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My friend takes one second at a time to breath. One breath is determined by the sliver of a moment…can she inhale? Will she exhale?

Will her heart make it to the next beat?

Can she will her body to move in time with demands of her daughter?

I watched as those who love and adore cradled her head in their bosom as their salty tears wet the top of her head and she stared into the abyss, accepting their love, allowing their strength to get her through that moment one breath at a time. I could read her thoughts. This is not happening.”

To bury a child is to bury a part of your heart.

Now what do we say? What do we do?


One day later my parents arrived on my door step for Thanksgiving.

My parents. My father who loves with his entire being and fumbles it like a scolding hot potato in ungloved hands.

Can I really blame him? A man who entered this world with a need to scrap for survival from the onset of his first awareness? LOVE ME. He begged. SEE ME. He screamed in his successes. I’M WORTHY TOO his eyes stared into mine in family gatherings past as I fought an endless fight – one of my own conjuring – because I couldn’t see beyond my own pain.

My sweet parents whom I adore. How many years have I spent ungrateful? Too many.

I can’t change their experiences or their reactions or their responses. But I can change mine.

Love your parents

If I am to ‘show up’ isn’t that what it takes? Not to expect others to conform to my wills and desires but rather for me to take it one moment, one breath at a time? To make a choice in how I choose for the next moment to go?

My visit with my parents has been exceptional. Thanksgiving with family and friends has been life-giving.

But I still wonder what my next move is.

Holidays are notoriously worse for survivors of abuse. The memories. The falsetto of ‘good-cheer’. The passing of another year and the nagging reminder of failures and anxieties. I’ve received several emails and texts over the past few days from those I work with needing to connect and be encouraged and recharged. My heart has not wane. I want to be like ‘Katnis’ in the Hunger Game series (which I saw the movie today with my family) and pronounce to ALL perpetrators “If we go down burning YOU go down with us!”  Because this is a fight I will NOT give up.

But I want to make sure what I DO and what I SAY matters. I don’t want to blog because it’s been three days and I feel like I need to blog otherwise I’ll lose ‘followers’. Ugh. :(

Or I don’t want to put out some bull-crap post because I feel like I need to reach a certain audience. UGH!

Forget it. If God if asking me to ‘JUST SHOW UP’ then that’s what I’m going to do. In whatever capacity that means.

My GOD first, my HUSBAND and KIDS second , and my CALLING and whatever is left in life will then get priority but I will no longer put this world and the need for ‘approval’ or ‘followers’ or ‘recognition’ ahead of WHO God needs me to SHOW UP FOR.

Having it all

While my friend struggles to take one breath at a time I will praise God for the ability to take one moment, and if given, the luxury of one day at a time to discern His will and live that moment or day to it’s completeness.