step by faithful step

sometimes people walk onto our path and are suddenly and automatically in step with us.

it is synchronous, and neither one misses a beat as we continue to walk in this unspoken rhythm.

other times they stumble and fall onto our path,

or we onto theirs,

and we help each other up,

dust each other off,

and continue on,

with messy hair and tiny pieces of grass or pebbles stuck into our palms,

only this time when there is less room on the path, it feels expansive and clearer.

and although we are now not walking alone, we feel an encouraging and liberating freedom.

and although we are now both sharing what we carry, and carrying for the other, we feel lighter.

we don't always walk side by side … sometimes they are in front of us, sometimes we ourselves lead, 

sometimes playfully with arms outstretched and one foot in front of the other like we are on a balance beam,

other times in silence and trepidation,

and in trust. 

sometimes our path starts to look different than it did before.

the air can feel different too, and things can sound completely unfamiliar.

we might not even recognize where we are, or even where either of us is going. 

we sometimes cannot tell whether it's our path ... or theirs … 

in our awareness we know we are small yet we are big enough to know that it is not solely our journey.

and when darkness settles in and the stillness wraps around us, we see more than we do in the brightest of light,

we feel more than when we search with open hands,

and we know we are in exactly the right place,

at the right time,

every time.

pieces of me ... letters to my children

someone recently said to me that she believed in my conviction, in my own belief in the words i spoke to her, because she knows that i always speak directly from my heart.
this person remembered things i had talked about and written about almost a decade ago, which isn't a long time in the big picture of things, i realize this, but it surprised me and i felt honored not only to be her friend, but also to discover that part of me lived inside another person in this way.

also recently i was thinking about how when somebody leaves our side, regardless of reason or circumstance, it is helpful to be able to have something of theirs that is tangible ... whether we hold an item that belongs to them, or have a tattoo as a way of keeping and carrying their permanent presence, or sometimes words that they have written that speak from their heart and live in ours (sometimes both!)

i know that many of us have been in situations where we find ourselves going back and reading things that someone we love once wrote to us.  it is not always possible to define the peace or love that this can bring to us, often during moments when we need it most, in order just to find our very next breath.

i also then started thinking about my children, and when they will be grown and away from me.  and i wanted them to have pieces of me any time they want.  pieces of my heart.  pieces of my spirit.  words that they know come from the very center of who i am.  i decided to start writing something every day, (this is my plan) and consolidate everything in one place.  whatever is on my mind.  random thoughts.  random feelings.  i have set no rules ... i am not a rules person and i don't like being told what to do ... apparently not even by myself!  just something i can give to my boys one day.  maybe they won't want this or need this, and that's okay too.  still i want to offer it because, well, we just never know what life is going to throw our way,
and i know what it's like to feel alone
and need a piece of a person,
when i can't have the whole person,
in person ...

sometimes you carry them, sometimes they carry you

♥

when you love others

sometimes you carry them

sometimes they carry you

not like a weight

not like a burden

more like the way skydivers soar together

or children ride piggyback

or spirit guides and guardian angels provide covering ... 

what makes this work

is trust.

knowing you are safe.

knowing you are safe in the heart and hands of another.

sometimes we feel called to be with those we love

when they are grieving

struggling

searching for their breath.

it isn't that we expect them to keep us company

it isn't that we expect them to have anything to give

it isn't that we expect to do anything at all for them.

sometimes it is just to be there.

not to talk.

not to do.

it is about just sharing the same space.

sharing breath when they can't find their own.

just being together.

it's about presence.

it's about love.

nothing more.

nothing less.

love,

and presence.

♥

that's all

six months ago my friend callie left this world. it was unexpected. it was shocking. and it was her choice. 

callie's bracelet was on the table.
when i held it, from her wrist to mine,
it was like feeling the pulse of her life.

six months, in the big scheme of things, when you look at a whole entire lifetime, is not that long. 

when you look at a baby and the growth and development from the moment they're born until they're six months old, six months' time is tremendous. 

when you look at it not day by day or even minute by minute, but breath by difficult breath, it can be an eternity.

it can be a nightmare. 

and unfortunately, it can be a reality.

i spent some time recently with callie's mother. we cried a lot. we laughed a lot. how she laughed, i don't know. we listened to each other. we taught each other things we didn't know about callie. we held each other. 

sometimes it happens that we are gifted with the presence of another person and we don't know why it happens when it does ... we might not even think about it. but afterwards we know that it was necessary. that's all. we can feel that we needed to be sharing life with each other at that moment.  life. strength. love. 

as i sat with callie's mom and felt her love and heartache, there were times when her laugh or her words would sound exactly like callie.  it was amazingly freaky and comforting at the same time.  i stared at her in a way i never have before.  i remembered how we first met and how we never would have imagined we would be in this position now.

after holding each other and breathing the same breaths with our faces touching, she got up to get something to give me.  i had not come for anything and certainly did not expect to leave with anything. she knew this, and she placed a bracelet in my hand.  a bracelet of callie's.  i held it in the palm of my hand, i held it to my face, and couldn't let go of it.  again it was like the pulse of her life.  the pulse of the universe.  i put it on and have not taken it off even for a moment.  when i first had the experience which i wrote about, of sitting next to the man on the airplane, taking pictures of his bracelets representing suicide prevention, not knowing that it was just hours after callie had left us, i had no way to fathom that i would be the one wearing a bracelet of the same heartache ... same yet different ... 6 months later.

there are some things that are never the same.

no one's life is ever the same as another's.

no one's grief is ever the same as another's.

and a mother's life after the loss of her child is never the same as her life before.

it isn't an experience that she ever "gets through." 

it isn't something that ever becomes "normal."

as mothers we often questions ourselves when it comes to our parenting:  should i have done that differently?  did i get that right?  was i wrong about that?  did i handle that in the best way?  was that a mistake i just made?  am i screwing up my child? over and over and over.  

a mother who has lost her child to suicide has her own set of additional questions that no one else has. 

i am grateful for callie's life.  i am grateful for the ways she touched so many lives around her.  for those who know callie, they know what i mean, and they know that i am not sanctifying her.  i am grateful for her mother, without whom callie would not have been the person she was and remains to be, to so many others in this world.  

as i sat with callie's mom i could feel not only her heartache and her struggle, but also callie's strength and tenacity.  i could feel callie.  and regardless of anything else, i was so proud of her mom.  not everyone grows up to have such a positive lasting effect on so many others.  not everyone grows up to be a giver.  not everyone grows up and asks that their mother live near them when they don't have to.  not everyone lives with the fearlessness of callie bradley mooney.  she exercised her right to make her own choices, that's for sure.  and her legacy will live on in the hearts and minds and lives of countless other people.  and that will then trickle down to the other lives that those people touch.  and callie would not have done that and been that, if her mother had not been her mother.

i knew while we shared this time, that there were no words i could say that would make anything better.  we both talked in circles with no logical thought patterns, just whatever came to mind and came out of our mouths.  i knew there was nothing i could do.  and i can't explain why or how, but i also knew i needed to be there ... we needed to be there ... at that very moment, having that very experience.  that's all.

you know how when someone's life is over, you have things you wish you had said, things you wish you had done ... it always happens, whether you knew the end was near or whether it was a total unexpected event.  yeah i have those things too ... 

i guess at this moment, with callie's pulse on my own wrist, i just miss her.  

that's all.

suicide prevention lifeline

survivors of suicide

american foundation for suicide prevention
cards callie would love LOL

november 23 is international survivors of suicide day.  click here to get involved:
international survivors of suicide day 2013

handle with care

ian has always named everything he has an affinity for … stuffed animals, wild animals in the yard, plants, bugs, body parts … he has a special bond with our friend callie, who is a grown up, and who does the same naming thing.  when they share their "oh yeah i have a such-and-such named so-and-so" it always makes us giggle, and makes them either high five or exchange a silent "i get you" look that makes my heart overflow.

today i was thinking about how special this is ... and how important.

thinking of everything as a "someONE" and not a "someTHING" creates a relational perspective in which we treat these "someones" as if they are equal to us … all living beings.  granted, a stuffed animal isn't living, and we know that, but assigning a stuffed animal a name, and treating that animal as if it were a live being, complete with feelings, needs, thoughts, and desires, isn't a wasted energy.  in fact, it is the opposite. it allows us yet another opportunity to express love, concern, compassion, and peace.  kind of like practice.  or also like the more we give, the more we have.  like a muscle, the more we use it, the stronger it becomes.  what could be better than strengthening our love muscle, our compassion muscle.  if it makes us remember to be kinder, if it give us more chances to extend grace and concern, then i say we name everything! 

"Kindness is twice blessed.  It blesses the one who gives it with a sense of his or her own capacity to love, and the person who receives it with a sense of the beneficence of the universe." -Dawna Markova

in my home i have always led my children to help bugs back out to their natural habitat, not to squish them.  my kids have grown up thinking and saying "but what about his family?" when faced with a bug squashing moment.  i never named the bugs, but i wanted them to think before acting, and to consider that just because we are bigger than they are, that doesn't give us the right to determine if they live or die or hurt or become maimed.  just because i don't like them perhaps in the house, that doesn't mean i should take their life into my own hands.  anyway, they were there long before we came along and disrupted their habitat and built a house where they first lived!

in addition to our five pets, ian has  a stuffed pepper named jose, a polar bear named noodles, a bear named puz, a plant named melvin, a wild rabbit that lives in our yard named kevin, one eye named tim, one eye named tom, one nostril named jim, one nostril named joe, one ear named bob, one ear named alfonso.  at one time or another he has also named his shoes, pens, notebooks, blankets, birds outside, cars, crayons, and probably at least half a dozen other things.  i sometimes get the names wrong, but he never does.

some people judge stuffed animal friendships as somewhat unhealthy or relegated to a particular time span of a child's life.  but i would like to point out that such lovingness and concern, from a child for his furry stuffed companion, are more of what this world needs.  why would we want to put a limit or regulation/stipulation on any act of loving?  why limit ourselves in the number of opportunities to love or care … 

“It matters not who you love, where you love, why you love, when you love or how you love, it matters only that you love” - John Lennon

i am inspired today, to breathe life and love into all creatures, both animate and inanimate ...

to look at ian in a way i haven't looked at him before, even though i would have thought that i have looked at him in every way possible by now.

i admire his heart.  so big in his tiny little body.  so full in his young little life.  so awesome in terms of awe inspiring or awe invoking.

i would like to put a sign on every person.  a sign on every creature:

shine ...

sometimes we are fortunate enough

to be given people

 who not only love us exactly as we are, 

but somehow have a way

of making us even more "us"

a way of bringing out even more

of who we truly are

and if you find yourself 

in this place,

you will recognize the beauty

in every season of your life,

the possibilities 

in every pocket of your soul,

the love

in every corner of your heart ...

give in

say

thank you

and

shine

with all that you are ...

♥

to be continued ...

so today while i was driving, i was thinking, and having conversations in my head, you know, much like the way our thought process goes when we're in the shower.  that's not just me, right?

so i was driving after having spent some time with a friend.  not just any friend, but a friend of my heart.  a connection i cannot imagine not having. 

i was wondering why this is.  and i was thinking about whether or not it really is what it seems to be.  like, how is this such an important thing, how is it that this person's presence actually affects me in this unique way?  there was, after all, a time when this connection did not yet exist.

how is it that being around this person feels like a celebration … of who we are ... of who each of us is.  a treasured collection of moments of being who we are, and excelling at it.  and it feels like we are never finished being together, we are always "to be continued …"

i was wondering, is it me?  am i assigning more value to this because of my  extremely tender heart?  am i making this mean more than it is, in my mind?  you know how we all know we have had moments where we question ourselves because we can all overthink things sometimes.  especially when we're driving.  alone.  that's not just me, right?

and so i tried to compare this friendship to others … and i couldn't.  

i tried to explain it to myself … and i couldn't.  

i tried to define it … and i couldn't.

but what i did succeed in doing, was realizing this ultimate truth:  the quality of my life is better with this person in it.

it's really that simple.  it's really that true.  and that was all i needed to know in the end.  

i smiled the rest of the way home ...

peace on my skin

this necklace carries very special meaning and is extremely important to me.  it was made by my lifelong friend, richie pavlak. 

this necklace kind of earmarks the beginning of our friendship.  it was the first of many pieces that richie made for me.  and it was a total surprise, as he would later tell me our friendship was to him. 

when i first met richie, he was getting coffee at starbucks.  i was leaving and had one hand on the door when i saw him through the corner of my eye.  he was trying to get his wheelchair close enough to the counter and get his coffee without any trouble.  i did the worst thing.  i immediately let go of the door and walked over to help him.  the reason this was the worst thing, is because i would soon learn that that is exactly what richie would not have wanted anyone to do.  he "could get his own damn coffee by himself, dammit!"

the next time i saw him, again at starbucks, i noticed he was wearing a ring that was identical to one of mine.  it was silver and turquoise, made on a reservation.  i mentioned it to him (how serendipitous!?) and we soon discovered our mutual love for jewelry.  two weeks later at what was now our new favorite meeting place, he asked me to come speak with him before i left.  when i did, he presented me with this necklace.  i was so moved, i did what i always do at the feet of genuine kindness:  i cried.  i told him i had nothing to pay him with and that i had already spent my money on coffee ... we both laughed but he said, "i don't want any money for it. i made it for you. if you will wear it, that will make me very happy.  that will be worth more than any payment."

another thing i did not know at this point was that making jewelry was part of richie's therapy to regain the use of his hands.  he had been severely injured in a skiing accident and was too strong of a spirit to listen to the doctors when they told him there were things he would never be able to do again.  he went on to make more pieces than I could have ever imagined.  years later we joined him at events where he set up tables of displays, full of his work to sell, and my children were thrilled to help him. 

he joined us for lunch and live music in the park in our historical downtown district. 

we went restaurant hopping, sometimes just the two of us, and sometimes with my children in tow. 

richie lived in a nursing home when we met, and along the course of our friendship he was able to move out on his own into an apartment.  he was sooo very proud of this.  at christmas we made dough ornaments and brought him a christmas tree filed with homemade love.  it was a wonderful experience for us, and we have been forever touched by the way richie allowed us into his life, into his world. 

i have many pieces from him and i treasure them all, but this one is different.  this one was the beginning.  

richie's passing was unexpected and shocking to me ... and this necklace brings him back to me.  back to the beginning.  the kindness in his eyes.  the excitement in his face when he saw this on my neck.  

it is the sound of his voice.

it is the work of his hands. 

it is his spirit.

it is his heart.  

it is peace.  on my skin. 

be still my anxious heart

i grew up in a military family.  like many military families, we moved.  we moved a lot ...  almost every single year that i was in school.  one time we didn't, but then we made up for that by moving in the middle of another year. i went to 11 schools in my 11 academic years before college.

i left a lot of people over the years, and sadly that became the normal way of things for me.  i remember feeling that if i ever had children i would want them to be rooted someplace so they wouldn't have to go through that.  i easily cry when i see people graduating, even if i don't know them, or when i see the bonds of people who have grown up together ... even if it's on television and i know it isn't real, LOL ...  probably even if it's a cartoon.  it's just something i never experienced.  it has always been the case that when people ask me where i'm from, i don't know.

i could go on and on about the different ways in which this affected me, but tonight a couple of those ways are standing in front of me and staring at me like ghosts with no expressions on their faces.

one of these is the way that i became very quick and good at making friends and at taking people into my life.  i simply had no time to waste, and i learned not to bother with what anyone looked like or from where anyone came.  all people were equal friend opportunities to me.  and i jumped right in.  if i waited for something to grow and for trust to be built, i would never have had anyone.  i would have moved again before i had a chance to know what friendship was.  i am still this way in my adult life.   everyone i meet is an equal opportunity friend or value or gift to my life.  and then i go by instinct, i go by feeling. and i dive in.  and i open my true self.  i open my home.  i open my heart.  i am transparent and i feel free to start out by being me.

the other of these ways is that i separated from a lot of people.  and it always ripped me apart, to part with anyone.  i learned that even with the best of intentions, and promises that we would always remain as close as we were that day, eventually ... i would lose them.  it was only a matter of time, and it was only life.  it wasn't anyone's fault.  they were not to blame, i was not to blame, the military was not to blame.  i got used to it.  that isn't to say it stopped hurting.  i just somehow adapted.

like everyone else, i have lost people who have passed away, and some who have drifted in and out of my life, but tonight i have that familiar sadness of losing someone to a move ... yet unfamiliar because of different circumstances ... and i am not the one leaving ... but i feel that same fear of loss, and the breaking feeling of something like when you rip a piece of paper and then put it on top of itself and rip it again, and then put those pieces together and rip again, and again, and again.

i do believe that we are all connected, and that through space and time we remain together.

yet my heart hurts and it is through a physical ache in my chest and tears and sticky mascara laden eyelashes that i can barely see to write this, because someone so close to me will soon no longer be in my daily world.  or at least it feels that way.  someone who changed my life.  someone i love, in a true heart to heart, human to human, spirit to spirit, #thispersonissuchagoodpersonicanhardlystandit  kind of way.

do you know the feeling of when someone passes away, the sky looks different the next day ... the air looks different ... things sound different ...you wonder how anyone in their right mind can be going through the McDonald's drive thru and laughing and listening to the radio ...  it's a change like that.

i know that everyone is on their own journey, and each person walks their own path.  i am happy for this person's path, no matter where it goes, i am proud of each step and overjoyed knowing of the adventure that lies ahead.  i know peace is there.  i know it is right.  i know it is true.  and i wouldn't want it not to be.

still i lay myself down tonight with eyes that hurt,  a heart that's heavy, and a soul that sighs.

it's just a move, a relocation, and as my oldest son says, "at least nowadays mom you have email and text and skype and facetime and google hangouts..."

and as my youngest son says, "remember what you said mommy.  at the end of the day, my heart looks like your heart..."