Category Archives: reflection

Life Happens



Perhaps what we are meant to do is to work with what is already in our hands. It may seem quite simple but truthfully it is not what I usually focus on. My goals and dreams are bigger than what I can reach. I often pursue them while I sacrifice the now to achieve the future. I know what happens when I do that, life happens. No matter how I resist my current state and extend my hand to a higher calling, it always seems to pull me down to what is now calling my attention. The more I fight it, the more my hopes and goals take a hit, the more disappointed I am and the more of a failure I feel. If I begin to narrow these things to what is truly important, I may just may get somewhere.

I’d love to be a writer. One that actually has time to write on a daily basis, one that works on a novel and extends that even to other fields of writing. I would love to be that awesome business owner that seems to know how to increase sales and suck the juice out of every advertising venue. I would love to be that pilot that can log hours into destinations that become the center of new adventures and more writing. I could be the woman who speaks about God in a way that would set fire to hearts desiring more to know who He is and why He does the things He can only do. I would love to be that rocking mom that makes her kids laugh, enjoy their lives and feel inspired to make the right choices for their lives. I would love to be that woman who leaves her husband breathless and always thinking of her. I admit right now I am these things in some ways, small ways really. Nevertheless to try to be all of them, leaves me without accomplishing any of these.

I haven’t written in a long time and I guess part of that is that I’ve been trying too hard. I can be the writer that writes when inspiration comes or when I realize nothing fulfills like a good typing exercise. I do work slowly when I can at this small business I have when time allows. I am the pilot that dreams of being in the air and does what it can to stay connected until the money flows enough to help me fly. I do speak and encourage all that I meet to believe in a God that cares and is willing to love. I am the mom that flusters herself trying so hard to do all and do it well. Then I pause. When I take the time to bathe my babies while singing songs and making airplane noises while I brush their teeth, I do become someone I admire. My husband still says I keep him on his toes and thinks of me often.

Life happens, your expectations didn’t match your reality. My expectations did not match and to try to fight it with all my might, leads to missing out to what I have right now. So I pause and work with what is in my hands. It’s not perfect in the way that I would want it and though it was a tough day today I realized it. I sang with a giraffe puppet in my hands making my toddler laugh hysterically and it hits me. I can be this and this is pretty good. This is the woman I am and the one I want to be, one that uses what she has to live, embrace and bless.


There are days…


There are days…

I seem to want to finish that sentence every chance I get.

There are days…when an overwhelming ticking sound reminds me of every deadline, personal expectation and calendar date as it approaches. Time seems to laughs at me as it rushes by leaving me frazzled with my hands full and nowhere to lay these things down.

There are days…which encourage the to-do’s and the should have’s and the wants to grow around me like weeds.

There are days…where I look above these weeds that choke me to see fly past me the hidden goals in my heart.

There are days…that beckon me to ride fast, fly high or take a dive, dropping all my worries behind.

There are days…I would just like to run, to run away from all responsibilities, demands, and roots that hold me down.

There are days…and this I forget. There are more days than this day, so I take a deep breath do what I must, surrounded by what I love and think. There are more days and I will not faint.

Grown ups don’t have fits


little boy crying

She remembers when she saw other moms and their kids having fits at the store and saying, “that wont be me.” She has a plan, a system and a confidence that she will not join the clans of wild children and their weak moms. Her one year old begins to express his likes and dislikes and she enjoys his independence. This day follows a different routine, their normal routine does not meet the demands of the day. Her independent son shows great dislike for the errands they have to make. He turns red, throws himself on the floor, screams and flaps his arms and legs. She rushes to him and picks him up. He arches his back and she almost drops him to the floor. She runs to the car like her child could be dying and they both sit in the backseat of the car catching their breath.

She composes herself and talks with him about proper behavior. They arrive home and as she reviews her choice words in her head, she talks to him once more.
“One day you’ll be a grown up and grown ups don’t have fits.” She says to him confident that the event is over and they can enter their home in peace.
Inside by the front door a man grunts, throwing his fists in the air and clenching every muscle in his arms and legs.
“I could just punch a hole in these walls.” He throws the cellphone in his hands to the couch.
She looks down at her son who watches his dad and then smiles at her.

Author’s note: Yes, grown ups don’t have fits. Who believes that? I remember a few I had just a week ago. Sometimes life is hard and too complicated but it’s also funny to know that since kids we’ve all dealt with the things we don’t like but continue to persevere and move forward.

Clouds are sensitive creatures


dark cloud

She thunders to announce her entrance. Darkness surrounds her day. She begins with intensity to bring forth the message with accuracy. She emphasizes every word adding inflections where none are necessary. She puffs herself to higher heights reaching the ceiling and rain begins to fall. On the verge of tears she apologizes to suggest that she is sensitive to intentions but strong to correcting. Her thoughts she expresses without hesitation and makes known her frustration. Great hail falls on the heads of those who did not mean to offend her but peace offerings are too late. She is explosive and vindictive. Lightning is only one of her anger responses. Her past brought aggravation, disappointment and constant failures. Labels on her define her and she fights them but feeds from them. Time can only heal her wounds if she allows it. All her trials can strengthen her if she admits to weakness, seeks help and looks at her own silver lining. On a daily basis all who surround her keep their steps light and speak soft words in hopes to reach her heart, to turn this sensitive reactive cloud to an inspiring approachable fluffy one.

Author’s Note: I was once this cloud, overly sensitive, missing out on good enjoyable moments because I was hurt with every word. How do you encourage a cloud without responding to their lightning and thunder?

Behind the rage



He wakes up by his annoyance of an alarm. Yesterday’s frustrations twitch his sore muscles. His old slippers give their last breath as he slips his feet and the left one breaks. He curses the manufacturers, the cheap givers and the unstable economy. He drags the slipper to the bathroom, where he remembers the leaky faucet. No one ever follows through with their commitments, now a days. Three weeks waiting for a repair and not a single person cares. Watching the clock, he stumps in and out of the shower on his way to a cup of coffee. The garage opener doesn’t work fast enough, his car doesn’t warm fast enough and on the road everyone’s an idiot. At the office he shakes his reports at the secretary, demanding quicker service and competence. She breaks into tears once more while he reminds her of her responsibilities and the obvious fact of proper behavior in a place of business. During his drive home, late once more, he misses death by two feet when a truck slides on the road and into his lane. He arrives home to express the need of solidarity and the lack of education in every person he encounters. He sits and swallows his dinner, kisses his wife out of habit and walks into the smallest bedroom. There on the bed a boy rests after a long day. The boy wheezes and his countenance becomes pale. The father picks up the nebulizer, pours the medicine and places the mask on the boy. He talks to him about the weather and reads the boy a book. At bedtime he sits on the bed staring at the wall. Too many idiots, too many irresponsible people and not enough caring except for the love of one or two. She kisses his back and brings back to focus, tomorrow is another day.



Author’s note: This week my assumptions and judgment on someone were wrong. My mind was quick to judge and be negative (a nemesis I fight with often). I did not have mercy or love for that person, so I perceived wrongly. Have you been surprised by your own assumptions? Or been wrong about someone?



The mouth



At first to impress or to continue conversation every bit of detail seems fitting. It speaks with freedom and comfort of all subjects. There is no question about consequences,  nor interpretation. Expressing honesty in its purest form is the only wise choice. There are no restraints when the heart means well.  Then, reason arrives and the words once spoken through the lips of another sound ill. All the secrets become public knowledge. A fool quick to speak becomes the shame of transparency. If only restrains came with the mouth and tongue then regret could not chase another soft heart away.

The Time Bubble



There are times where the efforts of many fail. The innovative ideas, the goals and date lines result in zero. There is no forward movement or eye-opening discovery. Sometimes nothing evolves. A wild and uncontrollable stillness overpowers your life. All you have to do or make of is what you came into this world holding, your talents. When nothing happens that makes money or increases your status, you have yourself. I’m not referring of vanity or self-reliance but your uniqueness, your God-given talents. When time stands still, you have the time to paint, to write, to record, to create, to do the things you never had the time to do unless God put your life on hold and placed you in a time bubble.