flew the coop

No one can convey the absolute rip in your heart that happens when your first child moves out. No one. This is one of those life experiences people can talk about and attempt to describe (like I'm doing right now), but until you are there, you cannot know.

The whole experience has me reflecting on how I exited my childhood home. I was AWOL most of the time from seventeen onward. I did my own thing and hardly noticed the damage I left in my wake. After sending off a child myself now, I can hardly fathom how hard it all must have been on my mother for me to just be—gone. No goodbyes. No getting to do sweet things to send me off. No talking about checking accounts and credit cards and budgeting. I just jumped into the deep end and didn't care how much I floundered as I pushed through blindly. I learned how to take care of myself. I'm actually really good with the meager amounts of money that cross my path. Well, not so much lately. I've been in a tailspin of wanting to eat out all the time practically and trying to get my home all set up and organized. Holy garbage, home stuff costs a lot of money. But I digress.

My mom. I think about her every single day right now as I contemplate how difficult it has been to just be a good mom and send my son off set up a little and feeling confident and capable. My mom had to simply step aside and pray I didn't get killed, arrested, or starve because I never asked for help in those years of teen adulthood. My bet is that she prayed all day, every day. I already do that for my son, and he's an exceptional man/child. I don't even know what to call my children who are grown! haha.

We had a little party a couple nights ago to celebrate our last weekend all together before life changes again for us. We had delicious pizza and barbecue wings with Virgil's root beer and butterscotch soda and ice cream to make floats out of the stuff. It was so good. Like the best meal ever. Such a fantastic memory for me, standing in our kitchen all together having a toast to a good future. I hope it never fades. We talked and laughed and watched a movie, which all of us fell asleep before it ended except my son!

My boy slept away from home on his own last night, and it was so strange for me. It broke my heart a little more to think about how quickly the time went for us. The divorce and its entails stole much of those tender years if we are to be honest about it all. I did my best to help and shelter and lift, but I was in the trenches myself, and we are all just barely digging out this past year or so. What warriors, we are.

I sure love him. This guy is so kind-hearted and the source of much laughter and softened hearts. He knows how to get me to laugh at almost any garbage going down. It's like magic. And I don't feel like I'll ever be ready for this even though it is truly time, and I'm proud of him for doing so well for himself in taking care of his needs and wanting to be responsible for himself. It's a good thing—I guess.

three years past

Imperfection in all its glory
Has paved a path for me and you
Lain with care and blessed forgiveness
As the sun has proved itself in our view

To have seen ahead would prove nothing
For disbelief and doubt would reign
There would be no way of knowing
How many treasures we would gain

In the shadows of our sorrows
We shine a light in turn
In the furrows of our brokenness
We are salve against the burn

In disbelief I hold fast
To what has come and what has been
In disbelief I purvey
An open door to what may be seen

Upon the ever changing horizon
I place my hope and happy notion
A seed of this joyful past
To be watered with kind devotion




Related:
The Best Things Come from Texas

more change

Right when I begin to truly love what I do and feel like I am capable, something changes. I shouldn't be surprised; really, I should have expected it with all my talk about expecting to be surprised.

So anyway. I'll get to the point. I have been teaching for a year and a half at a private school, and was recently offered a social media director position with the school, which means I won't be teaching English for the foreseeable future. And the movie quote depicted above was the first thing that came to mind when I was making the decision to take the opportunity.

And yet the situation sort of hit me like a bomb at first, so if you are all astonished too, I wouldn't blame you.

Being a social media director is pretty much one of my dream jobs, so if we look at things in the accurate way, that means I will have had two of my dream jobs all within less than two years of graduation. That feels like record time if you ask me.

All of that said, the thing that keeps pinching at me is the rate of active change that has been affecting my life. I can hardly catch my breath from the pace. Some has been negative, but most of what comes my way has been very positive change.

Regardless of the positive or negative nature of the changes, it is still tough to be adjusting all the time. I am in a constant state of flux with no way to plan for the future. My children won't stop growing up too. Just dealing with that aspect of life is a garbage load of change every time I turn around. And there's this thing where I am single. That sort of clinches the deal on not knowing whatsoever what life will bring me. I'm a planner type. Or at least I used to be! That part of myself had to mostly die awhile back.

Well, I guess I could work on planning to be surprised like I went on about with my students a couple of weeks ago after I got this news. This fantastic, amazing, terrifyingly wonderful news.

I'd like to end with telling you how thankful I am to be valued enough to be offered such an excellent opportunity. Even if it means more change.

volunteer and patriot

I went to my very first caucus this year, and I was elected to be a county delegate for my area. Talk about thrown into the deep end! 

After listening to what is expected of the delegates as I first walked into the room, I thought to myself, Who has time for this stuff? No one I know. Yet I saw people I know heading up the show. I don't have time for this stuff. But who will keep America strong if no one has time for it? We haven't had excellent presidential candidate options for several years because the best people aren't digging in, or maybe the best people become corrupted by digging into the process? The people I saw at the caucus are good people. I should offer to do my part if someone will nominate me. I need to use some of the time I don't really have to spend doing something to help the country I love. I will do it for my neighbors, my children, and myself. And then, I got nominated for precinct chair, didn't get it, but proceeded to let people know that if they'd like me to represent them, that I'd like to be nominated to be a state or county delegate, and it was all over from there.

The nearly four-hour process was awe inspiring, and I must say that I feel proud to have such an active sense of volunteerism as well as patriotism. Within a very short period of time, I went from an uninvolved opinion thinker to an elected delegate representing others.  

Now, I just need to learn what to do and how I'm going to do it. 

five years ago

I had this idea six years ago to write stuff on a blog, maybe post fun photographs, possibly have a place for my poetry and other musings. I posted one photo that I really liked but wasn't my own—it was a family member's photo of my purple flowers in my front yard. I like to think of that one post as my trial post and not the true beginning of things.

The true beginning was five years ago today. I graduated to using my own photograph, but the photo wasn't edited, and I had no idea what exactly I would be doing or how to get it done. I began reading every type of blog there was to read, observing what I liked and did not like, getting a feel for what it meant to have a blog. And then I ran with it. 

I joined blog groups where people support other bloggers by reading, commenting on, and sharing links. I created a button that a few people added to their own blogs to help me get the word out about something I didn't even know what it would become. On the half-birthday each year for a few years, I did some giveaways, but when I had to get busy and finish school, that little tradition had to get left behind. I really loved doing it, and it felt so nice to see who wanted to offer fun things to giveaway in celebration, but life is what it is—a demanding taskmaster. 

I am proud of myself for sticking with this one thing: I began a monthly scripture challenge entitled "Seeking to Become" five years ago in August that I continue to write. I've added a few more staples to the blog as well. It has become a home for my draft poetry and personal narrative writing, as well as my photography in varying degrees of excellence. I've done several book reviews—but none recently. I tried to get that going again this summer, but my teacher skills need to get sharper before I can split my time any further than it is already with having children at home and other pressing matters popping up at a breakneck pace. 

And then we have the Slice of Life Story Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers that I've been participating in since March 2012. The overwhelming support I have received from this writing community has helped me through many challenges over the years. It has blessed my life in surprising ways, and I'm always learning from fellow slicers. I am continually inspired to keep on writing through and past the pain of daily life. I am continually cheered on and celebrated when I am tasting sweet success and joy. I cannot imagine my life without this facet of writing slices of my life. 

While I couldn't get any real party off the ground to celebrate this momentous occasion, I still want to make note of its significance in my life. I am thankful; I am encouraged; I have a place to lay my burden and not quite expect but can safely hope for supportive words to come my way. I have readership numbers that show ever increasing growth. I know people read my writing. And it feels amazing. 

I was once told that no one would ever want to read what I have to say, and for five years, I've been proving that statement wrong and doing it with a smile (most of the time). 

I feel deep gratitude for all of the time you, my readers, have given me in reading, commenting, and sharing these words of mine. You rock my world, you light my fire, you keep me writing as you give me hope that one day I will see a book of my own creation in print—and people might actually purchase it! 

Here's to the past five years and many more than five years more. Thank you! 

a lovely light

Please forgive the poor writing, if it is disjointed, or if it isn't making as much sense as it should, but I need to tell you something.

There's something to be said about having really good neighbors. I'm not saying I'm one (although I hope I am), but I'd like to say a few words about a particularly great neighbor that I've had for the past handful of years.

The first time we spoke in the front yard, I invited her to come over to burn stuff (food, marshmallows, etc.) in my fire pit while we get to know each other. She kindly declined because she had movie watching plans or something with her husband, but offered to get us some logs from her family's farm for sitting on around the fire the next time she had the chance. And next thing I knew, we had four or five new seats, which have been used time and again over the years. (We only have two of them left now, actually. I'm pretty sure the others met with destiny by the hand of a certain teenage boy and an axe, and flames.).

Then, we would see each other at church or out in our front yards, say hello or give a wave. Nothing big. Just being neighborly. She'd ask me how I'm doing, and I'd ask how she was faring with her little one, and then her other little one came along too. We walked to the park nearby a couple times to walk and talk. I will never forget the deeply loving conversation we had over at that park when her father died. I felt like I was able to be a true friend to her finally.

A few summers ago, one of my brothers came to visit for a week, and he would go out in the backyard to practice his tuba. Yes, he'd blast tuba music in my backyard. Awesome, right? The next time she saw me after that, she asked who was playing back there. That's what opened up our neighborly conversations about music and her bass playing, which, in a couple years after that, led to her playing in a string quartet last year accompanying the church choir that I directed. I told her (and the other musicians) repeatedly how thankful I was for their addition to our performance with such talent. And then—we performed. It was so beautiful.

Now at Christmas, when songs were being sung and talks were being given, I remembered the Christmas and Easter musical delights she participated in and felt deep gratitude that we had all taken the opportunity to get together to worship God through such beautiful music. The memory overwhelmed me, and I missed her so much so that I cried a little for wanting her there again in church with all of us.

My beautiful, talented, loving, straight-talking neighbor has been sick. She fell ill last year, and has been fighting for her life. We still had occasional chats in the front yard, but it was always on her front steps now. She'd listen to me go on and on, and she'd laugh. I don't know why I'd do it, but I would get to philosophizing on how jacked up life can get in such a funny way that we would both have a good laugh even when talking about messed up stuff like divorces and cancer. So ridiculous, but somehow it cut through the pain of it all for me on those days. I can only hope it did some of the same for her.

When trying to figure out what we could do to help her family, we were able to informally arrange for my son to mow their front lawn as a service this past summer. I only had to force him to do it the first time. After finishing up that day, he came into the house and told me that it felt nice to help our neighbors. She ended up paying him in baked goods for his birthday and on another occasion, but for the most part, he did that all summer because it made him happy to do it. I'm especially grateful now because I know my children saw that example from their brother of how to love people and just help when they need you.

And now she has left us. But she didn't leave us without giving a gift.

When facing the reality of leaving her sweet family behind while they finish out mortality, she clung even more fervently to hope and the light of Christ. I won't ever forget that. She has shown me what a true testimony of Christ looks like. She gave my children a lovely example of what a good neighbor looks like, and we all sure love her and her entire family. What a blessing it has been to have shared in the light she emitted—to offer her what little we could. Love is an action word, and my neighbor understood that fact. My love and prayers will always be with her dear husband and children and her extended family.

As I ponder it all, I am stung by the truthful reminder of how short our time is together with our loved ones. No matter how long or short the life, it never seems to be enough time. I am reminded that I need to express more love to those I hold dear, and I intend to do so as often as possible (without making a nuisance of myself, hopefully!) and not just through words.

Top Ten Readers' Choice 2014

Another year gone by, another list showing me what you've enjoyed the most.

Now that I've done this list making thing a few times, I realize what a treasure it is to capture this moment in time when one year ends and another begins. I'm not into making New Years' resolutions; however, I very much enjoy reflecting on the past year in order to see how far I've come and take stock in how much further I still need to go with all that I want to do with my life. And this go around has given me a large measure of joy as I went through the several musings, remembering where I have been and comparing it to where I find myself today.

It is always a pleasure to share the very best slice of my year (in your estimation).

All Things Purple: Top Ten Readers' Choice 2014

 1. To Survive 

 2. Find Me 

 3. Be the Change 

 4. Uninvited 

 5. Ode to the Early Responders

 6. Getting Back in the Saddle 

 7. Exquisite Beauty 

 8. Seeking to Become: January 2014 

 9. Safe 

10. On Thin Ice 

Honorable Mention: Texan Sunshine

Previous Years' Top Ten Lists:

2013
2012
2011

My Legacy — Introduction

I really don't know how to begin, so I will begin at the very beginning. My son missed the bus. No, maybe that's not the beginning. My son started to grow up and began asking random questions. Yes, that is the beginning. Then, he missed the bus—too many times to count. But, before the missing of the bus too many times to count, he truly asked me many random, apparently unconnected questions.

Whenever I am asked random questions, I wonder about how to answer in the most honest way because the answer is not in any context, and context matters. Sometimes, context is everything. Yet, I answer his questions and never know to what end they will come until the day he missed the bus for the last time in middle school. 

Typical morning. A whole lot of messing around—time wasting to be exact. So, of course, he misses the bus. It had become almost a routine, a rhythm of sorts. Play around, miss the bus, empty the dishwasher, and mom takes him to school. However, this particular morning turned out to be not so typical. He decided to talk back a little more, a little louder, and continue messing around. And I simply got fed up with it. The messed up rhythm laced with a disrespectful overtone pushed a button, and I knew I wasn't doing my son any favors by not speaking up. I told him he was being "lazy and irresponsible" and that he needed to figure things out. Then, he talked back to me one more time, and I was done. I told him that he would need to walk to school because I couldn't give a ride to someone who is being rude. 

Instead of leaving while I got dressed, he decided that putting away the dishes looked like a good deal, but I wasn't going to give in. He still kept on messing around with his siblings and I was done, remember? I told him he better hurry and get to walking, and he refused. Long story a bit shorter, the idea of getting reported as a truant did not appeal to him, and he walked to school. He called me from school to apologize, tell me that he loved me, and ask if I had seen his homework that he left at home by accident in all the commotion. 

And that is where "My Legacy" begins . . .

. . . to be continued next week. 

Top Ten Readers' Choice 2013

Another year gone by and I still have barely a clue as to what I'm doing here. We seem to have a pretty good racket going on though: I write. You read. We share. 

Without all of your encouragement, I might have quit writing at a few points during this past year. I seriously owe each one of you—whether you comment or not—for showing up to read and share what I have to offer. My confidence as a writer continues to wax stronger every day because of you. Thank you for being a part of this dynamic year of red, blue, and the ever-present purple moments. 

Without further ado, I give you the All Things Purple: Top Ten Readers' Choice 2013: 

1. Light Now Dimmed 
2. Ten Years Ago Today 
3. My Baptism Day
4. Life Lessons 
5. The Best Things Come From Texas 
6. View From a Train Wreck
7. No More Pretending 
8. Laura and Oscar: The Complete Series 
9. Emotional Terrorism 
10. Grammar, Usage, and Paranoia 

Honorable Mention: PURPLE: An Acrostic Poem

regret

The struggle seems light from this vantage point
It was all worth it looking back in hindsight
Feeling celebratory and smiling in the end
Yet, despite the happiness, I am feeling something more--
An abiding sense of regret

No regret for my actions
No regret for how things are now
Only a small hint of regret,
Better still--a haunting whisper of regret
A tangly, messed up, sharp and painful twinge of regret

Regret for the crossroads that we happened upon
Regret and disappointment in the directions we went
On our merry ways--never to cross happy paths again
Regret for the bitterness and anguish of heart
Of which I never dreamt I'd taste

i {heart} dancing

Dance has changed me.

I went to church and school dances religiously growing up, so I already knew that I enjoy dancing. However, when I signed up for this beginning social dance class I had no clue what I was in for. The high life of making friends who can dance, experiencing the rejection of wallflowers—although I am not one, trying my hand (or rather my feet) at competition, and witnessing first-hand the glorious beauty of excellent dancing has brought me to the realization how very much I adore dancing.

While I have no plans to get into championship dancing, my glint of excitement turned into a fiery blaze of enchantment in the midst of watching the pre-championship level dancers. The glitter-encrusted women up close look almost freakish, yet once they are on the floor, the glitter, rhinestones, flashy makeup, and outrageous costumes create a charismatic showcase. All the pop and glow is part of the dance—the presentation and mood of the individual dancers. There were comediennes, clothed strippers, show girls, and dancers more like Elegance personified than I have ever beheld. The style and showmanship required to make it to the top makes dance more magical.

The dance experience has added sparkle to my perspective: music has more meaning in its rhythms; high heels hold more allure; and, as a woman, I feel the power of my femininity much more poignantly as I move across the dance floor with confidence. 

press the pause button...

Upon The Day Twins Were Separated

I ask for silence for one brief moment
Whilst I draw you into a convergence.

A life-altering act occurred today
So paramount it stole my breath away.
Although its end was not pointed at me,
The injury's breadth and depth art hard felt
Even still, the lump within my throat chokes
Tears well up into blinding pools that soak
All of my thoughts brought into one to melt
The air I breathe is thinner as I see
Into the bright-eyed future, holding on
With every memory they ever shared
Imagination breaks as the day dawns
A set of twins who were forever paired
Forging on in their severed directions.
The day that never would come has arrived.

With tenderness and fullest affection,
I pray their hearts shall quickly be revived.



Dedicated to The Twins:
copycats extraordinaire ~ my defenders to the near death ~
musicians in their dreams and reality ~ beloved brothers o' mine

Miracles and Friends: a beautiful combination

Last week, a small miracle occurred. It might not seem like it to anyone else, but I count it as one.

This miracle came on one of the worst days. Well, actually. I have had several worst days all in a row for like several weeks (maybe even months), but anyways. I got home from school and running errands and had more things to check off my wish-I-didn't-have-to-do-this-garbage list. I had been expecting a few important emails, so I went to my lovely, jam-packed full of emails inbox and scanned for the senders/subject lines I needed and none of those were in there. But--

One of my dearest friends and confidantes in all of the history of me had friend-requested me on Facebook. I could not believe my eyes. Set aside the cliche. I really couldn't. I opened the email. I read the email. I sat back in disbelief and clicked the link. And it was real. Holy cow! It was real!! My heart was overwhelmed and gladdened all at the same time. I actually shed a few happy tears. And yes, I feel a bit embarrassed about that part, but oh well. It happened.

This might sound ridiculous seeing as this person was just deemed one of my dearest friends and confidantes...blah blah blah, but what you don't know is we have not had even one interaction in about a decade and haven't seen each other (on happy terms) in seventeen years, just to be almost precise to the day. Not to mention how I was hideously inexcusable, beyond what an enemy would do rude to this beloved friend seventeen years ago, and subsequently ten years ago as well.

And my friend still wants to be my friend.

See? It's a miracle. And a bless-ed, most unexpected surprise of a miracle at that.

What's even more fantastic is the second miracle that occurred when I freaked out yesterday and my friend didn't run away or block me, but took some time to help me realize that this friendship isn't going anywhere except into the history books for being one of the most unbelievably awesome friendships of all time (only second to the one with my BFF, bestie, superfriend, etc. Melissa).

Two miracles in one week. What more could a girl ask for?

Source: twowritingteachers.wordpress.com via The Purple on Pinterest

my friend again

Have you ever had someone you needed to tell
How they hurt you but that you're sorry too
That you're sorry for being unkind and even horrible
And how they hurt you helped you to learn
How it all helped you to learn how to be
The person you are today who is a stronger version of yourself
Stronger and more able to do hard things
More able to not make those same mistakes
More likely to be there for others because you were there for me
When no one else was there,
Despite all the sorrows, you were there for me
When I needed you most you were my friend
You were my friend before all the mistakes
Amidst all the pain
You showed me how to save someone
Because you saved me

My forgiveness feels as if I forgave you
Before I even knew you would hurt me
I hope your forgiveness for me feels the same
I thank you for being sorry
I thank you for being my friend again
Before now I could hardly imagine
Being at peace and full of so much love
I am grateful for you showing me true lovingkindness,

My Friend Again. 

The Beginning of Forever

Dear Brother of Mine,

I would like to express--in the most public way I know how--my love, admiration, and hope for you.

I have known you since you were born. I have babied you and fought with you, loved you blindly like a child and loved you by choice as an adult.  We have detested one another, but we have also always known we love each other. And this knowing is a blessing in my life. You know I need help, and you help me when you can and tell me with honesty when you cannot. Your honesty blesses and helps me to carry on with the burdens I bear. I thank you for it.

You have had much to bear in your life, and I thank our Father in Heaven for all you have come through to get you to this beautiful day when you will start a family of your own.

I wish I could be there with you. It saddens me beyond words that I am incapable of seeing my baby brother get married, but I hope you know I would be there if it were possible. I hope you know how grateful I am you have found someone to love and who will love you in return. What a great blessing for our entire family!

I wish our mother and father could be there with you, yet I believe they would not miss it and will be there with you in spirit. Try to listen for them amidst all the excitement and I believe you will feel their presence.

I pray you will have a most exquisite day with your bride, creating the beginning of a lovely forever.

With love and affection from your sister,

Laura

How Martin Luther King, Jr. Changed My Life

Just to get it out there—I am a white girl raised by other white people, and I love my heritage. Obviously I did not choose it, yet I do embrace all the wonderful things about my ancestry. I believe everyone should do the same, regardless of their heritage: love the good parts, set aside the rest. What I love most about the heritage I am passing on to my children is being part of a culture that accepts and cultivates a love for all people of every color, shape, size, and heritage. Although it has not always been thus, I celebrate today and its advancements in humanity and love.

While I did not live during the time that Martin Luther King, Jr. was working to break down the walls of segregation and racism, I certainly have been directly affected by the work of him and countless other civil rights activists.

I grew up in Las Vegas. Not in the South. Not in some backwoodsy place. Or so I thought.

The Santa Conspiracy

At my house growing up, Santa Claus always wrapped our gifts in the most beautiful paper--different from the rest; with the largest, most shiny bows on top; and the tags were always written in the most perfect handwriting possible. He (she, my mother) stuffed the stockings with treats, gadgets, and thoughtful little gifts. And Santa ALWAYS left a 2 lb. box of Nuts 'n' Chews from See's Candies, my mom and dad's favorite kind. I think that is why I prefer the soft centers--I got burned out on all that chewy stuff!

The sad part about all this lovely preparation is that my Santa bubble was burst, on purpose, when I was around five years old. I do not like to (nor ever really do) talk about these two people, but without some explanation you will not understand--

I had two older half siblings who found joy in torturing and abusing me. This year, that Santa's origin was revealed to me, is the first memory of their abuses that has been seared upon my heart.  If I think too hard on it, I can still feel the wound. It's probably because it opens up the door for recollection of all the more heinous crimes. Although, stealing the magic of a child's Christmas is quite the crime...

Seeking To Become - December

In church today, there was a lesson on giving and I was deeply moved by it. The scriptures the teacher referenced brought to mind several instances in my life when I have been the giver and the receiver of true Christian generosity.

One of those memories was from the morning my mother passed away. I don't recall the details exactly, but this is the way I remember it:

I got the call from one of my brothers around 4 a.m. and spent some time freaking out at my house, then, at some point, I contacted my best friend, told her the news, and left to go be with my brothers and father. She lived about 40 minutes away from my parents' home and I lived about 10, but somehow she arrived when I got there (or at least so it seemed). I will never forget the hug she gave me and how, immediately after the initial shock passed, she produced a warehouse-store sized box of yogurt-dipped granola bars. This act would not have been quite so important, except she and I were both pregnant and her intuition told her that we would need a treat and that was what she had on hand, so she brought it. I believe I thanked her right away and between everyone at the house, the entire box was inhaled in no time at all. Although the granola bars were a simple offering, they mean so much to me to this day. I can't see a box of them without recalling the thoughtful compassion my friend showed that tragic morning.

My Journey With Autism

My Journey With Autism...Thus Far

after the diagnosis
against all expectations
within a few years I inched
toward comprehension of this unknown thing
by means of reading and studying anything I can get my hands on
except I cry sometimes
along with celebrating the milestones
in spite of those milestones not being in "proper" order
into high school she goes
out of my protective sight
beyond my control
around kind people most of the time
unlike anything she has done before
amid doubts on my part
for all children like her
onto the bus she goes
instead of having her stay home
since I know it will help her-- and bless everyone who sees her

Realizing Beauty

I have this thing about hair. It is a sort of inner struggle.

To explain, I used to have extraordinarily thick hair. And I used to wear it really long. That statement normally would not be anything to have issue with except for the hair elastics that used to break all the time when I would attempt to wear a ponytail or a braid. Yet that is not the end of it-- my hair started to fall out in my mid-20's. So after going to the dermatologist about it, I was told it was a genetic issue which would not go away. ever. and I cut my long, curly locks off, never to grow them out again.