You Missed

You missed her homecoming last night. 

And the float reveal in the parade the night before. Two hard weeks worth of work. 

You missed the advisors naming her an honorary student council rep. 

You missed her holding her own when aggressively challenged by a fellow student. 

You missed her being physically sexually grabbed in school. 

And wearing baggy clothes for weeks. 

You missed her first day of high school. And then her first day of sophomore year. 

How fun they’ve been. 

You missed her Spanish teacher convincing her she deserves Honors classes. 

You miss all her teachers adoring her. 

And motivating her. And supporting her. 

You missed her middle school librarian asking for her help. 

You missed her first camp. A week long. 

You missed her birthday. 

Her first boyfriend. 

And her first breakup. 

You missed her current boyfriend. 

And the giddiness when he liked her back. 

You missed the interviewing of the boyfriend. 

The family dinners to remind him whose girl he’s dating. 

You miss the protection she needs. 

You missed her first kiss. 

You missed her first parking lot driving lesson. 

You miss her melt in your mouth chocolate chip cookies. 

And her made with love lasagna. 

You miss her good days, her bad days and her really really hard days. 

You miss her school mornings. 

And afternoons. 

And Open Houses and early dismissals. 

You missed the school fire last week when she was scared. 

You miss her after school activities. 

And the community attended HS football games. 

You miss her cries. And her sadness. 

You miss her little surprises for others. 

You miss her pride when she blushes at something she’s done so well. 

You miss her kindness and her compassion. 

Her light and her joy. 

You miss her unbreakable bond with her brother. 

And his quiet protection of her. 

You miss the inside jokes they have. 

And the laughter that ensues. 

You miss her school projects, picture days, and field trips. 

You miss her pre-intern days at the elementary schools. 

You miss her favorite teachers and the ones that watch over her now. 

You miss her favorite shows, her favorite foods, her favorite music. 

You miss her discoveries and finding out who she wants to be. 

You miss her generosity taking care of her friends. 

You missed one best friend move away and breaking ties with another one. 

And the death of her friend’s father. 

You miss her doubts and fears. Her questions and insecurities. 

You miss her Faith. 

You miss her funny puns and almost pee her pants belly laughs. 

You miss her spirit days and her Halloweens. 

You miss the campsite stories. 

You missed the covering of the baby pink in her now favorite color painted room. 

You miss the picking on of her brother’s friends and how they too look out for her. 

You miss the bonfire talks and the car ride sunsets. 

You miss the snapchat games and the instagram tagging. 

You missed the counseling to help her. 

The teacher and counselor conferences. 

The patience of the schools, their admin, and their teachers when she needs them. 

You miss the memories she’s creating. 

You miss the village that has stepped up and surrounded her. 

What you miss the most, however, 

                 is the mark. 

You miss the point. 

You miss the chances. Too many to count. 

You miss what you’ve done. 

What you still do. What you should do. 

You 

       miss  

              everything. 

Today

Every single day I am reminded that you abandoned your family. Left when we needed you most. Turned your back when we begged for you. 

Some days the reminder is a good one. How far we’ve come, what we can accomplish, what we’ve learned. Knowing who supports us, pushes us, believes in us. Knowing we are survivors, our tight little family of three. 

Other days, not so good. Today is one of those. One of the days I would love to pick up the phone and show you just how powerful you were, you still are, without even knowing. How your abandonment has left a hole, a void, a lack of confidence in all of us. 

Left with this for life, questioning over and over our worthiness in everything we do. Questioning our abilities and our qualifications. Are we good enough? 

Today, she’s not, in her own mind. She’s struggling and left feeling empty. Again. Doesn’t believe in herself, won’t believe in herself. Refuses to see what’s staring back in the mirror at her. Instead sees an empty space in her life. That nothing can fill. 

As her Mom, I’m helpless. No amount of hugs, reassurance, words of encouragement, kick butt mantras from me make it go away. Therapists, counselors, teachers, family, pastors all believe in her. Know what a powerful young lady she is. Know she is good, and worthy, and strong, and able, and deserving. 

But she doesn’t know it. She can’t see it, can’t touch it, can’t embrace it. Her view is tainted, skewed. 

So, today, I’m getting her clearer glasses. I’m trying again, I’m trying harder. I’m trying with all my Mommy might. I’m getting up again, no matter how many times, and I’m fighting for her. 

Because today, and every day, she’s my girl and she deserves the best of me. She deserves it all. 

Beautiful (1-13-18)

He called her beautiful. 

Not with the patronizing voice of all those years. 

No. He meant it. “Inside & out” is what he said. And for her to never forget it. 

He called her beautiful. 

The words run through her mind repeatedly like a mantra. 

Choice (6-11-19)

What choice are you most proud in making? 

I answered this question on Facebook yesterday. My friend half the country away found it. And reminded me I’m loved with just one thoughtful comment. 

You see, over the past 2.5 years I’ve had to make what feels like a million choices on my own. School decisions, house decisions, discipline decisions, friend & family decisions, life decisions, career, work, and money decisions, court, lawyer, and well being decisions. Decisions on everything from what to serve for dinner to what will this mean when we look back years from now. 

Decisions big and decisions small. 

It’s been hard. It’s been stressful, sometimes sad, sometimes confusing. 

But, it’s also been rewarding. So very rewarding. To see the smiles, the grades, the manners, the respect, the compliments from strangers, the pats on backs from teachers, the pride from family, the hugs from pastors, the thrive and the drive of my children is the reward. Such a reward! 

Looking back it was one original choice I made. The morning he left I crumbled. I was a sobbing, blubbering, mess of a woman, wife, and mother on the floor of the kitchen in our family home. 

I got UP off my kitchen floor. 

I. Got. UP. 

The Journey

Five years ago today, I began a journey. On that day, it was called a Weight Loss Journey. Now I know better. It was my Empowerment Journey. 

I lost over seventy five pounds on that weight loss (Combat Fitness, now known as PosiFit). Through that 75lbs though, I lost my husband. My once gentle giant became a lost soul I still may never find. I lost friends I had once considered family. My kiddos lost their support, their friends, their structure, their trust, and above all, their Dad. That lost soul is still out there searching somewhere. And he is Prayed for daily. 

But, over time, what we three gained was oh so much more...

We have learned the power of kindness and compassion. 

We have learned the strength of a helping hand. 

I have learned that healing starts with self. 

We have learned you are never too old to cry to (and with) your Mom. 

We have learned that whether blood or not, compatibility, care, love, and support is key. 

I have learned who my true friends are. Near and far. And they have stood by me for a long time. 

We have learned that life is short. 

We have learned to enjoy every little thing that makes us smile. 

I have learned to get into the pictures. 

We have learned time doesn’t heal all wounds, love does. 

We have learned to Pray for His guidance. And to allow it to happen. 

We have learned the strength and power of their Mama Bear. I have learned they really already knew. 

I have learned I am strong and independent and am who I am. And I wouldn’t pretend otherwise. 

See, I lost more than weight on that original journey. But what I gained was my life!