Never Settle

A Mothers DayS Mother’s Day- another day filled with hype: flowers, cards, brunch.     I always struggle with this DAY.    It’s not a day that defines me, it’s the days.    Sure there was a moment in time when I became a mom, but that moment isn’t what made me a mom.   It was the late night feedings and diaper changes that made me a mom.    It is the weary mornings and late nights that I celebrate.    Birthdays and sick days and all the in-between days mold me as a mom.    Building forts and tearing them down, define me as a mom.     Smiles and giggles and tears and screams shape my momma ears to hear. Trials and triumphs cast my heart.    Skinned knees and bandaids, bathtubs filled with bubbles, and shirts stained with popsicles assembled and designed my momma heart and moved my momma hands.    It’s not at all about THIS day, it’s about all the DAYS that have been and ...

I’m not a criminal, nor is my husband, but boy do I feel that way since moving here.  We’re “serving our time” here in Virginia for the next 3 years.  Serving time, a phrase frequently used to refer to jail time; I’d like to use it to denote a feeling rather than an actuality in this case.   We were thrilled to get sentenced (orders) to the DC area.  We were told how amazing and diverse the area is, and it is.  One thing we weren’t told and have since learned is how unsupportive the area is to its military.   In the few short months we’ve been here we’ve felt more and more isolated in our tiny cell.  First it was the empty promises of starting a military club for our middle schooler (an 8th grader starting at his 7th new school).  Next it was Veterans Day, a day to honor and revere those who have served and are serving our nation.  A day to remember those who have gone before us to afford us freedom and things like public education...

How loud is your silence?  The voices in my head have been screaming!  My silence is not golden.  My silence is deafening, but inaudible all at the same time.  I’m not sure what it’s saying. I hear it crying for help, chanting for freedom, taunting shame, and mocking guilt.  My silence yells me lies and covers me in deceit and deception. All this while hearing...nothing. Sometimes  it’s not what I hear, but what I don’t hear.  Its my alarm not going off for an early morning run with friends. It’s the quietness of my phone or absence a doorbell ringing. It’s the sound of a car turning into a neighbors driveway and not my own. Its void of snores next to me in the blackness of the night.  It’s the  muteness of God telling me everything will be okay.  The shrillness of silence is reverberating in my ears. Silence is defeating and daunting.  Silence is painful and agonizing.  Silence is necessary. Silence is ...

I know little about a lot; and I might know a lot about a little...however,  I do know when God places something on my heart, it's very hard to shake.  There is something about a play on words that gets my mind moving.  One topic I seem to know a lot about knowing a little is, my own heart.  JUST when I think I know something about myself, an inJUSTice happens to me or around me.   So the spark that ignited the flame was a simple word we JUST toss around. Please, JUST hang with me on a tour  that winds around my head and through my heart on a journey to adJUST your thinking and maybe my own in the process. One of the things I know, is I rely heavily on google/Alexia/Siri to give me information about stuff I don't know.  Often, the use of the internet is  unsafe, but for ease and simplicity its my go to, that and, I unloaded my Webster's dictionary years ago. (Let's be honest...it was probably military folks who led to the extinction of the Enc...

The beginning of school means I no longer have to worry about locking (or shutting) the door when I go to the bathroom.  I don't have to worry about interrupted phone calls or sharing a bite of my treat. I can sit and drink an entire cup of hot coffee. To many moms the beginning of school is a celebration.  Not for me. The beginning of school means I get to live in complete and utter silence, or the noise of my choosing!  However, it's in the emptiness of these walls that echo the voices in my head.  The memories and conversations are louder than ever.  I can hit repeat on the conversation I had with one of my kids (or the conversation I should have had with them).   I also get to play out every possible (or impossible) scenario of what my kids may be dealing with at that given moment.  Im certainly not at home celebrating. For military families the beginning of school isn't celebrated with the pomp and circumstance that many civilians enjoy. ...

To Hide OR Seek  Who wants to be “it”?  1, 2...15,22...30, ready or not, here I come—its a game that’s held the test of time. Parents play with children, kids with kids, even teens play variations of hide-and-go-seek.  It’s a game that really can be played with anyone anywhere.   Recently, I discovered my own variation of the game, an adult version. I’ve renamed my game Hide OR Seek, I really don’t feel up to the hide and GO seek version.  I know I’m “it” again, but I just can’t bring myself to go look.   The irony in my game is the real hiders, don’t know they’re hiding from me.  Would it be weird to yell “ready or not here I come” to forewarn those trying to conceal themselves? I fear in doing that, I may ward off some of the ones I’d really like to find.  How long should I count before I go looking?  Should I look in the nooks and crannies or rather seek those out in the open? Maybe I’ll just be the hider.  I’ve found...