Do we really live in a day and age that we have little choice or so it feels, to choose which side of hate to be on? For the record, hate blanketed in religion and scripture is still hate. If we stand with and speak out as to our beliefs on one side or the other of any issue that is a beautiful expression of freedom of speech. However more often than not that freedom of speech turns into words and even actions of downright hatred for our fellow mankind.
Names are called and words are spewed with no concern for the lasting negative effect they have on others. People will live in ways that others find uncomfortable or disapprove of. Is it another persons, especially a strangers job to correct them? Maybe it is a feeling of being called to reconcile all people to God. Okay, I get that and I agree that we all need to be reconciled. Now here's the question... is it really our job to play God? How does one know who is and isn't reconciled? How do I know my neighbors heart? I may only see small portions of another's life and never truly know the core of who they are. I believe I am going to Heaven, yet some believe and have voiced that I am an abomination because I stand with folks from all walks of life, because I love people who are LGBT, and because I refuse to play God. My faith has been questioned by others but is it not MY faith? When did it become some else's job to manage my faith as if it were a 401K and you were my financial adviser?
My friend recently was a victim of this exact appalling hate that I speak of. He is gentle, funny, kind and lovely, I call him friend.

"I was punched in the face last night by a guy who had a problem with my femininity. I said nothing to him. This is a picture of me in the hospital last night with my dear, kind, loving and amazing friends Sarah and Carissa who stayed with me all night and also this morning when I went to the oral surgeon to put my teeth back in place. I'm posting this to show awareness and to inform that hate crimes happen. Thank you to every who has called, messaged me, for their kindness and for taking care of me and for just being my friend and by my side. I hope they find who did this because it's unacceptable and inhuman for anyone to do this to another person."

To those who write, post, scream, and preach hate, I am sorry for your apparent heart health. It must be a very, very dark place to live.

Stacks of paperwork sit atop my desk. All hold a varying level of importance and urgency. Some take hours to complete while others only moments, nonetheless they sit. They sit underneath my cell phone that doubles as a paperweight at times. That cell phone holds multiple texts, mostly from children asking things like "will there be cookies when I get home?, can I get a puppy? I had a hard math test today so can I not do chores?, my teacher is being mean to me, etc!" What the, who the??? What kind of idiotic parents give their children phones and let them text from school?! All these texts that beg response along with the massive amount of social media messages that await answering and of course there are the CNN updates that hold grave importance - I mean really how else is one to know what the newest stupid thing is that flows from Trumps mouth? The stacks of papers, texts, messages, and urgent world news lie beside the computer that holds my emails that take on another level of heightened priority and vital life changing information.
As I plop down in my desk chair (stolen from my husbands desk ;)) I allow the sight in front of me to sink in. I ask myself "self, why can't you keep up on this?" myself replies "Self, you have a thousand children!" Oh, right! If you are wondering, yes I do have these conversations with myself often and I do refer to myself as 'self' because it sounds cool and I respond.
Summer is upon us and there in no better reminder of this than that of the gazillion messages from teachers informing me of the media books due, outstanding work, and end of the year parties and field trips that seem reasonably priced unless you have a thousand children! Whether we are the type of person that looks forward to end of school with sleeping in, no homework to check, no lunches to pack, who gives a crap if our kids wear the same clothes for a week, "I'm bored" being heard nine million times a day, or not. The fact remains that our sanity is tested during these months. For those of us who have large families (and don't homeschool - these are a whole new freakishly different kind of brave crazy cool folk) we face life choices on a huge level. Are we really pro life? Do we really not believe children should be in boarding school? The struggle is so very real.
Like most, we are planning our summer family vacation - or should I just be real and say I am planning it. My husband, bless his heart (that is what you say when you really want to say something else %$*# but you ought not) I am certain is jealous as he has to work and cannot help plan. He will wish he had helped plan the food when he sees all the Oreos we packed. Just kidding - maybe not. However, as the planning ensues with all the gory details of a vacation with a thousand children I contemplate ceasing production and calling in the in-home therapist.
Back to those waiting papers, messages, texts, and news of political blah blah blah. Oh yes and I need to make some cookies!

There are times I am just sickened by the audacity of some humans. Too often I see people with a thought process of "I deserve......" and I frankly want to vomit! Get off you rear end and work for it, make it happen, choose better, be stronger, dig deeper.
Change for the better doesn't happen without work and willingness to endure the uncomfortable. Life is not about you! We were put here, all of us, to make a difference. Hero is and ought to be in all of us. Whether we are that hero to one in quiet or thousands in noise, our heart and motive MUST remain pure! Reward mustn't be the sought after outcome, rather great comfort needs to be taken in the knowledge of loving well.
No difference is found in the giver or the receiver of loving well. Not one is better than the other.
No person is a project that needs to be checked off a list and then glorified in public prayer meetings. This religiousity is sheer ugliness! To know ones heart you MUST take the time to get through the outer shell. That means that in quiet, without recognition or boast we invest, really invest, like genuinely care and befriend people.
I remember a time years ago being asked to dinner this way "we were just going through the list of people we need to make time for so could you come to dinner? Our only day left is next Thursday." Were we to be ecstatic that we made the chosen list? Needless to say we gracefully declined the invitation.
That invite taught me a lot. I knew at that moment that I never wanted to treat someone with that lack of authenticity. Notice here that I did not say lack of kindness because in the true spirit of being genuine I will say that there are several folks that I just don't hang out with. That in no way means they don't have value it simply means that, well, to be real here, I don't like to hang out with joy suckers.
The moral of this rant/post/emotion explosion??
Be real
Strive to be better - always
People are people, NOT projects!
Love well
Work for what you want and for the love of Pete, work hard!
Your choices equal your reputation
Concern yourself with others first
Remember you were made to love and God never promised it was easy.

That spring held what seemed like endless mornings of everything right. Mom woke up before me and with a smile and a silly song she would sing me awake. I still sing this same song to my kids today. She was stone cold sober and the feeling it gave me was indescribable. The feeling of being worth it flooded over me each morning as I looked into her clear bright eyes.

Those sober mornings were some of my favorite ever. We would put Andy Gibb on the record player and turn the volume up as loud as it would go. Dancing and singing to the most handsome man with the highest voice - we never failed to wake the neighbors. I remember wondering one day if they knew, knew that my mom was sober because she chose to be for herself and for me. Knew that it took more strength than even Superman had to be sober.  Knew that Andy Gibb was our happy place, knew that the noise was the most joyous noise to my ears. I wonder if they knew?
As spring morphed into summer mom simply couldn't hold on. The evil claws of addiction sunk in once again. I held tight to the morning songs I woke to, I hid our special record so no one could take it, and I went back into survival mode. I was comfortable there and navigated it well. Addiction took her away again that summer. My mom was present but was not there. I could touch her but not feel her. Emptiness was my unwelcomed constant companion. These seasons were the story of my life for many many years to follow. I'm not sure why but the saddest part of it all to this day is that we lost our Andy Gibb records.
Sometimes, some of us in life must dig deep for the memories that are golden. Those memories are to be cherished, our happy place memories.
Today on my daughter's 6th birthday I am reminded of the treasured days I had with my mom when she was really there and her beautiful heart for people. With all honesty my heart breaks as I mourn the dream of listening to Andy Gibb with her and her grandchildren.
I will dance to the crazy music of today with my children singing loudly all of my days, giving them no need to dig deep in search of happy place memories.

Finding humor in life is of the utmost importance for survival, of this I am certain.

Asked what I wanted for Mother's Day I responded with the sweetest (and looniest) answer ever, "I want to spend it with the ones who have made me a mommy". Now lets be real here, that is not a dumb answer, however, wanting to take them to the zoo one day and deer park, rock climbing, and picnicking the next may have bordered on the lines of insane! Crazy as it was my brave husband loaded up eight children and his parents and off we went with our mini zoo to the the real zoo. Is it any wonder why people stare at a family with two wheelchairs, three cinnamon, one dark chocolate, and a handful of peach folks (descriptives given by our youngest) all with their own creative ways of dealing with other humans? The good news is that we survived, no animals were stolen or released - not for a lack of effort, and no cotton candy was consumed.

Well that went so well we thought we ought to do it again and this time lets go bigger! Lets take a 3, 4, 5, 6, 11, 12, 12, 13, and 17 year old to Taylors Falls and climb on rocks and go nature adventuring. What the????? Who's idea was this?!
Sure enough that super hero husband of mine loaded up the van again with our small herd and we were off. Prepared for whatever life was going to hand us, we had our first aid kit, stroller, Ergo baby carrier,  wheelchairs, bug spray, sunscreen, cooler filled with pre-made lunches, pullups, and extra clothes. We were set!
We forgot the magic fairy dust that makes that many children not kill each other in the van, cease from attacking random people and animals at the deer farm, oh yes and pooping in a sculpture garden. There is now a family in need of therapy after seeing 'art in action' from our youngest guest. I then realized I, along with the fairy dust, also forgot any sort of bag in case the need to pick up human feces may arise.

They all make me a mommy, a laughing lunatic, believer of miracles and fairy dust, humor seeking, need of a stiff drink, and never more blessed mommy that is.

Next year please remind me to go the spa route!