Healing as an adult is ridiculously hard. It requires bravery, brutal and almost blunt-force honesty and it can leave you completely depleted. Especially on the days that sneak up out of nowhere and smack you right in the face. A broken heart, a broken soul or even a broken human can still hold an enormous amount of vitality because broken means open. And, open provides a means of escape for pain and an entrance for hope. Just because it is hard for you to heal does not mean you're hard to love.
So, if you're sitting at someone's house and you've got that pit in your stomach because you just don't feel accepted, or welcome...trust me girl, grab your cute little striped hey dudes you left by the door, and get the heck out off there now. Yes, I know they just poured you a margarita, with salt on the rim, but hear me when I say, that vulnerable moment you'll have which prompts you to share "anything" on drink two... it's already shared with someone who isn't even there. That's why there is a pit in your stomach to begin with. Good friends, and kind people; pits don't accompany them. Growth, sunlight, warmth and happiness surround them, those are your people.
Trust me when I say that in my younger years of stupidity I was judgmental with unrealistic expectations. My preconceived notions of how I would wear and walk in anyone else's shoes better or differently than they had were obnoxious. Especially when I was walking with my shoes on the wrong feet, to begin with, or barefoot even. Fast forward to forty-year-old, heavily flawed me, and while my shoes are now at least on the right foot, I just love walking next to anyone who doesn't have it figured out, who has lost their way and maybe even a shoe or two. Those are my people.
We all know that fun-loving girl who loves to get a crowd laughing. She isn’t above embarrassing herself to create joy, laughter and bonding with others. Connecting with others causes a euphoria, a false high to bottoming out lows. The connection and camaraderie feeds her soul. Communication, sharing, and involvement makes her feel heard, necessary [...]
This helicopter carried nine legends, leaving behind their own legacies, loved ones and heartache. It's impossible to adequately honor each of them enough. Siblings were lost. Spouses were lost. Children were lost. Eternity though was gained for those nine. I have a sneaking suspicion that they are playing one heck of a basketball game in a heavenly stadium where the hoops are lined with gold and the ref is wearing a sweet pair of Nike Mamba Focus shoes with his golden robe.