Brave Heart, Brave Soul. She who is brave is free.

    “No one tells you the hardest part of being a parent is when your kids grow up.” ~Unknown    Most of my adult life I’ve been a mom. In fact, for over 2 decades my whole identity has been and was wrapped up in one word. Mom. I knew no other name, job or calling. I was a mom, through and through. So, what happens when your children leave the nest? Or worse, become estranged.  How do you cope? There’s no map to navigate. And believe me, the host and array of emotions it brings is life altering. When you’re facing the sudden loss of your child, how do you keep your head above water or stop yourself from drowning in the deep end?     Truthfully, I have no idea. I wish I did. If the nest is emptied naturally, it’s bittersweet. If not, it’s devastating. As parents you wait your whole life for your children to spread their wings. You love, nurture and praise them. Build them up. Pray for them. Provide, sacrifice, and yes, you fail them just as many ti...

"Mama looked into me and saw something worth believing in long before I believed in my self." ~ Keion Jackson As a little girl I used to pretend I was a school teacher. I would set up my imaginary classroom in my bedroom, put on a pair of my dad's old army lens-less glasses, some of my mom's high heels and play school. All my dolls and stuffed animals would attend and of course homework was a must. The thing is I had ( still have) a learning disability. I struggled with math and science especially. On the flip side I was very strong in English and history. The truth is I never felt very smart in an actual classroom. But my mom, she always believed in me even when I was threatening to quit. Even though I struggled in math and she was a whiz with numbers, my mom never allowed me to believe I couldn't achieve my dreams. My dad on the other hand was the one who always encouraged me to write even when I misspelled every other word. Together my parents cultiva...

Life Lesson # 62:  Raising strong –willed daughters to fly. There’s no doubt “I am my mother’s daughter. I am her only novel” so beautifully said by Marge Piercy.  Thinking about my mom’s birthday this coming week, it’s like a rush of beautiful memories flowing out from a volt that’s been locked away. I am my mother’s reflection, her mini me. Growing up, looking up to my mom as little girls do I wasn’t aware of how much I mirrored her. My mother’s beauty and grace always took my breath away. She was and still is my inspiration and I her baby girl. If you asked her today what I was like as a little girl, she’d tell you without a second thought, I was strong-willed. I kept her busy running around singing, jumping off the couch, building forts and dragging her off into faraway lands inside my imagination. I remember sitting in awe when the hope chest was opened. Standing there dancing in front of the mirror like a fairy princess. I’d brush my hair, place her old prom...