October the 14th is a confusing day for me. I don’t dread it. I just know it’s coming. As soon as the leaves start to change and the air is crisp my senses know what time of year it is. I used to associate that with the birth of my first-born, and I loved that. But now it has changed into something else. It’s like this demon I wrestle with all year-long rears its ugly head on this date. For some dates of people passing bring a lot of anxiety or depression. It doesn’t do that with me. It just messes with my head until what I know is real and true comes to the surface again. Things that cause me to be that work in progress I am always talking about. Things I don’t want to remember. Things I do want to remember. Things I wish never happened. Things I cannot change. Sharing the reality is healing but also scary. You may not like what you read and that’s okay, because I don’t tend to like some of the things I write about.

I don’t mourn for the mother I had. I mourn for myself, for that little three-year old me that still lives here inside of me. I mourn for my sister and my grandma. I mourn for a once little boy who things could have been so different for. I mourn for the mother I always imagined she could be and would often pretend she was. But that’s where the sadness ends and the confusion, frustration, and sometimes anger takes over. She became so much more hurtful and angry and misguided that last two years of her life or more, that those are the memories burned into my brain. Trying to find a good one is like trying to squeeze milk out of a lemon.

So this is a day that I have to do alone.  It’s not a day I can explain to people how I feel. Certain memories that have come forward this week are hard. I struggle in my sleep and my awake time with memories. Some she is alive still and some I am in the airport on my way to her services. I am on that stupid escalator and the wall to my right is brightly colored and there are people in a hurry trying to get to their plane and I can feel myself slipping from reality. I can’t feel my legs. I have to tell them to move. I feel raw. I feel like people can see right through me. I am scared. I am scared that because of her lies and confusion in the end that no one in my family will welcome me except my sister. I am scared for my physical well-being as well as my emotional. I am an orphan. I have no home to go home to. The home where my childhood things are, is not my home. These are some of the memories that take my breath away and cause me to grasp the kitchen counter and take deep breaths so I don’t have a panic attack in front of the kids. They are so powerful, like they were yesterday.

There were unexpected blessings that week as well. My aunt and uncle, stepping in and taking the role my father should have taken for my sister and I. Guiding us through the days and keeping us from feeling like we didn’t belong. Friends both new and old sending me messages of support and prayers. Even if I didn’t respond they gave me strength. My grandma being proud of what I was wearing (if you know her, you know why this is a big deal). Adults from my childhood reintroducing themselves to me and the warmth I would feel when they talked to me. My sisters friends who still think of me as the little sister, caring for me. These are the memories I cherish. The ones that made me feel God’s presence in that moment.

Two of the most powerful memories I have are perhaps the memories that finally convinced me that my sister and I, flawed as we may be, did not imagine things we were told we imagined. The first was when we walked into the church and the funeral director started talking to me and telling me we that weren’t allowed to sit with the family. I smiled and told him I understood, thanked him for his help, and promised to sit on the other side. During that conversation my aunt and cousin from my dad’s side started walking towards me. I could see them out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t know what to expect.  I turned and looked at them and they smiled and embraced me. They took a risk. They showed us love and grace. It was humbling and powerful, and something I will never forget. It was that act of kindness that got me through the rest of the day. The second was when I went to sit in our designated spot in the sanctuary for the service. I thought it would be just us. It wasn’t. My mom’s side of the family sat with us. My grandma, aunt and uncle, and cousins. We all sat together and I belonged. After years of being told how much we were hated by everyone, it was deeply healing to realize the stories weren’t true and also devastating to realize I couldn’t recognize truth from lie anymore.

Why, why after four years do I still feel the need to write about this? Because I was left with so many unanswered questions. I look for pieces to puzzles, reasons for things that happened or didn’t happen. It is healing to write about things that have changed me. I don’t struggle everyday, but I choose to write about important days like this because maybe someone who reads it won’t feel alone in their journey to healing. Maybe I have to write it so that a certain person who reads it knows that there is nothing wrong with them. Maybe, just maybe, that person who needs to read this will hear me say that their circumstances don’t make them who they are. How they grow from it does. Be a work in progress and use that muck you have been through to motivate you to be who you want to be. Who God wants you to be. Look for the unexpected blessings that come from every hard moment.

*** update*** I’m back to using my college degree as of last year, but it takes nothing away from the three years I was home with my kids.
I remember when they called my name at college graduation. I was so proud of myself. I had beat so many odds that were stacked against me and had overcome many statistics that said I wouldn’t get a college degree. I couldn’t wait to go out into the world and start an amazing career doing what God had called me to do. It was a moment in time I will never forget. Being called into ministry of any kind is not easy. Working in a church is not easy. Following God’s will is not always easy. I did it though. Every time I was led into another direction I did it. I have only held positions that are considered a ministry of some form. My jobs have had me working with all different ages of kids in a Christian setting each time. That never seemed odd to people who knew me. As I look back on the last three years I am struck by how many people are confused by what I do now.

“So, what is it you do again? Are you just doing that jewelry thing?”

I get asked this frequently. I get it. I get why those who know me get confused by this. Unless they take the time to dig deeper. My brain is bigger than jewelry. My heart is for serving Jesus. So why sales? And why this jewelry gig? And where is my pink car? (We don’t really have pink cars, but people ask me that.)

Let me start with the ministry I am in. I am in the field of working with women. I am blessed enough to witness the power of what a little social time with friends can do for women like us,  from all walks of life. I am invited into women’s homes to help them do something fun for themselves. We all know what a woman’s life is like these days. She is an exhausted SAHM who is just really wanting to talk to someone who doesn’t require a diaper change. She is a working mom who is burning the candle at both ends and could use a night where no one is expecting anything from her. She is a woman who is beautiful beyond belief but doesn’t think so, because someone told her she wasn’t. She is a woman who doesn’t have the most supportive loving husband and lights up when her friends tell her she looks great in a necklace. She is the woman who loves fashion and will do anything for a new accessory. She is the woman who will use any excuse to hang out with her girlfriends. She is you. She is me.

Last night I received a text from someone who said this, “Something as simple as a CL necklace has truly made me feel beautiful in more than one way. Good night sweet friend.” It was a reminder to me that this “jewelry thing” isn’t about the jewelry. It’s about how women feel when they empower each other. It’s about how much women need each other. I am part of a large network of women all across the country who do what I do, who are making a difference in their lives and the lives of their families. I get to walk alongside some of the smartest entrepreneurs I have ever met. They have become some of my best friends. I wouldn’t hesitate to call any of them should I need a friend, a prayer, or advice. Some of them do this full-time like me, some use it as supplemental income. Some do it for the fun. Whatever the reason I am so glad to know them. They have blessed me in ways I didn’t know I needed to be blessed. I have an amazing team of women that I coach and train that have become my friends and are a gift to me. This is my ministry. To love, care, and support other women in whatever ways they need it.

Why did I choose this? Because the three in the picture below deserve to have a mom who is not stressed out by her boss. They deserve a mom who can drop everything and come down to their school if needed. They deserve a mom who can build her schedule around them. They deserve to have the mom I always wanted and dreamed of being. I am a work in progress and these three are helping me get there. My husband deserves to have a happy wife who can drag him on all expense paid vacations to exotic places! Working for myself can be hard, but so worth it in so many ways.

So that’s what I do. I work from my home office. I work to be a better mom. I work to be a better wife. I work to empower women.