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I am home

Everyone wants to belong somewhere. I've spent a lifetime searching for that place, and yet, always feeling like I'm sitting right outside of it. Like all of my neighbors had a block party, and despite being in the midst of it, I wasn't invited. I discovered early in life that inclusion equals security, approval, acceptance; a place to rest, be fed, grow; a home.
And I've spent my life homeless.
black or white. be tamed or live free. the church or my truth. fit in or be me. real or raw. belonging somewhere or belonging nowhere.
In each home I would come across, I would run from room to room, searching, frantic to find one that embraced me, that girl who is both black and white, who bristles at domestication and instead breathes her fierceness, who deeply loves Jesus and finds religion stifling and hypocritical, who longs to belong and chooses to stand apart. Where was that room?
The drive to belong somewhere, anywhere, has had me moving into unfit homes all my life.  S…

what marriage counseling taught me...lesson #3

I am a thinker. A lot of thoughts flow in my mind and sometimes they spend an abundance of time drifting around in there. If I don't intentionally examine each one for truth, they will seek out other like-minded mates, binding together for strength and twisting in ways that mask their falsehoods. Unattended to, they will wait at the back of my throat, looking to seep out, giving voice to inaccurate representations of who I am, and worse, who others are.

Unfortunately, we seem to hurt the ones we say we love the most, and my hubby has probably been the biggest recipient of these distorted words. I know who I am. I know who he is. And yet, there are times that my wounds have walked in agreement with these flawed thoughts and created counterfeit truths. And then, I have turned these mere thoughts into detrimental words, disintegrating into narrow-minded actions. What previously had no power has now become a powerful force of destruction, a cancerous mass of cells threatening the heal…

what marriage counseling taught me...lesson #2

Exactly one year ago, the hubby and I renewed our wedding vows. It wasn't our actual wedding anniversary - that is still two months away. It was a date that I had picked based on the numbers, 8/16.
 . 8 signifies the ushering in of a new era, a regeneration, and new beginnings. 16 is the number of love.
. My intentions were to start the next 25 years off more in love than ever before; to move from good to better to the best we could be together. Of course, life has a funny way of walking me through my intentions to the reward on the other side! And so, just four months later, we were sitting in an office​, across from a marriage counselor, working our way to best. (you can find that story here lesson #1)
 . It was in this office that I found a safety to explore my roots of rejection, the vines that had sprouted from that place, and the damaging fruit that I had been partaking in because of it. It had become my go-to, my comfort food of choice, my sour wine that I couldn't po…

what marriage counseling taught me...lesson #1

25 years together. We've weathered a lot in that time, some of it trivial and petty, some of it damaging and painful. Why now? was the question posed to us at the beginning of our first session of marriage counseling.
There was nothing major. No breaking points. No huge disagreements​. Nothing bad. We were good. But, good was beginning to feel inadequate. Good felt like settling. We no longer wanted just good. 
We wanted to be better. We wanted the best.
And so, off we went to counseling, hubby kicking and screaming. Okay, maybe that is a bit dramatic, but definitely, dragging his feet and muttering! But, he loves me more than he dislikes this new, uncomfortable situation, and so he shows up, not just physically, but all of him shows up for all of me, and I love him even more for that.
It's in this showing up that we found our better. We  found a place to be safe, to be real, to be love, to be transparent. All the aspects that we already are, just on a deeper level. We are st…

fear is a liar

Fear is an ugly and demanding master. 
I had to take my poor doggy, Zero, to the vet two days ago. We were sure that it would be a quick and easy fix, and we would be on our way. Initially, they agreed. But, afterward, we left with the problem unresolved, looking much worse than before, with meds in hand, another appointment, and a hope that it would resolve itself at home.
Except, fear had already been spoken. "Maybe, it's not what we think. Maybe, it's worse. Maybe, it's the dreaded C word - cancer." 
I won't lie. I almost lost it right there, in that little examination room. My mind was instantly transported back in time, to a same little room, right down the hall, where we had lost our last dog. No matter what they said, fear had been whispered in my ear, and now it was washing over my mind,  infiltrating my heart, and claiming my future.
Fortunately, the issue actually did resolve itself within a day, and we are moving on.
Last night, I needed to pick u…

square pegs and round holes

I stand on the outskirts, anxiously awaiting that coveted nod, the one that will verify my entrance into a band of brothers, all chosen, all accepted, all wanted. 
I stand as other names are called, as others celebrate their new placement, as they step into the spot that I desired to fill.
I stand, long after they have moved on, feeling the sting of rejection, again, as if transported back in time to schoolyard games, and captains, and picking sides, and never, ever wanting to be chosen last. 
And I realize that there is a world of difference between being picked last and not being picked at all.
I raise my chin up, quivering as it is, and determine to try again. I wipe away the pesky drops of weakness from my eyes. I look around and notice, for the first time, the rest of the crowd. Smiling. Waving. Motioning me over. I glance behind me, searching for the more worthy one, and I hear my Father say, "It is you. It has always been you. For while you have been working to fit your s…

in the rearview mirror

*October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month

I could rummage through the memories, pinpointing exact moments, specific events or words, that, undoubtedly, led this younger me to fall prey to an abusive man. 
...and I have.
I could lay blame at the feet of circumstances or people in my life, shrugging off the cover of responsibility, and live under the banner of victim.
...and I have.
I could absolve it all, each contributor to the broken me, and allow guilt and condemnation to weigh me down, into darkness, where I justify him, where I excuse him, and live under the banner of unworthy.
...and I have.
I have, at one time or another, processed through all of these, trying desperately to find answers, to find reasons, to find healing. And, I just can't. Not anymore.
It happened. There may be a hundred reasons. There may only be one. But, life happens. I'm tired of putting my newfound freedom on hold while I travel back in time to fix what can't be fixed, to question what can&…