Megan, you are loved

It’s been three years today. Three years since the machines were turned off and Megan’s time on earth was ended. People in general still aren’t clear on what happened to her, they still hear slightly off information and they ask from time to time. ‘I’m sorry to ask you this but what did happen.’ (It’s…

On the subject of Forgiveness

As expected, when you share a hard truth or act as a whistle-blower you’ll be villanized. To say I’ve accepted this is true. It’s also hard to accept sometimes. One of the first blow backs is always those who want to advise on forgiveness. So let’s get that one out of the way: Forgiveness and…

Digging into the Past, Emotional Abuse: Part Three

Originally posted on Long Days. Short Years.:
If I wasn’t naming this in a series, I would call this one something clever about dirty laundry. When my mother first cut me off, she uninvited me to Christmas events and did the regular silent treatment as emotional punishment thing. We even invited her to our home…

Sharing Your Story

Sharing our stories is scary. Allowing someone into your mind, your feelings, knowing others look to condemn those, is frightening. People in the story don’t like when we release the truth. They’ll say we are gossips, we are playing the victim, we are villains, we are immature, we like drama, we need attention. But sharing…

Re|learn Truth

It’s funny because sometimes you relearn a lesson you thought you knew, and you’re sure you’ve been trying to teach it to everyone else only to learn it was you that wasn’t getting it.  This season of life has been so bittersweet: losses and gains have swirled together in such a strange way it’s hard…

Sweet Meg

Megan loved Lifetime movies. I mean, we would watch them and discuss them 10 times. She literally lived off of coffee. So. Much. Coffee. She loved to eat cheesy bread and pizza. She loved the ranch dressing at Chef’s- and drinking Vanilla Coke. Jersey Mike’s was the way to her heart. She loved rocking babies,…

The Second Cup of Coffee

I sit here in the morning hours, my bible open on my lap. My kids, in their pajamas and costumes, playing picnic in a bed tent with plastic food. My dog laying beside me, full. Content. My house is warm as I snuggle under this quilt made by my hands and drink my first cup…

You make all things new….even me.

There was a time, not oh-so long ago that I didn’t know what gossip really was. I was taught that gossip meant talking about something that wasn’t true. Just talking about people was a part of my family of origin’s every interaction. That wasn’t gossip, that’s just what you do. This is what we were…