devotion

Devotion. Now, there's a word you don't think about or use often. It actually threw me off-guard the other day when someone I was talking with described me as "funny," "smart," and "devoted." The funny part threw me off first because most people don't get my sense of humor. It's so dry that I have to explain myself most of the time. And then I don't kid around often, so there's that too. People are like, "Why are you trying to be funny?" and "What's wrong?" Not really, but it feels like that.

So anyway, back to devoted. I was blown away and haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. I have pondered a ton of questions such as: Am I devoted? How am I devoted? What am I devoted to? What do I do that would make him think that of me? And as I have thought about each question in turn, I realize that the person is right. I am a devoted type of individual. I am a devoted friend, mother, teacher, neighbor, aunt, sister, and when I have a boyfriend or spouse, I am a devoted that too.

Now the question that I wonder now is Why am I so devoted? What is it about my make up that causes me to naturally respond in my various roles with devotion? I don't really know since it's about myself, so I wonder if anyone reading this might offer some thoughts on the subject.

Let's overthink this gorgeous treasure of a word together. 

nothing's wrong

I read the words "Nothing's wrong. It's just hard." on a Facebook post by Bunmi Laditan, whom I don't know, shared by my friend Julie, whom I do. And I want to write my "Nothing's wrong. It's just hard."

Nothing's wrong. It's just hard. "I never thought all the stupid things I did as a young person would help me as a parent," I think as I muster the courage to be outspoken for the millionth time with any one of my children at any point in time. These millions of times happen when I least expect them so often that I expect them while I'm in the car, walking down the street, shouting over the vacuum cleaner, or lying in bed wishing I could sleep uninterrupted. To be thankful you can function on three hours of sleep every day for a week is not normal but a gift nonetheless. Nothing's wrong. It's just hard. 

My youngest, with his still innocent eyes, looks at me in horror when I speak unkindly on a day when I have no more left to give, accusing me and telling me, "You're my mom. You're supposed to be kind to me." I know he's correct. I know I should always be kind, but I can't always get over all of the pressures and off-the-cuff decisions that are in my face without a moment's notice. I look at him and offer a hug and an apology and my broken heart, hoping I am not the one who snuffs out his innocence on accident. Nothing's wrong. It's just hard.

My oldest two are really my middle two, but they are so similar in so many ways that I put them together, hoping that I'm not pushing aside my oldest. My oldest has a special place forever for making me a mother and because she has severe autism. Not the type that makes her simply quirky but the type that makes her never fit to live on her own or know how to drive or swim or even wash her own hair. All of that said, the neurotypical children need so much more right now. They have places to be and things that only I can teach them to get them on their way. So I carve out time for my sweet girl whenever I can, knowing she will be with me, hoping she will be with me, when they are all grown and gone. I cry sometimes because I can't help everyone when they need me. Nothing's wrong. It's just hard. 

I look around my home and see all that I want to do, all that I can do, and all that I cannot do. There is an enormous difference between what I want to do and what is possible, and it drags me down sometimes. I see my limitations—all of them. I see the time ticking on the clock and the calendar days flying past us, and I tell myself to do one thing. Just do one thing each day when it's all too much. Just keep on trying. Nothing's wrong. It's just hard. 

Gaining weight because emotional eating is a thing, and a messy house in utter disarray is proof that life is happening. Everyone is still alive and making their way slowly but surely. I wonder if my mental health days of watching movies and doing nothing are actually productive or if it's an early onset stage of giving up. What does giving up even look like? I'd have to research it and find the best way to give up if that were something I could do. And I don't think that's the answer. I look around me and see all the problems and conundrums and loneliness, and I realize that life is just this way, and it's okay. Nothing's wrong. It's just hard. 

the cranberries

I said a little something yesterday as my initial reaction to the news of Dolores O'Riordan's death on my Facebook page, facebook.com/thepurplelady/. 

But I'd like to add a little more since I find myself feeling taken aback more than I could ever anticipate.

I'll tell you, after losing both of my parents as a young adult, no one except my siblings and children and my BFF Forever (and potential future husband) could compare in how their loss would make an impact on me. So whenever movie stars and musicians pass away, I see the loss and am empathetic to their families, but I do not go on about how very sad I am. It just isn't true. I see how death is part of life, and it is anticipated as people grow older. The untimely ones are harder to make sense of, but I believe that no one dies before it is their time—even if we can't see that it's their time. That all might sound callous, but it is my honest perspective.

All of that said, I've caught myself feeling sad about the music that will no longer be made because a very special voice has been taken from the earth. I adored the Cranberries. Their music was some of my favorite Alternative music at a time when it was fresh and new. I love the Celtic vibe that reminds me of my ancestry across the ocean. While I don't believe there is any Irish blood in my family tree, the Celtics are more than Ireland, and I am drawn to all of it.

I do not know Dolores O'Riordan, but I loved her gift of song, and my heart goes out to her children and other family. She was only a few years older than I am, and I can't imagine my children not having me around anymore. I realize, too, that she was only a few years younger than my mother was when she passed away. All of these connections are causing her loss to hit home a little harder than any other non-family member thus far.

It all reminds me of how every person makes a difference in our lives somehow.

the crack of noon

When does a person rise to this glorious occasion called life?
When does a connection spark and arc to make new light?

When will the haters desert their agenda called strife?
When will I discern when to stand down instead of fight?

When do the small and insignificant find their shine?
When do the insignificant find they are anything but?

When can justice function in its true design?
When can the trampled find doors that are no longer shut?

When might the heart find its blessed resting place?
When might there be time enough to do everything?

How could waking up
To what you ought to do
Ever have an expiration

How could equity and care
For those who are starving
For want of life
Ever have a limit

How could all that is good
And truly right
Stay twisted and shrouded
Ever left to never be noticed

How could reciprocated love
And genuine affection
Ever have no place in you

At the crack of noon
Is when all hearts are heard
And wounds are helped and healed

At the crack of noon
Is where you'll find me
Holding out my hand for you

Like an arrival and departure
Time at the train station
The whistle blows for you
At the crack of noon

When is the crack of noon?
It is when you finally wake up.
And it is never too late.
Wake up. Your life awaits you.

in the midst of goodness

These past few weeks with Christmas and the new year, I have been around so many good people. Many kind and generous acts have transpired. What I like most about it all is how I got to witness not lone acts, but manifestations of good character. Such a celebration of Jesus's birth has been had.

Joy filled my home as my children worked to give and share with each other. Happy smiles as packages were opened and outings were had. Friendly tones, supportive thoughts and prayers, and peaceful interactions abounded. I want to point out that it wasn't really about the gifts or outings though. The good hearts that thought to say and do and feel are the motivator for all the tools that were used to invite joy into our home and hearts.

I was feeling so pleased with how our Christmastime went, but then a friend came over the other day to hang out for a bit. I was telling her about all that my oldest son did for our family for Christmas. Her response shed more light on how we were able to experience such a joyful holiday time. She was smiling and so proud of how my son stepped up in ways we haven't had in our lives for a long time, and she pointed it out. The way she put it was so simple and matter-of-fact that I couldn't believe I hadn't realized what a profound thing we all shared this year because of one person picking up some slack and even being so completely good to everyone around him that all we could do was be gladdened.

To have such neighbors is something I won't take for granted either. To be loved and appreciated so much that she could see his good heartedness, not just seeing the gifts, is a true gift. And she's one of many truly caring people who I am in their midst. Such goodness surrounds me wherever I am. 

let's see

I'm letting you in
Even though fear is here
It's because my dreams
Won't leave me alone

You've been a guest in my head
For awhile now
I've set you aside off and on
But it just won't do

To keep pushing you to the back
Is only keeping you
Where you don't belong
When my heart is trying to bring you in

Reeling you in
Like a fish on a hook
Is not how it will be
But I wonder how it will

How will our hearts
Connect more than
They are already
In new ways with new memories

Will we allow ourselves
To open up this door
A little more
Than it is already

Will we burn down
The old within and let new in
To build on a song
We've known for years

I can't get you out of my head
In dreams, in songs
Kissing the thought
Of together with these words

If you'll let me in
I'll let you in more
Than I have already
And we will see where this all goes

new year's day 2018

What a start to the new year!

Broken sleep, sleeping in, no sleep really. Vitamins to save lives. Cancelling plans for good yet unjustified reason. Gift giving when I really did not need to help with it and it gave me joy. Eating my absolute favorite ice cream right now: Baskin-Robbins Bubble Gum. Fixing up my turtle's UV light issue. Going bowling but not getting to bowl, so we did arcade games. Getting a movie to substitute for the cancelled plans but not getting a movie. Getting Just Dance 2018 because we needed (justified getting) it. Playing the crane game and not winning but my little guy did—after many attempts with his own money. Hurrying home to play our new game and watch a movie we rented only to leave to go crack open a manuscript that is not being cooperative for publication. Stressing out about the manuscript. Digging in and realizing how competent I am while realizing I am merely rusty on a very few skills. Working hard. Eating cheese and crackers and chocolate with my boss. Wrapping up sooner than expected. Making arrangements that will work in order to make progress. Mint hot chocolate with whipped cream on top. Wishing I had put the fresh sheets on my bed. Not caring that I am sleeping on blankets with blankets on top. Writing this list of reality and wondering how I made it through. Praying all day long. Praying more right now that I can do all that is required of me each day and find joy no matter what like I did today.

Poetry Top Ten of 2017

I didn't write nearly as much poetry as in years past, but that didn't stop all of you from reading and sharing! I am blessed with immense support, and I want to be sure you know how thankful I am for your time you spend reading my words. 

While I want to, I can't promise getting back on track poetry-wise, but I will promise that I will always write authentically whenever I do let myself get poetry out onto the page. 

Thank you for making each of these poems stand out and rise to the top. Each one has a story behind it laced throughout every word you see. 

2017 Top Ten Poetry: 

1. Without Even Trying

2. He Made Me a Real Teacher

3. Caught in the Fray

4. Thoughts on Destitution

5. I Want You to Know

6. Now or Never

7. Shine

8. True Love

9. Picking Myself Up

10. False Imprisonment

Three-way tie for Honorable Mention: 

Parallel Lives

Needs

My Real Self