Entryway

The outside of your door

still smells like you,

as I hold the knob

and then let go…

I cannot go into your space

just yet.

I cannot clean or visit

the things you left behind

in turmoil,

chaos,

and pandemonium.

This still seems surreal —

a bad nightmare

full of confusion

as it took me by surprise

even when I foresaw the outcome

so very long ago.

You are gone

to a place I cannot reach for a while.

But,

here behind the door

sits your life

the way you left it

and it’s okay to allow

the memory cells

to reside there.

Time has a way of moving

even the static

that was left between us both.

You will always have

the love

that you rejected

as a safety net

to return to the four walls

behind this small entrance.

Crossroads

I’ve arrived to an intersection,

the long journey inward,

expecting nothing but silence

to neutralize the recent events.

I comprehend that knowing means nothing

and the ego takes care of the rest

with its nagging chit-chat

covering the path with doubt and negativity.

The gibberish that arrives must be exterminated

so I can continue traveling down the road

aligning self to spirit,

wishes to dreams,

grace to awareness.

The voices have subsided.

I am searching for the calmness

of faith and blessings

as hope floats upward.

Life is lived with love,

the inward version of infinite wisdom,

and I vast in the light

of a new beginning and the distant road

allowing the Divine to lead the way.

Motherhood


This little bit of a person reminded me yesterday about independence and the constant weaving of holding on and letting go. We sat on my son’s porch waiting for them to get home. It was cold. I sat there listening to her tell me about the trees and how they are asleep. We talked about the clouds. We shared thoughts on dogs. And the entire time a cool crisp wind kept reminded me of change. She told me she was big now and didn’t need to be on my lap although I explained that I was cold and needed her warmth. Then she said I should have gotten a jacket at home. I laughed hard. My boys came home finding me giggling with the pure realization that motherhood seems to be the only job I can do with joy and laughter and so many other deep emotions. And in this job there is a flux of transformations always checking for giving and receiving, allowing and accepting, moving and staying put. I thought I was done with these lessons…and then this little bit came along to surprise the plans out of me!

Our Ability to Love

compassion

When I became a writer/blogger I made a mental note that some things weren’t up for discussion or sharing: serious things about my children (unless it was to help someone), hardships and disappointments with family and friends, and any discord with my mate. I wouldn’t put my dirty laundry out there for the world. When I’ve written about things, in regards to my children, I have tried to do it from a place of motherhood and the challenges the job entails, often times from a humorous point of view. Being a parent is never easy. Ever! In the moments when there is heartbreak you feel isolated. In moments of pure joy, you feel elated beyond whatever words can describe the event.

Yesterday it became official. Our (almost three year old) was officially adopted. We’ve been on this long process of making her ours since she was 5 months old. It’s a bitter sweet story. It’s one of complete joy in one hand and sadness in another. After raising 6 kids, one of my daughters from Romania had this baby girl. She is not mentally stable. She has serious mental health issues and lost this sweet addition to the family. Incredible how one moment of joy can transform into something so deeply heartbreaking within a short time.

Motherhood is who I am. I knew from early on in my childhood that I wanted a house full of children. My family was small. I wanted a big one. At the age of 10 I would say that I was going to have my own biological kids and lots of adopted ones. My mother frowned on this. I think she expected me to “outgrow” this notion.

When I was 18 years old the show 20/20 did a segment on Romanian orphanages. I had just gotten married and I made a comment of this to my then-husband. I was heartbroken, crying like a baby, watching the images of this segment. I told him that I had to help. He told me he didn’t agree with adoption. I was told that I could possibly never have children. I wanted to get on that quickly. I was born with some major issues in my female reproductive organs…but my tenacity and faith truly showed those ovaries who was in charged. By the time I was 22 I had two sweet boys, a divorce behind me, and the world ahead to possibly change the lives of one child. By the time I was 29 I knew I was ready to make that dream come true. My first little girl arrived on my 30th birthday (cause that’s the way God works with me). She was 2-1/2 y/o. The following year I adopted a little boy who was four and a few months later a little 9 year-old girl, and an 11-1/2 year-old young lady.

I will not share the struggles that arrive with caring for older children. I will not list the issues that came up with having that many kids under one roof. I believe that laughter and lots of prayers help us all cope with the wonderful experiences. But, I will share this: every single one of my kiddos has taught me some major powerful lessons. Each one has enriched me with love, patience, compassion and the understanding that we all have a purpose here. I don’t know who I would be if I wasn’t a mother. I can’t imagine another career more soul-fully connected to growth, spiritual connections, and love.

When Kali arrived into our home, and hearts, my youngest was graduating high school. At the age of 45 I restarted my career of loving, patience, and compassion. I had to come to terms that my then-plans would be altered. My husband and I are truly blessed. He didn’t have children of his own. To witness the love between this child and her daddy…oh my gawd…makes your heart melt. I promise it’s sometimes Hallmark moments.

I woke today with gratitude. When her social worker informed me yesterday that she was finally ours, I sobbed at work. I was overcome with so many emotions. I felt the elation of finality and the sadness of completion for my daughter (Kali’s mother) who can’t be in her life at this moment. I have to continue being her mother and protecting this child as well. It’s not a fun balancing act. At times, in solitude, it tears me apart knowing I cannot be all to all of them. I cannot be Super Mom! But those are my lessons. They are there for the evolution and expansion of my soul.

I am no saint. I am often one giant hot mess. I make some amazing delicious over-the-top mistakes. I am as simple and common as they come. I am just trying to live the most beautiful lifetime while knowing that because of me, seven children, have experienced love and laughter.

We are all connected. May you find yourself reaching out to another who needs it. It’s in the small things. You don’t have to adopt a child or an animal or a family. You can just be there for another. You have the ability to be good, do good and create good. It’s all about humanity. We all have that extra oomph of DNA that expands with giving love. We have a tremendous ability to love one another. It’s called altruism.

It’s the holidays. Please gift yourself the most loving present of giving and seeing the world change one soul at a time because you were PRESENT in someone’s life. A cup of coffee, a gentle touch, a freaking delicious smile, a scarf and jacket, or anything that can give a stranger the ability to recognize they matter. It’s really THAT simple. You matter. I matter. We all matter on this melting pot of awesomeness we get to call home.

I don’t know another way to live. I don’t know another way to forgive. I don’t know another way to love. It might not be right, but it also isn’t wrong. So…join me, darlings, in the ability to give of yourself to those in need.  There are so many folks out there feeling the stings of loss and destitution.

I love you! Yes…you! Even if we aren’t friends anymore. Even if we are strangers. Even if we have had issues. Even if our time was short and sweet. We are in this together. Hugs!

Happy Holidays! We got an early Christmas present. And…nothing can beat these moments!

Letting go of attachments

divine truth

When my second son was born a very talented cousin made him a baby quilt. As Patrick began to walk that “blankie” went with him everywhere. It played in playgrounds, the beach, watched movies in theaters, and took long rides in the car. It was washed every other day. He and his blanket were inseparable until one day. On a sunny Florida Saturday afternoon when he was four, Patrick took his treasured security to the swings in our backyard. He came in for lunch and the blanket was used as a tug of war by our two dogs. When he realized what had happened it was too late. The blanket was shredded into pieces. He went into heartbreak. He broke like I had never seen him.

I held him in my arms as he sobbed, his heart bleeding into mine with loss and sorrow. He couldn’t believe that his blankie was gone. How would he sleep at night? What would protect him? Within his questions I kissed his head and rocked him. I told him that “things” didn’t protect us. The faith he had in his blanket and companionship could be replaced by allowing God to protect him. At that moment he looked up at me. His eyes swollen from so many tears and he said that he couldn’t live without his blanket. We sat up and talked for an hour about possibilities, the heavens and faith.

As a mother I have witnessed so many of these heart wrenching moments of desperation. I told him that I didn’t have a blanket and that I was safe. I would put a huge bubble around me every day and around him and his brother. Both my boys were wiser than their young years. It wasn’t hard for him to understand the concept of letting go of attachments.

That night when I tucked him into bed, he placed his thumb in his mouth and rubbed the end of his shirt since his blanket was no longer there. He removed the thumb when he saw me and said, “Mommy, I don’t need my blankie. I have God protecting me now. I am putting blue bubble gum around me.” From that moment on my sweet son has been the minimalist in the family. That young man now, in his mid-twenties, has no love for things. He follows experiences rather than accumulate the materialism. He lives in complete simplicity.

How many of us have security blankets that we won’t let go? How many of us fill our homes and lives with stuff that occupies space but doesn’t do anything but clutter and weigh us down? In order to find divine truth and peace there has to be less of these things. Stuff is just stuff. The importance that we give it is as valuable as believing in divinity. Wrap yourself in assurance that less is more. God bless you!

Soul-ness

magical mirror

Standing in front of
the bathroom mirror
a glimpse of

a gray haired
Woman
caught my vision.
I looked into her eyes
noticing the gentle
laugh lines,

the joyous

dance inside the pupils
as we both smiled,
“Hello, lady, life is being kind!”

 

I continued to wash my hands
noticing the age spots–
the wear and tear,
nudges of hard work
and we smiled again
reflecting each other
in remembrance of
many journeys,
“Ah, we’ve touched and loved
deeply with these!”

 

One last look into the glass
winking in delight,
throwing a playful kiss

acknowledging the essence,
“I’m so glad you are

with me on this path.”

 

A moment of soul-ness
stood behind,

shadows cast in the

infinite space of mirror

and mind….
There…

I knew Divinity was
guiding the tenderness

with the Oneness of all

  life has taught me to be.

Angel Tears

angel tears

I get home from work and begin making dinner when my 20-year-old daughter informs me that there is a leak in the living room. I go into the living room and she explains that while waiting for her laundry to be done that she was sitting watching television when two drops of water fell from the ceiling. I ask her if maybe it was our Great Dane drooling on her arm. She laughs and says, “No, Mom! The dog was on the floor asleep. You seriously think I wouldn’t notice it was the dog?”

“Okay, turn on the lights and show me where you were sitting.” I stand in the middle of the room searching for water stains. I see nothing on the ceiling. It’s been raining non-stop and I don’t see any sign of leaking anywhere, thank God.

“Mom, I swear! It was two drops right here on my arm.” She extends her arm as if hours later the water marks were still tattooed on her skin.

I walk away, stop and turn. “Baby, you know angels are known to shed tears that fall from the heavens.” I say this completely in truth without sarcasm. I mean…I said it without an ounce of logical thought processing. To me it was a rational explanation.

She looks at me…wearing a look of confusion and sarcasm and says, “Mom! You do know I am not six anymore?”

I turn around and go back to making dinner. As I said the comment I didn’t realize how truly juvenile and exaggerated it sounded. I was in my moment! I gave an answer without filtering it…without truly thinking about how ridiculous it sounded because, to be honest, I believe in the magic of angels. I could have said it was the unicorn urinating as it was flying above her. I would not have been surprised if that came out of my mouth as well. I live in a constant state of awesomeness while things happen that have no logical explanation. And, in that world I don’t think before I speak!

We become what we believe. We believe in the power of endless possibilities and therefore anything is possible in the world. Why not angel tears? Why not a unicorn kiss? Why not fairy dust sliding down her arm? Why not? In a world governed by rationale and preconceived notions why not believe in the unbelievable? Why are children the only ones who believe? Perhaps because they haven’t been taught to believe otherwise. You don’t need proof…you just need to believe. Do not let anyone tell you it cannot be done. Things do manifest from the most unusual of places just to get our attention. It’s magical, mystical and pure enchantment!

Being a Mother

motherhood

Okay, folks, I am going to go out on a limb of vulnerability and hope to not fall too hard for this post. This is not a subject I openly discuss with people. It’s motherhood! The other day I was asked by someone who learned I have 7 kids, “Why do you have so many kids? Are they all from the same father?” I find this super intrusive and I always marvel at the curiosity so I gave an honest answer to the second question: “No…some of the fathers I have no clue who they are.” Because honestly if you are that arrogant to ask stupid questions I will screw with you in my truth.

I came from a Hispanic community. Everyone has children. That’s what we do. It’s normal to us. We get married (or not in these times) and have children. We become professional mothers. We begin to mother even other people’s kids in the neighborhood. At least this is true for me.

Once I moved to the mountains I have met many people who have no children or have little desire to have them. It’s an observation not a judgment. I don’t think everyone should be parents or have to conform to social pressures. We should learn to mother ourselves first. I tell my children when they discuss having kids this: “Okay, get a plant. See how it survives for 6 months in your care. Then get a fish. See how it survives in your care while the plant is still alive. Then get a cat. See how it survives in your care and how the plant is doing with it and most importantly if the fish is still alive. Then …then get a dog….” You get the picture. Not everyone should be a parent. Not everyone needs to be one. But, the questions I get asked about my children are a little disturbing. “Why did you adopt? Are ALL your kids adopted?” Let me explain, all my kids are MY kids. They didn’t all come from my uterus but they all came from my heart. End of conversation! If you are that ignorant and selfish to not understand I am not here to mother you through that answer!

I am certain that if I didn’t have kids I would have a house full of animals. I would be housing every lost soul out there. So…it’s not kids that I am so much attracted to as the need to love and give love. I have enjoyed my children immensely. They have been my finest teachers in life. I have grown up with them. I have struggled with them and because of them. I have placed my heart in their hands and received gifts beyond words.

The assumption that I collect children is asinine. I collect nothing. I am a human being nurturing those who need it. I do it with friends. I have done it with relationships. I do it with strangers. “Mother” is not my label. It is an act of love and kindness and compassion. So…to those who have this constant need to figure out how to fix me (because apparently having these many kids is wrong) please go fix yourself. I am perfectly happy navigating this life selflessly in the arms of another who needs it. And, if I have to continue to do it then it’s my choice and I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to be placed in the heart of a child.

Dangling String of Hope

 

little boy

I looked for you

but didn’t find

the little boy

who loved me

so I grabbed

what seemed

the last piece of hope

left in a string

outside

from your soul,

reeled it in,

fighting the hold

of desperation pulling

from another side.

 

I hung steadfast,

gasping,

praying,

gripping with all of me

and my connection

to omnipotence

so you can finally

be at peace

with what is real

in this world

you chose to partake in.

 

 

You are lost

in an endless maze

of poor judgment

but I will get to your spirit

as I pull harder

on that string

to bring you to the light

of love,

compassion,

and truth.

 

 

I believe…

for you and me.

Let that string keep dangling

and I will continue

to pull you back

in the lighted path of Divinity

even if it takes

a lifetime to hold

onto that tiny thread of hope.

A Loving Heart Heals All

stock-footage-mother-with-baby-walking-on-sea-coast-silhouettes-sunset

Sometimes, when one of my adult children come asking for advice, I have to take a giant pause.  My immediate answer is usually very different from what I would give another person as suggestions, counseling or help.  I listen.  Then I listen some more.  In my middle age I have learned to detach from being a parent and truly be available for them.  It’s not easy.  There are subjects that I rather not touch with any of them.  But, I am so grateful that they do come to me, not so much as a parent, but as someone who has experienced life just a little bit ahead of them.  I giggle at the thought that they think I have an unlimited amount of wisdom.  Heaven knows I am constantly having to Google for answers or improvise.

There are boundary lines we create with our children.  I ask myself, “What would I tell a friend asking me this same thing?  How would I guide that person if I had not invested my heart completely?”  The reality is that there is no difference.  There is no inequality in how I would treat another over my children.  My kids are all of adult age.  Conversations about sex, drugs, alcohol, traveling, and whatever is out there does come up.  We are not “that” open to discuss each others’ adventures but they know that I am here for the long haul.  It doesn’t matter what has happened, the torturing of teenage years that left me in pure exhaustion, or that our hearts have been fractured many times.  We are still a family.  We are the sum of our experiences: past, present and future.

I look back at raising six individuals.  Whether or not their mental issues, capacities, and past environments (before they arrived into my arms) have played a large part in their evolution I take full responsibility for letting them know that I got their backs.  I will not baby them.  I will not partake in senseless acts that will put them in harm.  I will not advocate destructive behavior.  But, what I will do is let them know that I am here with two ears, open arms to hold them, and plenty of kisses to heal all wounds.  I am here to respect their choices and not tell them “I told you so” even when I want to because life could have been a bit easier for them. But then they wouldn’t learn just like I didn’t learn from my mother.

I have not been a “perfect” mother.  I have no idea what that would entail.  What does the perfect mother look like?  How does she dress?  How does she speak?  Where does this perfect mother live?  How does she handle bipolar disorder, learning disabilities, mental challenges, schizophrenia, hallucinations, ADD, ADHD, and dissociative identity disorder? How does this mythical creature raise her children to be the best possible adult?  I have stopped trying to emulate her. I am way too absent minded to be able to focus in searching for her. I have come to a healthy place of accepting me, all my flaws, and love the wholeness of my mothering skills.

Ultimately it is all about love and respect.  Whether you are raising a child, in a relationship with another, helping a total stranger, life requires that you are present in love. You will never have all the answers but that is what the Internet is for! However, you can allow the heart to open and fully be present through kindness and compassion with another.  As the Dalai Lama has been quoted, “What is love?  Love is the absence of judgment.”  Love is contagious. Without judgment we heal, learn, and find peace through the embodiment of Oneness.