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Charlie Rose and my Dad

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Thanks to Gayle King, I’m in tears this morning…fresh tears remembering how hard it was to tell someone what Dad had done to me for so many years.  And how similar Charlie Rose is to my Dad.  The power. Oh. My. God. The. Power.  More

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Life Without My BF

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Several months ago, a very cherished friendship ended.

I’ve been grieving the loss ever since, but today I’m really missing her.

Even though it was me who said I couldn’t continue the friendship, More

It’s going to be beautiful

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Last month I went on a 2500 mile solo camping trip on my motorcycle. I went through 7 states in 6 days.

I was both excited and nervous to go solo, but also determined to face my fears.

It was time for some growth. 

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Turns out I had so much fun, my fears were forgotten, and definitely for naught.  The trip was a confidence booster, and equally important, gave me much needed time for reflection. More

Roller Coaster Ride

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It’s been a roller coaster ride the last 6 months during my blogging sabbatical. Continued growth, awareness, & forgiveness; betrayal; and a surprise!

My decision to back away from blogging and other optional activities was born of necessity. Some important relationships were requiring intensive attention, and I needed to focus on figuring out what my role was in each relationship. It’s never pretty looking in the mirror, but always worth it in the end.

It’s easy to think relationships are strong when times are good.

But when things go awry, you find out what the relationship is really made of.

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Birthdays of My Dad and My Father

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Dad’s birthday is today; gone now nearly 5 years, he would be turning 92.

He hated Christmas.  Apparently his birthday was forgotten every year in the midst of Christmas preparations when he was growing up.  The pain of being forgotten never seemed to leave him.  He would not allow us to put up a tree until his birthday had passed, and even then did so grudgingly.

I know now Dad’s Christmas experience is only a tiny window into his life story. More

Exposing Skeletons in the Closet

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With Halloween around the corner, ghoulish decorations are beginning to pop up alongside gargantuan pumpkins, bumpy gourds, and colorful leaves.

A plastic skeleton swinging in the wind recently reminded me of the saying about keeping skeletons in the closet.

My closet is no stranger to skeletons. Some have represented things done to me, others symbolized things I’ve done. Shame and fear were the hinges on my closet doors. Strong and secure, they kept my secrets tucked in the dark.

Or so I thought. More

Throwing Stones

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It would be easy to make a poster-child of Adrian Peterson.

A powerful man hitting a defenseless child?  What a lowlife, coward, and disgrace.  Let’s all throw stones at him.

But wait.

What if…

What if Adrian Peterson was simply parenting the way he’d been parented.

How can we be expected to do the right thing if we’ve never been taught what the right thing is?

I am in no way condoning or excusing this behavior, nor that of any version of domestic violence.

But I believe there’s more to the story.  Much more.
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