Posts Tagged ‘Love’

Day 121: Times

In life, loss, Love, The Tonight Show on November 4, 2015 at 3:44 am

THIS podcast starts out with a quote from Charles Dickens’ novel A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

I share this podcast because I find it to be beautiful and relate able. As comedian Anthony Griffith shares his experience as an up- and-coming Tonight Show comedian and a father to a 2-year old daughter battling cancer, he talks about what it was like, during the early 90s, to go to work and entertain throughout the day as an amateur comedian while living a home life plagued by medicines, hospitals and the fear of losing his child.

I typically share things on my blog that I can connect with, and when I listened to Anthony’s monologue I felt an instant connection. Only last year, I had begun a new job and simultaneously my new husband left me. I would, like Anthony explains in his piece, go to work everyday and put on a game face when inside I was deeply mourning. I don’t think anyone knew, but I knew. I worked through the crisis much like Anthony did, “but I had a plan” I would tell myself. A plan that went kaput.

I was a grown woman, and I didn’t know what to do.

Until one day I did.

Just like Anthony, I had to man up. “This ain’t no sitcom, that wraps up nice and pretty in 30 minutes, this is life, welcome to the real world.”

Just like Anthony, I bucked up because that’s what I was supposed to do.

Anthony ends with this quote:

“In 1990 I had 3 Tonight Show appearances with Johnny Carson and a total of 14 applause breaks — and I would have given it all up if I could just have one more day sharing a bag of french fries with my daughter.”

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

“In 2014, I became a woman with an up-and-coming career and a title — and I would have given it all up if I could have one more day laughing in the car holding hands.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

…but the miracle to me is what we share and how one person’s story can, in ways, mirror yours — “at least if we’re alone, we’re all alone in it together.”

a whit.

Day 112: Blood {a recap}

In Uncategorized on June 11, 2014 at 8:32 pm

Last night I sat down at my computer to do my weekly read of my favorite blogs. I read this post, entitled Blood, and the beauty of it inspired me so much that I was led to share bits of it here too {although I encourage you to head over and read the post through and through yourself.}

Blog author Ashley, describes an experience, after her husband’s murder, one that would involve the literal blood of her dead husband, her children, a lifelong lesson, and a message that strength and endurance can come from those bad things we chance upon in life.

It had been some time after Ashley’s husband’s murder, and the authorities were finally ready to release Ashely’s husband’s truck. It arrived at her house, and quickly became a feared object. This truck was parked near her husband when he was killed, it was the last place he had “been,” and it held clues, possibly, to the last things he did during his lifetime.

Ashley stood in the driveway, keys in her hand, but only opened the truck, and entered it, upon the pleading of her little boy. She describes what follows as a beautiful and touching experience–one-by-one each of Ashley’s children made their way to the vehicle. They explored every last bit of it, looked through their Dad’s gym bag, put his ear phones in their ears, pushed every button, anything, everything, they could do to bring a little piece of their Dad back. Or, at the very least, make him feel closer.

During all of this Ashley’s new husband arrived home, and quickly he motioned to her what was awaiting on the other side of the truck…her husband’s blood–it had not been washed off by the authorities. Crying, Ashley ran into the house to escape to her ‘safe’ place. In the quiet of her closet, she transitioned from her common pleading “can I have a do-over?” to “when is this going to be over?”

What Ashley found when she emerged from her closet and made her way to the window, was not crying children as she had expected. Instead, she found giggling kids, soapy, with her new husband, washing the truck clean of the blood that once belonged to their Father. Each child was proud to be making their Daddy’s possession beautiful and clean just like he would have wanted it while he was alive.

The lesson Ashley learned that day was a big one.

Sometimes I find myself asking for my do-over, begging for it as Ashley had, and when things just get so bad that I feel I can’t go on, I ask, “when is this trial going to be over?” In asking those questions though, we fail to see the beauty that can become from the hurt. We fail to see the joy in ‘washing away the blood of the past’ for something that will, eventually, be clean and new. We are denied the opportunity to meet and experience the people who can help us wash away the blood. Ashley reminds us at the close of her post, ‘not many are willing to take on such heartbreaking burdens in life, but God knows who you are, and in doing so, that’s what makes you so special.’

Day 111: Pray a Little prayer for Me

In Uncategorized on June 5, 2014 at 3:09 am

It isn’t often that I make requests on my blog, but today I have one. If you have been a long time reader, then you know about my divorce posts. Over the years, my divorce has equated to a series of battles. Some battles I have won, and some I have lost.

I know many fellow bloggers who have lost children to tragic accidents, while I never want to lessen their pain, or imply my situation is the same as losing a child, because it’s not, it sometimes feels like my little boy is going to be ripped away from me. Going to sleep every night, that pit resides in your stomach and when you wake up there it is again. It’s a terrible feeling, especially when all you pray for is peace.

A close friend sent me a beautiful prayer today, parts of which I’d like to share with you. I promptly printed this prayer and placed one in my purse and one next to my desk–I pull it out when that sinking feeling begins.

Oh God, We are so thankful that you are always here. That you love us unconditionally no matter what we do or where we go. We thank you for the gorgeous sun today and for friendships. For those people that you put into our lives that uplift us and create strong foundations that help strengthen your own. God, you bestow perfect peace to those who are turned to you. Resting in you creates a quietness and keeps the adversary at bay. Create a trust in the Lord, that we know that whatever is going on in our path that we aren’t overwhelmed by the hardships that we face. That we can take a step back before we speak or react and that we have compassion for the situation. If something goes wrong, it wasn’t meant to be, and you bring perfection down the road. God, we thank you for the light that you have brought to our lives. Please give us the vision to be able to see the good in every situation Lord and to not feel like walls are pushing in. Give strength to ride the waves of change, and empower us to be nurturing and loving to those around us.

Let sadness, disappointment and anger be minimal. Let happiness, love, and the good in the situations that we may face be more than enough. Let us have an abundance of grace and hope to deal with what comes our way.

When darkness threatens to overcome, surround us with your presence. We know you deep in our  heart Lord. We want to and are able to run to you with an open heart. We have a perfect trust in your protective power, and soak up your strength like a sponge. Lord, make it your will that the overwhelming sensations of emotions be kept at bay. When satan sends his demons to attack us as we walk your path, give us armor that we will not struggle. We will be able to stand tall and say NO. You will not let this situation get out of control. We are so kind and loving and always want the best out of any situation, but we need to feel at rest. Lord give us understanding that if we feel like we’re failing, we’re not.

Let us submit in ways that you know will be beneficial to us. Have us not be of harm in our words, or callous in our listening and reactions. Help us to remember that love for our child is number one and to always circle back around to that. That we may support one another in all things. Where each may lack, show us the way.



If you get a chance, please pray this little prayer for me.

a whit.

Day 110: My Little Maltese

In Uncategorized on June 4, 2014 at 7:24 am

Today I got to thinking about my dog, little Ini. Over the years, this little dog has really saved me. He has comforted me through some of my toughest times. 

when I was sad after a break-up

when I was scared

when I was anxious about a test

when I was worried about my child

My friend and I were talking the other day about her cat. She described how her cat always knows when she’s sad. How he comes up and places his head near hers, as if to say, “don’t be sad, I’m right here.” Ini has done this same thing for me, time and time again. Even as he sits with his slimy ‘chewy’ in my laundry pile, while occasionally barking at the passing insect, I still love him so so much. He is a comfort that can never be replaced or exchanged.

It’s amazing what animals can do for us all while asking for nothing in return.

Day 107: Malaysia Flight 370: Two Parents

In Children, Family, Father, Happiness, Kids, Love, Marriage, Mother, Parenting, Travel on March 16, 2014 at 3:15 am


{photo via google search}

Amidst all the news reports surrounding the tragic mystery of Malaysia flight 370, there is one story I find to be most tragic. I guess it strikes a chord with me because it echoes one of my deepest fears–leaving my child to get on a plane and never seeing him again. When Muktesh Mukherjee and his wife Xiaomo Bai got on flight 370, they were intending to vacation and left their two young boys with their grandma. Now those two beautiful boys have to wonder if they will ever see their parents again. I cannot imagine what they must be feeling, I cannot imagine what Muktesh and his wife must have felt the moment they new something was ‘wrong.’

On my last vacation to the UK, I had a panic attack the entire trip (airplane ride and vacation). My partner thought I was legitimately insane for shaking violently when turbulence bounced us around on our way to Italy. But what was really happening, I was thinking of my beautiful little e, I was thinking how much he needs me, and I was praying nothing would happen to me because we need each other.

My heart aches tonight for those two little boys. My heart aches for those parents because I had a glimpse of what they must have felt–times a million. As we pray for their safe return to their little ones, let us all remember how lucky we are to have our love ones present with us in our lives. Sometimes we can forget how special they are when they’re right in front of us.

little e you played a great baseball game today and I love you for it.

to my other love, I love you to the moon around the stars and back again…

to my Ini, thank you for lying against my back while I sleep, you make the best fluffy cuddler…

love, love, love…

and to the Mukherjee family, you’re in our thoughts. I hope they soon find answers because two parents need their two boys.

a whit.

Day 106: Sometimes We Have to Find Our Knees

In Beauty, Books, life, Sadness, Thoughts on March 15, 2014 at 6:15 am


If you have ever read the book Little Bee then you probably remember this line:

“Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means, this storyteller is alive. The next thing you know something fine will happen to her, something marvelous, and then she will turn around and smile.”

Or this one:

“We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, ‘I survived’.”

Some days I feel like I’m writing a very sad story, and some moments I feel like my scars are so deep they’re imprinted on my heart. The cover of the Little Bee story features a black silhouette of Little Bee’s profile and written all over her face is scrawled the title in twisted and tangled letters. I have to admit, I couldn’t even make out the title of the book in the store, and it wasn’t until I began to read that I realized it read–Little Bee. Looking at the book again tonight sitting her aside my computer, I realize the letters are Little Bee’s scars written all over her face, her face then plastered on her story.

Tonight I sit trying to make sense of my own scars, trying to sort out which ones are jagged, raised, white from years of settling, fresh with redness and newness. I’m a thinker. Sometimes I spend hours trying to figure out these scars, how to wipe them away and make myself flawless again. Tonight I am reminded that scars never disappear, they are marks of survival, they are part of our story that got the chance to keep being written.

I fell to my knees in prayer, not because I’m religious, but because I needed some thing else to hear my story even if it was just the air. I needed to show my scars, to itemize them, and then I needed to remember that a sad story means that I am alive and with the flick of a page I will turn around to smile again.

a whit.

Day 103: On Being Rich

In Uncategorized on December 8, 2013 at 3:22 am

Awhile back I wrote this blog.

When I came across this video, I was reminded of Emilie Parker.

As we enter this holiday season, I hope we can all remember the gift that is, giving.

~No one has ever become poor by giving.~

Day 102: Tap, Tap, Tap {a film: Bridegroom}

In Couples, Gay Marriage, life, Love, Marriage on November 2, 2013 at 6:47 am

It’s not often that something inspires me so much so that I have to immediately find my computer and start to write.

After clicking through the multiple netflix documentary options, I finally settled on Bridegroom–a film about a gay man whose partner dies.

What unfolds throughout the film is a beautiful story of true love. Tom is in early twenties when he accidentally falls off of the roof of his friend’s apartment building while taking pictures. What follows is not the story of Tom’s death, but the story of his life, with Shane, his partner. There is a moment in the film where Shane talks about how scared he was to tell Tom publicly that he loved him, for fear of what others might have thought, so instead, if the couple were out, they would tap the table three times tap {I} tap {love} tap {you}. One of the unique features of the film is its recap of the actual messages Tom and Shane shared during their six-year relationship. They would banter about traveling the world together, which they did, and having a kid, and teaching it how to ride a bike, and eating family meals with the dog underneath the table patiently awaiting scraps. Real stuff.

After Tom’s death, the hospital nurses give Shane a beautiful gift–a gift of time. They allow Shane moments with Tom before his family arrives–even though he is not “family” according to hospital policy. Not knowing this would be his last time near Tom’s body, Shane only finds one thing appropriate for the moment–he reaches out and taps Tom’s leg three times.

It’s hard for me to imagine, having been in love, having had my own three-hand squeeze, to understand how anyone could see love differently just because someone is gay. As the film depicts, Tom loved everyone, even his parents, the ones who ultimately deny his true identity, he still loved them.

In this life there is nothing more precious than the opportunity to love someone–to serve them. Shane and Tom, and their story, are a testament to this. Tom’s true legacy is what he gave those in his life, including Shane, “an unconditional love.”

This film will move you beyond words, you must watch it.

Day 101: On traveling to the store with my son

In Children, Kids, Teaching on October 25, 2013 at 2:48 am

There is always that hectic feeling when you have to run errands (doubly hectic as a single parent because you can never “retire” the children to your partner while you actively escape). There have been many moments, these doubly hectic moments, where the lip has folded out (my son’s lip of course), the head tilts downward, the arms lock at the elbows and then wrap around grabbing the lower back, there’s the occasional emphatic “hmph,” and the eye glare (out and beyond into the distance of course–what child would ever set eyes on a mother in pursuit of the grocery store–for milk–for that child’s morning cereal–oh no). Then there’s the body thrash, it’s abrupt, short, a gentle kick that’s just enough to rock the boat but not enough to sink it.

So many adventures like these have I experienced.

and yet…

Then there’s the moments where parenthood is something else. Something rare, yes rare, that’s right.

There we were, us too, and a dog. En route Famous Footwear to exchange a pair of “too big” clearance-priced basketball shoes. I’d begun my occasional self talk (i.e., I have a complete conversation with myself–an act that I’ve convinced myself only really smart people engage in) when my son interrupted me, “Mom, you know something?” I replied, “What do I know?” “You hold onto a lot. You need to imagine, imagine it’s a big balloon and you just let it float away off into the sky. Or it can be bird, one you hold in your hands and then–you let it fly away.” Then he motioned for me to look behind my seat, there I saw him mimicking his words, “You stand there holding so tightly onto your balloon, but its too hard. Let all the sad things go.”

I asked him where he learned this. He told me it’s what he does when he has to deal with the things in his life that make him sad.

Being a mother is such a multifaceted role, the things we learn from our children are often unexpected, sometimes difficult, but always the greatest lessons we will ever be an audience for.Image

Day 93: I know the pain of a heartbreak…

In Couples, Dating, God, Happiness, life, Love, Teaching on August 4, 2013 at 11:27 pm

I couldn’t sleep the other night so I decided to do a random YouTube search. With all of the recent hype concerning little Prince George, I decided to look up Princess Diana interview footage; I wanted to see what she was like.

As I watched her talk, she was surprisingly candid and honest. I remember the hype around her death, although I was still young at the time, and the overwhelming commentary concerning her beautiful, giving heart. This became apparent to me as I listened to her speak. She made it clear that her issues were a means to empathy. She could feel what the bulemic girl in the hospital was feeling because she actually felt it too. She could understand the depressed woman because she felt it too.

All great, compassionate people love others in a way that is personal and close. They love that way because they’ve felt the pain of heartbreak once too.

Heartbreak isn’t easy,

It isn’t clear

And you don’t need Jesus till you’re here.

As I experience heartbreak in my life, I come to know two things better.

Life if full of pain.

And we can use that pain to do good, or we can let it eat away at us.

a whit.

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