Segmentation

I think I may live in segments. Moments between where the great is and where it was and who I am now and who I used to be.

Segmented arthropods or a life once lived draped in shadow. And I’m okay this way…maybe…

I stare at the moon.

I stare at the memory.

I stare at life.

And I’m breathing

Wondering what that means anymore.

But my voice is strong and so I stare and yell to the void

Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe not.

Time will tell.

Honesty…putting it out there

I’ll be honest,

Sometimes I don’t know if up is down. Or right is left or who let the dogs out…cue the song “who…who”

But I know who I am.

And maybe. That’s enough…

But in the morning, it feels like nothing, as I start again. And that can be debilitating.

So we scramble from night to day and wonder where the light will land.

And we are more than conquerors even when we don’t feel it.

But sometimes we don’t.

And we walk forward because the light calls to us and there’s no other choice.

Keep going or die here. So we walk.

But if the light had eyes and voice and tears, would it beckon us into the void?

I don’t know but I’m walking and so are you.

Let’s go together

What else is there?

There is rhythm

There is is rhythm and life to who we are and what we expect and all the things we leave unsaid.

It pulses in the background until the smallest thing becomes the biggest in the room

Sing into the night, melodies, only you can hear’

When the moments of peace give way to tsunami.

But love can conquer all if we let it.

Find the counterpoint and disrupt the rhythm.

Be brave

Be strong

Or fall apart for a minute and pick up the pieces.

Be you

Cry, if you must.

Scream, if you must.

Then walk forward.

Don’t be silent

But don’t let the need to be heard consume you.

Just keep walking.

This is life.

This is real.

This is fabric knit together to make us more.

Don’t miss out because all you see is, “the thing”

And don’t miss out because you are too afraid to find your voice.

Be real. Be raw. Be you!!!!!

And forget the crowd that may not approve.

Find yourself in the author of life.

Walk in the discovery because THAT is everything!

From underneath the table

Parenting is sometimes, on hands and knees, picking up the pieces from a night gone by

When you should be asleep

But you’re not

Because, life…

And you go to pick up board games sprawled across the floor to find more mayhem.

And you’re tired

But you keep going because life.:.

And you find the madness that your children have left and you wonder for a moment, then grab a broom, or a mop, or a match. Whatever fits.

So we wrestle against the ideal

And fight against time

We are only human

And we think we should be more

But we aren’t

We are flesh and bone raising flesh and bone

And the result is often messy…

Far from ideal

But we are breathing.

So I wonder if I can breathe when the board games drape the floor and I wonder what alien has invaded the floor beneath my dining room table.

Please tell me I’m not the only one!

Are we compelled to be the ideal or is there grace for the Lego littered floors and kid-scattered madness.

Is it okay to be human?!?

Or am I drowning?

I don’t really know.

But I know my kids are safe and asleep in their beds while I fight the dining room floor demons again.

Tomorrow, bring a clean, clutter free floor.

If not? Help me know that’s okay!

Otherwise, find me snuggled in a ball of Lego’s and remember I had greatness in me once.

Do You Know Who You Are?

I’ve been hesitant to write. Hurricane Ian tore through my town, took the lives of people I know, took the homes of my friends, and shook us to breaking.

Thankfully, my family is fine. We watched from the window, waiting for trees we were sure would fall, to go the distance, and miraculously, my family was unscathed.

But then you look around…

And you see the devastation that missed you, so close.

It’s unnerving

It’s unsettling

It’s heartbreaking

This is my home!

So I didn’t want to write about it.

But tonight, my son and I were messing around and playing and singing improv on the piano and this came out,

“When all the light and all the dark have disappeared and I’m staring at the grave of wasted tears. Who am I and who are you and what should we do from here nobody knows.
So we walk through the night. And we share. whatever light we can find so we walk and we we climb through the void to who we are and who you are and who we’re meant to be and now it’s ‘us’…across the void…against the void”

And I’ve spent the day lugging debris and hauling things that may or may not be salvageable from the wreckage. And I hear the tears and pray the prayers and I’m in this…

And I’m living this! And it’s so much more than we ever imagined.

And I wonder who I am

Is the light of Christ in me enough to pierce the darkness?

I know it is cognitively.

But when the real hits you like a train colliding on the back of your faith, can you (I) be grateful? Can I say, “Great is thy Faithfulness “?

I have an answer but I won’t proffer it here. I ask you to decide.

Do we lean on light and what we know of the truth or do we look at destruction and falter?

Okay, I give up. I’ll answer….He is still so, so good!!!!!

No storm can hold Him!

Nothing can chain Him!

And I see it!

So debris can give way and my hope still stands.

I know who I am but more importantly, I know who He is!!!

And that’s enough

Rainbows and shadows

I sit in spaces, lost between the worlds

Who I am, and who I should be

Breaking, with the glimmer of light.

And I can be so broken…I should be

But I’m not

I’m stronger than the wind, because it passes while I remain

So I stare at rainbows

Reminders in the sky of what can be, when sun and rain collide

That maybe, where my trauma and truth collide, there can be beauty

And I can be a reminder.

Choose to be bigger

Don’t let the sun dim to fade

Shine!

You were made for more! And so was I

In the still, find breath and breathe.

It’s enough; I promise!

Life is beautiful, no matter what

Life is beautiful in the noise

In the rough

In the torrent

In the pain

In the surreal

In the pulling up and walking on

In the mornings of not enough coffee

In the ache

In the breaking

In the grace pouring beyond what we expect.

Life is beautiful in the forward motion

Walk on, feet!

Even when the beat doesn’t proceed you

Even when the sun has set

Wake up and walk

Move

Breathe

Hard

Breathe

Deep

Walk

Feel the pulsating rhythm of the pulse inside you

Feel deep calling to deep

Embrace the moments that scar

Then throw them to the sea, a testament to tomorrow

Live! Then…

Live again

Perfect isn’t real. I’m a Parent

Parenting sometimes is, working your tail off for a week through illness and recovery, disinfecting, cleaning, decluttering, super major effort, and ending a Monday with a house in shambles..

And waiting for the next 18 minutes on the washing machine that holds the kids uniforms hostage before you can put them in the dryer and go to sleep, in preparation for the 5:15 am alarm that’s looming. It’s life among the living I think when nothing works like you want but everything is still okay.

They won’t die from clutter and couch sleeping and I will survive on little to no sleep but we kill ourselves in process and the pursuit of perfection. Maybe perfect doesn’t have to mean what I think it means (catch the princess bride reference because all things good in life involve a good princess bride reference).

Maybe it’s okay to just be okay. Lunches packed, clothes laid out for tomorrow minus the ones waiting for the dryer, just life…just okay…

So I’m breathing in the evening and I probably won’t clean the living room tonight because 5am alarm and I don’t wanna’ but that may be okay. Just sayin’

I’m a chef making PB&J

Well not really…but I’m a really good home cook who’s husband said he wanted to cook dinner on the grill so she waited and he got caught up

And that’s okay

And so my kids are eating PB&J

And I, though I would love to beat Bobby Flay, let it ride.

Because there’s so much more to life than sauce and technique.

And there’s more important battles to choose than dinner time

So the kids will survive and I won’t try out my latest culinary weapon

And tomorrow brings another chance at greatness…come on Bobby, I will bring you down…maybe…no comment….

But life is more than masterpiece.

Today may be the sum of mown grass and clean tile

Or smiling children and peanut butter fingers

Or mom wondering if she’s done enough.

Iced tea and vinegar scrubbed floors and Bobbly Flay smiling in the background of headphones blaring over kid noise.

This is life and my kid tells me daily I can beat you Bobby! We will never know of course, because I am me and you are you and there’s that

But regardless, I am happy with my peanut butter and jelly masses and five kid culinary accomplishments and life in the realm of dirty floors and lackluster survival.

This is me…

So bring it Bobby Flay!

Me and mundane, culinary life, clean floors and dog baths and five kid, hanging on, homemade pasta and kicking mom cuisine vs. I don’t even know what to call it.

At least my kids are happy with the me they’re stuck with as mom.

Cook on, Flay, cook on. I still win!

On falling and getting up

If I’m going to fall, can I please fall hard and hit my head?

Can there be concussion and bruising so I don’t look like a fool?

Can I rest in the “okay-ness” of my weakness?

If I do, do I have to wait for a diagnosis?

Fallen, in need of grace?

Can’t we just be human?

Wake up sleepers

Wake up church!

In the land of the living, an anchor holds

And we get to reveal it and show it to the masses

That’s enough

Love is enough

We can kick and claw and scream at the wind

We can cry behind closed doors

But we can’t stop reaching

For real love!

THAT is the anchor

Nails and thorns and mercy on a cross

And death giving way to victory

Who are you?

Who does He say I am?

Where is victory?

Can you see it today?

If not, look again.

It’s worth fighting for!