Musings from a dreamer, who fell in love with the Pacific Northwest 18 years ago and in 2011 made it her home. I'm raising a Pinkalicious 7-year-old and a 11-year-old with a big heart - and epilepsy. Ditching perfection, celebrating life, finding joy in the journey and reminding myself daily to Let.It.Be.

Monday, April 11, 2011


This has been the most amazing, devastating, joyful week of what quite possibly could be my entire life. The events: A deeply soulful, uniquely wonderful friend died in an accident, leaving behind a 2-year-old son and a community sadded by the vacuum created by his death. Friends wondering how they'll go on without his acceptance, love, laughter and "Toddy" bear hugs. Friends who will be better people not only to honor his legacy but also because they've learned his way of living is indeed a better way.

The day of his visitation, my husband was offered a second interview for a job in another state - a job and opportunity we've worked for and wished for the last 15 years. A job that will take us from many of those we love.

Also on that day, a friend published the story of my son's diagnosis of epilepsy. Is it simply irony that we moved home just before our son was diagnosed and reached closure on the day we found out we could leave?

I don't think so. I felt God's presence and knew, for the first time in a long time, he hadn't abandoned me.

This all leaves me fairly jumping out of my skin. At the prospect of change. Of overwhelming love. Of thankfullness. Of complete amazement of one day in my life where its pieces came together in the most amazing ways.

Because the spoken word failed to adequately express thoughts and feelings nearly bursting my seams, on that day, 4.4, I wrote the first poem I've written in a very long time. It may not be literary greatness, but it's mine.

This is the most amazing day.
I saw beauty in tragedy.
In loss. In change.
And I saw tragedy.

I lifted someone up.
I hugged friends new and old.
I said goodbye the last time
And welcomed new life.

I shared a story of walking in the Valley
and making it the other side.
I opened hearts
And healed my own.

On this most amazing day
I'm OK. For the first time in a long time
On this day. This day of fullness.
Of tears. Of laughter.
Of celebrating life and honoring country, father and the Father.

I heard the song. I saw
the light. And I thanked
God for you and my life.
For telling me everything's gonna
be all right.

It is on this day
I realize He has carried me, not foresaken me.
He answered my prayer!
He gave me what I needed
Even when I didn't want it.

I felt His presence this amazing day.
And his, who will tomorrow lie in Earth.
On this day, I am given the promise
of new life. And I am blown away.
I am in awe! I glow with the love and peace and
connectedness of this day.
This transfixing, transformational, most amazing day.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Mourning - and celebrating life

I have been inching toward this place for so long. That place where I can see, with clear eyes, that what I've mourned, what I've longed for has been with me -- and is within me -- all along.

Two things are on my mind and filling my heart today. One is the death of a friend with such a big heart and zest for life that he filled up a room. People were drawn to him. I think in part it was because they knew he liked and accepted them, no matter who they were or were they came from. Of course, he had a soft spot for anyone from this small town, Macon.

His death has made me think again of how we hold up in the hard times. That we as human beings are like a metal, forged stronger by fire. Which leads me to the second thing tugging at me today, my son.

Rocketcitymom blog editor Jennifer Breuer featured my story on Aidan's diagnosis and our journey with epilepsy on her blog today. Already, one mom of a child with epilepsy commented. And that is why I wrote it. And that is one reason I started this blog. I've known all along I wanted his story to help others and that I needed to reach out to other moms living in my shoes. But my independent spirit wouldn't allow it. I am strong enough to handle this on my own, I would say.

And for the most part, I did. But I've made my journey through grief and have decided on healing. On being positive and moving forward. On no longer mourning my son, but celebrating him. My God, what a gift he is! And I've spent too much time being sad and disappointed with the child I've been given. This is my greatest lesson. And it has not been easy. Forged by fire.

So check out Even if you're not from Huntsville, Rocket City Mom offers great articles on parenting from one of the smartest, coolest moms I know. Who is also a blessing.

Count yours today. Life is short. Don't waste time with coulds or shoulds. Be present for yourself and those you love.

"Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality." Emily Dickinson