On...

"I used to think time was a thief. But you give before you take. Time is a gift. Every minute. Every second." - Alice Kingsleigh, Through the Looking Glass I think love is a lot like time.   Love is joy. It is happiness and light. It is gratitude and wonder. It is warmth and hope. It is living. And, love is pain. It is sorrow and darkness. It is fear and anger. It is cold and sad. It is death. Love is such that you cannot have one without the other - two sides of the same coin.  Although I know my NanNan, is finally at peace and I am grateful that she is no longer suffering, there is still a hole in my heart. The hole is there because of the love. It is there because of the forty years of memories I made with her presence. It is there because I loved her and because she loved me. Love is joy and love is pain.  Despite the sorrow I now feel, I will not give back the happy memories: of standing by her sink in a Bugs Bunny costume, stealing the ...

2016 brought with it great happiness and great sorrow; it brought excitement and fear; it brought change and sameness. And now, 2016 is behind us. We can close the chapter. With the dawning of 2017, what lies ahead? We don't know. The first day of 2017 is a blank page in a chapter of 365 blank pages waiting for us to fill. For some, those blank pages bring an overwhelming sense of fear. The unknown can be very frightening - not being certain of the outcome, of the risks involved, of all of the players in the game. When we look at it like this, we can feel powerless; defeated long before we get started. Perhaps though, we can shift our perspective: What if, instead, we look at these blank pages, this new chapter, as an opportunity? What if we see the power in the ability to author our own futures? What if, with each page, we seek to understand the world around us? What if, with each page, we actively work to make the world better, to make one person's life easier, and to u...

When I was 15 months old, I was given a powerful message: blood relation is not the only family that matters. When I was 15 months old, my dad picked me (and my mom). Technically that makes him my step-father, but he is my dad through and through. He wasn't the only one who picked me and became my family, though. His parents became my grandparents; his brothers and sisters became my uncles and aunts. Never once have I ever felt anything other than a great sense of belonging. I am theirs and they are mine. So, it has been with this message, deep in my heart and on the surface of all that I do, that I journey through life picking people to add to my family. It is with this message, that I hope to provide my children a roadmap to forming their own families.  And what an amazing family I have - it is wide-spread; it is diverse; it is filled with love.  This family of mine has loved and supported me in my darkest times and in my happiest of moments. I am secure ...

As we get closer to this day... the day that Simon is to be discharged from the hospital... this is a thought that keeps running through my mind: what if I'm not enough? What if I am not enough to help the boy I love so much... my first baby? What if all the love I have to give doesn't make him happy, or healthy, or safe? What if everything I've done up until now has been wrong? What if I will never be able to make the world better, or safer for him? These thoughts are self-defeating. And, these thoughts are real. I cannot pretend that I don't have them. I would imagine that all parents must feel this at some point, for some reason. It seems a shame that we do not always seek to support one another during these times of doubt, but perhaps we have to admit we have these feelings in order to receive that type of support. So, here I am admitting these thoughts - these doubts so prominent in my mind. And please know, I am so grateful for all the support we...

Words have power: the power to hurt and the power to heal.  I actively choose to omit (most of the time, and even when it is really hard) the words that will do damage, those that have no purpose other than to make myself temporarily feel better. I know those words will not serve me well - they will not move me forward along on this path that is my life.  Instead, I actively choose to use words that show love and understanding, kindness and respect; words that show my gratitude. I want to use my words and my actions to help others in their time of need, even when I do not know the exact words to say.  Now, I want to use my words to thank each of you that have reached out in some way.  You may not have words that will make all of my sadness and fear go away. You may not have words to fix this challenging time I find myself and my family in. Yet, you chose to speak anyway.  Please know, your words are healing. Your words of kindness, compassi...

This is hard. I mean really really hard. I am not generally afraid to do hard things. In fact, I've done a lot of really hard things, Hard makes me stronger. Hard builds my character. Hard allows me to understand others. So hard, isn't something that bothers me - at least when it's something hard for myself. It's a different story when the hard thing has to do with my child.  I am not totally sure why I am writing about this. Maybe it is partially because I currently cannot think of anything else and maybe, if I write it down, it will free my brain and give it some release. Or, perhaps it is a little bit because I know I can't be the only parent who has ever dealt with this, and so my sharing might help someone else.  The stigma of mental illness looms heavily. I find it absurd that we, as a culture, can completely accept someone having a physical illness, yet cannot fathom accepting the illnesses we cannot see. So many individuals suffering from mental il...

How does three years go by so quickly, and yet contain a lifetime worth of changes? As most of you know, three years ago, on October 11th, Emily and I hydroplaned into the back of a tractor trailer. I was driving. Weather made it an unfortunately unavoidable accident. Fortunately for me, I do not remember the accident or the immediate aftermath. What I do remember from that time three years ago, is the kindness and caring that surrounded me: from family and friends, from medical staff and strangers, from people I barely knew that I now consider family. That kindness sustained me in some very difficult times. I will always be in awe of and completely amazed that my life meant so much that others exhibited such unwaivering and unending support. Although I do not tend to focus on the accident or even the lingering challenges I face, I think it is important to mark this day as one of significance.  Because, this may have been a very bad day three years ago, and I may have ha...