Can You Hear It?

If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it
Does it really make a noise?

Can you call yourself my man
If you spend less time with me than with
yourself, your friends and the “boys”?

You say how much you love me
And are always thinking of me, yet here I sit all alone
No sweet conversations or close encounters, just an occasional voice on my mobile phone

Reasons why we’re not holding each other, snuggling up, watching T.V.
There’s always something else going on, and you can’t spend time with me
Too tired to come when I need you, yet so much energy after you get me off the phone

So why should I sit here all alone..

Maybe I’m too much for one man
I need more love than you can do
Do I find a homey lover friend to fill in when you’re just “doing you”?

Is this the love that I always wanted?
Is this how love was really meant to be, if after time passes and the love gets solid
The romance falls silent just like the tree?

Is your passionate heart still beating, when I’m near do you still get chills?
Or when I’m laying there beside you,
Is it silently contemplating the next thrill?

Can I feel your arms around me
Can I nibble on your ear
Can we drift into the morning
Fall asleep in the comfort of the easy chair

Or did the heartbeat of this romance fall silent because no one was around to hear?

Can we cut into the silence
Find the sound of you and me
Let our passion create the sound waves
So there’s no doubt we feel the vibrations of love’s tree

Can we?

Original poetry- August 2012

September 5, 2012 0

My Angels always show up for the after-party…

It’s just a part of my reality now. I’ve accepted the heartache that wells up inside my soul when the Mother’s Day commercials start to pour in. Even though I am a mother, and I get my props this time of year from the media (and boy how that makes me feel valued!), I still feel the abandonment. It’s been over a decade but I still want to be able to buy a card, deliver it, and get a big warm hug. So each year about a week before the holiday, I fall into a slight emotional and physical slump. It’s usually unsuspected because each year I think it’s going to be the last, but you never get over your first love.

It used to hit me like a ton of bricks, but now I’m so used to it and have accepted it that I plan the party. My pity party that is. Poor me. I lost mom at such a young age, I have no living grandparents and my heart aches for my kids who did not get to experience her here on this plane. I feel overwhelmed. I feel alone. I feel sad. And I feel like crawling up under my covers and not coming out until someone else arrives. I put on my terry cloth robe, some warm socks, get a good glass of red wine and some chocolate (preferably with ice cream too) and find a few tear-jerker movies to watch on television. My preference is Beaches, Terms of Endearment and Steel Magnolias – always sure to envoke a good, deep soul-wrenching cry. Of course I never invite anyone to my pity party, or it wouldn’t be as meaningful. It’s usually ended with not much sleep and I feel the emotional hangover the next day or so until I decide the party is over or someone needs their tutu or baseball pants cleaned right away. And somewhere between the tears or the chocolate, I ask my Creator to help me embrace joy again and I ask Mom to show up somehow during the week to let me know I am not alone. The alarm rings, the kids have to get to school, and I have to get back to work. Back to reality.

And as inevitable as the pity party, so is the after party. And my angels always tend to show up and deliver ten-fold!

May 25, 2012 0

God Has Answered

It’s so amazing when you can look back on the major events in your life and see where God has not necessarily answered your exact prayer, but gave you exactly what you needed. I wanted so desperately to have another boy. My son was so easy-going, mild-tempered, played happily by himself, ate whatever I put in front of him, weaned himself off of me before the age of one and was willing and excited to go anywhere and do anything I suggested. He was such a bright and happy kid and definitely a momma’s boy. I wanted another just like him!

When they told me (because I could never be one of those women who find out the sex of the baby on the operating table) at the ultrasound that it was a girl, I almost cried. I felt so disappointed. I knew what a handful I was as a young girl, and how much I resisted whatever my mom said was the “right thing to do” when I was a tween, and I was not ready for the challenge. I wasn’t ready to release the boxes and boxes of beautifully preserved boys clothing that I had so carefully packed away in anticipation, and did not want to paint the nursery pink or buy all new pink fluffy clothing. I grew up in a houseful of boys – three brothers and a mass of their close friends whom I considered my “play” brothers. I knew how boys thought, what their interests were and was comfortable being around them.

What was I going to do with a girl?? My friends and family were all excited that we would have the “rich man’s family – one boy and one girl. They all told me that I would love having a daughter, that one day we’d enjoy laughter over manicures, tea cups and pretend cookies and that we would be the best of friends. If it weren’t for the close relationship I had with my mom, I would not have believed a word they said. But my mind still went fast forward to her teenage years where I saw us fighting all the time and her sneaking out the bedroom window to run away with some foolish boy. After all I had nausea the entire nine months I carried her and it couldn’t have been a more miserable pregnancy. I thought, “this is not going to be good”, and secretly hoped the ultrasound was wrong. But God knew best.

This pregnancy came after suffering three miscarriages within a two-year period, and yet I still considered trying again. I wanted to give my son a sibling. The specialists we saw couldn’t find any reason for the lost babies and I started to think maybe my Creator was telling me that it was just not in the plan. The doctors suggested I try again. I prayed to God and asked for a miracle. Another positive pregnancy test. I made a deal with God that if this embryo did not survive, I would accept that God’s plan for my life was to just have one child and I would not try again. My next ultrasound confirmed the pregnancy, yet the visit several weeks later presented us with potentially devastating news. They saw a blood clot right by the embryo and there was a high possibility that I would miscarry. I spent the next week on bed rest, and in prayer. My prayers were about to be answered one way or another, and I wanted to have the strength to handle the outcome. By the next ultrasound the clot had disappeared. There was no trace of it. The ultrasound technician was dumbfounded; the doctor said it was a miracle and I couldn’t hold back the tears.

As soon as I got home, I looked up names for the little baby girl growing in my womb. I had already chosen her middle name, but I searched for a name by meaning. I wasn’t sure what name it would return, but I knew what I wanted her name to mean. My eye was drawn to the name Janai (Jah-nay). Janai means “God has answered”. I surrendered and accepted and held strongly to my faith. Absolutely God had answered. Not my prayer for a boy, but I was rewarded for my faith. My God!

I am writing this so that when she’s spending way too much time in the shower, or dating some boy I don’t approve of, or just plain giving me more grey hairs, I will read this again, take a deep breath, hold her in my arms and as I did the morning she was born, cherish the beautiful gift I was given when God answered. I hope it works!

Happy Fifth Birthday “sweet cheeks”!

Love, Mommy

March 22, 2012 3

I want some old school love… Original Poetry

I’m yearning for some old school love.

That sweet love that kept you up on the phone all night.

Not thinking of short verses for his Twitter page

but long, drawn out sighs and movement from lips to thighs

sweet nothings that fill your ear and make you want to disappear

into the abyss of his love

into the phone for a long, sweet kiss and a tight hug

not looking at pictures of his body on Facebook or pictures that some other body took

but cuddling up next to his chest on the couch

not texting each other but hand in hand, mouth to mouth

can’t wait to wrap up inside of that warm oven kind of love

that old school love when he couldn’t wait to get off from work

to take you for a walk around the park

to “write your name up in the sky”

and tell you ” you’re the reason why”

wanting to be his “lover girl” and praying he’d take you all around the world

or even for a push on the swing

and maybe one day a shiny diamond ring

both “wishing on a star” that no one would see you in the back seat of that car

vowing to love each other “forever” as you sunk deeper into the leather

i want THAT old school love

i want his hand to slowly caress my back

not the touch screen of his phone

i want us to feel like we’re all alone

not with a zillion other friends chatting, messaging and interrupting

when he holds my face in his hands and says that this was where he wants to be

the only tweeting that I want to hear

is sweet nothings being whispered in my ear

or music softly playing while he lay near

and though i know things are different in this time and age

and people and relationships are not much more than comments thrown all around the page

I want that old school love back

I know you’re out there and until you find your way through

I’ll be “saving all my love for you”.

March 6, 2012 9

This is the best time of your life

The new year always bring with it the opportunity to sit and look back on the past year and of course to think of resolutions or goals that you have for your future. We all have the excitement on our tongues as fresh as the taste of the first snow flake and we sit waiting for the clock to count down so we can charge forward into the next 365 days of opportunity. This was probably the first year that I didn’t wish the previous year away, nor make resolutions for the new year. I wasn’t happy to see one end or the other begin. But I did look gently over the challenges and victories of the past year and I said a prayer to help me face the new year with the same courage. I was just content with being in the current moment and almost forgot it was New Year’s Eve. I was home with the kids and we had our usual toast with sparkling apple cider and our midnight hugs before bedtime, but I didn’t feel anxious nor cautious about the new year; just grateful that I made it through to enjoy seeing another day.

I almost surprised myself because I am usually the first one to run to the nearest party or firework display with urgency and fear that New Year’s Eve would not be the same without it. I always had to have the traditional black-eyed peas and collard greens on the stove so that I could have it to eat for luck before the ball dropped, and if I hadn’t hit the store for some champagne, the night would be a disaster. None of those things were at the forefront of my mind and although I thought occasionally about them, I wasn’t in a state of remorse for not having all of the superstitions on deck and in place. Maybe I was so exhausted from all of the holiday preparations, or exhausted from taking care of my sick four-year old, but it didn’t really hit me until after the kids went to bed and I sat down on the couch to watch the Twilight Zone marathon.

My dad Jabez is a lover of science fiction so I grew up watching the Twilight Zone and reading Stephen King, and I look forward to the New Year’s Eve marathon each year to get caught up on the episodes that I missed years ago. One particular episode really hit home with me, especially during this time of contemplation and personal inventory. I don’t recall the name but it was about a thirty-something man who had travelled back in time to give a message to his younger self, who appeared to be about 7 or 8 years old. When he found him at a carnival, he said (or something similar) “I just wanted to tell you to enjoy this time in your life to the fullest because these are the best days of your life.”

These words really hit home for me because aside from me taking my own personal inventory, I often wonder what others see when they look at the past year of my life. What do my ancestors think of me? What compliments or constructive criticism would they offer? Do they even see what’s going on, and if so what’s their perspective? With all of their wisdom, what advice would they give me for the coming year? What would my seventy-five year old self say to me now? And when the questions stopped flowing, the answers came rushing in. They would tell me how proud they were of the strength, the courage, faith and compassion that I’ve embraced over the past year. They’d say what a great mother, writer, sister and friend I am and that they know how difficult it is sometimes to love unconditionally, but that I strive for that anyway. They would say that I am blessed to have such beauty surrounding me, and such love from my children and that I need to remember to celebrate them and our special bond every day. They would say that I take life too seriously and that this is the season to let fall the cloak I have woven of grief, fear and of loneliness and to embrace the unspeakable joy that awaits me. They’d tell me to write more, to take more chances, to have fun, travel and make an extra effort to spend quality time with and surround myself with true friends. To remove anyone or anything that speaks doubt or negativity into my world, and to be a good steward of my finances so that the blessings will manifest ten-fold. And I know they would say that this is the best time of my life. Right here, right now, so make a conscious effort to enjoy it to the fullest.

And if I doubted that any of the thoughts that came into my head were truth, my Aunt Daisy, my mother’s sister, echoed almost the exact same words after our Kwanzaa feast on New Year’s Day. She has such wisdom and a huge spirit! Throughout the night she complimented me on how well I was raising my children, and empathised with how stressful it can be to run a household and raise children independent of their father. And right before she walked out the door, she stopped, turned to me and said the most profound and confirming words. She told me to keep speaking wisdom to my children, keep the lines of communication open, and do the best I can to point them towards their destiny. She said that I can’t force my expectations on them, because their purpose on this earth has been predestined and is out of my hands. All I can do each day is my best to love and nurture them for just those 24 hours. And when the day is done, lay my head down and rest because I am going to need the energy for the next day!

We laughed and hugged and she said to me “until we meet again!” and walked off like an angel in the night. I soaked it all in – the words she said and the meaningful tone that she used as well as the humor. I cleaned up the house and went straight to bed with a knowing that all I need to concern myself with is the task before me for this day and trust that with all the wisdom passed down to me, that I will do exactly what I need to do. No resolutions to list.No pain carried from yesterday. No worries of tomorrow. Just taking on what’s in front of me today and laying my head down to make sure I get enough rest for tomorrow.

How will you celebrate these 24 hours – the best time of your life?

January 5, 2012 4

Tis the Season…for Football!

As I sit during the Green Bay Packers football game, watching my almost-ten-year old immersed in each movement of each player and calling the plays and penalties, I am amazed at his passion for and knowledge of the game after only playing for two short seasons. He really knows the game and now that his season is over and he isn’t playing, he can’t wait for Sunday night, Monday night, Thursday night or any night that he can watch an NFL or College football game. And if there isn’t a game on, he makes sure he gets his homework done quickly so that he can play Madden 11 on the Wii. I shouldn’t be too surprised because he has such passion for things that he loves and anything that his brilliant mind grabs a hold of, is processed with intensity.

But still I wonder why football? One of the issues I had with his father was that instead of grabbing his son, his beer and his pretzels and heading down to the man cave to watch the game, he would go down by himself and leave his one and only son upstairs with us girls. And I would feel sorry for him thinking to myself, “so this is why you were dying to have a son??” So I was shocked when he started asking to play football. But I shouldn’t have been too surprised because my brothers had a love for the game yet always watched the game alone too. My dad was either at work or asleep, or just in between. My son’s father didn’t want him to play football, so I respected his wishes and didn’t pursue it. Then one day my son wrote me a note that said “Mom, I love football and I really, really want to play football.” I was so touched by his note and I knew that even though his father was against it, as a mother, I felt it was my duty to give life to his passions.

Growing up with three brothers and no female sibling at all, I didn’t have much choice about whether I would watch football on Sundays and Monday night because we usually had only one good working television, and I eventually gave up all hopes of them turning the channel and decided to start asking questions so that I would know exactly what the heck was going on. Of course as I grew older, the ripped bodies, tight uniform pants and chiseled faces made me even more interested in the game! After a while, I found myself also yelling at the television screen and getting excited about Sunday night. My brothers would make it an event. All of their friends would come over and the house would be filled with excitement and more yelling at the screen as if they had seats on the 50 yard line. I think that our house was the popular spot to watch the games because my dad would usually be at work or upstairs tucked away in his room, and my mom came from a big family and didn’t mind the loud ruckus or the beer that they snuck in (or at least they thought they were being coy). I soon found myself turning down dates on Sunday nights because I didn’t want to miss the games, and if he wanted to come over and watch it with me, then it was understood that there would be no interruptions! Even after my parents divorced, my mother, a tom boy since childhood, would host the best Superbowl parties in the area. All of my friends and my brother’s friends would make it a point to be there to watch the Superbowl. We would have soul food, beer and my brothers would always bring prizes to give away for the best guess of the score at the first half or the first person injured. It was the party of the year and we were all passionate about the game.

So I guess thinking back, maybe my son got his passion for the game from me. And now that I’ve let him stay up a little past his bedtime to watch the games, it’s caused me to recover that passion that I had years ago. It always amazes me when I uncover treasured pieces of me that I subconsciously put on the back burner in the name of motherhood. With two young children I was usually too exhausted or busy putting someone to bed, changing diapers or making baby food to get into the game. The Superbowl would come on when it was past the kids’ bedtime, so I would have to leave the parties early to get them home to bed. For some reason or several, I let that past time go. But thanks to the One who ushered my beloved James Franklin Hilley the third into my life, I not only have a new, special bond with him, but I am back to yelling at the television like old times, and it feels exhilarating!

Like him, I’ll sure hate to see football season end. I really get a kick out of learning from and listening to him and getting caught up in his excitement over the game. But until then, we’ll sit side by side jumping and yelling and smiling at each other, knowing that this special bond that we’ve formed will never, ever end.

December 6, 2011 4

Joy in the Journey

I have to admit that I was never the type of Oprah fan that watched her show every day or even taped it or stayed up at night to see what it was unless a friend called and said “you have to see this!”. I never tried to get on any of the Oprah’s favorite thing giveway shows because I figured only the people who had the time to watch, send letters and email had a chance at those shows anyway. Once in a while I would catch it on a holiday or during the time I was home with my newborn (Janai at the time), and a topic would be profound for me, but not often. However, I will never forget the show she did on Mother’s Day interviewing some of the young victims of September 11th. They had not been killed, but their mothers had, and some of them not even old enough to speak would never be able to celebrate the holiday with their Mothers. It really made me get off the pity pot that day and made me realize how blessed I was to have had my mom in my life for several decades.

November 26, 2011 1

Independence Day

I had such a fun, fulfilling and joyful holiday weekend, and if you experienced just an iota of the bliss that I did, you had a great time too! I surprised myself because I usually don’t celebrate this holiday with the same energy and excitement as it appears the rest of the country celebrates. I love the fireworks and the fun that Independence Day brings, and I am so thankful that I am living in these United States, and was born in the “City of brotherly love and sisterly affection”, but my people were in no way celebrating their independence over two hundred years ago. My Irish ancestors were about to get kicked out of Ireland for being Protestants, my African ancestors were too often advertised as strange fruit and my Native ancestors were being diminished by European disease. Not much to celebrate.

I don’t know what prompted me to make plans to go out and enjoy the town. I think I was just ready for a chance to let my hair down (or pick it out) and have some grown-up fun for a change. The end of the school year and the beginning of the summer for me meant battling a mountain of chlorine-laced swimsuits and towels, scheduling summer camps, filling out scholarship applications and transporting my little ones from one place to another. In addition, I am an entrepreneur so I have to somehow satisfy my clients between drop off and pick up because the rest of the day until sundown at least, is a wash. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my kids, my independence or my lifestyle for anything – as exhausting as it is – but summer is no vacation for me. I am truly looking forward to a quick jaunt to the beach next weekend and if all goes well I’ll be able to manage a few day trips or long weekends to the beach with the kids before the summer is over.

Yet even with all of the stress these past few weeks, I experienced such clarity over the holiday weekend. I couldn’t help to think of how free I felt, and I also meditated on the things that I still have yet to release from my life. A little more than ten months ago, with the help of my friends and my Creator, I freed myself from an unhappy marriage, a controlling relationship, the threat of foreclosure, and I am still free. I am free from obsessing about another person’s actions and reactions to their actions. I am free from worrying about my children’s welfare, I am free from the pain of a cold, lonely relationship. And I am free from financial instability and an incurable need to fix the situation. I feel like the Universe gave me this weekend to celebrate my own personal freedom, and I took complete advantage of it. Each time I was presented with the opportunity to take care of myself and to celebrate myself and feel good about myself, I took it and didn’t look back. I spent quality time with my kids, I bought a cute white skirt to show off my legs (I don’t usually do white, but it’s the thing for the summer and I’ve gotta flaunt them while they still look good! ), I made time for some unbelievable pampering and gave myself permission to go out on the town for some adult fun and it didn’t stop until my eyes closed from exhaustion as the sun began to rise in the early morning hours of July 4th. Free!

I celebrated Tonita’s independence from the woman that she had allowed everyone else to define. Freedom from others’ expectations, judgements and unsolicited remarks. And I felt connected to the immense energy that was out in the Universe over the past week, and I prayed for any obstacles to be removed that blocked me from my passion, my dream occupation and my purpose for being here. And I am watching that process unfold one day at a time. I took a look back at all of the negative energies I have released over the past year, and am committed to focusing my light and love towards the things that I still have yet to set free. I still have parts of myself to set free. I want to free the Tonita that walked four miles a day, took time to eat healthy and maintained a healthy weight before people around her started telling her she looked too skinny. The person inside this body who is not afraid to show the world how fabulous she is. I want to break free from an occupation that has been financially secure, but in reality has held captive the joy, the passion, the ecstasy that comes from doing something that you’ve always dreamed of doing – something that makes you smile or cry thinking of it, and something that is so pleasurable that it doesn’t feel like a job – where you are appreciated for your gifts, and not frustrated because you feel some days that you have to sell your soul to the devil to survive and get the next check. I am committed to freeing my mind of the “I should have’s”, the “what-ifs” the “as soon as” and the “next year I’ll start” – the words that keep my unlimited happiness chained up and my passion for life incarcerated. It’s time to make my escape plan, gather my tools and start chipping away at the brick wall in my subconscious mind.

So this Independence Day weekend was not just a celebration of all the work I’ve done to escape the inauthentic me, but incredible inspiration to continue to recover Tonita. I celebrate me today and I look forward to the celebrations that are to come because I still have a lot of work to do and some small battles within yet to fight. Losing weight won’t be easy. Building an entirely new business from the ground up won’t be easy. Downsizing a business and transitioning from a career I’ve embraced for several decades won’t be easy. Trusting another person with my heart won’t be easy. Maintaining my sanity when those around me are choosing to swim in it, won’t be easy.

But I believe in my heart and soul that it will be much more fulfilling.

And I’m ready for it. I’m looking forward to the after-party where I will dance like nobody’s watching. And this time, I hope you’ll be there to join me.

Happy Freedom Day to me!

July 7, 2011 2

Planted firmly in the moment

Its been quite a while since I’ve allowed myself some quiet time to sit in Toni’s Room and write. Tax season came in like a lion and went out like a lamb and I am so thankful and humbled by the faith my clients have in me and the much-needed prosperity that it brings into my home. But it was so stressful, time-consuming and I am pretty sure I my body is still recovering from the lack of sleep. The past few months are all a blur to me now. Somehow the kids got fed, the bills got paid and my clients were satisfied but I have no idea how I managed it all. And that’s because I lived each day of tax season looking forward to the end. The moments in between are difficult to remember.
That is exactly how so many of us meander through our lives – unable to enjoy and experience the moment because we’re so worried or fearful about what may happen tomorrow or weighed down by the life-changing events that happened in our past. Some of us go to church or to our altar of choice when we are consumed with worry and fear over a particular issue or circumstance and we ask for Divine intervention. We want the burning bush and the miracle of all miracles and if it doesn’t come fast enough or in the form that we expect it, we take it back into our own hands and try to “fix” it or handle it ourselves. Again, we are too invested in the end result and instead of using our energy to rest in faith and enjoy the blessings, joy and grace-filled occurrences that are the gifts of being present, we exhaust ourselves holding tightly to the past or trying to control the future. And we leave no room for Divine Intervention. We leave no room for growth. We are unable to see the miracles unfolding in front of our eyes.

I’ve once heard it said that the present is the only place to be because that is where God lives. He/She isn’t in the past because it’s already done, and isn’t in the future because it has already been written. I want to be side by side with my Creator’s, fully aware of the power right near me. It’s so difficult to stay in the moment when you have so many daily responsibilities, and children that you need to care for, but I am learning to take my cues and my lessons from my children.

Children are such masters of living in the moment. They can sit and stare at a weed in the middle of the lawn, mesmerized at the beauty of it and full of wonder about how it came to be. They will hop between puddles of water for hours, feet firmly planted in the joy of the moment. I watched my children once dig a hole in the ground and commenced to investigate how much water it would hold, how many objects they could float in the water, how many pebbles were needed to keep the water from escaping the hole, and how deep they could dig. It was literally hours before they even lifted their heads up to see if I was still sitting there! What a gift to be able to sit in your own space, full of peace and wonder and have not one care about what happened or what’s about to happen because you know that if you just allow yourself to be, you will experience what you need to at that point in time. Wow!

My usual afternoon after I finish with my clients and the kids come home is the normal insane schedule of fitting dinner, homework, a baseball game and some Mandarin language review into the three to four hours before bedtime. Most days I have to admit include rushing through dinner and hardly any time to sit and talk and acknowledge each other. And as a single mom with young children, some days finding quality time to be together is like trying to find a pencil sharpener when you really need one! But every few days I force myself to sit down and look at the world from their perspective, open up the doors and let them roam free. Sometimes I snatch the coupon for a free ice cream cone off the refrigerator door, and surprise them with a treat after dinner. And I force myself to sit and watch them, lick after lick, enjoy and savor the benefits of being planted firmly in the moment.

I have learned to allow time for the wonderous discovery of children in my day. I have a lot of patience, and some days we just have to rush, but I try to remember each day to allow the pure joy and wonder of a child to seep into my day. My daughter insists on searching for the most colorful weed each day and brings me a bouquet of them – and I allow her. I smile and place them in a vase as if I just received a dozen roses because I know she is reminding me that every creation of God is special, no matter how it looks or what its put on this Earth to do. I don’t sit and obsess about how I should be getting out the weed killer or try to explain to her that it’s not a flower. I’m planted firmly in the moment – sharing her joy and receiving the love and the lesson. Sometimes my son will think of something funny and burst out into contagious laughter when he’s doing his homework. My first reaction of course is that he can’t take time to laugh – he has to get his homeword done before dinner time! But then something inside of me says – “wait, he’s laughing. And isn’t joy what you want for your children?’ and it’s at that moment that I step out of my world into his, and allow the moment to unfold. I find out what the humor is, and most of the time join in with the laughter, and so does my daughter and we have one big laugh-fest, and it’s so therapeutic! When I come down to their level, it gives me permission to be still and listen. There is always some wisdom that comes out of their mouths that I wouldn’t hear if I constantly lived in my head. Being in the moment means turning off the noise in your head and really investing all of your senses into what is going on in front of you and around you, without a care about what will happen next. Being in the moment places you in the space you need to be in order to receive the guidance, the answers and Divine intervention you are so desperately seeking.

They are teaching me that even with all of my responsibilities, I am much happier in the moment, laughing at something silly, engaging in a tickle-fest, dancing to something silly and fun on the Wii, or just plain reading a book with them snuggled up next to me. And when the day is done, and they are asleep, I may have lost an hour or so of time I could have been working or worrying or obsessing, but the love and the joy, the health benefits of the breathing and laughter and the freedom I gain from planting myself and my soul firmly in the moment will last a lifetime. Where will you be when the Creator speaks to you?

May 18, 2011 0

My Superhero – A note of thanksgiving for all sons

I know that I am so much more than just a mother, but I also know that being a mother is such an important role and I cherish and honor the role that my God entrusted upon me when life was formed in my womb.

I was on the beautiful, serene beaches of Puerto Rico when I suspected that the few months of skipping a pill here and there had caught up to me. I had gained five pounds in about two days and I knew I hadn’t eaten that much shrimp. The mango daiquiri were starting to make me feel a little nauseous before I even had enough to matter, and I was so exhausted that I could hardly keep my eyes open most of the time. I wasn’t sure, but my intuition knew that something was not right. My friend suggested I take a pregnancy test and when I saw the results I thought – oh crap!

I thought that it was the worst thing to happen to me at this time. I had just celebrated my 36th birthday, was just laid off from my corporate job and my mother was terminally ill. Bad timing.

When I look back upon that time, I now see how my son’s birth was my saving grace. I truly believe that my mother prayed for me to have someone to fill the void left by her loss – someone to love and nurture. I know in my soul that my son’s presence was the only reason I took care of myself during the months that I was my mother’s primary caretaker. If I didn’t have to consider the growing fetus, I know I would have skipped a lot of meals, lost a lot of sleep and maybe even engaged in some unhealthy behaviors to dull the pain. Once we were told there was nothing more that they could do for mom and she was placed on hospice, I took over. I managed her nursing care, her finances, her medication and her nutrition – all while morning sickness was taking a strong hold of my entire body. Every day I drove 30-40 minutes to my mother’s house, struggling to hold down my lunch and exhausted from the little boy who was quickly growing inside of me.

There was an unspoken fear amongst my family and future in-laws of me losing the baby. I was still in my first trimester when I stood over the casket , praying to be awakened from this horrible nightmare. Everyone was so worried about me attending the funeral and how the stress and grief would affect the baby. I was too but I had no other choice. I was the caretaker, the administrator of the will and the only girl. Everyone else saw the pregnancy as I did at first. Bad timing. But in hindsight, my son was my superhero. He was strong enough to survive all of the stresses that I was under during the fragile stage of life that he was in at that time; strong enough to save me from myself and from the destructive behavior that I could have engaged in to numb myself from the pain. Strong enough to sustain the pressure of childbirth.

James Franklin Hilley III was born at 10:44pm, exactly four months before my birthday. Although his heart rate dropped significantly three times before they decided on the emergency C-Section, he was healthy, strong, and very alert when he was born at 8lbs, 13ozs. He amazed me then and continues to amaze me now. I know that all moms brag about their kids and they are all the most amazing kids ever. I get it. But I do believe that children come here with their own agenda, with a purpose and the gifts necessary to live out their purpose. I write this not just to honor my son and thank my Creator for entrusting me with this angel, but also for my brothers, my nephews, my male friends and even my father – to confirm for all men who may doubt, that they will always hold a most precious place in their mothers’ heart, regardless of how their mother may or may not have expressed it. Most sons think of the daughter as the mom’s favorite because they as a female, have more in common with the mother. I thought the same thing too until I gave birth to my own daughter, and I now know that the bond you have with your son is a different kind of special.

Maybe it’s because as men in the making, they feel they are your protectors, and stay close by your side. Maybe it’s because as a woman you feel you know how to mold him into the man who any woman would love. Maybe it’s just how the Creator designed it. How history destined it. For our Princes to stand by their Queen.

I know that at eight years old I still have a lot of trials to go through with this little boy before he reaches manhood, and I pray that I have the fortitude to make the right decisions and the ability to provide him with the right balance of love and surrender that he needs to grow. He is brilliant and silly and sensitive and stubborn, strong and fragile yet I know that he will do some great things in his lifetime to contribute to this world.

And I know that he was sent here to save me. And like a true damsel in distress, I am eternally grateful.

November 24, 2010 0