Moe Challenges, Moe Love

Last week was a stressful week for many in the country. We had a bit more chaos in our home for another reason: we added another family member. Meet Moe.

Moe had a rough life before landing in our home two days after the election. He was found alone in a field in Lubbock, Texas with puncture wounds from a wild animal or large dog on his hind legs and neck. The shelter where he was taken does not provide medical care, so they put out an APB to rescue organizations. Doodle Rock Rescue answered the call, had him flown to Dallas, and provided him with medical care and a foster home. After two weeks, he was too active to stay in the first foster home, so he moved to a second. And two weeks after that, he moved in with us. ♡ His forever family.♡ He fit right in with our crew and now plays all day with our 4 year-old golden doodle and sleeps with our 9 year-old daughter at night. 

Moe is a resilient little bugger. His life changed so much in just one month, and he is taking it all in (tiny dog) stride. His journey has me reflecting on the following:

• Even when we are at our lowest point- wounded, alone, and afraid- a life-changing blessing might be in our near future. And it will be worth the wait.
• This Fred Rogers' quote, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' "  Moe had a lot of helpers over the past month. A lot of people that gave of their time, money, and love so one little 13 pound dog could have a happy life. I'm so grateful to them all.
• We won't always know the outcome of our efforts. But we put in the effort anyway with the hopes of a positive outcome. I'm certain the person who scooped Moe up in that field, could not have predicted that in a few short weeks, this dog would be a pampered pooch several hundred miles away.
• Be present. Don't dwell on the past or worry about the future. Be present! (This one is such a challenge for me. I had a reminder tattooed on my wrist. In hindsight, I needed it on my forehead.)
• Family are the people who love you. (Now we have three adopted children- one with 2 legs and two with four.) All three came to us in their own way and in their own time.  With each one, we felt it was meant to be. 
• Sh*t happens. And when it does, hopefully it's on the hardwood and not the new rug.
• And finally, our scars are reminders of how much we've overcome. Moe's many scars remind us he is one BADASS little doggie! 

I hope Moe's story inspires you today. Remember, you are stronger than you think, Dear Reader. 

Feel free to leave a message of resilience, hope, or faith below. Someone might need to hear your words of wisdom today. 

Remembering to Take Baby Steps

I have a lot of ideas/plans/goals swirling around in my head lately. So many in my head, competing for time and attention and leaving me feeling overwhelmed. Then my urge is to retreat; to take a nap, walk Disco, or create some art. These are usually great activities for my well-being, but don't really serve me much when I use them as an escape (verses a quick recharge.)

One of my goals has been to update this blog. And to return to writing and sharing my voice/insight/knowledge/self. So this morning I spent at least 90 frustrating minutes trying to get my fancy new logo to work on here. But it's been so long since I've written, that I forgot a lot of the Blogger functionality. And even then it's not really an intuitive system. I started feeling overwhelm. Retreat was tapping on my shoulder. But just then, the thought came into my head that I should just write a small post. Just get started somewhere. Take a baby step towards my goal.

And that is when I remembered this post, Taking Baby Steps to Big Changes, that I wrote so many years ago. I reread it and felt impressed with that 8-year-ago version of myself. Sometimes I wonder where she (and her wisdom and moxie) went. But deep down, I know she's still in here somewhere. I have faith that I'll find her again. And that I'll eventually get that fancy-dancy logo on here. I just need to remember to keep moving forward. And keep taking baby steps.

Why I Am Hurting After this Election

Before President-Elect Trump, her future seemed brighter.

Like many Americans, I've been hurting big time since the election results came in. First I was in shock- my country wouldn't do this (elect a man who was endorsed by the KKK, bragged about sexually assulting women, etc., etc., etc.) Then I was sad, so incredibly sad.

In the last two days, I've had several facebook conversations with Trump voters- some that I know and some I do not- because I sincerely wanted to understand what they were thinking. Maybe if I understood, I thought, my suffering would be less.  

Anger is a secondary emotion. Hurt almost always lies underneath the anger. Trump insulted veterans, women, Muslims, immigrants, people of color, people of size, and disabled people. He didn't offer apologies. He instigated hate at his rallies. His call to "Make America Great Again" in and of itself insulted minorities. What time period was he referring to? American history has not been kind to anyone except white men. The "good old days" were not great for women or minorities.   

Each vote for Trump FEELS like a validation of all those hateful comments. And that hurts. Big time. I'm not hurt by him, I had already written him off as a narcissist incapable of empathy. Rather, I am hurt that 50% of the people in this already great country validated the hate he peddled. The people who "held their noses" or overlooked his hate and voted for him anyway. 

Today I had lunch with two sweet friends after yoga. We made small talk and one asked how I was doing. I said I wasn't doing well and that I was really hurt by this election. The talk turned to how people were rioting and wasn't that terrible? Why can't the people who voted for Hillary accept it and move on?

It is terrible. It's terrible because hate cannot be conquered by hate. It's terrible because the Trump people will now just write off all protestors as "crazy liberals" who are violent and hypocritical and sore losers. It's terrible because it's not ok to destroy property and hurt people because you are angry. But I said that I understood their anger. I don't condone it but I understand it. People are HURTING. People are scared. People feel they are not seen. People feel they do not matter. 

One friend said this is why she didn't talk politics. I could tell I was making her uncomfortable. The topic of conversation was changed to her child now in middle school and yadayadayada. I couldn't hear a word. I felt unheard. I felt my hurt was being dismissed. I couldn't eat my lunch. I started to sob. I said "how are we going to heal as a country if we can't even have these discussions with friends?" I said I didn't want to have friends that only talked about things on a superficial level and who didn't try to understand why I was hurting. They said they weren't taking the elections personally. 

And BING BING BING- there was the source of my pain. I was taking it personally. 

I thought we were making steady progress and that my daughter would not have to endure the blatant racism my husband had endured. I am a mama bear and I am hurt beyond words that my beautiful and long-awaited child is not valued in our society as much as their white children. Literally. The fees for her adoption were less because she was part black. They are lowest for full black children. The waiting time for black children is significantly shorter. And STILL black baby boys are being shipped overseas because they aren't all being adopted here. Why are some people pro-baby when it comes to unborn children but not pro-baby for the ones that are already born? How can someone be staunchly anti-abortion but then not adopt? Where do they think those babies go? Why are the unborn babies seen and valued when babies (and people) of color aren't? What about the suffering right in front of our eyes? How can a vote for a serial cheater (of women and small businesses) and a documented liar who now says he is pro-life in order to get elected be the vote of the conservative Christians? What is Christian about his statements and his actions? Who really wants to claim his "values" as their own?

One of my lunch friends was not familiar with my husband's recent press coverage. I told her of his role in the Dallas Police shootings and his comments to the media. How he has experienced racism his whole life. How he condems violence but understands the fear of police because he experiences it. He lives it. I told her how he has had patients coming into the hospital literally dying on a stretcher who said they didn't want a black man to be their doctor. (And he was the only trauma surgeon there!) I cannot fathom having so much hate for a group of people that you are willing to DIE rather than have one SAVE YOUR LIFE. And can you imagine how that must feel to be so despised? Just because of your skin pigment? And a lot of white people that I know honestly believe that racism doesn't really exist anymore because they don't see it or experience it. I will tell you I myself was naive about a lot of it until I witnessed it. And I had a very reasonable fear that a white supremacist was going to come to our house and shoot us because my husband spoke out. 

Our country has a long and complicated history with "all men were created equal." For many, many years, "all men" meant white men and not people of color or women. So, my fellow Americans, do you REALLY believe that ALL MEN (AND WOMEN) ARE CREATED EQUAL? And if we truly believe that, why do black babies cost less? They were created the same way (physically and spiritually.)

Thank you for reading along this far. I am grateful that you are trying to hear me. What I ask now, is for you to be still. Trump does not appear to be capable of empathy. Are you? Can you put yourself in the "other's" (pun intended) shoes? 

How would you FEEL if your precious son was killed serving his country? Then your ultimate sacrifice was belittled by the man running for president? And that man was validated by being elected president? (Trump is now going to be commander-in-chief. How are people of color, women, other religions, etc currently serving in the military going to feel about giving their lives for the country that elected him and ignored them? Why would minorities join the military now after he (and our country) insulted them?)

How would you FEEL if your daughter was sexually assaulted? Then a man who boasts about sexual assault was validated by being elected president?  

How would you FEEL if you were unseen, unheard, and unvalidated? 

Tonight I told a black friend that my husband wasn't as upset by this election as I was. We realized it was because he has felt marginalized by this country his whole life. But for me, this election was a slap in the face. Because I believed things were getting better. I believed the future was brighter for my precious, priceless, miracle daughter. And I'm grieving that the America I believed in said with their votes that her future may now not be as bright as their white childrens' future. For me, it's personal. My black friend told me that she was proud to be an American but that her America wasn't proud of her. It broke my heart. Because to many Americans, that is their truth. And I don't want that to be the truth for my daughter. 

As I typed this, she ran into our kitchen in her Elsa pajama top and Wonder Woman underwear full of giggles and joy and love and light. "Mama!!! Put that down and come with me! We are having a tickle fight. Do you want to tickle me?" And my heart breaks because I see her innocence and I know it will soon be shattered by the hateful messages that were just validated. I feel the injustice of this election. I am hurt. I grieve. Trump does not deserve to be her president. 

Reflections on Becoming Unexpected Activists (Or Our Life went Crazy Pants)

 Photo Source

Here's what I learned when my husband opened his mouth, cried on international TV, and our life went crazy pants:

1. You really NEVER know what is coming next in life. Good or bad. Control is an illusion.  
2. Pack a basic black dress you can wear twice OR pack a second dress. (See number 1.) You just never know what is coming next. Like, that time we were asked to meet the President the very next day and I only had packed one dress- that I was already wearing that night. On T.V.
3. Be present on the journey. Whatever you are experiencing will likely end soon, so hold on tight and enjoy the ride. (Or throw your arms in the air and scream like hell.) Maybe take notes and take pictures. But be sure to FEEL the wind in your hair and your stomach dropping on the downhill. It's a challenge to be present- I'm a work in progress on this one. But I'm committed to the practice and I've gotten somewhat better through the years.
4. Don't read the comments. (I did not do well with this one, I admit.) It amazes me how people watch the same video yet receive messages that are polar opposites. It's a bit scary, actually. But as Brené Brown says, the bystanders' opinions don't matter. The only opinions that matter are the ones in the arena. Frankly, I think when people automatically assume the worst of someone, it reflects more on the judger than the judgee. (I'm pretty sure I made those words up. And I'm going to keep them in here anyway.)
5. Don't be afraid to DARE GREATLY. Brian and I read Brené Brown's book, Daring Greatly as our own little book club. Brian feels it was life-changing. (And therefore it's life-changing for me too, as my life changed/changes when his does.) Brian only moved people at that press conference because he was courageous enough to be vulnerable. He showed emotion and people FELT that. Vulnerability leads to connection. (If only he had shown emotion the first 14 years we were together...but hey, that leads me to the next point.)
6. Live for the now and believe in the future. Breathe, believe, receive. GREAT things are coming your way. (And excuse me now- I'm going to get a bit spiritual and use the G word) God's plans for you are SO MUCH BIGGER than you can possibly imagine. He will use your pain for good. He will take a man who hadn't cried for 35 years, break him open, and then have him cry on international TV. He took a man who very rarely spoke about race with anyone, who was incredibly private, who turned down press interviews in the past and gave him the courage to Be the Change. I'm telling you- if a year-and-a-half ago you would have told me my husband was going to cry (just cry!) I would have laughed IN YOUR FACE. I used to tell him that I could die and he still probably wouldn't cry.   

Here are a few links from some of my favorite interviews from that time:

Dallas Trauma Surgeon Reflects on Irony of Treating Wounded Police Officers
With Ari Shapiro on NPR All Things Considered, July 15, 2016  (5 min 40 sec)

A History of White Delusion
Nicolas Kristof, The New York Times, July 14, 2016

Parkland Doctor's Candid Words Resonated with Black Professionals
Maria Halkias, The Dallas Morning News, July 15th, 2016

Surgeon Who Tried to Save Dallas Cops
BBC World Service, August 4, 2016 (50 min.)

You Only Have to Bloom.

I found this quote today and wrote it in my art journal (along with a little doodle). 

Something inside me was pushing to post it on here too. 

So, who else besides me needed to hear this message today?

Transformation doesn't ask that you stop being you. 

It demands that you find a way back to the authenticity and strength

that's already inside of you. 

You only have to bloom.

-Cheryl Strayed

Accidental Activists- Part 3

Thank you for following along so far on Part 1 and Part 2 of this journey. Brian and I continue to be touched by your words of encouragement and support. We are so very grateful. 

Tuesday July 12, 2016

Early Tuesday, Brian was interviewed by Gayle King from CBS This Morning. (Click here to see a 56 second clip of this interview.) 

He kept his promise to me and told Ms. King I was the biggest fan of her BFF, Oprah. He then said, "Y'all are welcome at the house anytime for dinner." Ha! She laughed (but I'm serious!) Ms. King did ask for his digits though- and crazier things have happened in this past month- so who knows. As I wrote in Part 2, I'm a renewed believer in miracles. 

Brian had several more interviews that morning and attended the Dallas Police Department Memorial Service that afternoon. Below is a photo he texted me from his seat. 

Brian has received hundreds (and I do mean hundreds) of emails, calls, texts, and letters from people who were moved by his message. Here is one we received that Tuesday from a neighbor. This one touched us both.

Wednesday July 13, 2016
Wednesday morning we headed to DFW airport. CNN was flying us to New York City for Black, White, and Blue, a town hall on race moderated by Don Lemon. Brian was recognized and stopped five times on the way to the restroom near our gate. (Strangers still approach him to thank him for speaking out about his experiences with racism. They offer their prayers and tell them him how his words have impacted them personally.) It was an odd feeling for me (and I'm certain for him) to know that when out in public, people may be looking at us and know who we were. I've always appreciated the anonymity factor that came along with living in a big city. Right before our plane took off, I sent this message to my friends on Facebook:

Brian's phone exploded with texts and emails as soon as we landed in NYC. ABC wanted him to go to Washington, DC the next day for a town hall on race moderated by David Muir. Beni and I were also invited. Since President Obama was going to be present, we needed to let them know asap and provide them with information (including our social security numbers) so the Secret Service could start on our clearance. Say what!?!?! Life was getting more and more surreal by the moment! 

Stay tuned for more.....

Accidental Activists- Part 2

On Tuesday, I posted Accidental Activists- Part 1. Thank you, dear Readers, for your blog comments, Facebook comments and shares, and private messages. Most of all, thank you for your support for Brian and me on this roller coaster journey. 

Before I get to part 2, I want you all to know that I have B's permission to share all of this. In fact, he is one of my proofreaders. We both believe God has a hand in all of this and we (B and I) are just the instruments. (To show you how much all this affected him, I'll tell you a secret. He could not verbally articulate a belief in God or a greater power prior to all of this happening.) We feel B's role in these events is bigger than us and our "small" problems. Without seeking it, he was given an incredible platform and a chance to give a voice to the voiceless. 

Now, here we go with part 2: 

Monday, July 11th, 2016

9:47 am- I received two texts from Brian (he was at work): 

Can you please call me? And then a minute or so later,

I am reaching out. I need help.

I was just leaving the grocery store but called him back immediately. We talked about how he was feeling and what he was thinking. He mentioned a press conference was scheduled for that afternoon at 1:00pm CST. He was asked to attend. We discussed the possibility of him not doing it because he was feeling very emotional. I told him I thought he had a unique perspective on the Dallas police ambush that no one else in the world had, but that I was also afraid he might "lose it." I wasn't used to him being emotional or him asking me for help. This was all new territory for us. At the end of our call, I encouraged him to try to rest at work, if possible, and to meditate and focus on his breaths.

Here is an abbreviated exchange of the texts we sent to each other after our phone conversation.

B: I will speak from the heart. I will not lose it.

Me: Even if you do lose it and the world comes crumbling down, I will stand by you.

B: Thank you. I'm heading over now. [to the press conference]

Me: Let me know how it goes. Remember, God put you there [at the hospital on the night of the shooting] for a reason. 

B: [Walking into the press conference.] CNN is here.

Neither of us had ANY clue that the press conference was going to be televised live nationally on CNN, MSNBC, or FOX News. And by the time he sent that last text, I was on my way to the gym (and had not set the DVR.) I was on the elliptical machine but hopped off when I saw him on the TV. I held up my phone Say Anything-style, and recorded his close captioned statements. I tapped the guy next to me who was working out on another elliptical machine. He had to pull out an earphone to hear me. "Hey! That's my husband!" Then I proceeded to wave to all the other people in the cardio room and point at the TV screens with one hand (while still holding up my phone and recording with the other hand). "That's my husband!" I'll bet no one heard my excited yell given they all were wearing earphones, so I'm sure that made me appear somewhat unstable. But I was (and still am) such a proud wife. I'm proud that he courageously spoke his truth and expressed his complex feelings regarding this tragic situation. I know him better than anyone else on this earth, so I know just how difficult it was for him to speak out. I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen him get choked up. B very rarely talks about racial issues with others, he is private (people have said he's an enigma) and he does NOT desire to be in the limelight. He didn't know what he was going to say that day, but he told me he felt his mouth open and the words just came spilling out. This was so out of his comfort zone, I'm telling you all now- this was nothing short of a miracle that we all witnessed televised live on national TV.

My sister texted me that she was watching with her kids and they were "glued to the TV." Apparently, they were as excited to see Uncle Brian on TV as I was. My sister's 6-year-old said it was cool that Uncle Brian was now famous but that it was still very sad. Meanwhile, I was trying to read the closed captioning from two different stations- FOX news was playing on a wall-mounted TV and MSNBC was playing on the elliptical machine I was now only standing on. Sadly, I missed the shout out when he said I was helping him get through this tragedy. But, I'm still grateful he said it!  

Brian's text to me after the press conference said it all:
Made my decision out of love, not fear.

After that press conference, he received numerous print, radio, and TV interview requests. Everyone wanted to talk to him. People came out of the woodwork (in a good way!) and were texting and calling and emailing and Facebook posting that they saw B on TV. I continued with normalcy- picking up our daughter from summer camp and taking her to gymnastics class- but things started to feel surreal. While still at gymnastics, Brian texted that Don Lemon wanted B on his CNN show that night. I got a last minute babysitter (thanks Jennifer!) so I could be there to support him, and we headed to a studio downtown.  

Getting ready for the live interview via satellite

Brian got emotional for the second time (in one day!) on national television.

Click below to see segments of the CNN Don Lemon interview.
Dallas Trauma Surgeon: This has to stop 
Surgeon describes treating Dallas officer Part 1
Surgeon describes treating Dallas officer Part 2

When we got home Brian casually mentioned he had more media interviews scheduled early the next morning and one was with Gayle King from CBS. Gayle King, Oprah's BFF! As you all know, to say I am a fan of Oprah is a ginormous understatement. I (not so casually) asked him to please tell Gayle that I am Oprah's biggest supporter. Then we collapsed into bed, wondering just where this roller coaster was headed. 

***

Stay posted for more of our extraordinary journey including: NYC and the CNN Town Hall, DC and my conversation with the POTUS, and also- are Gayle and Oprah coming for dinner?  

***

Did Brian's emotional statements impact you in a positive way? Do you feel "the miracle" involved in all of this now that you have some insight from "behind the scenes?" Please let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.   

Accidental Activists- Part 1

Hello my dear, dear Readers! I've been meaning to get back to blogging for sometime now, but apparently it has taken my husband trending on Twitter and me meeting the POTUS for that to happen. Surreal, I know. My private, introverted husband is all over the interwebs! And for several days last week, he was on television screens all over the world as well.  

Brian and I are both in shock and in awe at the events, the schedule, the serendipity, the context, the impact, the travel, and the significance of the past 10 or so days. On Thursday July 7th, I was just a (somewhat) normal stay-at-home mama. By the following Thursday, I was holding the hand of the President (of the United f-ing States!) and having a conversation with him.

So much has happened that I've put off writing about it out of sheer overwhelm. In order to push past my procrastination and get this posted in a timely manner, I've decided to write about my experiences in stages. Here we go...

Part One

On the night of July 7, 2016, several Dallas police officers were gunned down in the street following a peaceful Black Lives Matter protest. My husband, Brian, was the trauma surgeon on call at Parkland Memorial Hospital that night. He cared for seven of the officers and had to tell the families of the loved ones he was unable to save. While this incident was horrific, I was still somewhat surprised by Brian's level of distress. I knew the recent police shootings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile had been weighing on his mind for several days prior to the police shootings. And I knew he'd had several negative experiences himself with the police. (And of course, I knew he was black.) But we've been together for 15 years, and during that time he's seen a lot of horrendous things in the emergency and operating rooms. Trauma is in his job title. He'd never cried before about his job (heck, he'd never cried the first 14 years I knew him!). I didn't put all the pieces together. And neither did he.

The evening following the police ambush (Friday), we attended a kids disco dance party that we hosted along with another family. The only unusual event was that Lester Holt was going to interview Brian on the NBC Nightly news but B ended up being bumped by Hillary Clinton. On Saturday we went to see The Secret Life of Pets with another family. On Sunday we attended church. The reverend said something along the lines of: Don't be afraid of breaking into pieces. Just choose broken open instead of broken apart. Brian cried. He and I spoke about the irony that he was working that night. He wasn't supposed to be but switched to accommodate a coworker's request. Despite the tragic events that rocked Dallas and our country and Brian's important role in them, our lives were still somewhat normal. 

Then Monday happened...

A Woman to Admire: Kristen Roedner

Dear Reader, I'm so excited for you to meet Kristen Roedner. Can't you just feel the sunshine she radiates from her being?

Kristen is one of the most LIVE OUT LOUD women I know. We met in Boston, circa 2002ish, through our sorority alumnae group. Delta Delta Delta, y'all!

Kristen hosts "Spread Sparkle" meetings at her home. It kills me that I live too far away to attend. She's been on me to start my own chapter.  I'll keep you posted if I do.

As I mentioned in a previous post, she drives a freakin' pink flying pig.

And there's a rainbow painted on the hood. Of course.

For the past two years, Beni and I spent the last week of summer break with her and her incredible daughter, Rosa Jane. The notes Kristen taped around her house for RJ made my heart melt. And made me excited to do the same once Beni can read.

Kristen's home is filled with art, art supplies, and inspiration.  I took the below photos last August. Two glittering reindeers and a flying pig Christmas tree are on display year round. Because they make her happy.

(Side note: I've never met anyone with more colored pencils than me. Her stash blew mine out of the water. I'm pretty sure I'd take her on ribbon and glitter though.)

But why all the pink flying pigs, you ask? She wrote an incredible blog post to explain her obsession. After you read it, you will know why I love her so much.

Kristen oozes sparkle and inspiration. And you want to know the craziest thing? She says I inspire her.

My Mom and Alzheimer's- Forever Grateful for Just ONE Moment

Me and my mama, Jacqueline Joslin Sellers.
In this photo, my mom is 39, the age I am now.

I had a "normal" mother for the first 30 years of my life. But by my wedding date, she was no longer the mom I knew.

My mother has Alzheimer's Disease.

When I finally became a mother at the age of 36, the "loss" of my own mother became more apparent. Strands of this deep loss are woven into my extreme joy. I see how my friends' mothers interact with their grandchildren and I feel sad. Sad that my daughter, my mother, and I were all robbed of generational experiences that I now long for. 

My mother will never know my daughter. My daughter will know of her maternal grandmother, but she will never know her. Not on this Earth, or in this lifetime anyway. I am comforted by a vivid dream my sister, Marilee, recently shared with me. In it, my mother told Marilee that when she wasn't here (mentally present), she was with God and it was beautiful. Marilee said my mother radiated peace and that Mom was the happiest and most beautiful she'd ever seen her.

I'm embarrassed and saddened to admit I never truly appreciated my mother until I became a mother myself. Until then, I focused on her flaws and her parenting faults. But now I want to ask her how she did it. How did she manage birthing and caring for my four brothers all by the age of 26? How and why did she manage to have six children when I find one overwhelming? How did she sacrifice so much to raise us all? How did she not seem to be tired, stressed, or depleted? These are questions that will go unanswered.

At the end of September, my little girl (I call her Beni-Bird) and I flew from Texas to the east coast to visit my family. We made an overnight trip to my hometown and got a chance to see my mom. 

My brother, Paul, and Marilee tried to prepare me as I hadn't seen her for two years. Mom is now in a wheelchair, they said, and sometimes she is unresponsive. Paul said he stayed only three minutes last time because it was just too painful to see her in that state. 

As fate would have it, when I saw Mom it was a "good day" for her. She was awake, and alert, and in a pleasant mood. I knew Mom wouldn't know who we were. But still I was unprepared when my brother, Mark, introduced my sister and I and she asked, "But where are the real ones?" 

My active two and 1/2-year-old seemed to sense the seriousness of the moment. She was very still as I introduced her. "Beni, this is my mama, your grandmother."

At the end of our visit, we all wheeled Mom back into the dining room of the Alzheimer's unit. We put her at the table amid the other unit residents, some who needed to be fed by an aide because they had forgotten how to feed themselves. Mom asked us not to leave her because then, "Who will I talk to?" 

I put Beni in front of her and once again told Mom this was my daughter, her granddaughter. Mom just kept repeating, "she's so beautiful, she's so beautiful" and even got teary as she said it. This was my ONE moment. My mother acknowledged my daughter on an emotional (and dare I say spiritual) level. 

Then, with tears streaming down my face, I knelt down by my mother's side and told her she was a good mother. I told her I loved her very much and I gave her a hug. And then I got a second gift- she told me she loved me. 

There is a lot my family lost to Alzheimer's disease. But on that visit, I was given one precious moment of my mother, myself, and my daughter all together; and my mom was as aware as she could possibly be. She was moved to tears by my child, and it was a beautiful ONE moment. That moment is all I will likely ever have. So I will hold onto it. And repeat it often to my daughter. And forever be grateful. Forever grateful for ONE moment.

***

Dear Reader, please take note:

November is the month to celebrate gratitude. It also happens to be my mom's birthday month and National Alzheimer's Awareness Month. For all of these reasons, I dedicate this post to my loving mother, Jacqueline Joslin Sellers.

Several years ago I wrote a post about my mom's Alzheimer's called Reflections from the Old Folk's Home. This was before her mental state deteriorated so much that she needed to be moved away from my father's care and into full-time care in the Alzheimer's unit.

A version of this current post first appeared on Voices from the 'Ville.

A Woman To Admire: Kristen Leigh

This is the second post in the Women to Admire Series. Many of you wrote to tell me how you were impressed with courageous Laura. I knew you would find her admiration-worthy.

Without further ado, here is another gutsy woman whose actions inspire me.

Readers, meet my friend Kristen Leigh, who recently took the trip of a lifetime. Alone. For 23 (!!!) weeks. Without an itinerary. Alone. (I need to say that twice.) I am in awe.

Kristen in Barcelona

Kristen sold most of her belongings, put the rest in a 5' x 10' storage space (with room to spare), found substitute teachers for her private yoga clients, and then hopped on a plane.

Who here among us hasn't dreamt of boxing up your life and hitting the open road? I frequently experience wanderlust. But while many of us fantasize about it, very few of us have the moxie to actually do it.

Kristen visited Cleveland, Detroit, and Chicago before crossing the Atlantic Ocean for the United Kingdom, France, Spain, Greece, and Italy. Her trip then ended on a high, by visiting me in Dallas, Texas. (Insert smile here, Reader.)

Kristen in Malaga, Spain

We all have our own excuses as to why we don't hit the open road, but as Kristen proved, finances need not be one. She brought her laptop and worked in coffee shops (as a graphic designer) throughout her whole trip, and saved money by using Airbnb for almost all of her lodging.

Kristen posted this definition on her blog, and I love it so much, I am passing it along to inspire you.

vagabonding (n.) 

(1) the act of leaving behind the orderly world in order to travel independently for an extended period of time. (2) a privately meaningful manner of travel that emphasizes creativity, adventure, awareness, simplicity, discovery, independence, realism, self-reliance, and the growth of the spirit. (3) a deliberate way of living that makes freedom to travel possible. - Rolf Potts, author of Vagabonding: An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-term World Travel

Be sure to check out Escape Artist Blog, for upcoming posts about her adventure!

A Woman to Admire: Laura Scholz

Dear Readers, 
This summer I will be writing a short series of posts entitled Women to Admire. Here is the first one:

I am incredibly honored to introduce you to my friend, Laura Scholz. While I admire Laura for many reasons, here are just a few:

1. She started her own company, Scholz Communications. (It takes big ovaries to leave a reliable income for the uncertainty of entrepreneurship! Sisters, give the girl some snaps.)

2. While successfully managing her biz, she decided to follow her passion and get certified to teach Pilates. Anyone who follows her passions, is a winner in my book. And so is anyone who is working towards balance. And, while I'm at it, so is anyone who pieces together an income doing too many things to count.

3. Laura gives back. She's run approximately 7,000 miles for charity (in under 6 years!), earning money to further worthwhile causes. She's also speedy, frequently placing in the top three of her age group at local races.

*4. Most of all, I admire how she wears her heart on her sleeve. Read her vulnerable blog post Rape is Rape. Period. It's raw. It's powerful. And it's an important read. After you read it, I dare you to tell me you don't admire her too. 

*

Stay tuned for the next post, when I profile another inspirational and couragous woman. Until then, please tell me: Who do you admire and why?

Remarkable Responses

Some people think I am brave for sharing my personal story and struggles on my blog. I'm sure others think I'm crazy. And I have to admit, sometimes I wonder: who am I to write a blog? Who am I to write a book? Who wants to hear what I have to say?

And then I get comments like the ones below and I remember why. These weren't public comments. They were shared with me privately in response to Confessions from an Adoptive Mother.

The messages in these comments are so beautiful, powerful, and affirming, I wanted to share them with you. (Of course, I first asked them for permission. They encouraged me to use their words as source of comfort to others.) I am not sharing these comments to toot my own horn, but rather to add to the collective understanding. I desire my blog to be a resource for people to learn, heal, and help one another. It is in this spirit that I post today. If you are affected by infertility, know that you are not alone. If you are are not personally dealing with fertility issues or adoption, the odds are great that you know at least one person who is. 

(Please note: I used XXXXX below to protect the privacy of one commenter's name and also the name of my daughter. My daughter's name is very unique, and we are not ready for her birthparents to be able to google it.)

Comment #1: I gasped as I read these words, perhaps because of the source. They are from Kathy, a woman who made the courageous choice to put her first born child up for adoption. This comment changed something inside me. They were words I needed to hear, but I didn't know it until I read them.

Kathianne, these are the most beautiful poignant words I have ever read. As a "biological" mother, all I ever wished for my first born is what you have given your daughter. And although I gave birth to her, I know in my heart and soul that the woman who raised her is her real mom. Your child is so lucky to have you for her mom.

Comment # 2: A line in the comment below, "I'll never be called Mom," has haunted me ever since I read it.

So much of what you wrote speaks directly into the depths of my heart and I can relate to the psychological pain. God's plan is really wonderful and I trust him completely but that doesn't mean I'm not occassionally deeply sad. As a stepmom, the only thing I would add is that parents take for granted the amazing gift of being called "Mom" (or "Dad"). For me, I'll never be called "Mom" and that's an ache in my heart. But I am so blessed with my stepdaughters and I take pride in being "their XXXXX" (her first name). Again, your words found a place in a part of my heart that feels pretty lonely and I thank you for that!
Please keep writing! You are truly entering the hearts of others and it is very comforting because it can be very lonely. The honesty of your thoughts and feelings are things that many of us just hold so close and don't share because people who aren't in our shoes might not understand-- so to see someone else put it out there makes me at least feel less "crazy" and alone. It also allows others to see a glimpse into our hearts. I especially like your ability to express your gratitude and JOY for your life while expressing the depth of emotion you're also feeling-- it's not all consuming pain but it is part of who you are. So I encourage you to wholeheartedly keep putting pen to paper!

Comment #3: This comment was initially shared with my sister.

Thank you for sharing this. Your sister is amazing. She's brave. She's opening up about such personal subjects, and expressing feelings that at times are impossible to put into words. Infertility and adoption have to be two of the hardest things to ever talk about-- and she does so in such a beautiful way. I could hear my own voice in my head when reading some of her thoughts. It was incredibly powerful.
She's also strong. She's making decisions and taking control of something that is incredibly hard to do. It's a bit of a juxtaposition-- she's taking control and letting go at the same time. The worst feeling when dealing with infertility is just feeling like you just have no control over your own body-- that you can't figure out why it's not doing what you think God designed it to do. That leaves you feeling damaged, helpless and pissed. The fact that she's saying enough is enough-- that she's taking control of things-- takes so much strength. She'll grieve, probably for the rest of her life. But now she's back in charge, and with that comes renewed energy and purpose.
And she's spiritual. Her words about adoption were so powerful. Adoption is a miracle. Out of all the families, that baby was destined to be yours. It's divined-- plan and simple.

Comment #4: My big brother, Paul, emailed me this last comment. I'm incredibly lucky to have him for a lifetime of wisdom and support.

Dear Sis,That was a very moving piece of prose that you just shared with the world in hopes that it may benefit at least one person out there in cyber space..... I want to let you know of a few thoughts that entered my head as I was reading your passage. "Pain is the difference between what is and what I want it to be." -Spencer Johnson. I must have read this passage at least a dozen times over the years until I finally think that I grasped its meaning. I am a slow learner. 

Another thought that came to me is that everything that happens to me each day is happening exactly as it is supposed to happen in order to teach me while I am attending this "Earth School," this time around. I don't know for certain, but I believe that you and (XXXXX) and everyone else for that matter agreed before you were born to help your soul in this lifetime in ways that you cannot conceive of at this point in time. However, you will come to understand them over time....Whether you know it or not, (XXXXX) knows it because she is only recently removed from the Source. She is at peace and living in the "now" moment. Learn from her as I learn from my children. 

I wish you well today and everyday. Allow yourself to relish in the present moment the apparently good and apparently bad. When you have learned how to do this, please share the secret with me. :) 

I love you, Kats, and I am sure that you are my kid sister for a good reason.Namaste', Paul

Dear readers, your blog comments fill my world with gratitude. Please continue to share your thoughts with me on the blog (so others can benefit from them), or privately, if that's how you roll. (I just ask that if you know my daughter's name, you kindly not post it in your comment. At some point we may feel comfortable with that, but we aren't quite there yet.)

Sending Love to Boston

Boston has a special place in my heart. 

It's the city that brought me together with my BFF, and where we both trained to be dietitians. It's where I first hailed a cab, rode a subway, and lived completely on my own. It's where I learned to love Grey Goose dirty martinis and public transportation; where I learned to say "wicked pissa."

It's where I met my husband, where we got engaged, and where we spent the first several years of our marriage. When the Red Sox broke the 86-year-old curse and won the 2004 World Series, we lived three blocks away from the ball park.

I moved to Boston three times! Just when I thought I had escaped the long, dark New England winters, my love for the city called me back. That, and the incredible friends that I had (and still have) there.

Today, while I watched the interfaith prayer service to honor the victims of the Boston Marathon bombing, I created this to express a bit of what I was feeling. I am sending love, peace, healing, hope, and light to the people of Boston.

Boston will always be in my heart. I lived there for ten magical years. 

Maybe someday I will move back for a fourth time. I would do it in a heartbeat (as long as we could live in a warmer city during the six-month Boston winter.) 

But for now I'm stuck in Dallas. So I'll just have to send my love.