Two Months Later

Does it come as any surprise that my last post was precisely two months ago today.  Of course not.

If you've been along for this bumpy ride I call life, you know that there has been magic happening behind the scenes.  I've been pressing on, denying myself the luxury of writing.  I'm a full time working mama now.  And you know what?  I am not me without writing this humble blog.

So, there's no way to truly catch you up to speed.  Let's just jump in where we are okay?

My morning started with a mile long walk to work where each of my footsteps are like a prayer pounding the pavement for strength and clarity.  And as I pull open the door to work everyday I inhale and say to myself "This is where I am today for a reason" and I start my day with such an immense feeling of gratitude.  Today was a bit different though.  We had a staff meeting and I was made aware of The Newtown Tragedy.  I have been living a Hands Free Life over the last week or so.  I don't watch TV, I'm not in the car listening to mindless radio reports while running errands or commuting and I had logged off of Facebook temporarily.  I listened as a coworker described the event that occurred on my youngest daughter's birthday.  A day I would not be able to spend with her for the first time in her life. 

This is where the inappropriate workplace tears came into play.  I felt my skin blanch white and my breathing go shallow as I envisioned my children's small, family-like Montessori elementary school under siege by a mad gunman.  I thought of my children's precious teachers, twin sisters, who give me such a feeling of peace as they teach and care for my babies while I am not there on a daily basis.  All of this flashed before my minds eye as enormous tears rolled down my cheeks.  I was too paralyzed by grief in the moment to excuse myself.

Not a very professional way to react, but a human reaction.  I am a human being, a mother first and foremost.  I thought about sending an apology via email for my out burst but what am I apologizing for?  Feeling?

Long after that morning outburst of emotion I walk home, each foot step on the mile long trek back to my studio apartment  thankful, appreciative and rhythmic.  I checked my mail, at first it appeared empty but I leaned down and peered closer.  Inside an envelop with familiar handwriting.  A Christmas card from one of my biggest fans.  A card bearing the beautiful image of Rachel and her family along with a heartfelt holiday letter was the perfect ending to my work day. 

The tears flowed once again when I read this message:

"You have received this letter because you have played a roll in the laughter, love, learning and light that makes our lives full"

When someone as genuine as Rachel conveys this, you feel it.  Right down to the core of me, I know that my connection to this gifted writer, who has exceeded the 1 Million hits milestone on her blog, was never a matter of coincidence but a matter of necessity for us both.  We have left footprints on each other's hearts and neither of us are anywhere near done writing our story.  Both literally and figuratively.

I am thankful for this life.  Place your right hand on your chest.  Feel that?  That means you're not done here yet.  I know this.

Boy do I ever.  I have experienced the feeling of life slipping away. Because on July 9, 2012 mine almost did.  Quietly, with shallow breath and blood sugar at deadly high levels I almost never arrived at this amazing place that challenges me as a wife, mother, friend and writer.  I've had some feelings of doubt recently.  Though I may be inspired to share my story, I'm no hero.  I fall down but as long as I have breath in these lungs I'm going to inhale deeply and get back up again.  And there will be tears, but I will unapologeticly carry on knowing that I am a work in progress.

I posted on Facebook that the doubt was creeping in.  I got a reply from my husbands former college roommate, a Marine, telling me to power through.  "I'm sure Dr King, Neil Armstrong and Teddy Roosevelt all felt doubt at one time".  His words felt like two arms reaching under my arms and picking me up to carry me across the finish line on that day.  Thank you, Dean.



I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move. - Tennyson