This Moment

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Blog writing comes in fits and starts for me. I get super gung-ho about it and write all the time or I barely post for months on end. This is not the best way to grow a blog or gain followers I realize and a lot of it comes down to my own insecurities. I get stuck in a rut feeling like I have nothing to say or contribute so I simply stop. Any writer will tell you this is something you absolutely cannot do. Over the past few months, I have done a lot of thinking, soul-searching, and self-development. I realized I was living from a scarcity mentality meaning if I saw someone else with the slice of pie I wanted,  I assumed it meant there wasn’t any pie left for me. And then I just gave up. Until this week happened. After some heartbreak both on the national level and on a pretty personal level, I decided to dust off the blog (figuratively speaking of course) and start writing. It is therapeutic for me and perhaps someone else needs to hear these words today.

Friend, there is room in this space for all our voices. And perhaps in this moment, there is an even greater need for voices of hope and light and love to contribute to the conversation. The world needs to know hope exists. Love exists. People do still care for their neighbors and communities. Good still exists in this world. For me, today, this realization hit me at home as I sat at our kitchen counter eating breakfast with my precious baby boy.

This morning I woke up my one-year old for the last time. Tomorrow he will wake up a two-year old. And as I have followed the loss of a precious two-year old this week, I have been sobered by the reality we are only given this moment. Life can change in a split second. I hugged him a little tighter this morning, kissed him a little longer, and let him eat my avocado for breakfast because he has this cute little dance he does when he asks for one. As I watched him across the table and thought about the world he is growing up in, I prayed he would grow to be a light and beacon of love and hope. I prayed we would grow as a family to love our neighbors and open our doors to those in need. And in the moment, I saw a little boy who knows nothing but love. I saw my sweet baby who had to say I love you to me, his dad, and his G (his affectionate name for his grandma) last night before he could go to bed. I saw a child who does not know hate or difference or cruelty. And I felt a weight of responsibility as I navigate parenting him and raising him to treat those around him with love, with respect, and with compassion.

I don’t know where you are today. I don’t know what thoughts are running through your mind or what demons you are battling. I wish I could sit across the table from you over a cup of tea and talk about life. We need each other. We cannot do this alone and we cannot overcome hate and darkness by ourselves. But in this moment, I believe if we gather together, with our friends, our families, our communities, we can spread hope. We can share love. And we can change history for our children and grandchildren. Your voice matters. My voice matters. And we have to keep speaking.

 

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