My Home is NOT Broken

Recently someone said to me ...

"Your home is broken."
"Far from it" I replied.
"My home is filled with love."

Anger welled from deep within.
"Have you been to my house?
That's far from what's happening inside.
"Our home is full of life."

I may struggle mightily,
but no one sees it.
Finances may weigh me down,
but we keep juggling.

Sanctuary created
between the walls.
Trust constantly building
to strengthen them.

New traditions were started
and cherished.
Fun memories made.
Adventures planned for the future.

Goals set.
Dreams shared.
Ideas valued.
Personalities blooming.

Long ago, my smile was broken
my spirit, and yes, sadly my heart.
But never, ever my home.

 My home is not broken.


 

#26acts

Last Christmas, Katie and I participated in the #26acts of kindness movement to honor the lives lost at Sandy Hook Elementary. I quickly learned that with every thing I put out in the universe in this effort- it came back to me quickly tenfold... it was astonishing. I also realized that these were things I shouldn't have to look for to create and make an effort to do each day, but rather I should be kind anyway.   I found my true meaning of Christmas last season, it made the entire holiday so much more poignant for me.  However, present with each act I committed, was the solemn thought that each kindness we committed was in the name of an innocent child and brave school teacher whose candle had been blown out.  

With this in mind, I tried really hard to make the acts meaningful and creative - one was giving Katie 26 reasons why I love her. Her 26 reason response back brought me to tears. Her words were the sweetest gifts. I will cherish her  heartfelt and funny list for the rest of my life. Last year, we bought tacos for the car behind us in honor of Noah, the little boy who wanted to own a taco factory. We sponsored a monthly riding lesson for one child for the past year for Saddle Up, we sent a contribution to the LCC Comfort Dogs, we baked treats for the caregivers at Grace Healthcare where my Grandmother was a resident, delivered hot chocolate to the security guard in the booth at VU on a cold, blustery day, donated to Living Waters for the World, put a surprise present in someone's mailbox (the next morning someone had put a surprise in ours), put flowers on someone's desk who was struggling, wrote a letter to teacher who had an impact on my life, wrote a letter to a family member who I haven't spoken to in quite some time and so on. 

With each act, my adult cynicism (read Grinch lonely heart) melted a little. With each surprise kindness sent my way, I marveled at the full circle that a simple kindness had taken and found it's way back to me.  For my efforts, my eyes opened a little, the emotions I discovered were pretty raw and humbling.  I discovered that it really wasn't about committing #26acts, it was not only fun but really was about love, actually. 

Last night I gave Katie "26 More Reasons Why I Love Her" and when I went to bed, I found her list on my pillow. A new tradition, I will treasure always - to pause and tell the one person on this earth who means the most to me, how special she is, how much fun we have and all the things I love about her.  

Feel free to join me, in looking in the small but quiet ways you can do something nice for someone, or even an organization, not just during this Christmas season but everyday.  The day after Thanksgiving was Black Friday, the following Cyber Monday and finally Giving Tuesday, shouldn't every day be a Day of Giving?  I'm blessed to be surrounded by the countless people in my life who commit #26acts selflessly everyday without even trying.  Their giving impacts me, my daughter and so many people who don't even realize it. 
 

What Is the Significance of Finding Dimes?

It is superstitious belief that finding dimes is a message of peace and comfort from departed loved ones. There are several beliefs on the significance behind this. A dime is worth 10 cents, 10 being the beginning and end of a set of numbers, possibly signifying a transition. It is even said that finding change signifies change to come in one's life.

January 13, 2018 - I looked up the significance of finding dimes due to the fact that after January 13, 2013, I began finding dimes. On this day, our grandmother left this earth. We were so close and I feel her love every day. The dimes on my path, I know, are a gift from her, letting me know everything is going to be okay, to always remember her and to let me know she loves me and is always with me.  One day last year, I went in for a routine mammogram. That day they discovered a lump in my left breast and shared with me that I would need to have surgery to have it removed and a biopsy. I was stunned. I was in shock. Somehow I found my way down the elevator and out to the valet stand. As I stood waiting for my car to pull around and trying to hold it together, a breeze blew and I looked down at my feet. There were three dimes literally at my feet.  Not lost on me in those moments that I'm not sure if was breathing, that my sweet grandmother, a breast cancer survivor, had weathered the same with humor and grace. In that moment, I knew that I too could deal with this and whatever was in front of me.   If I was ever experiencing a moment where a boost of strength, love and reassurance was needed. Three dimes. At my feet. 

Labeled

I usually cringe when I see the headlines about single moms and then read the statistics that are surely to follow:

 "79% of custodial single mothers are gainfully employed ... In 1995, nearly six of 10 children living with mothers only were near the ... 63% of suicides are individuals from single parent families ... ... living in single parent homes, the marital status of the ..."  

It's like taking a blow - that the downfall of society are on our busy single shoulders.  It's hard enough not having a dependable partner to raise a child with - then to have society blame all the ills of it on us.
I write about this a lot because it's something that really bothers me ... being called a single-mom. Can I not just be labeled a mom and be done with it?  It doesn't just bother me - it chafes my psyche.  Like it's a putdown.  Like we use it as crutch.  Guess what? We don't.  Because we don't have time - we are too tired to do that.   I'm a little bit shocked they don't have a single mom section in the card aisle at Hallmark for Mother's Day. Personally if I received one - I would want to jump off a bridge. 

I don't want to be pitied, taken for granted, treated differently, be told we are being prayed for or used as a scapegoat in the headlines.  I like to think that I'm raising my daughter exactly as if she would be raised if she lived in a two parent household - in fact, I would like to think I'm raising her better and stronger. 

Someone asked me once if I had a chip on my shoulder about it - I could honestly answer "Yes I do" - I am inwardly envious and resentful of everyone with a great partner whose an even better father.  I get frustrated for having to go through everything alone - it's hard to have no one to run to the grocery store for you when you have a sick child and you have to leave them alone. Harder still when you are sick and have to run to the store for yourself.  So yes, eight years in to parenting alone... the chip has grown huge. 

When I see posts on Facebook by friends that claim single parent status if their spouse is out of town for the weekend - I want to comment that it doesn't even come close unless they have suddenly removed money from the bank account or the phone isn't ringing with a caring spouse checking in. 

Reading this is sounds so bitter ... but I'm really really not. I just don't want to be called a single mom. Some of the greatest women I know are single moms... my best friend Tiffany and my cousin Dana.  I'm grateful to them because they understand how hard it is and share the same - do whatever it takes attitude to give our kids a normal life.

I wish I knew why it bothered me so much - because maybe I don't want to be a single mom raising my daughter alone and the mere label reminds me of how single I really am.

"Even if we never talk again after tonight,

please remember that I am forever changed by who you are

and what you meant to me"

- Chasing Amy

There's Something Amazing about Grace

How you climb up the mountain is just important as how you get down. And so it is with life, for which for many of us becomes one big gigantic test followed by one big gigantic lesson. In the end it all comes down to one word: Grace. It's how you accept winning and losing, good luck and bad luck, the darkness and the light.

It's amazing what you can learn from your 12-year old. It's also amazing where the lessons come from. She started reading these words to me from the back of a bottle of body wash.

I've been trying to let go of some things lately that have been holding me back. I've been getting all kinds of messages of peace. Hearing from friends that I normally don't hear from. This was another subtle message discovered in our tiny bathroom from the person I trust and love most in the world from the most unexpected source.

Laying My Burdens Down

Lately I have been experiencing a lot of inner turmoil. About my place in the world, the lack of a relationship, parenting alone, financial stress and the upheaval in my work life; all these things have resulted in massively diminished confidence in myself. Recently, I went through my Senior Book from high school with my daughter and I silently anguised inside when I read all the graduation cards I had saved. The givers had seen something in me then that I no longer have - the potential that I've never lived up to and it crushed me to think I had let them down.

I've been carrying a lot, a lot of unhealthy anger inside. Where do I put it? How do I turn it over to God and let it go? Somedays it feels like every single thing I have tried to accomplish I get feedback that I do incorrectly or get criticism for it. There is so much negativity in my workplace that its toxic for my Polly Positive soul. One of my friends and I joked that the Polly part of me has been locked in a closet since March. Maybe that's why I'm so angry.

Last night after working late I started driving home, I was going to change into something more comfortable before picking up the carpool from dance. But when I saw my little house, I just drove straight by and drove straight down Hillsboro Road to see the one person in the world who has always made me feel better no matter what was bothering me. I drove to see my Grandmother.

Her room was quiet and she was dozing. Before I woke her up - I noticed a few things. The horrible sores on her feet had sealed. Her hand that was drawn up was no longer atrophied in a death grip. Her skin was smooth.

I bent down to kiss her and told her that I loved her. When asked if she knew who it was, she immediately said "Sabriner". The past year due to her dementia/atavan state, she couldn't recall my name or see my face, but tonight through His grace, she heard my voice. The tears started falling and wouldn't stop. I told her how much I loved her and missed her. I kissed her soft, smooth hands over and over. I told her that I had no one I could talk to but her. No one could understand. With her eyes closed, she said simply, "tell me." So I knelt by the side of the bed and whispered in her ear and I laid my burdens down. She told me over and over not to cry, to not worry about anything, somehow her always comforting "everything is going to be alright" gave me instant peace.

It was so easy to tell her. Why couldn't I tell Him? Why do I fight it? Why is it so hard to really let go and let God take care of me? My whole life I've always held on to things and been embarrassed to ask anyone for help. Not so much as a sign of weakness, but there have been few people whom I really felt like I could trust and depend on.

My grandparents were always there for me - growing up, through college. After my grandfather died, my bond with Grandmother only grew stronger. She was supportive of my marriage, was at the hospital when her only great-grandchild was born and when my marriage fell apart she was there for me. Her home was our refuge. When I had no home and was living out of a suitcase, I drove to her house and stayed every possible weekend. I was safe there. No one could hurt me. Her house was a place where love lived and was fully dispensed. Her advice came from years of experience. She was the one person I could trust not to gossip or judge me.

Today I feel anxious again, but last night felt so freeing that I had her back. I didn't want to leave her in her hospital bed. I must have kissed her hands a thousand times. As I drove off, it struck me that He was in the room with me too. It was Him who sent me there instead of stopping at my house. He gave me the gift of her saying my name one more time. He allowed me lay my burdens down with the one person who makes me feel safe.

One of the best nights of my life

Katie was five years old, in kindergarden and I was taking our dog Pongo out for his last walk of the night. It was a cold January night and she was standing at the back door waiting for us to come in. Unbeknowst to me, she had put on her coat and she ran outside to me.


"Mommy, can we watch for shooting stars?" I was tired and wanted to go to bed, but couldn't say no to her innocent bright eyes. I remember thinking it might be a long wait before we see a shooting star. Reminding myself that I didn't want to squelch her exuberance I said "yes we can sweetie."


She threw herself down on the ground, I laid down next to her - our heads were touching, our bodies sticking out in a right angle to each other. Our dalmatian Pongo followed suit. We could see our breath in the night air, the outline of the tree tops, a beautiful deep, blue night sky and the stars that night seemed to sparkle so bright just for us. The longer we laid there our eyes adjusted to the dark and the brightness of the stars. Cars would come by and we would lay there stock still as the headlights grazed over us. I can only imagine what they were thinking. We giggled at the thought. We got lost in conversation and I finally said "I don't think it's the night for shooting stars."


"Mommy," she said, "you have to believe."


Not five minutes later, a shooting star streaked across the horizon - my heart jumped and as we laid there in a right angle holding hands - she squeezed my hand in excitement - we both let out a gasp. I will never forget that squeeze! "I told you Mommy." "Yes, you did sweet girl, yes you did."


Another star whizzed by, then another...how did she know?


I will never forget that night, we laughed, we held hands, our dog did a happy dance around us. I marveled at the wonderment of a girl of five believing in the stars. It was a perfect night, in fact one of the best nights of my life.

About this photo - I don't have a real photo of this night, but this is the closest I could find to capturing the outline of the trees and the color of the January sky. That night the stars danced just for us.

Pic Challenge - A picture of the cast from your favorite show

Friday Night Lights owns my soul. This is the final season and I'm going to miss the fictional players of Dillon and East Dillon High, but most of all Coach Taylor.

Based on a book by H. G. Bissinger and a movie by the same name, the series focuses on the team, the coach and issues facing kids in small town America. Not a big fan of the movie, the series captures what a two hour movie couldn't. I love this season's cast as much as I did the cast from the first season. The favorites from the earlier seasons come back for cameos - but you continue rooting for them all to grow up, go out in the world and succeed.

Why do I like the show so much? My dad loved football and played in high school in spite of many against many odds while being the head of his family. Some nights he had to walk home over ten miles after the games if he didn't have a ride. My mom was the head cheerleader for the same high school although they were years apart during their time on the field. I wish I could have seen their Friday Night Lights. If I would have had a son - I would have loved to watched him play.

Pic Challenge - A picture of you and the person you have been closest with the longest

We met in the 9th grade Economics clas of Coach Mel Brown - two band buddies - on the outer tier of Jock Hall. We studied stocks, sold lollipops for the baseball team and wrote the best advertising copy assignment. Coach Brown was so proud of it - we had to do our commercial over and over again for any teacher that walked down the hall.

It was an instant connection of like minds and teenagers chasing dreams. What sparked that day when we were 14 - has led to our still going strong 30 year friendship. We would bond over the years through colorguard, heartbreaks and heartaches, rolling on Friday nights, going off to college, and driving by crushes houses in the dark of night. And even tho I call her KB, she will always be Kris Trolinger to me.

At that time none of my other friends parents had divorced, but Kris'. We stood up for each other when we got married and I begged her not to get divorced. I thought she had been so happy. When my marriage started falling apart - I finally understood her quiet pain.

There is something about the comfort of the friend who knew you as a girl you were at 14, 16, 18, 20 - because I still feel like I am that girl. Sometimes I want that girl back. When you are with the friend that remembers who you were then - you become that girl again for a little while. You can say one boys name and start blushing again and she knows why instantly and it makes you smile.

Today we bond over our love (and worry) for our kids, Colin Firth and all things Real Housewives and Jane Austen.

I haven't driven by a potential crush's house in a long time... but if I did - I would want Kris to be in the front seat next to me.

About this photo ... it was taken during Summer Lights Festival in downtown Nashville circa Summer 1988 maybe. We were both finally able to legally drink and drink that night we did. I was home from a weekend from school and we were with one of both of our longtime crushes "the Bonfire" whom Kris later married.

Pic Challenge - A picture of yourself with 10 facts

Ten Facts About Myself ...

1. I love being KK's mom.
2. I want to go to Chicago.
3. I miss writing.
4. I have the best friends in the world.
5. I love college football.
6. I love playing online scrabble.
7. I think with all the texting, FBing and online world has given me ADD or maybe it's just my age. I'm scattered now.
8. I hate how insecure I am now. I miss that confident girl from 1989.
9. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
10. I am hoping against hope that 1 Corinthians 13:4 is someday going to happen for me.

About this photo ... this was taken after KK's dance recital in June 2010. She loves to dance and it shows - she worked really hard this particular year. I am so proud of my brown eyed girl.

30 Day FB picture challenge

So I'm over FB and everyone broadcasting the good, bad and the ugly about their lives. For those posting the good - I hope it's good and not some fake facade - because I know better than anyone else - our lives are all a house of cards and it just takes one card getting pulled to make everything else come tumbling down. And then also, they all give me something to aspire to... Maybe the bad is the real truth on FB - but posting about puking and what anti-depressant works - is a little too narcissitic and too much information for me. This blog could very well be this way, but now FB has conquered the world - the few people who read my blog have forgotten about it. :)

So to get myself back into blogging - i'm going to do the 30 day FB picture challenge - just do it on here and give me some guidance on what to post - and not broadcast it to my friends and acquaintances and those who could really care less. I care and on here that's all that matters.

Went shopping this weekend and looked in a mirror. I hardly recognized the person looking back. I sat down - with an armload of clothes in my hands, and just stared. Who is she? and where did I go? And why didn't turning 40 have all the answers I thought it was going to have.

As I wondered who I am - I also wondered where I'm going - I thought by now I would have moved forward with my life. But I feel like I'm just standing still or treading water. Even x in all of his tumultousness has moved on- in a bad marriage but moved on just the same.

I hate feeling in limbo like this. I am meeting some major goals in my life. Almost finished with my masters. Lost XX amount of weight. I'm in between sizes and just in between everything it seems. I need some direction. Hoping for some hope - gotta build back up my faith. Looking in the mirror - sometimes we don't like what we see - but it's there so we can modify that reflection.

Thankful

“Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.”

-- Albert Einstein

Cliff Island Blues

When that plane touches down on the ground in Nashville
you'll hear it on the news.
Come 9:05 tomorrow night
we'll have the Cliff Island Blues.

There's a big difference sitting at the Power Point
and your feet can't find your shoes.
Come Monday morning when I put on my heels for work,
then I'll have the Cliff Island Blues.

Gourmet meals flavored with garlic
and the dishwashing cleaning crews,
Beats a Happy Meal eaten at my desk anyday.
It's enough to give me the Cliff Island Blues.

The island transport, feeling the breeze off the ferry
and hearing the seagulls mews
Beats rush hour traffic, a $5.00 gallon of gas
MAN, I've got the Cliff Island Blues.

When the airliner crosses over that Mason Dixon line,
we'll have a bit of a clue.
Toto, we ain't close to Portland no mo'
We've officially got the Cliff Island Blues.

Redemption

Five years ago I looked out across Casco Bay to the mainland we left behind. We were alone on an island in the middle of the Atlantic. My little one was only 5 years old. I was broken from the end of my marriage and it’s aftermath that was as rocky as the shores we walked upon each day. The shell shock had started to wear off but barely. Recently I found a photo from that trip and if it looked as if we were holding on to each other for dear life – it’s because we were.

That week we watched sunsets, enjoyed the company of loving and supportive friends and started to make our way in the world again. It had been a long and lonely winter.

Five years forward, I find myself looking out across Casco Bay again – this time on a different island, some friends the same with new ones picked up along the way and the shores are even rockier. But this time out I can navigate them. Bravely climb on them and welcoming whatever the rising tide brings to us. I’m 40 now (for one more day) and my beautiful girl is 9. We have both grown tremendously both in body, heart and soul.

So it’s fitting that we return here in the safety of treasured friends, to the beauty of a place that accepts me and lets me be anyway I need to be.

Turning 40 was more than a major milestone in my life this last year – I have used the year as a talisman of what direction my life would turn towards to navigate the rest of my days. It has been a lovely year. A year of destinations, music, continuing support of family and friends – both new and old and the constant connection and reconnection and the gifts they all continue to bestow on me. I am so blessed in my life. It’s also been a year of trying new things – I learned how to knit (!!), meeting goals and exceeding the hard expectations I have set for myself. And finally, not being so hard on myself as a parent going alone. I can do it – it has been done by so many before me and as long as we communicate and back each other up – we can do anything.

Most importantly, I have learned that it’s okay to let go and love again. The hardest lesson about love this time around is opening yourself up to even allowing someone to love you back and not second guessing and chasing away all those old ghosts that want to hang around.

Last night I sat on the porch alone and I listened to the waves hitting the rocks, felt the breeze giving me a chill, watched the beacon cycle from a distant lighthouse and had the entire evening sky ablaze with stars shining directly over my head. I didn’t feel alone – I felt redeemed – I feel like my life has come full circle.

Along the Road

Halloween Night 2003. Murray Lane, Brentwood, Tennessee. The last time I ever heard my father's voice. Every time I drive on that part of the road where I remembered talking to him - especially if it's dark like it was that night - I get this tiny ache for him.

My little one and I were on the way home from trick or treating with friends and we were discussing via phone call with him our upcoming visit to the mountains with my college roommates. On our return home to the mid-state we were going to stop and spend the day with him in Knoxville. He talked to KK too and he always had this glee in his voice when he talked about her or to her. He would lose it and get so tickled when I told him about her escapades and the latest and greatest accomplishment she had mastered.

I always liked to think that he had once felt that way about me. I had spent my lifetime trying to get his attention and get him to notice me or do something with me. When KK was born I stopped chasing him - I could feel his love just by the happiness he showed by her being in his life. The way he would light up when he held her gave me all the daddy I needed. I had finally done something that he was proud of. I didn't have to chase him anymore.

Had I known that it was the last time I would ever speak to him - would I have said anything different - told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was for the emotional distance we had between us for so long? I can honestly say now that all of those years I thought it was his fault alone - but now I can say that it was my fault also.

We were having breakfast when I got the phone call from my mother. After I hung up the phone I quickly sat down and turned my face away from my friends to absorb the blow - I was in shock - I could not cry. Any lingering anger or disappointment that I was carrying around with me towards him quickly dissipated and left my body. I can't explain it any other way - the animosity and unspoken words (words that I would never have been able to say to him anyway) I felt died that day with him and freed me from carrying it around with me any longer. At least on that Saturday night, he may have been happy knowing he was going to see KK the next day. I have to hope that.

That night while waiting on my sisters to arrive the next day - my girlfriends built a bonfire in the fire pit. Not only was it extremely cathartic but it enabled me to have a quiet place to grieve alone away from everyone. I was able to send up some silent goodbyes to my father with a final admonition for God to forever take care of him. I will never forget or be able to convey the gratitude for the gift of friendship that my friends gave me that night.

I won't say that the next three days were the saddest of my life but this occurred during the saddest period I have ever experienced in my life. With Father's Day being right around the corner, those poignant reminders are everywhere. Not only this national day to celebrate the bonds of fatherhood, but his birthday follows closely on it's heels the week after. Always on the perimeter, but this time of year is just a two week time period in June when he is constantly at the forefront of my mind.

And my weekly drive across Murray Lane, the ache is still fresh and feels the same. The memory of that last phone call with him is always there waiting for me. No more chasing.

Love Your Path--Paulo Coelho

1. The path begins at a crossroads. There you can stop and think what direction you want to take. But don’t spend too much time thinking or you’ll never leave the spot. Ask yourself the classic Carlos Castaneda question: Which of these paths has a heart? (…)

2. The path doesn’t last forever. It’s a blessing to travel the path for some time, but one day it will come to an end, so be prepared to take leave of it at any moment. (…)

3. Honor your path. It was your choice, your decision, and just as you respect the ground you step on, that ground will respect your feet. Always do what’s best to conserve and keep your path and it will do the same for you.

4. Be well-equipped. Carry a small rake, a spade, a penknife. Understand that penknives are no use for dry leaves, and rakes are useless for herbs that are deep-rooted. Know what tool to use at each moment. And take care of your tools, because they’re your best allies.

5. The path goes forward and backward. At times you have to go back because something was lost, or a message to be delivered was forgotten in your pocket. A well tended path enables you to go back without any great problem.

6. Take care of the path before you take care of what’s around you. Attention and concentration are fundamental. Don’t be distracted by the dry leaves at the edges. Use your energy to tend and conserve the ground that accepts your steps.

7. Be patient. Sometimes the same tasks have to be repeated, like tearing up weeds or closing holes that appear after unexpected rain. Don’t let that annoy you; it’s part of the journey. Even though you’re tired, even though certain tasks are repeated so often, be patient.

8. Paths cross. People can tell you what the weather is like elsewhere. Listen to advice, but make your own decisions. You’re responsible for the path entrusted to you.

9. Nature follows its own rules. You have to be prepared for sudden changes in the fall, slippery ice in winter, the temptations of flowers in spring, thirst and showers in the summer. Make the most of each of these seasons, and don’t complain about their characteristics.

10. Make your path a mirror of yourself. By no means let yourself be influenced by the way others care for their paths. You have your own soul to listen to, and the birds to whisper translations of what your soul is saying. (…)

11. Love your path. Without this, nothing makes any sense.

Finding Girl Power at the T-Ball Field

Three years ago when my daughter expressed the interest to play T-Ball, we approached it like we do anything else: sign up, buy the proper equipment (in this case pink gloves, pink batting helmets and pink "Girl Power" bats) and show up at the appointed time for practice.

I'll never forget how excited she was to be a part of a team. At the same time it was a new venture for us out in the world of our little community full of perfect families, 2.5 kids, perfunctory Yellow Lab and a fleet of SUVs in the driveway.

As we walked to the field, I began assessing the situation. There was a group of rail thin Stepford Moms huddled in deep discussion on the bleachers and another mom dressed in work clothes in the dugout. I headed straight for the dugout and took my place on the bench. The other mom and I introduced ourselves pointed our girls and began to watch practice. Soon we began trading personal statistics. Yes, it's our only child. School info, where do you work, what do you do? And then I sheepishly mumbled something about being divorced. She said "I am too" in such an off-handed way like it was nothing to be ashamed of and I remember sitting up and thinking maybe this was not going to be so hard after all. I instantly dropped the feeling that "I am the only one" in this situation. I wasn't.

In fact, meeting her totally turned my life around. I was instantly impressed with her. She was straightforward, fun to talk to, beautiful and self-assured. Her bravada and self-confidence was something I soon began trying on for myself again.

A few games and shared bags of popcorn later (and crush on the drop dead gorgeous with perfect abs t-ball coach) - it was official. I had a new friend. Which was to me the greatest gift at this point in my life.

What started out as emails with logistics about the night's game quickly evolved into back and forth one-liners about life and sharing the fruits of our goggle-stalking efforts on said coach.

When X came to one of the games and was acting in a threatening manner, my older sister sat on one side of me and my new friend sat on the other side to protect me. They quietly said things under their breath to me and each other in response to things he would say to me and it got me through what was an uncomfortable hour. I will never forget that day either. Her simple gesture provided me with a different kind of "Girl Power" and I don't think she even had a clue.

I guess he didn't make a good impression on her, because in the months to come she was my only friend who gently quit the hand holding and bluntly told me I needed to get over him and get on with my life. She was right. She was not there during the early days of my separation when I was crushed, scared and hurt. And I'm glad she didn't see me that way. My other friends I think were afraid I was too fragile to have that talk with me. But not her. I don't think I'll ever be able to express the gratitude I feel that she had the grace and fortitude to do it. I know it wasn't a big deal to her either - but her "get over it" speech or email more like was extremely eye-opening for me.

One Christmas we could share the tiny sadness we felt putting out presents on Christmas Eve by ourselves. Last Christmas we could acknowledge that it wasn't as bad as the year before. Not many people could understand exactly how that feels. But she does. She's my one friend I can measure my single parent status by without feeling totally insecure.

Three years later, our daughter's no longer play in the same league. But Tiffany and I do. We now share vacations together, trade books to read, and numerous daily emails (she even taught me how to text). She has even pulled me into her circle of friends as a push from behind to get me "out there" again.

Signing up for t-ball season was a turning point in our new lives. I know that sounds so silly to say - I mean who knows if it means a life-long love of sports for my daughter or not. But it provided me with a new best friend and confidante. Lucky, lucky me.

A Mile in My Shoes

It was raining this morning when I left for my daily walk. A light, cool sprinkle that actually felt refreshing on my shoulders. I added a hat to my attire to keep the drops out of my face and closed the door behind me. The first part of my walk I like to greet the day...a visual headcount of where things stand. Weather. Check. Birds singing. Check. Clouds/blue skies? Check.

Some mornings I wish I were listening to my favorite iTunes, but most mornings I'm content listening to the birds tend to their business of the day. I try to imagine sometimes what they must be saying to their chicks. Wake Up! Clean up your nest! Quit poking your brother! Brush your beak.

After I amuse myself with this for a few minutes, my thoughts quickly turn more interpersonal and over the past month I have found that this new walking early in the morning is working great for me. This internal conversation with myself ranges from the simplest thoughts to conversations I want to have with people to some lofty goals I am setting for myself.

The village of River Rest has quickly transformed, for the spring anyway, into my own personal Dogwood Trail. I have tracked the progress of many of the trees along my route and have decided that this spring the pink dogwoods are gorgeous and the white ones seem a bit confused by the unspringlike weather. They are still beautiful nevertheless and I am thankful that they line the path every morning.

Another great thing about getting up so early and getting out in the day is that you see and hear things that get lost once the rest of the world wakes up and emerges. The color and of the morning sky is the best kept secret especially in those moments that the sun hasn't yet hit to turn the sky that brilliant blue or give a bit of warmth to the overcast clouds... .

So once I give my thanks and get my nature fix, this inner dialogue quickly turns to me. It's the cheapest form of therapy one could experience! The endorphins act as a mighty healer to any anxiety or worry you are carrying around. I have found myself pushing thoughts around and figuring out solutions or coming to an acceptance with something without having to say a word to anyone else.

Five years ago, my sister's friend Carol gave me the best advice on being separated. She said "You have to walk - it will solve so many of your problems." And now five years later, in retrospect, I know that she was so right. Temporarily staying with my mom back in those days, I started walking every morning. My little one could sleep with mom in the next room and I would jump out of bed and just follow where my feet would take me. It was aimless then believe me and I wasn't able to appreciate the birds, the color of the sky or the dogwoods then. I wonder how did I even navigate myself around in those days much less take care of my child. I can laugh about it now. After about a month of walking my eyes must have opened somewhat, I walked past a For Sale sign in the condos nearby. I closed on it two months later and we had a home again. A start. A new beginning.

This last resurgence, I started taking walking more seriously. I keep a daily log in an online catalog of how far I walk each day. I increase it by a .5 mile each week. My body is waking me up at 4:30 and sometimes 5:00 as if to say - get up, get going, it's time to go! My inner dialogue has mapped out some big plans for me: climbing Mt. LeConte (5 3/4 mile hike - sometimes steep) and which trail I want to take (Alum Cave Trail), training in the next year for the Country Music 1/2 Marathon (so cool to think about for this Nashville Girl and registration is open now) and seriously contemplating getting a breast reduction. WOW!

Carol was so right and when she crosses my mind I send up a silent prayer of thanks to her. The past five years has been a journey of a tiny baby steps, thousands of tears, many blind leaps of faith, rights and wrongs, self-doubt and the joy at discovering I no longer feel guilty to laugh again.

I thank her because I realize every morning when I take off my tennis shoes, that walking hasn't just taken me a mile or two around what my little one calls our village. It's not something to tick of my list of things to do. I'm smiling when I get to work each day = I feel so great. I have arrived at home, yes, but to a new destination I never dreamed I would experience. A new place I've discovered inside of me. One of accomplishment, contentment and happiness.