Dear Señora...

Dear Señora Maria Elena,

I want to call you right now, but I can't.

You taught me how to pronounce words in Spanish, decorate vocabulary lists, start conversations, and order food at restaurants in another language. You guided me and classmates through writing a children's book - mine was about una mariposa named Pilar. 
You taught me the importance of word choice in communicating well.
You took me to México - twice.
You modeled a deep love for language and culture and prepared me to speak in this amazing and confusing world.
I want to call you right now and ask, "What words now? What words do I choose and use?"

People are in crisis all over the world. Children of tender age are separated from their parents on our watch.
No puedo más, Señora.
I'm going to the border this weekend to learn the words, to study the intake procedures, meet families, help the helpers who are fatigued and still going. I hope to learn the words and the system to come home and help in my immediate community.

When you passed away, your husband gave me this necklace of yours. You would wear it when you taught us about the Mayan culture.  I will wear this necklace and take you with me to meet these families in crisis.

When we were in México together, you taught us to say Good Morning to our host mamas: Buenos días. In English we often follow that greeting with, "How did you sleep?"

In this Mexican community, after Buenos días, the custom was to ask, "Almaneciste bién?"
How did you dawn?
Did you rise well?

Señora, we have all been sleeping. Some of us are sleeping too well.
It is time for the dawn; it is time for us to rise well.

Almaneciste bién?
Si, señora. 
Voy a almanecer.


Con mucho cariño,
Mollie
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Dear Donna at the TrakShak

Dear Donna at the TrakShak,

I walked in with a gift card to buy new running shoes.
You asked what kind of shoe was I looking for.
I said cute ones.
You said, that's not how this works. Take off your shoes and walk across the room, let me look at your feet.

So I did. You suggested three shoes, went and got them, and I tried them on.
One pair felt like I was walking on clouds, another felt like I was walking on pillows, and the third felt like little angels rubbing my feet while they sang encouraging running songs.
I picked the angels.

All of that was awesome, but here is the real magical part:

I was born with flat, narrow feet leading to a tendency to pronate (ankles sinking inward) when standing, walking or running. I was also born with no desire to run fast.

I took some ballet classes in college and learned to slowly strengthen the muscles in my feet. Then I started studying yoga, and learned about the Deep Front Line (DFL) which starts at the arch of the foot.
The DFL is in inner network of muscles and connective tissue that moves from the arches of the feet up the inside of the legs, through the inside of the torso, middle of the neck and out the tip of the tongue. Learning how to activate, energize and strengthen the middle of the body invites symmetry and balance to the arms, legs and head. It truly is magical.
(More info here: Anatomy Trains, and here, along with training under Melissa Scott and classes with Jasper Elliott Wolf.)

Back to the shoes. I have never worn the style of shoes I bought from you, Donna, because I was always a flat-footed-over-pronator. Now I am a flat footed, semi-strong arch, non-pronator. My feet changed through strengthening the DFL!

Of course I didn't tell you all of this at the time because you were so nice selling me shoes and I was an easy customer who did not care to shop around.

You said I was the easiest customer of the day.
I say you are the nicest employee at the TrakShak.

Also, thank you for putting my new box of angel shoes in a reusable tote bag. Now that my feet are stronger, I join you in saving the world with fewer plastic bags.

Thanks again, Donna.

Namaste,
Mollie

Dear Anna Leo...

Dear Anna Leo,

More than 20 years ago, I was a dancer in your studio class. I was the awkward, overly-eager one.

One day, you rolled out a skeleton on wheels and taught our class about connection, balance, and standing tall. You taught us how to stand before we moved. Then we moved, danced, leapt, stretched. Then you brought us back to standing: Tadasana.
The first time you said Tadasana, something inside me shifted into a more familiar place and I was at once home in my body. Thank you for that.

I am now a yoga teacher and every time I re-stack my bones - remembering to connect, to balance and to stand tall - I remember you and send you gratitude, love and light.

I googled you recently and found your faculty picture: your body poised in Crane Pose.

Something inside me celebrated and my brains said, "Of course!"
The Crane is a bird that mates for life and has become a symbol of loyalty, love, and dedication. Just like you! For decades you have remained loyal to the art of dance, the power of yoga and sharing that with others...like me.
You are a Crane, a beautiful Crane, and all of your students thank you for that.

Namaste,
Mollie

Trees

Bruno Munari wrote a book about drawing a tree.
He was inspired by Leonardo (from Vinci) who found a basic pattern in the growth of a tree, a pattern that underlies the unique twists and turns that happen as the tree grows.

He writes, "The tree spreads its branches and, as the years go by, its trunk gets bigger and bigger and the branches more and more numerous. Every leaf at the top of the branches has a tube that goes through the trunk which keeps it in contact with the ground. It uses the tube to suck up its nourishment. The trunk is where all these tubes are grouped together, which is why it is larger than the other branches...We can establish a rule of growth: the branch that follows is always more slender than the one that precedes it."

I am in a Women's Group on Tuesdays. Every time we meet, we visit like trees coming together in a forest. We compare our slender branches and the strength of our "tubes to nourishment."
If we were all to become one tree, in that one hour on Tuesday mornings, then we would be branches reaching out like hands, reminding each other to use the tube for nourishment, reaching down through our common trunk together, seeking God. God is our root system, our food source, our trunk.

Sometimes we don't always look like trees that get along well in the forest. Sometimes our coming together is not always happy; sometimes trees can hurt and grow and be sad together.




Lately, E. lost her kids to DHR again...T. lost her job because she couldn't find childcare or transportation...J. burned up her new apartment's kitchen...K. found out her mom has stage four cancer...B. went to the hospital with her husband who has a flesh-eating bacteria, and she forgot to pack compassion in her purse...S. is drinking again...C. went back to an abusive relationship where she is not safe because the shelters were too difficult to navigate...C. has not been to group in months and is not answering her phone...D. got a new tattoo of maybe a new boyfriend's name and lost possession of her apartment...

Sometimes the branches of a tree look disorganized and bent by the wind. Maybe they are a little scrawny and haven't produced a leaf in years. But they are still connected to the tree. There is still a tube through that trunk.



That gives me hope for my beloved Group that I look forward to each week...Our branches are weird and scrawny and tatted-up, but we are connected but tubes and roots, wrapped in the sturdy trunk of God.
Amen to that.

Cades Cove 2017

To celebrate one year from Husband's Radiation Vacation, two of our three kids and I joined him to retrace his steps.

There was, of course, the heart-squeezing-brush-with-mortality-cancer-is-so-scary part of the reflection, and then there were celebratory moments watching synchronous fire flies, hiking trails, runs with Leroy the Dog, and splashing in the freezing cold creek.



We walked about 1/1897 of the Appalachian Trail, and I am sure there are lovely sounds along the trail...like birds singing and water rushing and wind moving things...while hiking, this is all I heard:

C: Look at that! Totally poison ivy! Wo...don't fall off that cliff...oooooooo a ROCK! Can I throw it? 'Member that time? Wait, can I tell you something before we remember that time? OK, look. at. that. cave. Let's take a picture! please? now? here? GO!
Us: On the way back we'll take a picture. Let's keep seeing things!
C: (reluctant) Okay...I'll DOG EAR that one.
(and she did.)



C: (while hiking) The Law is No Texting and Hiking.

While waiting for the synchronous fireflies start, H and C:
"It's just some light-up bugs...can we just GO?"
"Let's go back to the camper. I'm ready to snore."
(later they thanked their Dad profusely for the cool lightning bug viewing).



There was also the drive to the campsite when we realized...if you have a three-legged stool and you take away one of the legs, how does the stool stand?
Exactly.
With one kid missing, the other two did not know how to get along. Hashtagfamilysystemstheory.

In the car:
"You are a giant brat."
"I just saw a sign that had three sight words!!! She. Rat. On."
"Don't put your gum on me!"
"Seriously?? For real?"
"S/he started it!"
"Do you want to have my fidget spinner for life? .....PSYCH!"
"You are disgusting."

An important, necessary, fun, adventurous milestone we needed to make.
The fireflies were icing and an accessory.
Hashtaggratefulforeverydaywithhusband.

Dear Mr. Andrews...

Dear Mr. Andrews,

Thank you for for taking my tendency to be a one-dimensional thinker, and writing a two-dimensional book to remind me to stand up and get a three-dimensional view of life. Perspective is a 3D process.

The Noticer changed my life. A friend gave me a copy and told me to read it and pass it on. I waited about 7 months, then picked it up. I was nervous. I wasn't sure I wanted to "notice" anything else in the days I already found overwhelming. I was comfortable with my discomfort.

I thought of so many friends while reading the story of you and Jones, but one in particular, Sunshine, received my copy. She read it and, along with a few other resources and hope-sources, found a new perspective. She, like me, realized that it wasn't just vienna sausages and crackers in the sand. It was surf and turf by the sea!
Sunshine found a spot in a women's shelter, then secured an apartment and is on her way to getting her daughter back at home to live with her - no more sleeping on the streets.

Another friend, moved by Sunshine's story and her insistence that our entire Women's Group read your book, bought copies for the whole group.
I can't wait to see what these ladies do with the fresh three-dimensional perspective you write about.

Thank you so much, Mr. Andrews.

Love,
Mollie

Seen & Heard

Last week, I had to slam on the brakes.

I'm in a Women's Group that meets weekly, trying to bridge gaps across party lines, skin tan lines, money lines, chip/dip preferences lines, and smelly lines. Every. Single. Week.

Last week was hard. It was a whole lot of fun with our first road trip together across state lines! It was also tiring to do the hard work of showing up to difficult questions.

So I slammed on the brakes.
I wrote down my tough questions.
I showed up. Invited some friends.
It was mostly awesome, but kinda sucked.

Here are the questions:

1. Why do I go to Women's Group every week?

2. Why volunteer time anywhere?
               (TBC, I am not a volunteer at Group. I am a member and participant. Sometimes the building that houses Group needs volunteers and then we take turns stepping up and in.)

3. How much am I motivated by Guilt? by Goodness?
               Wisely noted by another member of Group: Guilt is not always a bad thing. It can offer a moral and ethical boundary.

4. What are the instructions in the Gospel for generosity?
               My feeble understanding is to give away 100%; there is little-to-no mention of how to manage the continuum of enabling and empowering.

5. How counter-cultural can we behave (as the New Testament encourages) and still function in our culture?

6. Why continue...when it will never be enough?

7. How do you keep Groups everywhere that cross racial, economic, religious barriers from becoming "crutches" for the underserved and instead make them "launching pads" for all to areas and situations with sufficient resources?

8. What is it about being human that encourages us to focus on what is different about our neighbor, rather than what is similar...and is that a learned behavior?
           Propaganda touched on this at a Catalyst conference, naming it the Deficit Model: when you approach a problem or a person concentrating first on what they lack. With this model there is always an implied inequality.



Those were the magic slam-on-the-brakes questions I showed up to hear. Even with thoughtful friends and a two-hour lunch, we have no answers.

We agreed that the point of Group was that all in the circle would be Seen and feel Heard. That's all we can do on this day.
Seen and Heard may look like listening, crying, laughing, writing, sharing money, passing around essential oils, creating new oil blends to share, praying, arranging rides, or finding more aluminum foil to wrap around leftovers and send home with a sister.

Part of the hard work of showing up is allowing the rules to form and change over what Seen and Heard looks like and feels like.

I will continue to sit with these questions.
As I'm ready, I'll ease off the brake and slowly roll forward...

Dear Mrs. Roberts...

Dear Mrs. Roberts,

It's Mollie - we ran into each other the other day at Books A Million? You have been on my mind since then and I wanted to tell you something.

I first met you when I was in sixth grade (1987). I was new to HMS and you were on the stage in the old gym and I was in the crowd on that red rubber floor.
You taught us how to Pas de Bourree: Step in place with the Right foot. Step the Left foot out to the side, transfer weight into Left foot, lightly lift Right foot. Step Right foot back down and bring Left foot next to it. Sixth grade was my first year in Homewood and I was nervous and tragic, like all other 6th grade girls. I did not take dance lessons like the others...but I would fall asleep every night to the radio hoping "my song" would come on so I could dance one more time before sleeping. I loved it so much.

You said step in place first: know your space and claim it before stepping out. That was my morning in the safety of my room.
You said step the other foot out to the side - take a risk, try something new, put your weight there. That was my school day.
You said come back to the center, bring your feet next to each other and stand strong. That was me safely back home at the end of the day.
You blew my mind with that Pas de Bourree. You were patient and repetitive. You taught us all despite levels of experience. I felt important learning from you. It was my first invitation to dance and it felt like a glass ceiling breaking and disco balls spinning and everyone smiling.

I went on to Cheerleading for 3 years (in order to dance more) then danced with the Star Spangled Girls. I took classes at BSC then Emory University, as well as dancing with 3 student-run dance companies while at Emory.
Now I teach yoga and I regularly lift you up with gratitude for that first dance breakthrough that helped convince me I COULD DO IT. All I have to do is first step in place, then out to the side, then come back to my center and stand strong, feet side by side.

Thank you, Mrs. Roberts.

Love,
Mollie

Dear Glennon...

Dear Glennon,

Sister, let me join your long line of fan mail and exclaim, I'M NOT MAD AT YOU ANYMORE!

You see, sister, we met a while ago when you came through my town and when you walked on stage, I jumped up clapping and you gave me the first hug. I'll never forget it.



In your presentation and conversation, you touched on the process of sistering in carpentry. You had written about it before and I read it with my eyes, but hearing you explain it was clarifying in a magical way. I was born into a family that provided me a sister, one I call every day and lean on and she props me up when I can't go on. My sister sisters me. And with her help, I get to sister so many women with whom I don't share a mother.
The very concept makes my jaw drop and my hands go out - just like you did when explaining it on stage. I call it the Sistering Face:



This was all before Love Warrior came out.

When I read Love Warrior, I was nauseated for three days. I felt free and hopeful and embarrassed and a little violated that maybe you had read my journal. I was so lost in my happy, polished, neat and clean marriage. I painted the image of the Love Warrior on a board and hung it on my wall so I would see it roughly 17 times an hour.
I got out paper and pen and did the hard work of self-discovery and awareness by journaling and drawing. I prayed. I called my therapist and saved my pennies.
And here is where I went wonky: I became so engrossed in your story and the similarities with mine, I forgot that I held my own pen and my own paper and my own part of my marriage.
When the next step in your journey did not look like mine, I was angry. Wait - go back! That's not my next step I yelled at you through my laptop (so healthy). I felt betrayed. At the root of that betrayed feeling was fear.

Once I found my big girl pants, I went back to thanking you for your bravery, for your vulnerability, for modeling how to be a Love Warrior...and inviting me to be my own Love Warrior. Not your version, but mine. Simple...and so very difficult.

With a chorus of other sisters, surrounding you near and far, once again, THANK YOU.

Hamilton, 40, & Not Shushing.

Hamilton is real and happens, y'all.

Also, I turned 40 this past year and all of my edges got softer and most of my clothes shrunk.
Weird.
During the same period, there were some shifts in leadership and government and a presidential election.  Then I realized that I could not watch or read the news for days and my day-to-day life would not change.
Another weird.
My brain was soft...and it needed more edges.
Body soft, mind sharp.

So I looked up my State Reps and Senators. Then my D.C. ones. I looked for a huddle. I attended a meeting about How To Talk With Those With Whom I Disagree. I tried to figure out what I really believe. About each issue. (Still working on it).

AT THE SAME TIME, I fell in love with the smash Broadway hit Alexander Hamilton. Suddenly, this story in American History became accessible to my brain and understanding through rap, hip hop and rhyme (THANK YOU LIN MANUEL MIRANDA).
Then Svea and I got tickets to Hamilton (thank you dear friends) and we saw it over Spring Break. I had studied; I was ready.
We were in the balcony. Svea had the binoculars.
First Act, I did not sing out loud (just mouthed the words) but I used some hand and arm motions for emphasis.
Second Act, the guy behind me SHUSHED ME. He asked me to "tone down the choreography." I was horrified. I had ruined his experience! I had annoyed him and his people around him! We were 4,000 feet up from the stage, but I had been Too Much! I kept my elbows glued to my sides and my lips sealed the whole Act II.
After several days of breathing and grief, I realized I SHOULD NOT BE SHUSHED. My choreography was relevant and full of joy! Hamilton himself (as well as Eliza and Angelica) would not stand for shushing. I cannot Tone It Down.

My soft brain freaked as I connected the boldness of our Founding Fathers with our current political climate along with my new-ish challenge to sharpen my brain, and I committed to Less Shushing, More Listening, More Engagement, Deeper Understanding.

Y'all. Figure out what you believe. Call your Reps and Senators. Be nice to your neighbor. Stop talking and listen. Do not be shushed.

Seriously - This American Life, Sara Bareilles, and Leslie Odom, Jr.

Why HAMILTON Yoga?

Why practice yoga to the soundtrack from the smash Broadway Hit Alexander Hamilton?

Why not trade all original thoughts to Hamilton lyrics?

In Hamilton, there are 23 songs in Act I and 23 songs in Act II. There are 23 pairs (half from mom and half from dad) of chromosomes in our body; the DNA in the chromosomes acts as a source for our bodies.
Here is our chance to literally bring the Hamilton story into our bodies!

Lin Manuel Miranda (LMM) states in the book Hamilton: The Revolution, "'I know how deep in the DNA musicals get because they're deep in my DNA'...he evoked Les Miserables, the first Broadway musical he ever saw: 'I know that show like I know my family tree.'" (160)

On page 196 LMM "felt, when he wrote Hamilton, that it could legitimize hip-hop in musical theater...If you look at half the scores on Broadway today, they use rock - it's just in the DNA now. And this was my injection of hip-hop into the DNA."

Y'all, it's in our "dunnah" (shout out to Zootopia).

HERE WE GO.

Five Themes:
I. Hamilton's Relationships (piloted at The DF on 9/6/16; We Will Repeat!!)

II. A. Ham v. A. Burr, sir. (Tuesday, 9/27/16 at Hwd Parks and Rec)

III. Alexander Hamilton: War and Politics (about to announce date and time!!)

IV. Hamilton's Ambition...Beware: It Goeth Before the Fall... (Set for October!)

V.  TBA


LMM, the scribe and creative genius behind the Broadway Hit, is a cultural icon. I send him immense gratitude. He took a load of facts and dates and names and places and made the story - Our Story - accessible to those who learn in different ways. He used motion and music and puns and rhymes to invite ALL people to fall in love with the story of the beginning of our nation - with all of its flaws and mishaps and rule-making and rule-breaking. My 10th grade American History curriculum came ALIVE through this narrative.

So THANK YOU, LMM, for the story, but even more - THANK YOU for reminding me that I love learning.

Now I want to LEARN.




Come learn with us on the mat. You can rest and sing. You can sleep. You can engage in asana and connect your pose with the story's themes. You can quit, you can achieve.
Just show up.



*Disclaimer: We are bringing Lin Manuel Miranda's artistic representation of the Alexander Hamilton biography by Ron Chernow into our yoga practice, understanding that creative license allows Miranda to translate history into story using rap and hip-hop as tools for teaching and learning. I do not claim to be a historian. I will happily engage in conversation with you about the Truth and the truth in history, biography, music and yoga. LMK.

Dear Henry, XC

Dear Henry,

You just completed your first Cross Country (XC) meet.

When we (your family) pulled up to the meet, I hid behind your sisters and my camera and sunglasses. I KNOW = SO EMBARRASSING.

Then my Eyes burst into tears! My Brain and Heart were all like, "What is wrong with you????" but my Eyes kept spewing.



Then my Heart started racing, and my Eyes and Brain were all like, "Dude, for real?"



Then my Brain started calculating distance and times and elevation and traffic and nutrition and digestion and my Eyes and Heart were all like, "Not important, MOM. That's what Henry and the coaches DO, like for their JOBS."

So I was a mess.
And you were amazing.
And I hope you get to do races like that which bring you joy and challenge all in a messy bundle and remind you what it feels like to be ALIVE.

Choose life, buddy.
Run hard.
You got this.
Even off the trail and track.

We love you, Boo,
Mom

Svea's Baptism

Tonight, Svea went to Confirmation which is a class some 6th graders in some Methodist (hopefully most) churches spend some months learning Why Be All Methodist.

I found this blog post from Svea's baptism and I was all verclempt. (Spelling is hard.)

Then I remembered I had to write her a letter about her baptism (not really my department in the parenting gig). But I tried and then I sealed the letter. Then she lost it. True to character. I'm glad I took a picture of it.

That girl teaches me and amazes me every single day. And on THIS day I am so very grateful to have so much community surrounding her...as baptism promises...

The Thistle: Where I'm From.

I am from clothespins,

from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride,

I am from the dirt under the back porch.

(Black, glistening,

it tasted like beets.)

George Ella Lyon wrote those words in her poem "Where I'm From."
Jan Richardson unpacks the power of the poem in a chapter of her book In the Sanctuary of Women and then writes her own version of where she is from, who she is, what "holds her roots."

I love the image of things, people, places and experiences that hold our roots, like how these trees are doing:

My backyard happens to be full of thistles. The root system of the thistle weed is winding and complex, longing to connect.
The top part of the thistle is prickly and the stem, thorny. But if you dig your fingers into the dirt around the base of the stem and grab the first part of the root, there are no thorns. You can pinch the root and pull the whole thing out, and if you're lucky, the root will lead you to the next thistle.

Becca Stevens suggests that women are like these thistles...and no matter how thorny you get on the outside, on the inside we are smooth. We are winding and complex, longing to connect.

Becca founded the Magdalene House in Nashville (which inspired sister houses in other states), as well as Thistle Farms and Thistle Stop Cafe and Shared Trade. Her books Snake Oil and The Way of Tea and Justice are life changing. I can't get over it.

I ordered some of Thistle Farms' natural bug spray - which smells AWESOME - and took it with me to my Women's Group on Tuesday morning. We passed around the spray before we did our breathing time, and maybe because there are bugs in our meeting room, and we talked about the thistle weed.

We talked about feeling thorny on the outside, when our insides are smooth. Some of us in Group live on the street, some live indoors, some have extra lake houses. Some of us are battling addictions, some domestic violence situations, some sit in long lines at carpool. All of us are familiar with a System that doesn't always Serve. We get together once a week to remember that we are the same and say the word LOVE as much as possible within the hour. For that little bit of time, we can be smooth and connected. We are the Thistle, winding and complex, longing to connect.

Later this summer we hope to paint a mural around our meeting room walls with thistle leaves intertwined, like our very roots are hugging. Along with George Ella Lyon and Jan Richardson, we will hold each others' roots, remembering where we are from, holding hands as we get ready to see what we will become...because Love Heals Every Body, even if you are a Thistle, winding and complex, longing to connect.

I Have a Pouch Fairy

I have a pouch fairy who leaves empty, sticky CapriSun drink pouches and empty GoGo Squeeze pouches (with or without tops) on my mailbox. 

I love her.

I add her flattened pouches to my own and store them in empty bulk snack containers until they are full.
Then I bag them, put them in an envelope or box, print out a free shipping label from Terracycle and drop them by UPS.

You can do this too!

Or I will do it for you!  

Be a Pouch Fairy and drop your empty pouches on my mailbox or in my driveway!
(CapriSun, Honest Kid, GoGo Squeeze, Ella's Kitchen and Earth's Best are currently the pouches Terracycle is recycling - AMONG OTHER "WASTE". Check it out!!!)

Love the earth, y'all. Teach your kids.

One Hour

One hour, 60 minutes, 3,600 seconds.

Nathan Foster, of Renovare and The Making of an Ordinary Saint, was confused by the act of "submission" and so, decided to study it. He asked his 9yo daughter and 5yo son, if they could have an afternoon with him, what would they want to do?
He asked himself, can I truly turn myself "off" and do what my kids want to do for a certain amount of time, within a reasonable budget? Like, NOT check his phone, double up on errands that serve him too, add in a treat that would ease his submission-ing discomfort, etc.
He did it. It was hard. (His afternoon involved a trip to Chuck E Cheese, among other things. Bless...)

So I thought, what about an hour???

Could I do an hour with each child, ONLY what they wanted, within a budget?
I asked all three of them if they could have an hour with me, what would they want to do? Then I asked them to think about it for a day.

Corinne wanted to go first. I set a timer on my phone and Henry and Svea pulled up a chair to watch.
Corinne wanted me to get IN the pool with her and not only STAY in the pool but PLAY at whatever she said.
Henry was delighted and grabbed my phone to take pictures. Mom was going to PLAY! Svea got in the pool with us.
The only time I got out of the pool was to make her some orange juice (it was past 10am so she had already had a Fanta).

Henry eventually got in too, and Corinne forgot that she was only allowed to be in charge of what she and I did, not what Henry and Svea were doing. Her siblings may or may not have mentioned that "she was trying to boss everyone in the world like Donald Trump." Ha.

Svea had pity on me and checked the timer several times as I engaged in jump-off-the-pool-wall-dance-routines, bounced, splashed and swam back and forth in the shallow end.
The hour ended. I survived. It was hard. (There was no Chuck E Cheese even mentioned.)



Svea was next.
She wanted me and her to go to Hobby Lobby and buy materials to create something! With styrofoam heads! And paint! And feather boas! All for under $20!
So we did. We listened to the radio and sang loudly (maybe with hand motions) with the windows down.
The hour ended. I survived. It was hard. (Wouldn't you know that Chuck E Cheese is next door to Hobby Lobby??)



I had to lie down on the couch for a few minutes before Henry's turn.

Then we went to another store to hunt out Superhero items (costumes, posters, accessories, sheets, cups - there are no rules, people.)

In under $20, we found two posters for his room, a blank poster, 3 canvas boards, paint and brushes. The superhero hour was full. There was no radio played in the car and we used the air conditioner. Quiet and cool, y'all. Room for all his thoughts...
The hour ended. I survived. It was hard. (There are no superheroes at Chuck E Cheese.)



I was disappointed how hard it was for me to focus that long on one child. I'm surprised at how quickly I wanted to check my messages or double up an errand (since we are right here by Whole Foods, let's just run in and grab some essential oils, eh?)

I want to work on this, though. I don't want it to be so intentional and hard. WHAT IF I naturally spent time with them, individually and together?  Is that what you call parenting?
I'll keep working on it. Promise, guys.

Not Even 40!

Y'ALL.

I'm not even 40 years old.
But my visionary husband and my loyal sister got together and gathered loving souls to send me wishes, poems, pictures, videos, flowers, cards and amazingness for the 40 days UNTIL I turn 40.

Tonight was Yoga in Railroad Park with a picnic to follow.
Ah-Maz-Ing.

I am so filled with gratitude that my insides are singing.

There must have been 100 yogis there practicing and listening to Synovia (??) on her microphone sponsored by BCBS to help us all take a hot minute to check in with our bodies!

This is me in a Tree with a Birthday Crown!

Isabel gave me a few choice henna tattoos beforehand!!! 

Synovia had these awesome prompts like, "Reach up into your LIFE!"  and, "Look behind you at all the things you want to avoid." and, "Shake your head left and right and say NO to all that you don't want to let in."

Yes, people.

 If you are afraid of turning 40 and want to act like it hasn't been coming all along then WAH WAH YOU BABY this is my face for you:

If you want to get down to the Nitty-Gritty about all that is in front of you, then this is my face for you:

Bring it sisters (and brothers).
Let's do this.
Every day we are getting there.
Let's write this story, celebrate with some yoga and a picnic and do this thing.

Happy birthday to ALL of you!!!!

Ballons 2016!!

The balloons flew again this year!!

I kept my cool in front of the crowds (and my perpetually embarrassed tweens), but deep down I was feeling how this little girl was expressing herself:

I was definitely that creepy lady taking pictures of children I did not know. Nice.

Then I asked some cousins how they felt:

The cousins over four feet tall were looking at their phones and couldn't really talk to me about the wonder of it all.

Look Pops! There was even a black balloon with a Skull and Crossbones flag! Just like your old gang!

I've been in a bit of a slump lately, so it was beautiful to see something lain flat on the ground, stretched and smoothed out, and lovingly urged to inflate with the warm air and fans that workers adjusted and angled just right. With that team, that Village, around the flattened balloon, time after time, we watched air go in, wrinkles disappear...and then FLIGHT.

  

Even Tweety and Sylvester took flight!

The next morning, the balloons came back. They flew in over our morning coffee and sleepy eyes:

They came in over our right shoulders and flew past the bird houses...

...Wings and feathers, air and wind...

As Emily Dickinson noted, "Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings a song without the words and never stops at all."

Thank you, Balloons, for coming every year and reminding us to take flight, to stay up, to keep moving, to claim hope.