Saturday I visited one of my elderly clients at his facility. He was on his bed with his eyes closed. I sat next to him and waited. He opened up his eyes and smiled. He doesn’t know who I am. He has dementia. However, he never questions who I may be. He never asks. He is forever present.
As humans we aren’t exempt from brokenness and deep wounds. It’s how the light gets in. I don’t believe we are victims. The victim mind isn’t one I associate myself with at all…anymore. Every act leads to a reaction which follows by growth.
Some folks stay in victim/martyr mode. It works for them because they get attention. They get what they need. I used to be led by my circumstances, telling and retelling of stories that no longer served me. I don’t know how or why, but a part of me needed to be acknowledged for those experiences.
When traumas come up, whether through dreams or real life, I sit with them. I now recognize them. I also send them off their way. I visit for as long as they need attention. Those events and obstacles happened to get where I am now. Had I not experienced them I wouldn’t be who I am today. That may be a good or bad thing. It doesn’t matter. It’s still part of the formation of my human ego/personality.
I choose not to live in those crevices or soft reminders. I choose to rise and keep learning. I choose to forgive myself (and whoever else) for the participation. I choose to thank God (and them) for the amazing roles. This doesn’t mean the act is ignored. It doesn’t mean it never happened. It only means that I am not a victim of my past. I am also not a survivor. I am a human being on a journey of self-empowerment. I choose to stay in this excursion through love. I choose love over anything else. When those memories, dreams, or events re-appear I now have the ability to detach from the pain and look at them as blessings. Every step, corner, edge, and mishap molded me in just the perfect way to open me consciously.
There are millions of stories out in the world that reflect right back to our own circumstances. Let’s face it, we all have them because that’s what makes life. We are compilations of historical events. Some monumental, others not so much. We are the sum of every single experience, interaction, and reaction. We are here on borrowed time creating novels of information and adventures.
Tell me what life doesn’t have some juicy substance that makes us gasp, smile, cry, love and forgive.
Tell me how we make it out of here without any experience that is worth sharing and learning from others.
Tell me, and show me as well, how you can do it alone because I don’t know if I would want to. I want to hear you, touch you, or have the availability to read parts of your legacy.
Tell me how we can overcome obstacles without truly being aided by a Supreme Being and loved ones.
Tell me, just tell me how we can withhold truth from ourselves and others…and still make it an authentic life. How can we call that a life worth living?
Tell me, because I don’t know any other way but to pour out my heart to others and allow others to pour their essence into me so I can drink from their knowledge.
I want to join the warriors of love and light to continue changing the world with spiritual vibes. I want to leave a footprint alongside others bringing joy and laughter.
This, I know, I want for the rest of my life.
Remember that every single thing you’ve experienced (bad or good, lovely or shameful) has brought you to this very moment. You get to decide what you do with your history to change your present and future self. Don’t ever forget your power and strength to create the best possible life.
We got a call on May 28th, 2014, from the Department of Social Services. My granddaughter was going to be removed from my daughter. I had two hours to go get her.
I paused. Even though I suspected and intuitively knew it was going to happen there was still a shock factor to the words.
My husband, then fiancé, without hesitation said while I was quiet with the investigator, “Where do we go pick her up?”
A few hours later she was in our care. This was his first child. She was my seventh. Her mother had arrived at nine years of age from Romania into my care. She has mental disabilities, bipolar and a rainbow of other disorders that have caused mayhem throughout all the years I’ve loved her. And, oh my gosh, how deeply I love her. She continues to teach me on a high level of compassion.
So we picked my granddaughter up at the agency. We had nothing but a box of diapers and bottles. They handed me formula and a car seat. We ran to get a playpen. We had to get some extra clothing. At the time our finances were also super tight. I had my last child home who was graduating high school the following month and would be turning 18 in August.
People always make two comments to me that shake me up. I wonder how humanity has made it this far. First one is “Did you have another option than to take her in?” (This is asked many different ways).
It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks because until the event shows up no one really knows how they will react.
It took two and a half years of waiting and fighting to adopt her. Finally on December 1st of 2016, she was ours.
My daughter got pregnant with her second child and I heard from a woman in her building who took my number down from borrowing her phone. My daughter at the time was four months into her pregnancy. I felt it. She’s in Florida and we are in North Carolina. I would hear from her periodically. Since she got pregnant I heard from her only twice and when she did call I would ask and she would lie.
Her baby was born in April of 2017. She was alone. She didn’t know who was the baby’s father. I called social services and begged them not to let her take the child home. It took 10 months for anyone to do something. By this time he had been terrorized by her new boyfriend, had gotten pregnant again with her third and finally the county removed him from her care. We got the call two months after he was removed, right around the time he was to turn one years old.
I was asked by the social worker if we wanted him. I was completely torn. My husband and I were to leave to Peru for my 50th birthday the following week. The social worker told me it was a long shot. I went home and shared with my husband who immediately said he wanted the baby boy. Our little girl needed a sibling. I called the social worker and told her we would take him. It took another six months of fighting with the system to get him. It was excruciating and exhausting. And, once again, the comments began with folks who believe they have the answers. “Not again! You aren’t going to take on another one…?”
Yet, something had changed in my life from all my other adoptions. My circle of friends are supportive. They are tribal. They gathered together and helped make this a wonderful experience. For the first time after seven other children, I had a baby shower. I was shown support from many. The few who had negative comments weren’t in my immediate life anymore. I changed and, therefore, my circle changed.
I won’t tolerate negativity any longer!
Our hearts determine our lives. I don’t judge anyone for saving a child. I can’t. I have learned after eight of them that I am here to mother many. My husband is an incredible father. This is his first rodeo and I’m navigating the challenges and struggles, the love and sleepless nights, the snuggles and cuddles, the reward of seeing two more children saved from a horrific situation. As for my daughter, she will continue to do whatever she wants to do. She’s allowed to because the system is corrupt. She lost her third child (immediately that she was born) and the baby is thriving in a beautiful home.
We are made from love to give love away as much, as often, and as freely as possible.
Adoption is a personal choice. Taking kids into your home is a remarkable way of giving back to this world. It is not for everyone. It’s not easy and these children are traumatized. They need assistance and patience. I ask that when you hear someone talk about adopting, or fostering, you can save the judgment and recognize the magic that’s happening to those little souls. You get to shape your perception and your words carefully.
Our lives are all connected. Each one of us. How you act and react is felt through the waves of consciousness. So…let’s be love. Let’s be examples for the new generations. Let’s live through acceptance and awareness. You don’t know what’s in store for you tomorrow. You just never know what curve ball will be heading your way.
“Welcome home!” I want my life to say that. I want it to salute every person who enters my space, not just my home, but my presence while feeling the simplicity of those words. I want to create an atmosphere of love, blessings, comfort and peace. Whether they enter our home, or I enter their own space, I want to believe they feel those words. I hope you can grab a chair, squat and share.
Home is the heart of our spirits. A house is a building, but home can be anywhere your spirit welcomes another. “Welcome home!”
Welcome home to that place of simplicity, love, serenity, joy and communion. Welcome to the life your spirit craves to share with you and others. I am learning that the purest form of an authentic life is in allowing others to love and feel loved no matter where they are…no matter at what level of consciousness they are experiencing.
I will never forget a famous quote by the author Toni Morrison: “At some point in life the world’s beauty becomes enough. You don’t need to photograph, paint, or even remember it. It is enough.” The beauty of arriving to the place of love and salutation is the best legacy you can leave for another…especially in this season that has been forgotten.
Welcome home, my friends, welcome to your life. Find the joy in the simplest of things. I promise that the spirit of divinity projects an amazing light from that place. I invite you to come and enter as you share the story of you…!
Have a deliciously wonderful day.
I’ve come into my own silence, sacredness, expansion. I’ve visited with those things that required attention and I kept locking them in a chest. I’ve dealt with them one soul consultation at a time making sure to find closure. During meditation I’ve allowed the locked chest to open and I have visited with each fear and past event.
This is what I’ve done since I got off social media (Facebook and Instagram) two weeks ago. Plus I’ve read several amazing books. I’ve caught up with friends. I’ve taken time to be without chit chat or worries. I’ve come into my own space of love.
I’ve lived without interruptions. I’ve noticed how much more time I’ve accumulated.
It’s bizarre to acknowledge that I have been distracted by everyone else’s life so profoundly while disregarding mine. Meanwhile, I’ve navigated one of the busiest years in a decade. One that has brought sweet surprises while gaining a tremendous respect for my faith in humanity.
Magic…is all I can say. It’s been a magical experience.
My writing feels deeper too. My voice is not constricted. I am able to say and feel and share for me. Because when I write it is a channeling of sorts from my spirit to my humanness. The spiritual aspects of my incarnation sit with the human aspects and shared I’ve come into my own silence, sacredness, expansion. I’ve visited with those things that required attention and I kept locking them in a chest. I’ve dealt with them one soul consultation at a time making sure to find closure. During meditation I’ve allowed the chest to open and I have visited with each fear and past event.
Taking time for me and my family is imperative. It’s in the small acts. Nothing big. My life has not changed drastically by not being on social media. It’s just relaxed. I don’t pick up the phone in the middle of the night to read about others. I lay there and listen to the silence. I force myself to sleep again. I reach over to my husband for warmth. During the day I don’t impulsively check to see what’s happening, who can I help, what can I do? My concerns and interests consist of my own life and those in my inner circle.
This was the 80’s and 90’s. This is how I remember my younger years before internet. And, yes we are connected on a grand scale, able to touch millions. But we are also slaved to that connection, addicted to news and changes.
It’s truly a love-hate relationship for me. As a writer it is a conundrum. The world doesn’t stop because I am not available. It’s lovely to feel it. Life doesn’t cease to exist because I don’t participate in every conversation or answer every message or return every call.
All of it can wait till I return next year. Whenever I do return to the chaotic world of social media I can quickly shut it off. With each passing week I am aware of the massive peace my empathetic body feels. This is my Christmas gift to myself. And detaching is absolutely mystical.
Slow down, darlings! Be present in your life and with your loved ones. Everything else can wait. You don’t have to participate in every single thing every day. Allow the holidays to be a time of gentleness, love and awareness. Give attention to you.
I love you.
This morning I had a memory of the first time I was stung with uncensored and unconditional love. I’m sure I had hundreds, or perhaps thousands of moments, but that evening seemed to stand out loudly.
My husband and I had been dating for a few months. I spent the night at his place. We had made love and only a candle lit the room. He had fallen sleep on his stomach. I turned over and saw him. The light from the candle enhanced his back muscles. I gasped. He was beautiful. I looked at his bare back in pure delight. Tears formed and I allowed for their release. He was sound asleep. I became very aware that he was mine, for however long that would be, and he was lovely. Not just because of his body but his sense of humor. I was falling in love. I was falling into a known territory that felt remarkably unfamiliar to all others.
I traced my fingers on his back softly following the shadows. He woke and turned over to his side while I kept rubbing him with my nails. At some point I fell into a slumber wrapped by his arms. The next morning as I drove the hour and twenty minutes home, I kept thinking of that moment that allowed me to fall so profoundly that every cell in my body felt the expansion of love. I literally felt a huge break in my chest.
Then I started to freak out. I felt I was losing myself. How could I? I’ve done this dance many times before. I had given all of me for years and not been reciprocated but what amazing lessons I had learned. I regret not a one!
As I watched the stretch of mountains ahead my heart felt a tingle and a pull. I was safe to fall. I was safe to rise towards the delight of being me…my authentic self without censoring from a man. The sun was rising over the landscape and I knew I had permission from the heavens to just feel the love that was to grow. I remember this many years later. I remembered it this morning as I watched him sleep in his stomach bundled under warm blankets.
Driving over the mountains that morning I recalled twenty years before when I was dating a lovely man. After we made love I fell asleep in his arms. Sometime after that I woke to him watching me sleep and the blinds wide open. He said, “The moon looks beautiful on your back. It makes your freckles look like stars!” He meant every syllable of that sentiment.
I buried my head on the pillow in embarrassment. I had a hard time taking in any kind of compliment.
I had never been seen…Or so I felt. He saw me. And when he died a year later a part of me died with him. Now noticing my new lover and his divine essence naked in front of me I felt all the love in the world that had been given, shared and exchanged. I felt it intensified and released in my soul. It wasn’t just a physical or emotional connection. It was a spiritual one.
At midlife I was finally me without apologizing.
And I allowed for all that was to come. He was mine then. He continues to be mine now. It has taken a tremendous amount of work and dance to stay in that love but it’s been so worth it. Because that’s what marriage entails. We are on the other side of that mountain of uncertainty and doubts. We are led by stars and candlelight through the darkest of obstacles.
We are in it because of the raw vulnerability from one another. We show up not always in perfect lighting. It’s in the unmade beds, crazy sleepless nights with kids, messy days, hard obstacles, little moments and unconditional love without judgment. It’s real life naked and fully clothed behind closed doors. I’m blessed.