My life is about being real.
Being an activist for equal rights.
An activist for kids who cannot speak up for themselves.
I am me.
I am a feminist.
I am a teacher.
I teach the future.
If you mess with my student’s,
I catch on fire.
My fire lights the truth.
Aahhh…the joy of Easter. Easter has different meanings to different people, different religions and cultures.
In my childhood, Easter meant family. It meant waking up to Easter baskets full of goodies. It meant family smiles and laughs. It meant Jesus, but also the Easter Bunny.
As I look back, I feel nothing but joy for the family and love I once had. Easter egg hunts. Picnics. Confetti eggs. Oh the memories.
As I got older, Easter drastically changed as my family did. My parents divorced, so the two family gatherings turned into one. Us kids turned into teens, so Easter Baskets diminished, but family gathering were still there. It was a gathering of love for the head of the clan:
The Grandmother- The tie to everyone.
Easter changed drastically once our beloved Grandmother was called to go to heaven. There were no more family gatherings. Each individual family filled with their own Grandparents, Mothers, Fathers, Siblings, and Cousins began to create their own family traditions.
Then there is me. I have a broken family besides my own kin. I don’t have a specific family tradition and to be honest, I don’t care to have one. As I’ve gotten older, I prefer to be alone and have a nice peaceful Spring day with my girls. Oddly, I have morphed into an introvert. And that is what brings me peace and happiness. And I’m completely okay with that.
But I do miss what is gone. I miss my Dad and Grandma who are in heaven. I miss the family picnics that ended when my Grandma’s time on earth ended. I miss my Godmother who would spoil me with cute Easter gifts, but she is now about 4 states away.
But what I do have is my own little family filled with two cubs, one partner, one elder (Mother) and one sibling (Brother).
My immediate family is not like the big family picnics we used to have. It is a bit of dysfunction covered with loud confetti and sleepy chicks. I just prefer not to be around that on a day of rejoice. But that’s me.
But my girls have big love. They have big hearts around them. Every Easter morning our living room is filled with Easter goodies for our sweet kids. That is my tradition that will never change. As a child, those Easter baskets have great memories. I want my kids to have the same. And the best part is I get to spend this special day with the most important people in my life (them).
Easter to me is peace, love, joy, my daughter’s, Jesus and my partner.
I’ll catch you next time!
It is time to head out to the beach, the park or our own backyard. Wherever the Spring air takes us.
I hope your Easter is spent well.
Her soul went from the most beautiful frontal-erected flower, full of love, ambition and passion while spewing vibes that dissolved all evil.
He tempts her day in and out. Surrounding her heart, he lays, laughing, lying, awaiting to never be caught.
She slithers as he lies with no remorse. He grins as her erected flower wilts to gray. He lurks. He waits.
In her weakest moment, he takes her heart and soul.
This is the story of life and death. Shall she succumb? Or fight back for her life?
Lost is not broken. As broken is not being lost.
Lost is not finding your way back. A pit stop. A moment of transition. Being lost is temporary until you find your way back home.
Broken is being torn to pieces. It is being shattered. It is never being able to be who you were yesterday. There is no going back home!
A pit stop cannot fix your broken soul, but taking a needle and thread and patience can slowly bring you back together.
Broken does not mean that we leave all the broken pieces on the ground unless of course you choose to do so.
Being broken means putting yourself together with the support our world offers. It can be breaking in the fresh air. It can be getting out of bed and taking a shower. Being broken will leave a deep scar in your soul, but when all of your pieces are sewn back together, that scar will remind you of the tedious work you put into your soul.
I’d rather be lost. Lost is okay. The lost can be shown the light of life.
Broken is shattered pieces that will take time to heal. But it is okay. It just means that you will come out of your hectic mess much more beauty.
When the devil is lingering around you and it is almost available at all times. When the devil can look you straight in the eye and say “I love you” and you believe it, you my friend are in deep trouble.
Deep, deep trouble.