Skip to main content


Call it a product of lots of work and little time, or maybe classes which all seem to share threads despite being almost wholly unrelated, but lately I've been thinking a lot about how powerless I am in my own skin.

I talk too much.

Or maybe it's powerfulI am powerful in my own skin.  I can do things, be things, try things.  I don't have to do it for anyone but me.  I don't have to do it unless I want to.  I can look at the map and choose the road and see where it goes.  And be okay even if I get turned around.

I am a bonafied know-it-all.

It's funny.  I haven't noticed myself getting older.  It just sort of happened.  Snuck up while I was napping.  Little spots on the back of my hands, wrinkles around my mouth, gray hair.  I've settled into my thirties, somehow, just in time to get ready to leave them.  Mid-way, mid-life, mid-me.  I'm not excited about forty in four years, but it's coming anyhow.  Coming quick, filling up the blurry lines between hours.  So I guess I better get used to it. 

I am a lazy housewife, a distracted mother, an impatient teacher.

I didn't think I'd be finishing my degree at thirty-six.  (At times I didn't think I'd be finishing my degree at all.)  But, here I am, ten weeks away - give or take - and staring down the barrel of what's next.  What is next?  New places?  New faces?  New houses?  New goals?  I'm not sure and the waiting is rough.  But, next is coming anyhow.  Coming fast.  I can't see it yet, but I can hear its breathing.

I am incredibly selfish.  And often pretty mean.

I've spent a lot of time - wasted a lot of time - not measuring up.  At least in my own mind.  It's really easy to be not quite good enough.  Not faithful enough.  Not pretty enough.  Not funny enough.  Not friendly enough.  Not smart enough.  Not skinny enough.  Not creative enough.  Not engaged enough.  Enough for what?  Enough for who?  These are questions I'm only just now beginning to ask myself.  Who set my bar higher than I can reach it?  Was it me?  Why'd I do that? 

I am not very good at finishing what I started.

I have only just begun to realize how empty my own promises are.  If I can just lose X pounds, everything will be perfect.  If I would just read my scriptures more, pray more, be more faithful, everything will be perfect.  If I would just take more time to look pretty, everything would be perfect.  But, even if I do all those things, everything won't be perfect.  More importantly, it will still be okay.  I will still be happy.  I will still be loved.  I will still have many blessings.  I will still be me.  Of course, I can always want more, work more, try more.  Not because I need to measure up, but because I already do measure up.

I am already enough.


Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…

Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

You know when you see someone again and it's been, like, forever, and you're not really even sure that you're getting their name right and you wonder WHAT on EARTH they've done to their hair/face/body/children and you can't quite find the right words to fill the gap between time and space?
My second year of teaching is just beginning - and isn't that a wonder?  Last year...let's just say, we all survived.  Last year involved:
- Commuting home (2 hours, one way) almost every weekend - The kids and I here (in Espanola, where I teach) while Eric stayed in Edgewood - Putting our (still for sale) house on the market - Two semesters of Master's classes (what was I thinking??? on the up side, I only have 1 semester left and I am DONE.  D. O. N. E.) - Saturday's spent in professional development - My first ever "work trip" to San Diego 
And this year:
- Josh is a Senior (whuuuut!) - Carly started 5th grade - We all live here in Espanola (double WH…