Me too - An open letter to women and October

Dear October,

You didn't give us much room to breathe after September (suicide awareness month). But here we are, in the middle of it.  Facing breast cancer awareness but also infant and child loss awareness don't forget national coming out day and now there is a call to the "me too" movement advocating on behalf of women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted.

You make my heart heavy,
Megan

Dear Women,

To the women who are currently suffering, have had conquered, or grieving the loss of those battling breast cancer; you are strong and courageous! I literally have sat at my computer screen for minutes, trying to orchestrate the words that share my heart; but only silence is played. The battle you are facing is not one that people envy you for.  Thank you for being beautiful in all moments and stages of life; from the hair loss, to breast removal surgeries, to the inside as your heart going through times of being bitter and angry to finding life once more. You are not alone, you are loved.  

To the women who have lost a child or infant. This is a topic, in my opinion, that our society and our churches do not speak on enough, giving it the light and justice that it deserves.  Truth be told, this is a topic that I am not very good at navigating myself. So many variables to how you are handling and processing these major events of your life.  Stories after stories; I had a facebook friend share a picture of her box that holds treasured memories of her son's passing - something that took leaps and bounds to not only open, but open for all to see, letting us into her heart.  I can't imagine what one goes through day to day knowing a child is gone. Reading this article, about a family who donated their daughters organs, making a sacrifice to share life in the midst of loss.  My very own student showing me her baby brother's ashes that she binds around her neck, close to her heart, a beautiful necklace she just got today.  To all of my friends and family who I have cried with, hugged, and loved on during these tragic events, there are far too many. These stories are important, your child is not and will not be forgotten.  You are not alone, you are loved. 

To the women coming out. October 15th came and went and for those who were brave enough used the day to share their story. I personally want to step up on a soap box, I hate how a person has to be "brave" in order to be themselves, it bothers me (gets off soap box)... please keep sharing your stories.  I am listening. For my female friends who have already faced the masses, thank you.  Thank you for allowing me to be apart of your life, learning to judge less and care more. You have taught me so much.  You are appreciated! Your story matters. You are not alone, you are loved. 

To the women who have been sexually assaulted or harassed. You are not a victim. You were not "asking" for it. It was unwelcome, not invited, uncomfortable, forced, and something - that no matter what you do - will never go away. From physical touch to hurtful words, the scars that are left will never heal fully; shaping you daily into the person you are.  The movement "me too," starting on twitter, has been sweeping social media.  This letter is for you, that as you type those words "me too" I hope that you feel welcomed into a sisterhood of understanding, grace, and compassion.  That as you slowly tell your story, leaving or including as many details as you wish, healing will take place; a process that takes time. I want you to know that you ARE worthy. You ARE important.  I believe you. Tell me your "me too". You are not alone, you are loved. 

This letter is for all women.  Through stories (and sometimes coffee) we bind ourselves back together, weaving a tighter sisterhood.  If I could only reach through the screen and wipe away your tears I would. If I could only gently grasp your shoulders, drawing you into a hug, letting your rest your head on my shoulder - I'd carry that for you. If just for a moment I could stop time and let you take that deep heavy sigh and catch your breath, I'd wish it in an instnat.  You are not alone, you are loved. 

We all have a story. I am more than another number.  I am more than a statistics.  I am a me too. 

You are not alone, you are loved,
~Megan #metoo

PS - A letter is a form of communication, please feel free to write, message, text, call, e-mail me so we can continue our communication and sharing stories.  If possible, let's schedule time. I want to hear your story.

PPS - Men, yes I understand you can have breast cancer, loose a child, come out and be sexually harassed - you are loved too. 

I tried - joy {September book and update}

Hi everyone!
It is that time. My post slow down as life rushes around. My plans focus on educating 126 young minds all while having a functional hospitable home, doing both with love.

Y'all, it's exhausting.

For the past six weeks I lead a Facebook group, reading through Ann Voskamp's "One Thousand Gifts" - and although at first her over poetic flowery word choice was a bit much for my dry soul, I learned to love her words - they, her words, could take scripture and etch it deeper within my heart.  I think at the start I was just jealous that I couldn't write as eloquently as her.

When I started reading this book in September, I also starting writing down 3 joys, gifts, happy moments on a piece of paper.  Listing out on the times that brought cheer.   Some of my favorites include: 
undisturbed water droplets on a yellow leaf spotted when running in the rain
squeals of laughter as the youngest plays snake and squirms down the hall after older brother
reading books to a babe with lavender smelling hair
raining Saturdays with slow non-rushed starts
parking lot conversations with new friends
chick-fil-a (gotta keep it real)
coffee
someone asking if I am okay and wanting to listen 

I have now been listing for 41 days.

It's changing me. Just as Ann experienced in her highly recommended book.

Today's list:
asked to cuddle with oldest
moments to read another book
run in a long sleeve shirt clearing my head

This time of year is my favorite, but I also tend to drown in facts of my reality and loneliness.  My phone lies idle, my e-mail box empty, mail box vacant, truly just alone. As an introvert, I often prefer to gain energy being alone or in small intimate groups.  But this is the dark alone, not one of energy.  And as every year past, as long as I can remember, time will move on and self pity will weaken transitioning into go-mode again.

So I list, and once I find my joy, I cling to it.

On occasion my oldest, who's 5, has been asking me to cuddle with him, he use to want to sleep in our bed at the start of every school year.  Unknowingly I thought that it was because he missed me going back to work, he too could feel the crispness, the turning, the sense of "sighs."

Now, I realize my little-man didn't need me, God designed him because I needed to find joy.  God gave me the biggest gift I could have asked for (next to transforming me and my husband into Christians).  He gave me a son, who at a very young age, knows how to care.

Tonight when he asked me to cuddle him, minutes after prayers (naturally I am already tucked in my blanket with a book) I tell him I will be in in one minute, never have regretted spending time with him/

I climb the ladder to his creaky loft bed.  Oh, why did we buy a loft bed?  As I am climbing I tell him I am getting to big for his bed and don't want to break it.  He responds with "would you like an animal, here's a blanket, you aren't too big, you are perfect."

I take the big monkey (technically it was mine from years, decades, ago) and pull the blanket up around my shoulders.  We are finding peace in the midst of our chaos. I can feel his breaths slow as I know it won't take long for him to be asleep.  I smell the children's toothpaste, thankful that he brushed. I kiss his sweet forehead.  The same head that use to carry a huge red angel kiss birth mark.  The same forehead that holds incredible thoughts and dreams.

A sweet little voice simply says "Thank you."
"Thank you for what?" I ask.
"For kissing me."
"I will always kiss you."
"Even when I am older?"
"Yes, you won't be able to stop me."
"I can't wait for you to visit me in my house when I am older."
"Yes, our visits will be grand.  I love that you dream and think about your future, but don't grow up too fast."
"Why not?"
"I like you just as you are, my son, my five year old."
"Mommy, I will always be your son."
"I will always be your mommy."

With that he takes his perpetually sticky hands and holds my face. "Thank for cuddling with me." Then kisses my forehead.

No my dearest child,  THANK YOU.  Thank you for asking me to cuddle.  Thank you for reminding me that I am needed and loved.  Thank you for being joy.

PS - totally read her book.  It's good. =]