I have been quietly meditating and praying about the tragic incident of Orlando, the death of Cristina Grimmie and the political vitriol regarding our presidential candidates being spewed about in the news and on social media. It’s like a bad car accident, we stand there gawking. It’s hard to look away. In a time when we need to be mourning the lives of the innocent and looking leadership that will elevate our country and serve as a beacon of goodness for others, the hate is palpable. Read More
Do you want to be Healthy, Abundant, and Wise?
“Struggle and strife. For many, this is just the way life is. What if it doesn’t have to be that way? It took a run-in with personal health crisis for me to reconsider my approach to life. We are all worthy of well-being and ease. The day I was willing to acknowledge this, my life changed completely.” ~ Anitra Richardson Read More
In the glass door of the studio, I could see the ghost image of my reflection staring back at me as I huffed through a series of triceps curls during a Pilates boot camp class. I focused on my feet: wide and angular around my bunions, thanks to poor shoe choices when I was younger. My instructor is a long, slip of thing, like a ballerina. I think she could fit two of her feet into the width of on of my shoes.
Quickly, I shift my eyes back to my oblique curves and a flat, post-pregnancy abdomen, once split 2 inches wide open. Not bad for a mom who is well north of 29. Go ahead. Roll your eyes. What if I also told you that I have one boob, Read More
I am dedicating this blog to my son who turned 12 yesterday. Several months ago, he said some very wise words for an 11 year-old that I want to share in this story. We were having a busy family day. My children were tired and acting out. I was feeling inadequate. At some point, my son lamented about something going wrong in his day. Though his challenge was an authentic one to him, my mind immediately judged his problem as a “first-world” problem. I slipped and fell right in to an old-parenting style trap. My first words in response to his problem were something along the lines of “When I was your age…” Much to my dismay, he held his hand up (as in “talk to the hand) and he said, “Save me the sad back-story, Mom.”
One morning last week, I found myself feeling like a tangled up mess. I had imagined that this Advent season was going to be full of peaceful evenings spent by the fireplace reading an Advent story to my children as they snuggled up to their Daddy while the dogs dozed quietly nearby on the floor and the cat purred softly as she was cradled in one of my children’s arms.