Just a Matter of Time

We headed South a week ago to pick up our new baby boy who is 17 months old. It’s been an intense few months. One legal fight after another. He’s adjusted from the first night and we are blessed. It was just a matter of time before the questions would start from our four year old about her new baby brother!

Kali: Mama, who is my baby’s mommy? Is it Kara (I don’t know why she thinks it’s my friend)

Me: no, baby girl, she’s not his mommy.

Kali: who is his mommy and why didn’t she want him? What’s her name? Where does she live?

Me: she couldn’t keep him. She’s sick. Her name doesn’t matter right now. She’s not healthy enough to have him. So he came here that way we can give him a good life. And love him a lot.

Kali: mommy, he will be loved. Forever and ever. And she cannot have him back. (She says this as she’s holding on to him tightly).

Me: sometimes people are used to physically have babies so others can give them the love they deserve. Not everyone can be a mommy or daddy. Not every should be.

Kali: then he got in the right house. You and my daddy are great for the job. And he has a big sister and many other brothers.

**********

People think compassion is taught but compassion, like love, is a gift we are born with. We get to feed it and help it evolve but we are born with compassion, kindness and love. The rest is learned behavior. If a four year old (who has never wondered how she has two white parents) can feel the love in her family there is no reason the rest of us can’t just tap into that energy across the world.

Look for the divine in everyone.

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Struggles…

Many years ago…12 to be exact…I was experiencing a struggle with my eldest daughter. She arrived into my life at the age of 11-1/2 from Romania. And with her came a lot of secrets and demons. She suffered from multiple personalities and deep wounds. There was no way to reach her regardless of all the love and security I provided. At the age of 18, finishing high school, she plotted to hurt me and some other family members. The heartache those days was immense. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced up to that moment in my life.

My son’s friend’s mother came over to get him one day. I shared my struggle through tears and heartbreak. She took me aside (a woman who truly didn’t know me that well even though our boys were super close) and she shared a personal story about her eldest son. She told me, while holding me, that sometimes we had to let go in order to continue helping our other children. Up to that moment I didn’t know anyone who had undergone things that broke the mama heart that profoundly. Whether it was addiction, mental illness, or whatever…I had not known someone personally who was navigating through similar experiences.

I listened to her. She had been at this for years. I felt her own release in that conversation. I listened so much that, now 12 years later, I can still remember her words of wisdom. This woman just lost her son a few days ago. That said son who was struggling with his own demons. And as I write this I swear my heart breaks even deeper. A parent should never, ever, have to do what she’s had to do this week. I know he’s finally at peace. She does too but there is always the uncertainty of how much we did or didn’t do to fix and save our loved ones. The doubts creep up and we are consumed by the unknown of it all. It’s hard to decipher what is real and what is not. Guilt and shame are familiar emotions that push the grief up. It’s all part of healing and letting go.

I know without a shadow of a doubt, that when someone has these struggles the only thing you can do for them is hold space. The loss is inexplicable. It’s unreal and I cannot imagine how my friend is holding herself up this week. So I pray and send loving light to her and her family since she’s not near me (although I wish I was with her at the moment). I keep meditating and hold her heart in mine. No one knows what another endures…not what she had to do for her son, not what I’ve had to for my own children. We have little windows we show to the world, but behind closed doors and blinds the truth of it is quite different. I am blessed to have had her 12 years ago to help me navigate my own grief, shame and guilt because I was completely lost. I had to let my daughter go. I had to love her from afar and continue to do so daily because she refuses the love. In the end I had to put my energy into those in my house who were willing to receive the love and security. And it continues…

That’s all we are asked to do: love and serve those who receive it (who are willing to accept it). We can’t fix or help those who don’t want it. It’s like hitting yourself against a giant boulder while the ocean smashes against you over and over. It’s pure insanity.

I love you, my dear friend. You know who you are…you will always be the words of wisdom when I struggle through my own little demons of guilt for not doing more…. I am here!!!!!

Let’s Talk Children

Last night I had a second opportunity to reconnect with my friend, Ann Lee, on our local radio station. It was a soulful, earnest discussion between two women, that is also a conversation between many women. With every conversation I experience expansion; I get to own more of myself through the mutual love and respect of another conscious, awake being. Communication is essential as we evolve spiritually. Enjoy…

You can go to Facebook link below to watch the video.

https://www.facebook.com/wpvm.103.7/videos/2123550044589149/

I am BEing

I was dropping Kali at school this morning when she began to run towards the door, “Mama, I’m gonna win you!”

I watched her little body running against the morning wind, her curls being pushed back, the dark skin against the hot-pink tank top…oh my gosh…she was lovely. My heart reached my throat and I thought: “how precious! She’s beautiful. She’s magnificent. Look at her soul so carefree. She’s mine.”

How did I get here? At this age? I was done having children. I was going to travel and explore the world. Here I am not just with a four year old but on the ledge of getting a one-and-a-half by the time he gets here. But, that’s how we show up to life. We stop planning. We just go with the ebb and flow. We push through the unknown.

Kali waited for me to get to the door, “You are so slow, Mama!”

Indeed I am…I am slow in arriving. I am slower than any other time in my life because I want to savor every minute of these moments. I want to feel them. I want to honor them. I want to keep remembering why I am all the things that make me compassionate and loving. Because of these children…mine and others’. This is how I’m arriving into almost everything in my life. I’m slowly falling into my roles as a mother, a wife, a woman and a human. My time here is slowly revealing my most intimate purpose. I’m no longer running from (or towards) anything. I am simply BEing.

**photo from a few weeks ago as she played on the beach talking to the seashells. She kept saying it was “my favorite day with you, Mama!”

Memories of Old

My mother and I moved from Puerto Rico in June of 1976, to Hollywood, Florida. My older sisters had moved there. The middle one was going through a horrible divorce. Mom and I were in a tiny efficiency for a few weeks. She heard shooting and bangs. We heard screaming and chaos. I was 8 years old. She put me in a closet by the tiny bathroom and she hid in the shower. The more “shootings” we heard the deeper the fear. I screamed. She begged me to be quiet. She was crying and praying. I was biting my lips and trying to remain calm. It was a long night. There was no phone in the place. She feared for our lives. Finally it was over. We were wet with sweat and exhausted from the trauma of possibly being shot to death. The next morning she figured out the date. It was the 4th of July. She had so much going on that she never even thought about it. They were firecrackers, not gun shots. They were celebrating outside, not shooting each other. To this day when the fireworks begin I think of my little inner child fearing the possibility of dying or someone shooting my mother. I didn’t speak English. I didn’t know where my sisters lived. I knew no one. But I held my Mami that night, while she slept in. I held her hands and caressed her hair thanking God for not taking her. I was angry that we moved to a place that would end our lives. There was so much violence in my little world that night.

Last night I remembered this so vividly. And I am aware that traumas rarely leave us until we face them. I’m not phased by fireworks. I don’t mind them. I am, however, shaken when I hear screams or feel that the world is in chaos. This is why I reach out to strangers when I know they need someone to just acknowledge them. You never know the fear they are moving through. It’s there until you surround them with love.

Today I hold you. Tomorrow might be your turn. Thank you.

Let the Voices be Heard

Tonight I have felt my heart break open in a way that pushes me to feel beyond my humanness. The “feel” part has me unraveling and desperate and enraged. Nothing gets my blood pumping faster than human right issues.

I’m a mother. I’m a grandmother. I’m a GRAND mother. The greatness of being a mother is one of my extraordinary purposes here on earth. I have mothered my own children, other people’s children and many adults. I take mothering seriously because we are here to nurture one another. We are here to connect in the deepest level of humanity. That’s what a mother does. She makes sure her children are safe and loved. She will honor her children by being their voice until they can learn to use their own.

I have a little boy in Florida waiting to get through the bureaucracy of a broken system. I’m his voice. He has a daddy here also making sure nothing gets in his way. He has two loving parents waiting to align with him and a big sister praying he gets here soon.

But, he’s truly lucky. He has us. He has an amazing foster family watching him like guardian angels. However, he’s also part of a privatized system that makes money by keeping him in the system. The longer he stays in that system the more money is being made.

I am appalled by what I am witnessing in Florida. I am appalled by what I am witnessing in Texas. I am outraged that in this time of history this is going on right in our backyards.

Change has to happen. It’s not my kid or the children in prison. It’s all our children. It’s the future of the next generations. Our little boy has us to fight for him. We need to fight for the 2,000 in Texas who have family hurting to get back to them. We need to fight for the 400,000 currently in foster care in the United States who need love and safe homes.

My voice is small. Yours might feel small as well. But when you gather millions of voices together we can be heard. When we create enough noise and don’t stop we can make changes. We must make those voices kind and loving. We cannot fight through hate and anger. We cannot beat things by name calling or bashing or disrespect. No!!! That’s not how we transcend here with this. We do it organized. We start uncovering the small issues and work our way up the corruption. Lots of folks have hands in the privatized sectors…and it’s been happening for decades.

I’m composing myself. I’ve cried a lot. I continue to mourn the separation of those kids from their parents who came here to find a better life. What they have witnessed is inhumane acts that go above and beyond religion and politics. I cannot begin to imagine how these families are navigating all of it.

Darlings, this is not an immigration problem. It’s a human right issue. The same with privatizing agencies who determine who can go to families in the foster care system and who can be adopted. It’s a human issue that needs changing. It’s a compassionate and loving opportunity to make the future generation learn what it is to come together for their sake. We get to mother thousands through these examples.

Tonight I will continue to gather pieces of me to continue fighting. There is nothing more powerful than a mother going after her children. And those thousands out there have become my babies. This mama isn’t going to just let this go….

Privilege of our Lives

I got up at 3:37 AM for the third time in a row this week. I went downstairs to meditate. Came back up and snuggled in our bed pressing against my husband’s back. I actually fell asleep at some point. Around 7AM our little girl came running into the room. She got on my side of the bed and motioned my arms around her. We snuggled tightly. I smelled her sweetness, digging my nose in her wild curly hair. The female cat came to me to pet her. The other male cat laid at my feet trying to attack my moving legs through the blankets.

The world outside disappears in these moments. The safety and comfort of love and security is priceless. But then I returned to the knowing that not all children get to feel this. There are children all over the place not being kissed and snuggled by their parents. I used to feel that it was prominent in other countries. That has shifted. And for a few moments I gasped. Tears silently fell and I kissed and held my little girl extra harder.

Remember where you are, the privilege of what you have. Send strong healing vibes to those you know are not in the place of love, acceptance and light.

And for you reading this: I thank you for being here with me. I’m humbled by your friendship! Have a beautiful day.