three hundred words a day. april 1.

Eleven years ago today, my father in law died. At the time, that day, April 1, ranked right up there with the day my mother passed away for the title of worst day ever. It was unimaginable really, in the span of just a few short years, I lost both my best friend and the man that next to my own father, was the most influential man in my life.

He was larger than life, always. In a world where most people can count their true friends on the fingers of one hand – I believe he would have had to use his toes and perhaps a borrowed digit or two. I loved him more than I can express and there is no doubt in my mind that he loved me, too. And although there could be times now and then when he could be grumpy and maybe just a bit gruff, somehow he understood me, and with me – he was always gentle, always patient, always kind.

I went to yoga this morning, my heart and head were filled with him, with memories both good and sad, and I sensed I needed the stillness that yoga often provides me. Midway through, Billy Joel’s Only the Good Die Young began to play, and as the tears streamed unchecked down my face, I smiled and I knew - beyond a shadow of a doubt - that he saw my grief and the best he could, in a way he knew I would understand, he was letting me know it was ok.

Anniversaries can be funny things sometimes. We want to remember the easy ones - the birth days, the weddings, the graduations and promotions. And yet, for me it is the difficult ones, the deaths, the losses, the dissolutions, that seem to carry the most weight. They help me to remember, and to an extent – they are helping my grief because it seems that it is that remembering that is allowing me to heal.

thirty days with a grateful heart. day seventeen.

day seventeen.  out of the mouth of babes.

There are days when I, like most parents, think my littles have to have been abducted by aliens, their actions so contrary to what I know I have spent their lifetimes trying to teach them. 

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, I get so incredibly frustrated, wondering why, oh why do they not understand?  Why do they not see?

And just when I think I must be at the very end of my rope with them, they do something that surprises me.  That encourages me.  That gives me... hope that they will be the compassionate and loving adults I have taught them to be.

It is on days like that, on days like Christmas, when for the first time ever, my littles gave me a gift that they not only sought out, but purchased and wrapped all on their own.  And when that gift is opened, it reveals the truth.  That what I have been hoping and praying for, for them, for so many years, has become reality.

They see. 

But not only do they see, they also get... me.  Which, in my humble opinion, is more than any parent could ever hope for, don't you agree?

I am...
capable
acceptable
forgivable
valuable
lovable

I am... enough.

So grateful for their lesson today, my friends.  Merry Christmas.

xoxo,
momo

three hundred words, give or take. october 24.

Awhile back, I began writing to my momma.  I've never really been good at journaling, so I figured if I tried it in the context of private letters to someone I love and trust most, perhaps it might be easier.

if you were here, i'd talk to you about these things. i'd tell you how i was feeling. i'd love to say i would be completely, one hundred percent honest, but there are some things i don't know that i'd even share with you, momma, as much as i love and trust you. are human beings made to share their souls that way? is that why people go to confession? to purge out the bad and to share it with someone else?  what if you purge it and yet you keep feeling the same things over and over? is that insanity? or is that just human nature?  to want to share our bad with someone so it doesn't feel so bad? i wonder.

Truth?  It really wasn't easier.

As I would write, I would force myself not to rewrite.  Not to sugar coat.  Not to spell check or grammar check or worry about a reaction.  Just who are we when we don't have to worry about what other people think?

i have things to say. things that, if you were alive, i would only tell you. things that are good. things that are not so good. things that i need to share. i guess since you're not here, i'm going to have to do it this way. maybe one day i will share this. maybe one day i can put it out there so that the kids can know my heart. then again, maybe not. maybe only you and God need to know what will come in these pages. maybe that's enough. maybe the simple act of writing, of writing my feelings down, my thoughts, my fears, will be enough. maybe it will allow me to move past where i am right now, which when i'm honest with myself, is stuck. stuck in the past. stuck and afraid to go forward because going forward is going to take some work.  i think deep down, i'm afraid how hard that will be. how much it will expose. like how i feel about myself. like what i think - truly - about things. like what i want for my life. for my kids lives. those decisions are hard. they require thought and strength and faith. sometimes i feel like i don't have any of that at all.

I like to read back periodically through what I have written, to see where I was then.  What my mood was, how I was feeling.  To gauge progress and see how things have changed.  Or, more commonly really, how they had not. 

i hope that through this process, i can learn to feel, to hope, to heal, to love. 

There has been such turmoil and upheaval these past few months, such an uncertain and fearful time.  So much unknown.  So many decisions to be made.  And yet, through all the sadness and through all of that grief, I am struck by the realization that things have indeed, and permanently now, changed.

Perhaps the journaling was a good thing.  Perhaps being able to speak, uncensored, even though it went nowhere and I received no feedback except to be able to see my thoughts in the bright light of day, was important.  Kind of like therapy but without the other person.  Or the expense.

What I am finding though, is that it is through that change, this change in me, in my circumstances, in my entire life - that I believe I am finally learning to... let go.  to loose control.  to accept responsibility.  to forgive.  to be strong.  to believe in me.  to move forward.  to feel.  to hope.  to heal.

And perhaps eventually?  Well, perhaps eventually, to love. 

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. 

xo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart - day twenty two

day twenty two - you get me

For Christmas this year, Big J wrote me a letter that begins like this:

... In the spirit of working to fully understand and 'get you' ...

The letter was attached to a gift that I may choose to share when it is finished at some later point, but I'd like you to know that this gift, this particular gift, it was a bit of a stretch for Big J. 

Not because Big J is a terrible gift giver, because believe me, he is quite the opposite.  Big J is, in fact, an incredibly generous and creative gift giver, to both me and to the littles.  Many times over the years, he has surprised me with how he just knows - just exactly what I would like, just exactly what I would want, just exactly what would mean something special to me. 

No, this gift was a stretch for other reasons, more personal reasons.  Prior to Christmas, no matter which words I used to explain my reasons why, they just never seemed to be the right ones.  In fact, I'm loathe to admit that we even argued about this gift.  It caused confusion.  It caused hurt feelings.  It caused tears.

And then Christmas.  And then my letter.  And then my gift.

And then my realization that as much as I might tell him that he doesn't... the truth is, Big J does - get me.  He might not always understand me, and I guess that is to be expected because I don't always understand myself, but he does, most definitely, get me.

And really, what more could I possibly want?

I'm grateful for you today, Big J.  Not for the gift.  Although, believe me, I am way excited about that!  And not for the gift you gave me last week.  Which I am just as excited about!

No, today, I am simply grateful for you.

xo,
momo

thirty days with a grateful heart - day two

day two - my littles

I'd heard stories about what it was like to have children. You know those stories, the ones about how you will love them so much, how you would do anything in your power to protect them, to care for them, to grow them.  I had heard them all and I remember thinking, absolutely, I will love them.  Of course, I will love them.  But, I have to be honest with you, I don't think I completely understood the depth or breadth, the sheer and utter magnitude, of that kind of love until the very moment I held Little J in my arms for the first time.

I have loved people in my life.  I mean, really, really loved them.  I love Big J, more than I think he will ever know.  I love my parents, my family, my friends.  We all have people in our lives that we say we love, truly, madly, deeply, but as I looked down at Little J, and again at Frankie on the day she was born, in those moments, the meaning of mother's love became clear.  Very simply, my heart was no longer my own.  It belonged to them, to my littles, wholly and completely, and it will until the day I take my very last breath. 

God made me, exactly how he made me, so that I could be their mother.  He made me to care for them, to cherish and hold them, to teach them and guide them and grow them up in this world.  He made me specifically to love them.  He knew just exactly what they would need.  He knew that they would need me and that only I would do. 

And yet, for as much as they needed me and only me, He knew just exactly what I needed as well.  He knew that I would need littles that would challenge me, that would make me think, that would question me, listen to me, exasperate me to no end and make me swell with pride, oftentimes in the very same instant.  He knew that I needed littles who would hug me and allow me to hug them, in private, in public, no matter when or where the mood strikes.  He knew I needed littles who could tell me they were sorry, who would hold my hand, who would make me laugh out loud, who would sing with me, pray with me, listen to me, walk with me, share with me, break my heart and mend it back up again, littles who would love... me.

God knew. 

He knew I needed Little J, exactly as he is.  He knew I needed Frankie, precisely as she is.  Deep down, I know He knew because He knows everything, and yet, each day I cannot help but marvel at the absolute perfectness of it all. 

He knew. 

And today, for that, and for them, for my littles, I am so very, very grateful.  Especially today.

thirty days with a grateful heart - day one

A sweet friend of mine, after reading my post yesterday, led me to the blog of  one of her friends who, for the last few years during the month of December, has embarked on what, imho, is a truly incredible and life changing journey. 

Each year, each December, this blogger begins a series she calls 30 Days with a Grateful Heart.  For the last thirty days of the year, she takes a little time each day to reflect on what she is most grateful for in her life.  Some of these gratitudes are small.  Some are silly and fun.  Some are deeper and have incredible feeling that encompass their telling.  And yet, all of them, every single one, speak directly from her heart - a heart that has learned to be... grateful.

Along her journey, she has encouraged others to participate - to take a moment or two each day the month of December, to peek into their own lives and find something each day to be grateful for.  Some days this will be easy.  When all is going well and life is happy, happy, happy - gratitude is abundant.  But, some days it seems as if the world is conspiring against our happiness.  Some days, we might wonder what in the world we could possibly be grateful for.  I believe, even during these days, especially during these days, an endeavor like this can change us, bring us back to what we know to be true and ultimately, what is truly important.

William Arthur Ward once said that Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.  Go figure, I am a gift giver.  My primary love language, based on the book The Five Love Languages, is gifts.  I don't know if you are surprised by this, but Big J was most definitely not.  So, with that being the case, I have decided, that for the month of December, this journey will be a little gift that I give to myself.  A little thirty day Christmas present, if you will.  You are welcome to join me, and perhaps along the way you will find that my words might also be a little gift to you, as well.

day one - my blog

Since 2006, blogging has been a savior to me.  I've never been one to write in a journal, I've tried it a few times and each time, I have gotten frustrated and quit after just a few entries.  Considering that I obviously do not seem to have a problem with self reflection or introspection, I think primarily for me, it was the hand-written aspect of journaling that made me unsuccessful at it, as silly as that might sound. 

Most times, when I sit down to write on my blog, my thoughts are racing a million miles a minute and attempting to capture those thoughts long hand, well, you get the picture.  But, when I discovered blogging, all that frustration just melted away.  All of a sudden, there was a place where I could express all the feelings and emotions of my heart, in type written form.  For me to reflect on, for others to share.  A place where my fingers can almost keep up with the ideas swirling around in my head and clamoring to be let loose.

Besides allowing me to express myself, my blog has also brought me friendships that I treasure.  Friendships that I believe without a doubt I will cherish until the day I die.  Through my blog, I've met so many incredibly special people, people that enrich my life each and every day.  If I never write another word, I will ever be grateful for the simple gift of those friendships.

My blog has allowed me to grow, to cry, to laugh, to wonder, to vent, to explore, to learn, and in more ways than one, blogging has allowed me to heal.  Putting my most private thoughts into a public forum has at times, been awfully scary, but I have to tell you that in doing so, more than anything, blogging has allowed me to feel.  To feel happiness, to feel love, to feel friendship and joy and laughter and maybe even just a teensy bit of sorrow now and then.  That being able to feel proves to me, each and every day, that I am indeed, still alive, that neither my head nor my heart nor my soul, and least of all my body, are dead.  And I don't know about you, but for me - that is just about all I can hope for some days.

So, yes, my blog.  Today, and especially today, my heart is overflowingly grateful for my blog.