one of the hardest things I've ever written:

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Many of you have asked why I haven't been writing as much. The answer to that is because I've been going through a divorce. Being a fairly transparent person, I have always tried to keep my blog "real". I like having conversations with you, but it has been hard for me to write honestly. Out of respect for my family, I wanted to be careful about protecting our privacy. I also found it difficult to write about light and fluffy stuff when things have felt so heavy over the last year or more. I couldn't fake it. I don't share this now for any other reason than simply to convey information. I want you to hear it from me, but I am in no way interested in airing dirty laundry, pointing fingers, or shifting blame. I am not compelled to have "my side of the story" be heard or even validated.

I simply want to heal. 

I want that for my children as well. We are all understandably a little beat up from this process. So, I would ask for nothing more than just the extension of your love. If that is too much to ask for, then I'd simply ask that you reserve your judgment. Rest assured that I have been my own harshest critic; toiling over, thinking about, and wrestling with these most difficult decisions.


And... to those of you (you know who you are) who have carried me through this with your unwavering friendships, I will always, always be grateful.

Thank you Dear Friends. Better days are already here.

inner dialog- coffee shop version

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10:32am in the coffee shop where I bake three mornings a week. This day I am a customer. 

I'm sitting in a hard wooden chair. Thankfully I chose heels today because it helps my short legs touch the floor. That's typically a problem for me. I ironed my dress this morning and I am annoyed now as I look down to see where it's creasing around my lap. That's not going to be good when I stand up. 

Trying to read. Trying to write. Trying to think. Attempting to work. My mind wanders. I hear the older man next to me aggressively clear his throat. He even startles me a little and now I am somewhat fearful of him (in spite of his charming red wing boots.)

I overhear some customers at the counter comment on the "caramelization" of the filling in the cinnamon rolls. I wonder what the comments are on the days that I bake the goodies that fill the case. Do they know that they were baked by a girl who thought deep about the hard stuff in life as she rolled the dough out? Can they taste that? 

I see the woman in the corner and I like her sweater. It suits her. How did she choose it this morning? How did she choose it when she bought it? Did it make her feel pretty when she tried it on? How do people make all the big and little decisions every day that add up to a long life over the course of time? 

 

There are two friends gossiping a few tables over. I wonder if they've never made any mistakes before. I wonder if they've never put themselves in a position that they later regretted. Haven't they ever wished they could take back certain words? Certain actions? The person they are referencing is a stranger to me, but I want to hug him/her. 

I look down at my typing fingers and feel happy that I have young stylish daughters that lent me their sparkly gold polish. I would never have bought that for myself, but today it is fun. I brush my lips again at the thought of just how much I love the taste of my children. I think about my son's juicy kiss as I said goodbye to him at the door of his school this morning. I wonder if he's thinking about me at this very moment, and I wonder what mental image he has when he remembers his mama.  

Several times throughout the morning friendly faces stop near my table to say hello, and I feel warm. I feel warm knowing that there are people who know my name, who know me, and who like me. Some days it's easy to forget. It's easy to forget because there are also several times throughout the morning when my mind drifts to the estranged faces in my life. It hurts me to feel as if we are committed to misunderstanding each other. I feel cold. The man next to me clears his throat again, and I shiver. 

I suddenly remember my car has been parked on the street for more than 2 hours! Shoot.  

I pack up my bag as I pack up my thoughts. I resolve to keep being me. I resolve to keep being. I circle up all the hope and all the gratitude from the far places of my heart and bring it to the center. The corners of my mouth turn upward and it doesn't feel forced. I clear my dishes, and I clear the slate. Scary Throat Guy holds the door for me. He's not so bad after all. I haphazardly jog in my heels to my car. No ticket.

It's going to be a great day.

 

The river

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The river: 

Where we retreat.

Where the palette is pure. 

Where we defy boredom. 

Where the quiet settles and clarity comes. 

Where giving notice to small things makes them big. 

Where adventure invites. 

Where I find community amongst rustling leaves and bird-song. 

Where there is no agenda, no expectation, no intended purpose. 

Where the sound of rushing water drowns out harsh things.

Where cotton tufts fall like summer snowflakes and rest silently on the water's surface.

Where freedom and frolic reign. 

Where there is no rivalry of thought, no division of time. 

Where pen meets paper and I write the first words that feel right and true in months. 

Where I realize how easy and effortless a beautiful life can be. 

Where I am happy in all the corners of my heart.