Beccalynn married a Counting Mutant. Together they created a Renaissance family. Wild Oat found them in his 20s and now is married with three kids. Ase and Zany, former dancers who now bravely face life as emerging adults. Girly dances, collects dead things and faces her teen years with superpower logic. Creatively they navigate life through Jesus’ gift, asking uncomfortable questions to discover the deep love that awaits us all.
Sometimes those words give my heart a warm pitter patter of
fluffy bunny memories. Laughter until my sides ached and ice cream sundaes.
Dance parties, horse back riding and secrets spoken in the dark. A place of
safety, innocence and mutuality.
My heart freezes, bracing for the next blow. Trapped in the
torture of a toxic relationship these words are bait. Scars flame in memory of
pain and rejection. Words spoken in the past bounce around my head - judgement, blame flavored with
It took a long time for me to learn what my part in a toxic
relationship was. Boundaries I overstepped. Vulcan logic heard as insult and
judgement. Once I understood, I reached out to make amends and make a behavior
change. I listened more intently so as to not make the same mistake again.
Only to step into a new minefield labyrinth of mistakes.
Like a starfish, a limb would be lost, but I would grow it back again: all in
hopes that at the end of the day the relationship would be filled with love,
grace and equality.
Then I woke up. I made of an ass of myself. I assumed the
person wanted me in their life. My presence was more than just geography and
convenience for them. I believed the other person honestly liked me and valued the journey we
walking together. The reality; my existence in their life was by default not
In order to thrive a paradigm needed a shift. I disciplined
myself to reciprocate. If someone had a need, I could happily serve. As I
watched satisfaction color their soul I felt joy. I needed nothing else. Some
of my relationships now are one sided. Others are mutually beneficial. I have found fulfillment in both. The
difference is, my worth as a person does not stem from the success or failure of
On occasions, my path crosses those past acquaintances which
proved to be most painful. Three little words spoken and I freeze the urge to
vomit. I wonder what is missed about me. Who would miss a bull after he left a
china shop? Would anyone regret removing the pebble in a shoe? I cannot respond
because of the word constipation in my brain. Those three words are irrational.
Then I saw this quote and understood. It put the word
"miss" into a different context. I miss the smell of summer
thunderstorms of my childhood. The romantic idea of becoming a famous
singer/actor. It isn't the person, it is the idea. The presence. The fragrance.
The romantic idea.
That is logical. It hurts to visit that ideal, because it
was so wrong. Contentment is within the reality of today. A peace of mind built
on trust. Teaching myself not to jump to conclusions, but allow a camaraderie
to grow organically watered with mutuality. Value for value. I weigh my words
before they are spoken. Then ask myself: am I listening as much as talking?
Love ebbs and flows. People weave in and out of life on their own paths.
Finding the joy in the moment with them is what matters.