Archive for January, 2020

Defining Me


Today on the radio, the dj quoted someone declaring proudly: Don’t let your past define you. And the other djs cheered and encouraged the thought and the adage.

It’s a common cheer these days. It catches on quickly and people agree wholeheartedly as they celebrate the fact that they can rise above a horrible experience and still be a good, happy person despite a troubled past.

While I get the sentiment of keeping on keeping on and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and not letting a bad experience defeat you or derail your life, I have to disagree.

My past definitely defines me. I cannot separate myself from it. I am who I am because of my past. The good, the bad, the hard, the joyous. The people, the experiences, the betrayals, the victories, the losses. The scars, the bumps, the bruises. The hugs, the friendships, the apologies or lack of apologies, the pain. The stories, the pictures, the experiences, the trials. They define me. They made me who I am today.

My past helps guide my actions, my passions, my purpose, and my future.

My past goes everywhere with me, whether it’s welcome or not. My traumas, my fears, my victories. I cannot separate from it. It’s my story.

My past is why I am even at this table, in these circles, in these conversations, championing these causes.

My past is what gives me my context and my story. It was me who lived it; it was me who experienced it. It is me who survived to talk about it and to help others with it.

My past is why I have a dog in certain fights. It’s why I have the soapboxes I have. It’s why I have the platforms I have.

Those people and experiences that hurt me… they formed me. Those people and experiences that helped me… they formed me.

I am who I am today because of the things and people I’ve experienced.

So, yes, I will continue to rise above the trauma. I will try to heal up any open wounds. I will work to be the absolute best version of myself despite my past and my scars… and I will work to be the absolute best version of myself because of my past and my scars.

And I will continue to let my past define me.

Around Us

92804AAD-2183-4D02-9ABF-39CCFC814092We entered the building and walked across the lobby to the elevator. Two little boys sat with their mom over to the side. When the oldest of the two spotted Chloe, he called out excited, “I love your wheelchair!”

As we stopped to say thanks, he dashed over, dropped to the floor beside the wheelchair, and announced, “This is my favorite part!” as he touched the small light-up caster wheels of Chloe’s chair.

“Oh, yes! That’s my favorite part, too!” I said.

It’s sad that this 5 second interaction had such an impact on me as Chloe’s mom, and there are a couple of reasons why it’s important.

First, the young boy was comfortable with Chloe’s wheelchair. This child obviously lives a life in which he is exposed to people with disabilities and people who use wheelchairs. I know this because I see the opposite in children all of the time. The children who are not accustomed to being around people with disabilities or people with wheelchairs are the ones who stare in amazement the whole time Chloe is in their line of vision. The children who don’t see many wheelchair users would never approach a child in a chair, much less touch the chair. But this young boy was comfortable.

Second, the child’s mom was comfortable with Chloe’s wheelchair. She didn’t screech for the young boy to be quiet or not to touch. She didn’t cower in fear or whisper or act uncomfortably. This young mama and her children were 100% comfortable with Chloe’s wheelchair. I venture to say that this family is friends with someone who uses a wheelchair. They were just that comfortable.

The only way to be friends with someone who uses a wheelchair is to be around wheelchair users. In the same vein, the only way to be friends with someone who has a disability is to be around people who have disabilities.

As long as schools and communities keep people and children segregated according to disability labels, children and adults will stare at Chloe when they see her. But when children and adults are around people with disabilities in natural environments (classrooms, playgrounds, churches, and clubs), then those people will be comfortable being friends and being friendly to Chloe. And when children and adults do life together– learning, playing, and contributing together– then those children and adults will be comfortable approaching Chloe and will see her as an equal.

A takeaway: If you notice your child staring at someone because of their disability or because of a device that supports them, please don’t tell them not to stare. Instead, approach the person with a disability, introduce yourself, and say hello, setting a good example for your child. And then seriously evaluate your life and your child’s life and deliberately make some changes that will cause your family to be in contact with people with disabilities. We have lived segregated lives for too long. We have tolerated segregated classrooms long enough. Help be the change.

A few minutes after arriving upstairs to our appointment that day, that same young family walked into the doctor’s office. Reiterating just how similar our families are, the mama said to her two young boys, “Yay! We have the very same doctor as she does!”

Be like that mom. Be around us.



CCB87ABC-2C64-449A-A09E-7187220A61C6.jpegOn the way to take Zippy to school today, he was in a playful mood. He jokingly pushed my buttons the whole drive. He messed with the radio, turning it back up after I turned it down, etc. He thought he was really funny.

Each time, I would turn off the radio for a few minutes as “punishment.” Then, through smiles and laughter, we would talk about obedience and respect and then we’d turn the radio back on for another chance. But over and over, we would end up with the radio off for punishment, and wails and laughter would ensue.

When we pulled up at the school to drop Zippy off, the radio was off; and no matter how much he begged, I wouldn’t let him turn it back on. No more chances. So, laughing, he got out of the car and shut the door.

As he walked by Chloe’s closed window, Chloe used both hands as if releasing a spell and said, “Poof!”

And I died.

She literally just Poofed Zippy, pretending to turn him into a goon just like the Good Fairy in Little Bunny Foo Foo! “I gave you 3 chances, and you didn’t obey so I’m turning you into a goon! Poof!!”

  1. What a great little sister!
  2. What a great sense of humor!
  3. What a smart way to apply a story to real life!
  4. Way to make my entire day! LOL
(For reference, in case you don’t know the song:

Be the One


Be the one.

Be the one who holds her hand. Be the one who dances to her music. Be the one who stops and joins her in her dance. Be the one who looks her in the eyes and smiles. Be the one who stands with her holding her hands while others look on. Be the one who is her friend.

Because when you are that one, others will see that it’s okay to hold hands. Others will see that it’s okay to dance. Others will see that it’s okay to stop what they’re doing and join in her dance. When you are that one, you will empower others to come and join in her song and look into her eyes and smile and be her friend.

Be the one. And teach your children to be the one.

Be the one. Because the one encourages others.

And the world needs others. And my girl needs others. 

Thank you for being the one, Sophia. ❤





Give it Over

Last night I finally crawled into bed a little before midnight. My bed had been calling my name for several hours, and I was ready to crash into a deep sleep.

However, Elliot, my 20-year-son, was driving from the football game to his friend’s house for the night. He wouldn’t arrive at his destination for at least another hour and a half.

My mama heart felt the need to know when he had made it safely. My mama heart willed my eyes to stay open and close to my phone incase he needed me.

I dozed several times but was literally waking every 10 minutes and checking my phone.

Finally after an hour or so of this dozing off / startling awake again pattern, I realized it was futile and silly. And, as I’ve done countless times over the last 20 years, I handed my boy back over to God … he’s His anyway, right? I verbally and mentally handed Elliot and his safety and his wellbeing back over into the hands of the One who is in charge, into the hands of the One Who actually loves Elliot more than I do. I handed him back over into very capable hands.

He’s Yours, God. I give him to You again.

And I fell back asleep, resting for several hours before waking again to check my phone. He had made it to his destination sometime while I slept.

Funny that I have to keep reminding myself to trust my children to God. He’s got them. And He is working for their good. Always.

So I can sleep, knowing they’re His.

Sigh. Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

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