brand new day

I have a three year old, which means for the past year we have been in the throes of tattletaling.  She has mastered this skill and made it into an art form which in turn has pushed the rest of us to become masters of extreme patience.  We have worked so hard with her to get her to verbalize her feelings and talk with the person she’s upset with.  It goes something like this: Mom! Henry’s teasing! Oh no!  How did that make you feel? Mom, he’s just teasing, he’s not being a good listener! Are you feeling mad? No, I'm feeling frustrated! Well, did you talk to him about it and tell him how it made you feel? Henry, I feel frustrated because you’re teasing and that’s not being a good listener. I’m sorry, Ellamae. I won’t tease anymore. Ok, let’s go play! A hundred times a day.  Over and over again.  Feel it, express it, release it.  Feel it, express it, release it.  And I think it’s actually working.  Truthfully, it has done nothing to reduce the amount of tattling, but it

You don't need to feel sorry for me, because I will not be a victim to this trauma, I will rise. I will not let this suffering be without purpose, I will learn from this. I will not be broken and bruised forever, I will heal. I will not be defined by this misfortune, I will recognize it as just another chapter in my story. I will not be a victim to this trauma, I will rise. I will not hide my scars, I will wear them as a sign of my strength. I will not apologize for who I am or what I need, I will live without fear of judgement. I will not allow someone else's rejection and betrayal define my self-worth, I will look in the mirror and celebrate who I am. I will not be a victim to this trauma, I will rise. I will not retreat from this life because of the pain, I will face it, embrace it and move forward. I will not get lost in the pain, I will grow through the pain. I will not lose my faith or hope, I will rely on them to get me through. I will not be a victim

I work in a Birthing Center. The other day I had a patient who had to have an unscheduled c-section at 33 weeks due to complications with her pregnancy. She was scared, but she was not alone. Her mother and two aunts were there holding her when she cried and filling her with encouragement and peace. They each met her on a different level, her mother with a serenity and calmness in the midst of the storm, and her aunties with hope and light reminding her that miracles happen every day. They took turns praying over her and the baby. They had a faith rooted in confidence that their God was in control and would surround her and the baby in his loving arms. They knew this and because they knew it, she believed it. In that moment, it was exactly what she needed. I watched this outpouring of love and support and after her recovery was finished (mom and baby did just fine) I told her what a wonderful family she had and thanked her for letting me be a part of that experience. It was a truly bea

My son has ADD.  I'm confident we didn't rush to this diagnosis.  We started noticing some behaviors in 1st grade and so he started therapy.  We waited patiently and tried a lot of different strategies to try and help his time management and organization skills.  Some worked, some did not; it was hit or miss.  Finally, in the spring of his 5th grade year, his psychologist recommended getting him tested.  We did and he was diagnosed with ADD. In concert with his pediatrician and his therapist, we decided to start him on some low dose medication when he started 6th grade. That's the briefest, most sterile overview of our journey with Henry.  For me the reality of trying to raise a child with ADD is that it's a road fraught with frustration, questions, worry, and fear.  Sometimes I feel like I'm a pioneer in ADD, trying to discover a new strategy or coping skill that will work for both Henry and me.  Because if there is one thing ADD is not, it's not one-size-fit