“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”
I totally remember what that feels like and it was so nice to be reminded.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Grateful: Day Seven
Today I am grateful for Women. Without a shadow of a doubt, without a hint of uncertainty, with all that I know, I can say for sure that the absolute most amazing people in my life
are
all
WOMEN.
To go along with that, I was inspired by this I found on a favorite blog linked to the bottom right over there...Deb Schweldelm.
WHAT I WOULD TELL HER:
(If I knew what to say.)
You are a miracle.
And I have to love you this fiercely: So that you can feel it even after you leave for school, or even while you are asleep, or even after your childhood becomes a memory.
You’ll forget all this when you grow up. But it’s okay.
Being a mother means having your heart broken.
And it means loving and losing and falling apart and coming back together.
And it’s the best there is. And also, sometimes, the worst.
Sometimes you won’t have anyone to talk to.
Sometimes you’ll wonder if you’ve forgotten who you are.
But you must remember this: What you’re doing matters.
And you have to be brave with your life so that others can be brave with theirs.
The truth is, being a woman is a gift. Tenderness is a gift. Intimacy is a gift. And nurturing the good in this world is a nothing short of a privilege.
That’s why I have to love you this way. So I can give what I have to you. So that you can carry it in your body and pass it on.
I have watched you sleep. I’ve kissed you a million times. And I know something that you don’t, yet:
You are writing the story of your only life every single minute of every day.
And my greatest hope for you, sweet child, is that I can teach you how to write a good one.
(If I knew what to say.)
You are a miracle.
And I have to love you this fiercely: So that you can feel it even after you leave for school, or even while you are asleep, or even after your childhood becomes a memory.
You’ll forget all this when you grow up. But it’s okay.
Being a mother means having your heart broken.
And it means loving and losing and falling apart and coming back together.
And it’s the best there is. And also, sometimes, the worst.
Sometimes you won’t have anyone to talk to.
Sometimes you’ll wonder if you’ve forgotten who you are.
But you must remember this: What you’re doing matters.
And you have to be brave with your life so that others can be brave with theirs.
The truth is, being a woman is a gift. Tenderness is a gift. Intimacy is a gift. And nurturing the good in this world is a nothing short of a privilege.
That’s why I have to love you this way. So I can give what I have to you. So that you can carry it in your body and pass it on.
I have watched you sleep. I’ve kissed you a million times. And I know something that you don’t, yet:
You are writing the story of your only life every single minute of every day.
And my greatest hope for you, sweet child, is that I can teach you how to write a good one.
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