When I look back now I can see the gift of the closed door, but in the middle it felt like anything but. It was disappointing, it was tears, it was not easy nor everything as I thought it should be. 

But there was another open door.

In a wave I realized I missed the little boy.

A simple moment became a closing of a season, the dimming of a once bright light, a shaking of the ground where my feet once felt so steady.

It felt like pain.

When we set aside the isolation of being ‘tough,’ we exchange our fear of being needy for the welcome truth of being loved.

And you are loved.

There is strength in deciding that despite the pain, our freedom is actually our decision. We hold the keys to freedom.

We are the ones that can open our own prison door.

How many times do we look at our need for help with such shame and embarrassment? How many times do we refuse to even seek out the very thing that could knit us back together?

What does is mean to parent a child and then release them to be their own adult? To metaphorically ‘let go’ while at the same time knowing there will always be holding on? 

Always fiercely and firmly holding on.

Life-giving water is beautiful when it surrounds our feet, its reassuring cold reminding us that the sea constantly remains. And at times if pulls back, painfully so, leaving us with labored breaths as we wait for the ocean’s return.

Life is like this sometimes, the rise and fall of the tide. 

All those moments you spend with your mind trailing down random paths, wondering at all the ways you are simply not enough - what an enormous waste of time.

The truth is you will never feel like you are enough, you will only decide it to be true.

To position oneself as part of the circle or to step inside requires great strength and understanding of identity. We have so much to give and so much to receive, if only we will find ourselves worthy.

I wish I had been more immersed in the wonder while he was a child. Less worry about the future, more enjoyment for today.

But what I couldn’t see then I will hold onto as I parent now.

That begrudging ‘yes,’ that tentative ‘okay,’ that hesitant, really-wish-I didn’t-have-to ‘of course,’ all save us from an immediate suggestion of guilt, but rob us of our genuine yes.

And burn us out in the process.

Understanding the cost of life does not diminish it of hope, but rather embodies it with value. As we embrace the pain of disappointment and grief, we welcome the wonder of joy and success. 

That night as we relived the day with friends I did not reveal my fear. It’s funny how we do that, refuse to let others see only to find ourselves feeling all alone.

This year I will stand with the little girl and remind her that the fear of lack sits in the past. I will embrace today, refusing to let the future be dictated by what has already been.

Conflicting emotions are not contrary to Christmas Day, and sometimes alongside merry and bright, we encounter despair and darkness.

It’s okay, all the feelings are welcome, you have not failed the holiday.

I want to celebrate the wins, but time is fleeting and the ‘to do’ list is always screaming and sometimes I just get caught-up moving onto the ‘next.’

But in the day-to-day of life, our cheering section must include us. 

Like any masterpiece, our lives will have darker colors that weave in and out of the brighter ones we so prefer, mixing together to create a work of art no single tone alone could ever accomplish.

Vulnerability often feels like I’ve torn off restrictive clothing and embraced liberation only to realize that I’m now completely naked.

At times I desperately wish others would just avert their eyes.

In some illusive way I yearned for a ‘normal’ family, with no way to define it outside of ‘not us.’ I wanted our gatherings to be all things joyous, all things laughter, all things…easy.

Perhaps what I really wanted was all things fairytale.

I’m old enough to know better.

A grown woman wondering if her father remembers her birthday. Wondering if he remembers it’s been 50 years since she was born, 48 years since he walked away.