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WORTH HUNG HIGH

We live in a digital world. We store photos in our devices and then forget about them. We say we will go back and review them, those countless moments passed, but we rarely do. I have always loved pictures, taking them, being in them. I love to look back and remember times passed. I have been called the paparazzi at more than one social event. I love capturing sunsets and candid moments. However for the last several years I have felt less of the desire to capture life’s moments because those moments were filled with so much loss. Yet I cannot allow the loss of my past to arrest me from enjoying my present.

celecbrateThose moments are far too precious, my only child’s first moments, first days, first years. I have captured many of them in spite of pain that filled those days, oftentimes taking them through tears. So for the first time in my son’s young life, I put those pictures on a wall. That’s a big deal!  It is a direct and bold declaration to celebrate life and not be buried by it. It is the choosing to dedicate time and energy to something not dire to today’s survival, yet essential to the survival of esteem and well being. Those lasting moments of self reflection and overcoming, those reminders on how far we’ve come while remaining unbroken.  After the loss of our home and possessions, after a nasty divorce, after sickness, after homelessness, after the abandonment, lies and character assassination of those I once called family, and even after coming to terms with my son’s Autism diagnosis, life is still worthy of celebration.

So this weekend, a year after I purchased their frames, I created a small monument to what we’ve overcome. Those moments when we laughed and smiled in spite of the circumstances around us. Those moments of growth, of reaching, of becoming new. Caleb will grow up with a monument to his life, to his mother’s life, to his late grandmother’s life. He will have what I did not growing up, an account of his worth hung high. We frame what we want to celebrate, what we want to remember, and sometimes we decorate those moments with fairy lights.

#FairyLights #Pictures #Photos #FrameWorthy #LifesMoments #MomentsCaputred #Worthiness #Perspective #Thankfulness #Loss #Autism #Divorce #Newness #Hope #PlantedNotBuried

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Juicing Continues- Week 2

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My Motivation!! I started juicing in April of 2012, I weighed 196 pounds. This pic was taken about 6 months later at 140 lbs. It took me 7 weeks to loose 60 pounds!!

Ok so, this week was hard. Some things happened. Some emotional things (see more on that here), and also some practical things. On Sunday the brakes on my car failed while I was driving it. Yeah, I’ll let that sink in. Even though that was a bit of a traumatic experience I found an immediate place of gratitude that this incident did not turn out to be much worse. There could have been some broken bones, or a stay in the hospital, or much worse, like the inability to type this blog because I am no longer on the earth. Or God forbid any of those things happened to my baby boy if he’d been in the car and we were traveling at high speeds. So I dealt with that, am dealing with that. Grateful to the Lord for His protection and His covering.

The one thing I didn’t take into account was how it would affect my juice feasting. This being without my car and all. It being repaired completely stagnated my entire week. Juicing is all about routine, it’s difficult in and of itself to do while juggling a busy life. But when you throw in some major monkey wrench it can be close to impossible.  I have a whole daily plan set up, I need to stay busy at work to keep my mind off of cheese burgers. I have to in a moments notice be able to head to the grocery store when I’m out of kale. I cannot sit on the couch watching Dominoes Pizza commercials. So when you’re stuck in the house instead of on your grind it can become difficult. So I juiced for 2 ½ days instead of my goal of a full 4 days.

But instead of beating myself up that I couldn’t juice on the same level of commitment that I had last week, I did what I could and stuck to a 90% vegetarian diet the rest of the way. I’m happy to say that I maintained the weight that I’d lost last week. And I’m proud to say that this is a new way of being and thinking for me, this not beating myself up. I’m pretty Type A Personality, and if I can’t go all in, then dagnambit I’m not going to do it all. But the way my life is currently set up, that is no longer realistic to getting anything done. If I’ve got to do this whole reconfiguration of my health and body at a snail’s pace, then so be it, it will still get done. Onward and upward!! (Onward to good health, that scale aint climbing no where near upward! lol)

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Juicing Continues!! The Mean Green is the business! (Kale, celery, Fuji apples, ginger, lemon) Yum!!
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Soooo good!!
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One of my vegetarian meals. I couldn’t believe how delicious something so simple was. Green, yellow and red bell peppers, seasoning salt, seared in a skillet. It was so good I was moaning!

 

Happy Single Mother to Child of Deadbeat Father’s Day

Calebsleepsfinal

So let me be clear. I am not a man. I never have been one, and by the looks of how these things work, I probably will never be one. One thing I do know for sure however, my son’s father is ghost. He is out. He is totally and completely absent. I have not heard a word from him since May of 2015, and that was a year after he stopped paying a cent of child support.

He does not call to check on his son, he does not ask how he is doing, he does not inquire, he does not send a text, telegram or message pigeon. How could he do that?  There are questions that I had years ago that I now have answers to, this is not one of those questions. After being born into a marriage, and being planned for, I do not understand how a man denies his child. Part of me has lost interest in trying to understand.

I am very clear that I cannot be a father to my son. I cannot teach him how to be a man. I do not fully know the challenges and conundrums of what it is to be born male. But I along with so many single mothers are caught in this target practice of still needing to fulfill dual roles, regardless of our inability to do so completely. And the shaming of women who have this insurmountable task, who cry out for acknowledgement of this insurmountable task on a painful day of reminder like today, is to me one of the sure ways that we live in the last days, where love in action is condemned and criticized, instead of applauded and admonished.

Just before tucking my baby boy into bed tonight, I brushed his teeth and rubbed his back, just like good Mommies do. That was just after disciplining him for pushing beyond his boundaries, just like good Daddies do. And tomorrow I will fix his breakfast and his dinner, just like good Mommies do. And I will take out his trash, and put oil in the car he rides in, just like good Daddies do. But not after I work all day, like good Mommies and Daddies do, I have to of course bring home that bacon AND fry it up in a pan. I have continual vertigo as I swing between roles in being all things for my son. No one can ever tell me different. This is real life. This is everyday.

Father’s Day is for fathers, men who are present. I don’t claim this day as my own, but I dare anyone to question my dual roles, beyond holidays, constant juggling act of raising a child that requires at least two people to raise, and maybe five if I’m including my son’s special needs.

So excuse me if today, Father’s Day, is tough for me. Do I claim it as my own day? Not really, they don’t have a Happy Single Mother to Child of Deadbeat Father’s Day. But I do know that each and every day, no matter the fall on the calendar, I play all roles to my son, the feminine and all the masculine I can muster.

So goodnight young prince, with my hand in the Lord’s I will lead you in all the ways within my reach. And I am willing to play as many roles as necessary to do so.