Dear Child

I have learned more from my students than I could ever teach them.

I have been changed more by my conversations with them than they could ever be changed by me.

The more lost they are, they more I find myself drawn to them. To smile at them, and laugh at their jokes. To act like their tragic stories don't shock me and tear my heart apart, and to tell them how proud I am of them.

I hear the things they say to themselves, and to each other.

Sometimes they look at me and say that they don't like teachers or school. This is just because somewhere along they way, some teacher or every teacher, at some school or every school, failed them. I don't want to fail them. I don't want to be there with a front row seat watching them give up on themselves.

To all of them, I write this letter. To each dear child.

Dear Child,

You are loved more than you know.

You are special. What you will do in this world, to this world, for this world...no one else can do.

You will make ripples in the lake of your life, that will vibrate out and touch people that you cannot even see. That you don't even know.

You feel weak. You feel like a failure. You feel like you can't do anything right. You are wrong.

You are stronger than you know. You succeed every time you choose to keep trying. You are doing great.

You look around you and see people who have it all together, and you feel like you are the only mess that showed up today.
Take heart. Everyone around you feels like a mess too, and they are all so afraid that someone will figure it out. They look at you and think you have it all together. They wish they were more like you.

You feel disheartened. People tell you these are the best years of your life, and that just makes you worry. Don't worry. They are wrong. These are the most awkward, confusing, insecure, walk-in-the-rain-down-a-dark-muddy-path at-night years of your life. It will get better. You will figure out who you are, and who your people are. Your world is small right now. You only know your family, your friends, your classmates, your teammates. Sooner than you can even imagine, you will enter a bigger world where there will be people like you. People who get you. This little world you are in may make you feel like you don't fit, but that's just because you are bigger than what you can see now. You will find your place, and you will thrive.

You believe the lie that it is best to be like the others, and it torments you that you are different. Whatever it is about you that is different, learn to love it. That is what will make the world notice you, and that is where you will bloom into the beautiful flower that you are meant to be.

You look around for someone to be better at life than you, and you always find someone. Your mistake was in looking around. Don't compare yourself to anyone. There is always someone better at something. Change your focus. Focus on what you have to offer the world. Just like there is always someone better than you, there is also always someone looking up to you that needs you.

Be kinder than necessary as you go through this world. We are all hurting. We can't fix each other's problems, but kindness builds bridges, and bridges lift us up above where the waves and waters can hurt us.

I am inspired by your life. Your little, oh so very significant life.

You have given me purpose.

And I am forever grateful for you, dear child.

Grief is Just Love with Nowhere to go.

Riding in the passenger seat, tears fill my eyes- blurring, elongating, and distorting the normally crisp reds, whites, and greens of the street lights. I am not crying in the usual sense, more like leaking from the eyes. No noise, no movement or motion, just tears without ceasing. It reminds me of videos I have seen of the tsunami in Indonesia many years ago. It wasn't the violent wall of water I expected to see. It was more the constant encroaching of the ocean upon the land, as though no boundary had ever existed between the salty depths and the roads where cars now floated. My cheeks felt cold as the tears dried on my face. I had so many thoughts and images that filled my mind, but only one feeling. Deep, gut wrenching, overpowering sadness. I happened upon a quote last week that said something about how grief is merely love with nowhere to go. That is what I feel. I feel all kinds of love with nowhere to go. And so it creeps out of my eyes, and down my face, and nearly takes my breath away.

My uncle Phil died today.
My dad's little brother, the one he spent his youth protecting, is now gone.
Without warning.
Inexplicably.
And I cry for my dad who could not call to give me the news. Who couldn't yet speak the words into being, that his only brother is now gone.

I cry for my aunt, Pam. She is my dad's older sister. Neither of them could have ever conceived a life without their youngest sibling. How lost and sad she must feel.

I cry for his kids- my cousin Luke who has now lost both parents in just a few years. I hate that he is now raising his kids without his dad getting to see what a great job he will do. And I cry for his brother and sisters because their kids won't grow up with their grandpa in their lives.

I cry for his friends. Friends who have loved him like family. People who, unlike me, had him in their lives every day. I cry for the hole they now have in their hearts.

Riding in the passenger seat, feeling all kinds of love with nowhere to go. And so it creeps from my eyes and down my face. Yet, in the midst of this blurry sadness, my heart, which is broken in a new way today, thinks of my Uncle Phil, and smiles. This is how I know his life was lived well. I am broken over the loss of him, but I still can't help but smile at the remembrance of time spent together.

What Time Was I Born?

Let's just get this out of the way right now. I was born at 9:06 pm. Shortly thereafter, the doctor said, "She's a beautiful baby girl with the prettiest little rosebud lips"...or maybe it was the nurse. I don't know, but I know someone said it, and I know when I was born.

The thing is, when my mom tells this story around my kids, they immediately ask, "Mom, what time was I born". My answers have varied. "That's a good question", "Sometime around 10ish and noonish, but I'm not sure which one was which time", and "Didn't anyone ever tell you kids aren't supposed to ask hard questions" are among my most common answers.

Then I always make a mental note to go home and check the birth certificates, or the baby book, and cement it in my head for the next time they ask. Spoiler alert: that never happens. Self reflection is soon to follow as I lay in bed at night remembering that I didn't look it up, and wondering what that says about me. What kind of mom doesn't know what time their kids were born? What kind of mom and I?

*I'm the kind of mom that was never sure she should have kids because I hated babysitting SO MUCH.

*I'm the kind of mom that prayed my whole life for a C section so I wouldn't have to go through water breakage or labor.

*I'm the kind of mom that spent my entire pregnancy SICK as a DOG, hating every minute, and thinking that "glow" everyone talks about is urban legend.

*I'm the kind of mom that HAD to find out what the gender of my babies were (even though I liked the idea of being surprised) because knowing if it was a HE or SHE made it seem less like it was an alien.

*I'm the kind of mom that tells my kids they are weird when they do weird things, like the floss dance, and tells them that they better not quit their day job when they tell me jokes they made up and those jokes are bad.

*I'm the kind of mom who painted the word DREAM and hung it where my little girl can see it as she falls asleep, and have moved it four times and hung it on four walls...so that she will know that no dream is to big and no dreamer too little.

*I'm the kind of mom who has made up unique little bedtime rhymes for both my kids, and sent them the recording of myself saying them, (and singing a Hush Little Baby) so they can hear me say goodnight to them when I am not home at bedtime.

*I'm the mom that stays up late to watch my kids sleep...and wakes up early to lay in bed beside them before I have to wake them up for school. (Slight stalker move, but it's OK if you're the mom.)

*I'm the mom that has always taken jobs at schools not depending on where I wanted to work, but depending on where I thought my kids would best be placed in school.

*I'm the mom that makes my son make his own lunch because I don't want him to grow up and think it's the woman's job to make the food, but I'm also the one who places my hand over his and spreads the peanut butter with him when he is frustrated that he can't make a sandwich like I can.

*I'm the mom who's not impressed with good grades, but gosh I love to praise hard work.

*I'm the mom that kills plants and fish, without prejudice.

*I'm wrong more than I'm right.

*I pray without ceasing, but only help conquer all of the worrying that I do.

*I fail on such a regular basis that I have stopped keeping track.

*I fight with my husband in front of the kids.

And I'm the kind of mom who loves. I loved them before I knew them. I loved them when I was sick and pregnant. I loved them when I thought they might be aliens. I love them when they are little weirdos just like me, and when they are smarter than I can take credit for. I love them when they are asleep (maybe most of all) and I miss them so much when they are at school. I love them enough to worry about what kind of man and woman they will grow up to be, and to talk to them (since before they could talk) about nurturing their dream. I love them enough to apologize when I fail, and to tell them how frustrating it is for me when I am wrong. I love them enough to let them see that love isn't always pretty, but that it never fails. I'm the kind of mom that believes that God has a plan for my two little people that no one else in this world can fulfill...

... and that has no idea at what exact time they were born.

:)

The Sweet Boy

A sweet boy stood and picked a flower for his mama. It was purple, and wild and free. It reminded him of her, for it and she were the two most beautiful things he had ever seen. He brought the flower in and gave it to her.

"Can you put this beautiful flower in some water, mama?" he asked. "I picked it for you, and I want you to keep it forever." And his mama did. "Thank you my sweet boy", mama said. And the little boy ran off happily.

Several days later, the boy came to check on the purple flower and found it gone.

"Where is your beautiful flower, Mama?", he asked.

"I had to throw it out, sweet boy", Mama smiled. "It was dead. But it was the most beautiful flower I have ever loved, and I thank you for thinking of me when you saw it."

The little boy cried.

"Don't cry boy", said his daddy. "Be strong. Don't cry over a little dead flower".

Some time later, the same sweet boy sat and colored a picture for his sister. He spent hours making it just right, knowing that she would love it. He used all of her favorite colors in it, so that she would know that he thought of her when he did it, and that he loved her enough to make it his best. When he gave it to her, she did love it! The boy felt so happy.

He said, "Will you hang this in your room forever, sissy? I made it just for you."

"You're such a sweet brother", she said. "I will".

Some weeks later, the boy went to get a toy from his sister's room, and saw that the picture was not on the wall anymore.

"Where is the picture that I made you?", he asked.

"It wouldn't stay on my wall", said his sister. "The last time it fell, it got all wrinkled up, and I threw it out". But it was the nicest drawing anyone ever made me, and I will love it forever", she said.

The little boy cried.

"Don't cry boy", said his daddy. "Be strong. Don't cry over an old picture".

And on and on it went, with the sweet little boy feeling things more deeply than anyone around him could understand. Crying over a lost stuffed animal, or having to throw out a sock with a hole in it. Every time, daddy said, "Don't cry boy. Be strong".

Many moons passed, and the little boy became a man. He didn't pick flowers anymore, for they all just ended up in the trash. He didn't' spend time making art for his loved ones, for it was much more efficient to just buy something at the store. He also didn't cry anymore. He had learned to be strong.

Then one day the man, much older now, got a phone call that his mama had died. He went home for her funeral. He sat through her service with his family, broken-hearted and lost. But he stayed strong for them. He held his sister's hand and he patted his dad on the back, and though his heart wept, his chin was stiff and his eyes were clear.

And his daddy said quietly, "What kind of son doesn't cry for his mama?"

And the man, who didn't think it possible, felt his heart break even more.

Live.

I was buying jewelry for my little Paparazzi jewelry endeavor, and I was struck by a yellow gold necklace with a little silver tree on it. On the bottom was simply written the word,"Live".

I try to pick out jewelry that speaks to me, and that I think my friends who buy the jewelry will also relate to. This one was a big one for me. So obvious, but for my tangled brain, so profound.

Life is such a gift. Some people realize it as they are fighting breast cancer at age 39. Tears come, listening to the pitter-patter of little children's feet down the hallway, with prayers to watch them grow. Some people realize it when a loved one dies suddenly and unexpectedly, with so many words left unsaid between them. There are some that realize it when they suffer a cardiac arrest at age 45, only to survive, and know that God isn't done with them yet. I imagine some don't realize it until the children are grown and gone. Children they didn't take family trips with, or play catch in the back yard with because there was no time. And some people, some lucky few, realize it every day that they open their eyes and put their feet on the floor.

But it isn't enough to know it! We have to do it. Too many of us really don't. Not well. Not abundantly. Not with the passion and reckless pursuit of our dreams that a full life is made of. We are so busy documenting our lives on social media, that we don't remember what we did, just what we took a picture of. We stand feet from legends at concerts, and we watch them perform on the screen we hold in front of us to record them, rather than live in the moment.

And "live" is profound to me because too often I choose worry. I choose self doubt. Sometimes, when I get the choice to sit it out or dance, I sit it out.

This necklace hit me in my heart because it reminded me of what I already know that I need to do.

Go forth, bravely, and relentlessly into this life...

and live.

This One Little Compliment

This is the story of my great day, and how it unfolded. Sunday morning I went to the bank kiosk to make a deposit. If you don't know what a bank kiosk is, its basically an ATM machine with a glass room built around it. When I went there I really didn't give it a second thought, but once I actually stepped inside I realized this seemingly innocuous place was truly an extension of hell. No air flow. Glass building. Tennessee in June. You do the math! As soon as I walked in the air was sucked from my lungs and my skin turned to dust. I realized in an instant that place must be where God sends you to test if you truly have the will to live, or if He should just take you now. The good news is, I made it out.

Now that you know where this story takes place, let me introduce you to the main character. It was me, and I promise you that I looked like a HOT MESS. I was wearing a baseball cap, and I hadn't brushed my hair since my shower the night before. As a result, my hair was doing that thing it does where it is neither straight nor curly. It just kind of wigs out. For clothes, I had on my lounge wear. (AKA, I went out in the equivalent of my pajamas!) I was also wearing my favorite necklace and earrings that I basically live in these days. I did stop to put on eye makeup before I left the house because even though I knew I would not see anyone in this tiny little bank kiosk, I don't even want to see myself in that ATM mirror without my eye makeup on. Whatever. It's fine.

So, I went into the bank kiosk and what happened? Well, another pour soul joined me in God's testing ground. I felt instant dread because she was not blind, and I was not prepared to be seen. I was in my pajamas for Pete's sake! And do you know what said when she looked at me? "I love your earrings!"

Guys. This random kindness absolutely made a, "Cha Ching", deposit in my happiness bank! We were both in an uncomfortable, if not poorly designed, place. But rather than just be grumpy about it, she said something nice to me. Rather than focus on all the hot mess swirling around me she picked out the one thing that wasn't visually offensive. I don't know her, and she could be a murderer. A compliment from a murderer probably doesn't mean much, but in my heart she is not a killer. She is a loving wife and mother just living the dream like me. They were just $5 earrings, but in that moment they were a part of me, and so it was my compliment.

I went home feeling like a million bucks. I putzed around for a little while doing laundry and other glamorous undertakings, and then got in the shower. Whilst in the shower I decided to shave my legs. Now what you must know about me is that this is not a daily occurrence. I almost have to know about a scheduled event before I shave my legs, but this particular day I thought someone with such cute earrings as I have should have smooth legs. I got out of the shower, and honest to God you guys, I put a workout video on the TV and worked out. I don't love working out, but my legs were shaved, and now that they were all smooth and pretty, I may as well work on making them look better. Then after my workout it was about lunch time, and I went into the kitchen and I fixed myself a healthy lunch. I had some chicken salad with lettuce to scoop it up with, and a big glass of water. I could have had swiss cake rolls with a side of Kraft Mac N Cheese because both were also in the house, but I made a choice to do good for myself. And as I did my dishes from lunch I thought about how I was on this incredible roll today, and I realized it really did all start with that stranger complimenting my earrings!

One act of kindness from one stranger set my day off on a positive note.

We have so much power! Our words can heal, can encourage, can motive, and can inspire!

So my word to you today is just this. Do better than just not being mean to people. Do good. Be kind. Be happy, and let others watch. Be the smile in a frowning world. Be authentically YOU, but don't stop the good that is in you from blessing the people around you because you are too quiet, too shy, too busy minding your own business. People need what you have! You could be the reason someone, maybe even someone you don't know at all, has a great day.

Worth It

We did our state testing this week. ✏️I walked around the room making sure not to look down 👀 enough to accidentally read any test questions, but often enough to not trip, and I thought...

Do they know they are worth it? 🤔

Do they know that they are worth the stress, the disrespect, the lip service, and the insults? 😫 Are they aware that they are worth all the apathetic shoulder shrugs 🤷‍♂️, eye rolls, 🙄and fruitless parent conferences? All the working endlessly to reach them only to have my worth ultimately determined by how they do in this one random test? 😶 What about the low pay, impossible standards, and everything else that teachers list as the most challenging parts of the job?

They are worth it all. 🤗

Already. Right now. Before they do their best. Before they pass. Before they mature and make good choices. Before they stay in school and graduate. 👨‍🎓Before they get a job or get into college. 🏫Before they say nice things and mean it. 🗣 Before they become famous actors and thank me during their Oscar acceptance speech. 🌟They are already worth all of the trouble. Just as they are.

Because they don’t show it, and some don’t even know it, but they need me. They need me to be their person. Their reason why school doesn’t hate them. Their reason why they don’t have to quit or feel like failures. The one who will be kind yet firm. The one that will demand greatness of them because I know it is in there. And it is.

They are worth it,and they are great. 📈

Even before there’s visible proof. 🌄