we notice the light?

How bright can we shine NOW?!?

If we aren’t light, who are we?

Reach for light!


I was a human once.

I lived, I breathed, I knew who I was.

It was somewhere between where husband number one left me a puddle on the floor and husband number two decided I wasn’t enough.

Maybe I’m not.

Maybe they’re not.

I’m not qualified to say.

Tonight, I’m thinking I am beyond expectations and they are the fault.

Regardless, I’m here with the pieces.

Pieces are a funny thing. They fall in random intervals. They collide with ideals. They stick themselves in places you didn’t see coming.

But you hang on, groping for tomorrow because maybe it will be better and maybe peace can be found.

Maybe, instead of the ideal that someone will rescue me, I can find solace in me and my faith and the promise of tomorrow. I am tired.

I’m tired of picking up pieces and expecting gold.

Still, I am an optimist. I believe in tomorrow.

But today is real and I need to feel it to gather the gold.

So I struggle and rest in the same breath.

I am me and for tonight, that is enough. Tomorrow may be another story.

Shine when the darkness covers.

Shine when you can’t find light.

Today is a day gone…tomorrow is eternity, so live!!!!

Random thoughts from the lost and tired.

Be you!

Bring the thunder and the light will follow…at least that’s the hope.

Sing for the Light

Call me into the deep where you are waiting

I’ve missed the feel of you

My head can hear you and my sensibilities know you but my emotions have fallen out the window.

Who have I become that my emotion is absent?

I was passion now I’m passive and that isn’t enough.

I don’t want to live in a world without feeling

It doesn’t satisfy

Reason is enough in a world of black and white but let’s be real we live in prisms

It isn’t enough for me.

I need the sunshine and the breaking of light over dim

I need to feel it

It’s who I am

And I’m not alone

We need to feel

Emotion carries us through the mundane

A world without feeling is nothing but muted strength struggling to hang on

I want to feel the daybreak

And cry when the light strikes the perfect pose

I’m not alone

I can feel it

So sing with me seekers and cry out for the dawn

It’s coming

Hang on tight

When tomorrow comes

Today was a blip in eternity

A small stardust glimpse of reality lived

Or maybe not lived to the fullest

Or enough of a moment to leave a mark

Who knows

Today is a moment coming

What will it bring?

Who will I be in the midst of the noise?

Who am I in the infinite?

I cannot skip tomorrow

I don’t want to

I am here or not

I’m in bed sick or out there being me

I am a blip in eternity

I am me

Will I leave a mark?

That remains to be seen.

But for now, I am here. Do you see me?

Feminism, Covid, and Reality

I consider myself a strong woman. I do what needs to be done. If I don’t know how, I figure it out. If I can’t figure it out, I figure that out.

I’m in a mood tonight. I’m sure it’s primarily caused by the fact that I tested positive for Covid yesterday. I’m fine. It’s a mild case and will pass in no time, hopefully. Still, it is hard for me, as a mother, to sit in bed and rest and leave the heavy lifting to my husband.

I appreciate his willingness to help. I truly do. Still, one day in, and he seems frustrated. The kids and dinner, and lunch packing, and laundry, are apparently too much for him. He’s complaining and my house is a disaster. Yet, these things are my reality, after I work a full time job.

So I’m stuck between frustration that I can’t do all I do and annoyance that all of these things fall to me everyday and my husband can’t handle it for a day.

So where does my inner feminist stand on this issue? Is it okay with me that I do it all? Is it okay that it’s expected of me yet looked at with sympathy when he has to do it?

Is it okay that I, a strong woman, feel like crap, not because I literally feel like crap, but because, I can’t do it all? Why do I have to do it all? When did feminism become the ideal that women do everything? Why is it okay for me to feel bad because I feel bad?

I realize I may sound ungrateful and I don’t mean it that way. This isn’t even about my husband. It’s about me. I’ve become so ingrained in my role as mom and homemaker that despite the fact that I’m the primary breadwinner in my household, I still feel guilty if it isn’t all perfect.

This week, I cannot make it perfect. I’m isolated to my bedroom to keep from contaminating my family and I feel like my world will end because my kitchen is a mess and I can’t go clean it! It’s torture. Part of me would rather we all catch Covid than allow my kids’ bathroom to go without being cleaned and that is on me.

Or maybe society or whatever ridiculous norms are expected of us mothers and women trying to do it all. Feminism was made for equal rights yet it’s become unequivocal.

Why can’t a man work and scrub the dishes? Why can’t a man work and clean a toilet? Why do I feel so guilty because I’m sick?

I blame Covid for the mood but not entirely…it’s probably been brewing for awhile. Still, this week is testing my patience. But soon, I will feel better and take it all with grace.

Another day, another virus, another annoyance, another reason for me to question the system we’ve created.

It is what it is…


When did the world stop making noise?

It screams from the rooftops but I don’t think I can hear it anymore

The sound of my head has blocked the overwhelming.


I am me. I am struggling. I am alive. I will live another day.

There is life when the grass dies.

There is truth, among the pain.

Lean in.


Tomorrow is the greatest gift we have.

Don’t waste it.

Thighs, noise, and neurosis

The 40’s have been good to me…overall. Despite, the crazy weight gain and hormones going crazy and the stress of my personal life (a story for another day). I’ve gained weight, lost weight. Adjusted to the new “normal” and feel, overall, comfortable, in my new skin. For the most part…

Then today, I wore a pair of pants I’ve worn a million times. Yet, in the eerie, quiet, of my office, I realized that every time I walk, my pants make noise. You know that “thigh rub serenade” that accompanies movement in the realm of the real? I don’t know why I never noticed before. Up until 40, I was that size 0, thigh gap girl you rarely meet in reality. But I have transitioned to “normal” and haven’t quite come to terms with it.

Still, I can’t help but wonder, when “normal” become subpar?

I walked around my office today, for the first time aware, that when I walk, my pants make noise. What is that?!?

Then I came to the safety of my home and realized, the noise isn’t gone because I’m safe. I’m still in my work clothes and my thighs and pants still make noise when I walk and I wonder if I’m the only one neurotically listening to the sound deafening to me…the noise of fabric and friction.

I realize this sounds stupid. But it’s the “real” of my life so I’m sharing.

How do you navigate the moment you are young and whatever size, and transition to normal adulthood without feeling the sting? I thought of burning my pants but the truth is, my thighs are the likely culprit, so no amount of flame will kill the ill.

But why is that an issue? Good Lord ladies, we are born of dust into a world of rust and lust, and suddenly, we are not enough?

Who sets these standards? And why do we care?

I, neurotically, navigate a world of “beauty”, when the whole time, I am beauty. Do we need size X to be happy? Or can we be real?

I am in my 40’s. I’ve had 5 children. I am the average woman walking down the street. Yet I am obsessing about the sound of polyester striking polyester?!? There’s something profoundly wrong there!

I am officially calling it bull! I can rock my polyester, not so amazing, work pants…serenade and all without thinking of my “thigh gap”. I can be me and feel amazing without being 20 again!

Listen closely if you dare, and you may hear the sound of my thighs rubbing together while I conquer the world! And God grant me the serenity to be okay with the melody!