in the midst of metamorphosis

About a month ago, I put this*(pic below) on my car because I desire to live in a world where we can all coexist. One where kindness overtakes lack of understanding, where generosity outshines differences, and where love wins the battle against fear and hatred. I have to believe that most all of us want that same world, but what do our words say? our actions? What are we saying to, or about, those who look, act, speak, believe, vote, live, worship differently than we do? How are we treating them? with the same love that we wish to be treated with? with the same respect? Change comes when WE change - our thoughts, our words, our actions - and begin to BE the world of love we wish to live in! This was a post that I put up yesterday on two different social media outlets where I share my heart. I knew that it would be better accepted on one of those (5 times better at this writing), but I'm not one to keep quiet about my truth, even when others disagree. That is the true bea...

Over two years ago, I wrote a post honoring my grandma F., who left this life 20+ years ago. You can read it  here to understand the picture of my latest tattoo. This is an update to that original post. You know how the little things are always appreciated more later in life? That is how I feel about relationships. I had so many in my earlier years, before I really knew what they meant, what those people meant, and now I can only wonder. Wonder if they understood that I was young, that I hadn't lived completely yet, that I couldn't wholly grasp the importance of life and love and what it meant to embrace fully those by my side. My grandma is one of those that I wish that I could spend time with again, time spent looking at her with these new eyes, listening with these wiser ears, talking with her about life from this place that I dwell in now. Growing up, I never, ever felt any judgment or condemnation from her, even though I was living a life outside of her understanding...

I first published this in May of 2013. A lot has changed in that time. A lot has stayed the same. There are updates at the end of this post. One of my daughters is on a daily SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) or, in layman's terms, an antidepressant. She was diagnosed with the main dish of Anxiety Disorder, with a side of depression. I can joke about it now - and she can too - but it hasn't always been that way. . We first encountered it years ago. At the time we sought church-based counseling but nothing else in the way of help for her. She was so young that I just couldn't imagine putting her on a medication. I had a hard time even accepting that she might have a mental disorder. We got through that time - barely - and went on without it rearing its head again. But when it resurfaced three years ago, it did so with a vengeance. This time, I was better equipped myself to deal with it. There was no hesitation. We immediately saw a doctor, got a prescrip...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor people who have made an impact in my life, both in my past and in my present. I am blessed to still have some of these people in my life; others have left this life for their next one; others are no longer a part of my close circle, yet still made a difference to me. I want to share them with you. I want to honor them. I want them to know how much I love and respect them. The first one is dedicated to my childhood babysitter, Pat B. Growing up, both of my parents worked. This meant that my sister and I went to a babysitter when we were younger. We had a few, but the one that we spent the most time with, and that I remember the most, lived right up the road from us. We were actually neighbors, but being in the country, that meant a cornfield separated us. I recall being there when I was in kindergarten until I was old enough to stay by myself, probably around 12 or 13. I love to reminisce about my time there. It was my home away from ...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor my grandparents, both my blood ones and my love ones. All of my grandparents have departed this life for the next one. This is my way of remembering, honoring, and loving them. This second one is dedicated to my pappy and mamaw C. We relocated to this area when I was four years old. We moved into a large, older farmhouse that was really two houses in one. They lived on one side and we were on the other, separated by one unlocked door that required only a simple knock and maybe a shout-out in order to step across into the other's home. We lived there until I was sixteen. Those twelve years are full of so many beautiful memories. I grew up there, and though they were not blood related, they did their part as grandparents, helping me on my path to maturity. ************************************************************************************* I remember .....butchering day. We never ventured outside until w...

*In 1967, the year that interracial marriage was legalized everywhere in the United States, 72% of Americans were opposed to it, and 48% felt that it should be prosecuted as a criminal act. *In 1991, the percentage of people opposed to interracial marriage (finally) became the minority. ................................................................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................................................................... Growing up multiracial in this white part of the world was difficult, to say the least. My parents married only one year after it was legal for them to do so. My dad is white, of German and Swiss descent, and my mom is black, with a heritage that has traced our roots back to Africa, and also includes Native American and white. I was born into an era where the majority of peo...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor my grandparents, both my blood ones and my love ones. All of my grandparents have departed from this life for the next one.. This is my way of remembering, honoring, and loving them. This first one is dedicated to my grandma F - my dad's mom. ************************************************************************************ I remember .....the candy tins. They were full of butter mints, jujyfruits, orange slices, licorice, butterscotches, gum drops, jelly beans, circus peanuts, tootsie rolls, good & plenty, candy corn, root beer barrels, caramel creams, and so many more. They sat in the same room, in the same place. There were at least six of them, maybe more, and they always held something different, something delicious. After greeting grandma, it was the next place we headed. I don't recall eating a lot of candy at home, but at grandma's, it was allowed, even encouraged. She had diabetes, so I don't think that...