walk alongside…

I have a new post up on Ruminate Magazine’s site today. In a way it’s not new, it’s a further reflection on things I experienced and then wrote about a number of years ago. The decision to revisit those words and emotions comes as I look over the Facebook pages of friends who, only 5 or 6 years ago were still waiting, still struggling, still walking alongside. Time is so interesting. Maybe that’s what makes Facebook so compelling for me, to be able to see the progression, the steady march of time as it crawls up my newsfeed. But we have a better measure than social media, a long term measure, that comes in the friendships we make and nurture and keep.

Time has shown me how hard it is to keep up, how rough the waters can be, how much loss and how much love are possible in any given life. Time shows me the mistakes I’ve made and whether or not I’ve learned anything at all in the wake of them.  We depend on time, always marking the passage of it like lines on the wall to show how high the children have grown or marking the days on the calendar before vacation or a wedding or the hope of a baby being made. The Rolling Stones were wrong by saying that time is on my side. It’s not. It’s outside of us. Time is indifferent to our weird little struggles, it just keeps moving along and yet it’s necessary for that measure of our lives.Time is out of our reach even as we try to gather it in, even as we try to store it in our bellies and our brains. Inevitably, I suppose we hope that time simply shows us we are better for our struggles after all.

So, digression over…take a moment to saunter over to Ruminate today. If you have experienced miscarriage or walked alongside someone who has, this post is meant for you. I hope you’ll share it if it hits you in the right place today.





I spent most of the week at a blogging conference called Blissdom. If you follow me on Twitter you’ll have figured that out, certainly.

Ok so here’s what I think- I think I let my introverted nature get the best of me far too often. Don’t misunderstand me, I love being an introvert. I identify with the watcher, the observer, the deep waters introverts swim with ease. It’s just that being an introvert also pegs me as outsider or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I make myself an outsider.

I’m drawn to extroverts, the yin to my yang, clearly. I married an extrovert, several of my closest friends are extroverts. I’ve needed this energy even as I never envied it. I don’t want to become an extrovert and yet I love to soak in these incredible extrovert friendships. Up until a few days ago I didn’t realize that I truly felt some lacking in me around this.

What strikes me about the gathering of women in this context is that I realize I’m thrown into gradeschool emotion all over again. I FEEL like I’m 8 years old when I attend large gatherings of women. I am that little girl on the playground, glad to be alone and yet terrified of being excluded. She had no idea how to connect with people live and in person. She wrote poetry in her notebooks filled with longing and lament, even then, sitting on the cold ground in the corner during recess. She sat there waiting for her moment, for some cracking in the earth to come and save her from the awkwardness of it all.

Just as me being thrown into that emotion was not the fault of the kids on the playground when I was 8, it’s not the fault of the women gathered at Blissdom that I went there this week, not at all. It was a lovely, diverse, intelligent and fascinating group of humans. Honestly. It is for this reason that I regret that I let my fear paralyze me when it came to engaging. It’s not just that, though. The lacking I feel is anchored in joy I read in them as I watched from my seat. I saw a great number of these women reaching out to one another, not seeming to be afraid of injury, using strong voices and rich words and I was taken apart. I long for that in me. I know it is there.

I’m not without humor or joy, I know this. I can channel my extroverted performer energy when I reach a level of comfort but I want that joy I saw. I want it more readily, more often, worn on the outside. And then I wonder if there is a place that will fall open in my soul one day…a crack in the earth of my finely crafted veneer when I will finally free the 8 year old and allow her to shine, brightly.


I will say today, Happy New Year and I will mean it with all sincerity.  I think the reason I look to the New Year with such hope and anticipation may be most simply put, because it involves the word “New.”

I’m thinking that I will introduce a new concept this year….  Happy New Month, Happy New Week and Happy New Day.  Now that I think upon it, every moment is new to me.  Perhaps I will begin Happy New Moment…thus taking the time to realize that what HAS been may not be again.  
In this way it might be possible for me to be in that moment; to offer thanks, to lament loss, to christen joy, to breathe deep knowing that another breath comes directly and it is mine as well.    

So I wish a Happy New Year to all of us…this moment, this breath…it is yours whether happy or not…it is yours.
 peace today
Mrs M