Memento Mori

Will I meet you having spent my days shunning you and hiding from your sting? 

Will I have learned to walk peacefully with you in the shadows, unafraid of your eventual appearance? 

Will I learn to fear you less the more I learn to love all that is me and all that is this world? 

Will I bravely use you to strengthen my grip on these moments I’ve been given …to sit deep in the saddle and ride wide awake through the beautiful fury of my life? 

Will I learn to hear the weeping and wailing of the mourners that shaped my earliest introduction to you as offerings to a great mystery or as sirens warning me to run far away from you for as long as I can?

 Will I see it as a glad morning when it’s my time to fly away from all I’ve become and all that I’ve loved? 

Will I allow you to show me the part you’ve played so silently in all that I’ve created and loved as you take my hand for the first time? 

Will you see in me the merging of the beautiful innocence I entered this realm with now merging into the mileage of my life traveled deep and wide? 

And before we depart, will you let me thank my eternal loves for breathing life into me and eradicating all the fears that tormented me in my early years that I would be alone and miss out on fully living my destiny and purpose? 

And finally, will you let me thank my well loved consort of a body for this rough and tumble, dig and claw my way as deeply as possible into life’s journey of pleasure and pain that she made possible?

 Will you let me thank you for leading her to the place where she gets to rest once again? 

“I Knew”

Throughout most of my relationships I was drawn to larger then life men with such extroverted characteristics that even the most distant acquaintances could write a decent profile or maybe even a psychographic. A dear friend, an accomplished artist in her own right was once blunt enough to tell me that she was tired of watching me ascend the heights of relational bliss with these guys only to plummet into the abyss and start over again. In her view they were all artists of one kind or the other and were only ever going to “come up for air” long enough to get me hooked on the togetherness before they went back into the depths of themselves. She ended the conversation with “Your life and relationships will transform when you realize YOU are the artist”.

She was generally a person of few words and they were rarely so direct as these, so they stuck with me. Around the same time my executive coach, who was the most task oriented person I know and never delved into off topic content like my relationships, invited me to a personal growth workshop focused on just that topic- it was literally called Understanding Men. A pattern was emerging: women I thought were on the sidelines of my life had stepped forward and into the path of potentially torrential emotions to get my attention and focus where it needed to be. They saw a new horizon for me and did their part to get my eyes fixed on this new possibility.

This workshop I first resisted so mightily did transform my life. I remember sitting in the metal folding chairs during the workshop feeling my cell phone buzz with a message from another “ARTIST” and having the desire to do it differently from that moment on- and I did. I became the artist of my own life.

Little did I know I would soon fall in love with a man who had traversed the topographies of his own interior for so long and developed the skills personal growth requires that he easily entered the deepest chambers of my heart and began inviting me into areas I had never ventured or abandoned in times past when it hurt too much. This is a tribute to him on his 52nd Birthday.

I Knew

He was an introvert. Even the closest of acquaintances reported feeling that they did not know him at all.

And yet I instantaneously knew more of him than all the men who came before.

This is one of the deepest and most beautiful mysteries of my life, and I feel no compulsion to solve it for embracing it with no explanations or answers has been the gift of ten thousand lifetimes.

I knew his voice before I knew his name.

I knew his heart before I knew his face.

I knew his purpose before I knew his age.

I knew his laugh before I knew his pain.

I knew his vision before I knew his strength.

I knew his art would include loving me.

I knew his spirit before I knew his peace.

I knew his depth before his creativity.

I knew his future before I knew his past.

I knew his wisdom before I knew his earthly tasks.

I knew his freedom before I saw him fly.

I knew his promise before I knew his passion.

I knew his truth before I knew his conviction.

I knew his sun before I knew his rain.

I knew his works before I knew his faith.

I knew our bond before I knew the way.

And this man, the love of my life, who once upon a time traveled to new earthly horizons with me, now devotedly traverses my inner landscape and helps me learn these things about myself in ways I never knew before. He helps me renovate old structures and construct new ones along the way using raw materials I never noticed, or in some cases even discarded. But this man, this King, so at peace in his own Kingdom, enters the gates of my heart and all the parts of me stop, listen, and love at the mere sound of his voice. His presence alone causes them to release their grip on my ego, my past wounds, my future fears. These parts of me, who have fought for so long finally relax into this otherworldly place where unconditional love is the guard at the gates and the keeper of the streets.

Yes. He is an embodiment of a living God to me.

He rests my Soul.

He ignites my Spirit.

He heals my Body.

He leads me to new Horizons and guides my steps on the rocky ascent to new possibilities.

Michael….

Yay, though I walked through the valleys of the shadows of living a life unseen, unwitnessed, and un-loved for so long, I no longer fear- for you are with me, seeing, witnessing, and loving all the parts of me unconditionally. You travel effortlessly with me through the contours and landscapes of the outer world and the interior of my heart, expanding the depths of all the possibilities there- both those I’ve nurtured and those I’ve neglected. You protect me in the storms that blow through my consciousness and help me journey back from safe harbors, back into my own depths where pain, pleasure, and purpose are found. You have led me to the realization of every dream that ever danced across the theater of my mind’s eye and brought what was impossible into being time and again.

Surely I have been blessed with an earthly King and the inestimable gift of dwelling in the Kingdom of our conjoined hearts forever and ever.

Happy Birthday, my Love, my King, my everything…

I Wish

For all the Floortimers I’ve met and those I look forward to meeting in the future

I wish you had been with me as I taught hundreds of children over the years, often feeling lost about how to meet their unique needs, or that there was so much more I could be doing if only I knew how. Sometimes, when I hear you talk about your kids or see a video of your work, I see the faces of students of mine from long ago, and I wish I could go back in time and teach them again, taking with me what I’ve learned from you.

I wish you would have had a permanent seat at every single school-based support team/intervention meeting I attended as a K-8 principal. Instead, you had to “share” your time across multiple schools and far too many caseloads to count. Your relationships, knowledge, strategies, affect and presence would have answered so many questions- including the ones we didn’t even know to ask, no matter how much we truly wanted to help.

I wish I had known you when my baby suddenly stopped breastfeeding at 3 months old and the pediatrician dismissed our concerns- an early warning of how this Dr. would respond to crawling, communication, inability to be soothed, and sleeping concerns- telling us to “wait it out” or just put him in daycare.

I wish you had been with us when the same pediatrician said at the beginning of a checkup many months down the line after hearing about our ongoing concerns, “Well, I really hope he doesn’t have autism” and concluded the visit with “there’s no way he has autism because he looked at me and said my name… but you are going to have to put him to sleep for any dental visits.”

At our lowest point of frustration and sadness, exhausted by navigating the entire postpartum experience in a global pandemic, with no childcare, family, friends, and not even toilet paper to be found, I wished for a miracle and took new action to find you. And you appeared! You listened, collaborated, co-treated, and even co-regulated with us in our frazzled state and assured us that all was ok. You led us into a safe haven- the first we had experienced where our child was not going to be seen as something broken to be fixed, but rather as someone of immense importance who was to be known, understood, and delighted in- no matter what.

You guided us to follow our child in play and offered a meta view of life and humanity that went far beyond the quality time we were learning to spend “on the floor” with our son. This view gave us a lens that unites us all by elevating the developmental nature of how life works while celebrating everyone’s individual differences. You anchored us into co-regulating and connecting and thus onto new paths of deepening our adoration of our son, and the time we spend together on the “floor” and throughout all of life.

You put away the timelines, the expectations, and the judgment that permeate much of the therapeutic space and replaced them with joy, affect, and lots of practice in being fully present with our child, and with ourselves- fully inhabiting the moment and remaining responsive and open.

Your language was laden with wisdom—the kind that shows up after lots of practice and careful attention to developing your own craft, and yet you gladly welcomed us to try on this new language and understanding, patiently making connections between our experiences with our son and your expertise and assuring us that we were “being” and “doing” exactly what he needed at the time.

Yes, I wish I could have had you by my side to help light the way through the dead-ends, closed doors, and dehumanizing experiences with a world that doesn’t see children the way you see them-- who doesn’t see what my son’s and every other child’s unique profile brings to the world the way you do. It’s a world that is struggling to love what is already beautiful and whole—and yet there is hope because you know the way to this place where learning and love blend seamlessly together, and you show us how possible it is from your humble seat on the Floor.

I wish that the world be filled to overflowing with Floortimers just like you for the sake of us all in this human experience of life.

Happy, Sad, Sad.

Horizon's language has been arriving slowly but surely. I have volumes of reflection and gratitude to write about this part of our journey together- but suffice to say for now that hearing new words from him is like finding an exquisite Pearl. We collect them, cherish them, display them, and are always on the lookout for more.

Along this journey of the first 18 plus months, I also struggled with the feeling that he wasn’t “happy” - yes that brings up more questions than answers about how we define it, but if we’re honest about it, there’s a reason the phrase “happy baby” is used so often to describe a new life. We all kind of know what that means- smiley, contented, engaging, playful, etc. and to be honest, I never really felt like I could say that he was a “happy baby. I could give you lots of positive descriptors for him at every stage and beautiful shared moments of life, but the absence of “happy baby” (until recently) really stung. I’ll just say it- I realize now that I didn’t just want a healthy baby, I wanted a happy baby. I didn’t really need the “contented” part but I wanted happy. 

So imagine my delight when after a few months of extensive and intentional focus on on getting the right language and developmental supports in place and putting what we learned into action, one of the first words he began to use regularly was happy. It still has an adorable ring to it the way he splits the syllables. It kind of sounds like HAP- PAY. Hearing him use this word, this Pearl” of happy was like the holy grail to me- he was engaged, using a new word and describing something I really really wanted for him all at the same time - happiness all around!!!

But a couple of days after it’s emergence, something changed. He would spontaneously say it (as he had been when he in fact seemed “observably” happy using our collective understanding of what that looks like so we assumed he was attaching meaning) , but then he would very quickly say , “ sad, sad”… I thought it was a new fluke- and also, heyyyyy we had another “word-Pearl” to add to the necklace!!!But it persisted. Happy, sad, sad. One day I finally said H, why sad? And to my utter disbelief he said “daddy work” (and now add the first 2 word phrase to the strand of pearls- and answering a “why” question with a truly powerful / even reflective response?? 🤯 it’s hard to convey the power and awe of hearing an answer like this from a child who has been mostly non verbal. 

But after the awe of that moment passed, I realized the deep truth of happy- sad- sad. (Especially when the sad is said rapidly and with emphasis) : He IS happy playing with mama and the cat, AND he IS simultaneously sad that daddy’s working. Just like I’m happy to be here with him, cherishing motherhood as a priceless gift, and simultaneously devastated about what’s happening in Ukraine, and so many other things happening here, and all over the world. 

Later that week of the happy- sad, sad Pearl drop, we talked to my stepdaughter, Grace and when she asked how I was, I was honest and told her I was feeling happy and grateful about lots of things but feeling sad as well. She seemed confused at first and then immediately said, oh yea like how I feel really happy about what I did at school today, but really sad at the same time that I didn’t see you and daddy and Horizon. 

Yes I said, happy- sad, sad and she laughed when she heard about her baby brother saying it so often. I don’t know why we think it’s one or the other, they are so very often intertwined, and it feels better to me to think that this is ok instead of trying to forget one of the feelings (usually the sad of course) and push through. 

It’s so crucial to allow space for it all, the gratitude, the sadness. Wishing you all comfort, truth, and purpose in the Happy, Sad, Sad.

Be Kind

tw: pregnancy, infertility, ageism

As a woman now gratefully experiencing the beauty of later motherhood, I lived with the pain of watching practically everyone I knew and cared about snuggling up with their own little ones for most of my life. It’s such a bittersweet feeling when you experience something you desire happening over and over again, just not to you. 

Thankfully more of the world recently seems to be waking up to the idea of providing trigger warnings/ content warnings and in general demonstrating more mindful sensitivity around women’s experiences and decisions about motherhood both in person and online. But as a young woman raised in the South, there was no barrier between my aching heart and the often intrusive ways in which my relational status and proximity to motherhood were constantly bombarded in one way or another.  

As painful as it was, these intrusions became so predictable that I learned to recite some witty -ish canned responses and avoid social settings ripe with the topic of having kids. But as trifling as it may sound, what I never really learned to ignore was the sight of adorable baby clothes, shoes and accessories. 

Somehow it was as if the very sight of them ushered me headfirst into the painful chasm of my childlessness. I mean, I’m clearly not the only one- after all there’s a reason the baby clothes industry is what it is (The market size, measured by revenue, of the Online Baby & Infant Apparel Sales industry is $3.1bn in the US in 2021 even when online sales are decreasing overall) . So I got good at avoiding displays in the malls, Target, even catalogues. 

In the midst of my losing battle with the “programming” I had around motherhood being reserved for the young, I found out that my little niece, who I helped babysit once upon a time, was pregnant. You can imagine how wonderful news like this still inflamed my open wound. Although I was no stranger to praying for my desire to be a mother to be fulfilled, my niece’s pregnancy might have been my first attempt at taking an observable step to manifest something that seemed so unobtainable. 

I can still remember walking into the Baby Gap I had been so good at avoiding and seeing the most gorgeous infant dress I had ever laid my eyes on. It looked like a replica of the homespun quilts my grandmother made me as a child, but it was dressed up with a velvet bodice and shiny embroidered flowers and designs cascading all over the patchwork bottom. At the time I was living in Brooklyn on a teachers salary and so broke I was sharing pizza slices with my roommate for dinner. But I knew as soon as I saw it that I had to buy one for my new great -niece AND one for my own future daughter.  

I prayed all the way up to the register that my usually maxed out credit card would handle it. I can remember putting both dresses down on the counter, hoping they wouldn’t ask why I was buying two in the same size. Would I say twins or tell the truth? And if I didn’t tell the truth would it jinx my manifesting commitment? I honestly don’t remember if they even asked, but I do remember carefully putting aside the feeling of impostor syndrome that immediately rose up within me. I am a future mother I told myself. 

My great niece wore the dress and I must have pictures of the cuteness overload somewhere. But as it turned out, the dress for my future daughter was packed and repacked over the next 20 years—somehow the velvet maintained its sheen even after moving with me through a marriage, a divorce, 3 different apartments, 3 different jobs, 3 different states, and a string of relationships. 

Fast forward to the last time I remember repacking this “dress”, which was when I put it away with the wedding dress I wore to marry the love of my life. I remember thinking about how silly I felt buying it that day so long ago, and how proud I felt now to have still held onto such a big dream. I mused that while it hadn’t manifested a child yet, maybe it had helped manifest the one man on the planet I would do anything to experience parenthood with. I put the dress away with love this time and no regret. Even the realization that it had been nearly 20 years since my niece wore her dress didn’t shift my peace. I even took a moment to look through the box of my own baby clothes and toys my mom had saved for me that I usually avoided even though I carried them with the same hope of the dress. 

And then, not so long after this experience, the previously unimaginable miracle of becoming pregnant at age 46 (and without any intervention) happened. I always imagined spending a pregnancy making a nursery and shopping for the adorable baby clothes I had avoided for so long, but my pregnancy turned out to be nothing like that. I listened to everyone who said don’t buy lots of clothes- just do the essentials for the newborn phase. And some who know me well told me, don’t get it all now or on a registry - go and enjoy the experience of shopping for your baby in the sections of the stores you spent so many years avoiding!! Watch his personality emerge and match his clothes to it! And so I waited. I bought one going home outfit with Baby Gap booties ( perhaps a nod to the still unworn dress) , and newborn staples like plain onesies, socks, and hats. And then, when he was about 8 days old, the entire world shut down. Y’all —-even if i wanted to I couldn’t even buy some Cat and Jack t shirts without waiting in the unbelievable lines that snaked around Target with the other toilet paper and soap hunters.

Don’t get me wrong. Things were crazy, but ny new mama’s heart was still overflowing with gratitude for our little miracle. That said, after decades of associating making or buying baby clothes with a universal experience of motherhood, selecting at least some of them myself felt like a rite of passage into motherhood that I was about to miss. 

Enter Be Kind Kids, an upscale kids and maternity consignment boutique in Greensboro, NC. 

While pregnant, I saw an intriguing sign go up over a storefront on State St., one of my favorite places to visit in Greensboro. The sign said “Be Kind Kids”. Never had a consignment store caught my attention like this one did! I followed their opening journey via Instagram since pregnancy challenges had sidelined me from doing anything nonessential. But I knew from the name/ logo, the storefront window, and the sunny warmth that shone right through their insta grid and stories that the clothes were only part of the story. I couldn’t wait to shop there after Horizon was born. 

Fast forward a few months postpartum and knee deep in our toilet paper hunting phase of the pandemic, I remember reading about the devastating impact of the pandemic on retail and feeling sad that I would never get to visit that incredibly cute and unique children’s consignment boutique I saw on State St. I mean I assumed there was absolutely no way a brand new shop could stay open under the pandemic circumstances. But when I checked their page I realized that not only were they still open , they were going strong—offering an entire range of creative options for the community to continue to benefit from consigning and shopping together. Their pandemic pivot was so natural and high energy -it seemed as if they had been working this way for years. 

I began watching their upbeat insta stories and feed regularly because not only did I find stylish yet affordable items, I also found the friendly voices of mamas I had never met who made me feel a little less alone on this crazy postpartum in a pandemic journey. All the mom and me classes and breastfeeding and new parent groups I had planned to attend were canceled indefinitely- I think we have all forgotten just how closed the world was in March 2020… but finding the Be Kind Kids Team was almost like going shopping with another mom who helped you pick out the best items and still excitedly welcomed pics of your child wearing the results! How fun was that in a lonely lockdown?! In fact, 20 months later, I still love seeing Izzy’s (one of the owners) cuteness -affirming messages pop up on my phone after I send a pic of H in some new outfit or accessory from the shop. 

And over time I learned that I had been right that there was much more than clothes happening inside. “Be Kind Kids” was much more than a cute name for a boutique or even an explicit call to be kind (although I love that it is both of these things also!) For me, it was the judgment free zone for mamas like me who still chose to do curbside pickups even when the shop doors opened again. It was the Instagram live sales that gave mamas like me a chance to “shop” while I pumped on the couch. It was the attention and energy their whole team gave to small shopping requests I made frequently that weren’t going to impact their financial bottom line but they showed excitement to help anyway. It was the attention they paid to everyone’s mental health in their social media posts. 

As the summer progressed, it was the alignment and activism they showed for the Black Lives Matter movement and the environment. It was seeing the curation of powerful progressive symbols and messages on fun merchandise. It was the way they seemed to effortlessly blend their passion for fashion with philanthropy, community, and entrepreneurship. It was the consistent hopefulness I felt anytime I interacted with them. Recently, it was watching a team member sit down on the floor and make crafts with a 4 year old so their mama could shop without distractions. It was the way their existence even as strangers in my world somehow made me feel a little less alone living in a new place. All in alI, for me it was their kindness. 

And so when I finally felt ready to venture out into the world for literally the first time since before H’s birth, it was their store I chose to go to. I don’t even remember what I bought that day, but what I do remember is that they stopped what they were doing and graciously listened to a tired, scared and extremely extroverted mama who had been inside far too long. To use my own eyes and hands to shop was a thrilling experience and they made connecting with me in my frazzled state seem easy. 

As the months went on, I would treat myself to a quick visit to the shop now and then. I consigned with them, shopped at their special gear sale in the Spring- and although our own family resources had been slashed by the pandemic, I could always find something that took me back to the familiar desire I felt in those Baby Gap store windows I avoided so long ago. But this time, I was able to fulfill the desire since my dream had now come true. And no matter what I bought for H—-a last minute outfit that matched daddy for Easter, his very first pair of rain boots and first summer sandals, cuddly pjs, a winter hat or even his first Little Tikes car, I left with a good memory and that same warm feeling of having experienced kindness. 

The last time I was in the shop, my eyes landed on a most unexpected item that now hangs in our kitchen- an art print with gorgeous typography that said “These Are the Days”. I bought it because I was taken with the power of these simple words to remind me to remain in gratitude and presence. 

I am forever grateful for the kindness of the entire Be Kind Kids Team who made it so much easier for me to savor the days of early motherhood in small ways that had a big impact. I know it couldn’t have been easy for them to pivot the way they did their first year in business. In fact, I imagine it’s still not easy. 

And I know stories like this don’t ring the cash register, especially when the writer doesn’t have a large social media following 😉, but to me sharing stories of kindness and gratitude like this are the kind of “invisible currency” I want to be spending and receiving—-so if you read this and feel the same way, please consider visiting/ following/ shopping their super fun social pages or their website (they sell and ship nationwide).

insta: @be.kind.kids AND/ OR by sharing some gratitude for a small business in your own community that has made your pandemic days better in some way. 

*I write these portraits without the knowledge of or engagement with the people/ business I am expressing gratitude to. Link in bio will take you to the first portrait that explains more about why I am doing this. Thank you for reading 💗