Mother’s Day Every Day

I am grateful for the opportunity to let my mom know how much I love her on this special day. She loved me before I was born and looked forward to the day she met me.

I feel the same way about my kids. “Mother’s Day” is great but every day is Mother’s Day to me. My kids gave me the best gift anyone could offer–the gift of motherhood–when I conceived them. Meeting them, loving them, raising them, and seeing them grow into beautiful young adults has not been without challenges but I wouldn’t trade a moment for anything. 

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Children, I love you. Thank-you for the gift of you which has helped make me into a better person. You have my heart. 

Happy Mother’s Day to those of you who are moms, who act as moms, who love as moms. Today is a special day to celebrate the gift of you!

~Pamela

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Our Queen

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Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there. 

It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.
~Ray Bradbury

Tonight we lost a beloved member of our family. Someone who loved so much that most everyone she met came away from the encounter changed for the better. How many people in our lifetime do we meet like this—one, two, a few if we’re lucky?

These people are angels placed here on earth to show us what it means to love with hearts so big and so roomy that we know we are home, whether we are near or far away. We are enveloped in the warmth and the security of unwavering affection and feel gratitude for a spiritual connection that surpasses temporal time. Long after these people pass, their love lives on—through their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, friends, family, and everyone they met.

Dearest Momo,

You will always be loved. Thank-you for the gift you gave to us—your heart. Your life touched us in ways where words fail and we are eternally grateful. Love you. You will always be our queen.

xoxoxo,
Pam

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Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury
of compassion — inexhaustible, look kindly upon us and increase Your mercy in us, that in difficult moments we might not despair nor become despondent, but with
great confidence submit ourselves to Your holy will,
which is Love and Mercy itself.
~Chaplet of the Divine Mercy

Conflagration

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Her as oxidizer. A crushing embrace
heated through. Stoked by red hot
embers igniting an epic blaze, a light
up the sky bonfire eagerly licking up
fuel as greedy flames burn, singeing.
Catalysts, flashpoint then combustion.
When the heat simmers down, a white smoky
haze–aftermath still smoldering. He was
changed.

Happy Thanksgiving

Gratitude goes beyond the ‘mine’ and ‘thine’ and claims the truth that all of life is a pure gift. In the past I always thought of gratitude as a spontaneous response to the awareness of gifts received, but now I realize that gratitude can also be lived as a discipline. The discipline of gratitude is the explicit effort to acknowledge that all I am and have is given to me as a gift of love, a gift to be celebrated with joy.
~Henri J.M. Nouwen

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Let’s celebrate what is good in our lives–who is amazing in our lives–and be grateful. Have a good one, friends.
~Pamela

On Motherhood

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What do you wish someone had told you before you had kids?

All the planning in the world cannot prepare you for becoming a mother. Even if you received too much advice from other moms while you were pregnant, you only realize this fact after you give birth—not a moment prior.

You will take pictures and videos—lots of them. From hearing the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of your baby’s heartbeat to grasping ultrasound pics in hand to your husband’s photo capture of you with a tear streamed face holding your precious baby in your arms for the first time to waving good-bye at the bus stop while your stomach lurches to your daughter going to her first middle school dance to talking about the birds and bees to waking up one day and your son is grown-up, you will capture every important moment with a snapshot and/or video clip—and then some.

Real parenting is not your friends’ Facebook shares. Facebook is not the real world. Seeing highlights of your friends’ posts, whether it’s viewing pictures of their little ones who are reading novels by the age of 3, potty trained by age 2 using the M&M’s method (it does work sometimes), or playing concertos at age 4, is not reality—even though the photos may be cute. Reality is:  little ones will become preteens, next teens, and then they will go off to live their own lives. Your heart may feel like breaking but you will be proud—so proud. Welcome to the real world.

You will always be a mother. This reality will never change no matter how large your son’s shoes are or how your daughter towers over you in heels or if your kids become chefs, police officers, teachers, or parents themselves or if they adorn their bodies with tattoos or piercings or if they grow their hair out and join rock bands—whatever. After the umbilical cord is cut, you are forever mom. If you are lucky, you will become grandmom at some point. Love will never be in short supply.

You won’t ever be the same—never ever. From the moment you find out that you are carrying a life inside you, the ground will careen under you, you may see stars, and you will free fall into a love that no life alert call could rescue you from. You wouldn’t want to be rescued. You fell hard and thank God every day for it.

You are a mother. Imperfect at best yet filled with love so consuming that its presence is like breathing. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

To my mom, I know now–and I appreciate everything you are to me. You are the best. To my beautiful children, you will always be mine. I adore you.

~Pamela

growing

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where did the time go?
from feet
little that pitter patted to shoes that
gape and click
from wake-ups
and monsters to scare to
looking up for hugs
bent down
where did the time go?
from loving
huge and huger still
cords fraying and
knowing
well the hopes and dreams
ballooning
where did the time go?
life’s shorter and heart’s bigger to hold
memories warm
from the sunshine of your smiles

~Pamela

Tide Lines

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You visit me when the rains come.
Sliding in through the rising torrents
beating my windows, in the water
swirling around my ankles.

You can’t help yourself.
There’s something about crushing
waves that are a part of you which make
her eat sand
another’s eyes red from stinging salt water
one more her heart aching from being crashed into again and again.

Your wake leaves behind brown tide
lines with dirty foam, crushed shells,
sand dollars in pieces.

~Pamela