PSALM 84

  The other day I was reflecting and I realized that the most precious part of my day, was the time I spent cutting the finger and toe nails of one of my 9 year olds. This was a day packed with car ride sing alongs, an inspiring museum trip, and a buffet dinner with a different group of kids. But the best part was the simple thing. He confided that sometimes he feels embarrassed to ask someone to cut them for him. So sweet. So simple. So necessary.  This little boy has a mouth like a sailor and an exterior like a riled up porcupine. But he is one of my favorites. I know that underneath the spitfire is a confused cuddly little boy hungering for love and attention. So after spending 5 hours driving, it was my delight to clip and file his nails.  Being a parent is about the big things, like creating them, but also about the little...sometimes it's the little things that make all the difference.

  The word "No" can be very hard for me to comprehend.  I like my way.  I like my plans.  I work very hard to think up efficient solutions and detailed plans. So when those plans or ideas are dismissed or derailed- let's just say I don't always take it lightly.  This doesn't mean I run around throwing tantrums, I've grown tremendously. It has been a good 400 + days of things not going as planned. Ok, maybe I am exaggerating about every day being devoid of MY way but it has been quite the journey of flexibility. Even though on the outside I may remain calm and collected, my disdain for "no" can still stir my soul. During a week that has required me to Matrix maneuver with the best of them, I decided I did not want any of the food I had in my apartment. After having spent almost $1,000 on sudden brake repairs, I tried to talk myself out of buying myself lunch. I was unsuccessful in my efforts and giddily went to pick up an Asian grilled chicken salad, ...

People who know me well and see me in person enough will occasionally notice, “you cut your hair!” About 1-2 times a year I cut my hair. I say cut, because the health of my hair determines the amount of the chop. To an outsider my hair may appear long and healthy. But during moments of rumination the ends of my hair easily separate and pull out into my hands. The outsider wouldn’t know, but little weaknesses are visible to me in the locs. When I am thinking a lot, my fingers quickly break through the hair frailties leaving me with a chunk in my hand. Kind of gross right? My fingers don’t cause the fault in the locs, neither do my eyes. The loc is already failing. I just have a choice of whether to acknowledge it or not. When I notice a pattern that it is loc after loc that I am pulling apart, I have to make a decision: to cut or not to cut? Many times in our lives we are choosing to withhold the cut. We love the appearance and so we sacrifice the health… appearance is so valuable to us...

So now what? So now I've come down from the stands I've emerged from my cocoon And I stand ready Laces Tight Wings steady and strong Ready to take flight The time out was necessary The metamorphosis was mandatory Warm Ups have been grueling Yet somehow they've been renewing Breaking free was harder than I fathomed But they say the strength comes from the struggle Now it's time  Full court The season is here Fly in purpose on purpose So now that's what.