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

  “Grief is a nasty game of feeling the weakest you have ever felt and morphing into the strongest person you will need to become.” ~ Windgate Lane    Grief. One word with a powerful punch. It knocks us down. Lays us flat out on the ground. Then turns around and does it all over again. The thing about grief is it’s not something we ever see coming. Grief is a living, breathing being. She just shows up one day and makes herself at home. Most of us think grief only comes with death. But that’s just not the case.  She visits every day. The difference is some days we simply ignore her sitting at the table. And the other days she boldly walks through the front door expecting a glass of tea sweetened with our tears.     Personally, I’ve found grief to be bittersweet. She’s complicated. A lot like we are. Grief is sadness, pain, fear, anger and joy all wrapped up in one package. Grief can make us feel weak, inadequate and fragile but that’s not her goal. Not ...

“I would not wish for any other companion in the world but you. “~William Shakespeare Marriage like any other relationship takes work and lots and lots of it. Sometimes no matter how hard we try, or how many tears we cry over our marriages, they simply fall short and then apart. I know because mine did five years ago. Now I’m not gonna mince words or sugar coat things, life was off the rails in the wrong direction for a long time. Words were said, things were done, and hearts were broken. To tell the truth we didn’t much like each other either. The blame doesn’t matter. After 18 years of marriage, ours was failing. Did either one of us set out to harm the other? No, not at all. No one plans to intentionally hurt those they love, not unless they’re callous, heartless or cold-blooded that is. This is the thing about life though. It happens whether we like it or not. Prepared or caught off guard it can get sticky pretty quickly and end up downright muddled before we know it. An...

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...