So you’ve walked 1200 days alone before he enters.

One would think it would wreak havoc on a life.

Decisions now made with input of another.

Days that dance by, one fuller then the next.

Yet, somehow, it all just works,

our stories blending.

Those three girls and their daddy, my three girls and that dog, the group of us, all eight meandering through life together.

Dear Lord help us to continue to love each other as we should.

This is the way this life’s meant to be lived.

The way that little girl always dreamed it would be.






We live our lives with the applause meter on.

The channels of social media feed the human desire for acclaim.

But, to live an authentic life, one in which we force ourselves to acknowledge the pieces that are less than show ready, that’s a challenge.

I was tired.

Really, really tired.

I needed coffee or a nap or both.

I snapped.

Little girls scurried.

Please Lord, next time prompt me to warn them when these things are brewing.

This is the piece of me I’m learning to love.

No one else to blame, just a recovering perfectionist who cannot rest before it’s all complete.

The woman who simply can’t manage when something is left undone.

Apologies were whispered, when really they should have been exclaimed.

Little girls tucked away for the night will soon forget the mistakes made.

The best of me sometimes comes from the worst of me.

Tomorrow we’ll go at it again.