I’m sitting in a quiet hotel room on the morning of January 1, 2012.
I wasn’t healthy enough for our annual New Year’s pilgrimage to Ohio, so Craig and I brought the kids and Theo to a hotel one town over. Our plan was to commemorate the changing of the year together, to force some family memories, to celebrate life. We dressed up and ate at a restaurant with real silverware and white table cloths. We posed, because that’s what we do.
We came back to the hotel and danced, danced, danced, because that’s the other thing we do.
We’re on the right track baby, we were born this way.
I was asleep by 9:30, but Craig and the kids watched the ball drop at midnight. 2012. Twenty-twelve. Wow.
I’m feeling quiet and reflective this morning. The kids have been so teeny for the past few New Years that I haven’t had time to soak in the significance of a passing year. But this year’s different. 2011 was a Life Crash Course for me. 2011 decided that I was finally all grown up, so she pulled back the curtain and revealed to me some pretty harsh things about the Way Life Works. Like Dorothy, I came to the 2011 curtain wide eyed and entranced and ready for all my dreams and wishes to be granted. What was revealed was not at all what I expected. But like Dorothy, somehow I still made it home.
A few days ago I read a New Year’s post written by one of my favorite writers, Kelle Hampton. If you’re like me, and you dabble in self pity and ennui daily, I’d bookmark Kelle this year. After I read her posts, I’m re-inspired and invigorated and awake for at least twenty minutes. She’s better than three Red Bulls and a kale smoothie.
Kelle wrote a wonderful list of what she’d learned in 2011 and I found myself nodding, yes, yes, yes along with her inspired words- as I always do. But then I got to one which read: “Family is everything, everything, everything.”
And something forced me to pause and stop reading. Inside that pause I realized that after living through 2011, I don’t think that’s true.
2011 Lesson #1 – Family is not everything.
It can’t be. Because sometimes beloved sons die. And husbands leave. And daughters lose their minds for decades. And beloved babies are broken by broken men behind the wheel. And fathers abuse and mothers neglect and sisters and brothers betray. And friends walk away.
Family cannot be everything, everything, everything. Because if it is, then everything can be taken away in the blink of an eye. Or maybe never offered at all.
If family is everything, everything, everything, then it follows that if my family was taken from me, I would have and be nothing. And because if family is everything, then I would need to parent my kids and love my parents and Sister and husband in a state of constant fear. And fear taints love. Fear makes the lover hyperventilate and the beloved suffocate. Fear makes love a cage.
Down past the terrified, ridiculous part of me that believes something terrible will happen if I acknowledge this- I know that family is not everything. It’s a lot. It’s a whole damn lot. If my family were taken from me, or never given to me in the first place, I would feel shattered. But I would still be something. I would still have something. I would still have the most important part of me, as a matter of fact.
And this is something I’ve learned only this year. At the start of 2011, I definitely would have told you that family is everything.
But a few weeks ago I sat with my friend Anna, who lost her Jack this year. She is suffering through excruciating pain that I’m afraid might just morph and never ease. But listen- when I looked at Anna- I was not looking at a woman with nothing. And it wasn’t just because she has Tim and Margaret left on this side. What I mean is that I was in the presence of a woman who has the entire world in her hands.
Anna is a woman who has power to heal -herself and others. Because Anna has choices. She could curse God and die, and we would all understand. But she doesn’t. She’s alive. Anna’s decision to write, to stay open, to invite us in when she’s most vulnerable, to get out of bed each morning, to keep choosing hope and love and life and to face the horrifically painful truth instead of hiding – her determination that THERE WILL STILL BE JOY, DAMNIT – these choices are healing and awakening her family, friends and readers. A teeny, teeny bit at a time. And since the worst has already happened, Anna is a woman who, at the moment, is loving and living without fear. And that is something.
I know she’d trade all this in a hot second to get her Jack back. But the fact remains that she is still Anna. She is a new Anna. A very, very different Anna. And being with her right now is healing. She makes me less afraid. I just want to be with her all the time. I can’t explain how or why- but being with her right now feels a little bit like being with God. Even with the F-bombs we throw around. (Thank you, God, for curse words. Sometimes they are really all that helps). My friends, Anna has not lost everything. She is still Jack’s and Margaret’s mother and now she’s also mothering multitudes. She had no say in losing her Jack. But she certainly has a say in each moment now. And most days she’s choosing life. THAT is everything. Just mark my words, please. That precious Jack did not die in vain. Anna is going to help heal the world. They are going to do it together, Anna and Jack. One foot on each side.
Last week, I sat at my kitchen table talking to Chase about gratitude.
Chase is my one. It’s never been spoken aloud, but he knows it. He’s the one who believed in me at my worst. He came with great faith – certainty, even – and he grew inside of a broken woman. Then he was born and he saved me, he gave me a vocation and a role to play and a life. He believed in me, so I became me. He made me proud to be Glennon, to be Chase’s mother. Then he started growing and began to take care of me in the way no child should.
It’s okay mommy, it’s okay to yell sometimes- we know you love us. Girls, let’s go downstairs and play so mommy can rest. Mommy- are you thinking about the adoption again? Our family is just perfect mommy, whether the adoption happens or not. Mommy –thank you. Thank you for taking care of us. I know it’s hard to be a mommy. You do such a good job.
Chase knows what I’m thinking. He always knows. He knows what I need. He is a hundred years old. He is gentle and wise and patient, the way I want to be. He is my son, but he’s also my role model and friend.
And yes, I know I’m not supposed to say any of these things aloud and yes, I am sure that this is confusing and a whole lot of pressure for an eight year old, but it is what it is.
Which might be why that day at the kitchen table, Chase looked me in the eye and said,
“Mommy. What would you do if I died?”
And I needed a moment so I said, “What did you say?”
But he didn’t repeat his question, because he knew I’d heard it. Instead he said, “Would you kill yourself, mommy?”
I swallowed hard and said, “No, baby. No. I wouldn’t. I’d probably want to, at first. But I wouldn’t.”
Chase said, “Because you’d still need to take care of daddy and the girls?”
And I said, “Well, yes, but that wouldn’t be the only reason. You dying would be the worst thing I could imagine. It would be my nightmare. But I hope I wouldn’t stop being me. I hope that eventually, I would wake up each morning and choose Life. I hope that I would still choose to love, and still allow God to help me find joy. In a way, I’d still be choosing you- because you are Life and Love and Joy to me. But I’m also sure that I’d spend part of each day dreaming of when I’d see you again.”
And Chase said, “Right. In heaven. Sometimes I wonder if believing in heaven is silly.”
I smiled and said, “I know. Sometime I do, too. But remember that picture you showed me, that picture that tried to put into perspective how teeny tiny our little earth is compared to the humungous universe? I guess I think it’s silly NOT to consider that there might be more out there. I just think there might be. Sometimes I wonder if we’re really just a little speck like Who-Ville on Horton’s flower. I don’t know what it looks like – but I just know there’s more. Because the love I have for you –It’s too big to end. It won’t end no matter what happens. No matter what. I just know that.”
And that was it. Conversation over. Chase smiled. He just smiled. Smiled big.
Chase is my caretaker just as I am his- so maybe he was truly worried about what I would do without him. Or maybe Chase was really thinking: “If you died, what would I do? What could I do? Would I have permission to go on? If you disappeared, would I have lost everything?
And I hope that what I told him was this: I am not your everything, sweetheart . And you are not my everything. I am not sure what everything is, but I know it’s not something that can ever be taken away.
If you are still breathing, you still have your everything, and if you aren’t breathing, then you have everything, too.
On this side, maybe everything is just a long, deep breath and the will to choose life and love- again and again and again. Maybe it’s just the power to do the next best, loving thing.
I don’t know what everything is. But I do know that family, friends, money, health – they are not everything. Because everyone doesn’t have those things.
But everyone does have everything. Everything is inside. Everything walks with you. Nothing can separate you from your everything. Everything never, ever leaves.
More 2011 lessons to come.
Before I forget, let us take a moment to appreciate my new leg warmers.
oh i know i’m a little late on this one, but just came by it…um, because that’s what i do now…to feel more connected, and supported, and loved (not in a sad way, like i have no friends b/c i have amazing friends and family, but Momastery is now part of that too) I randomly choose past posts and see what i can glean. and there is always something i can glean. this one made me cry…and kind of made me want to have another child. aaaaah! my daughter will be four in 9 days and I am terrified to have another and have absolutely sworn not to…but this one made me think hmmmm….maybe??
I scoured the internet looking for Anna’s story, and I found it and sobbed. My daughter’s name is Anna and my son’s name is Jack. We have a creek running through our yard that I have never given a second thought to because after all, it only EVER has a few inches of water in it. After I read her story, I closed my laptop and sat in silence for a WHILE. Then I stood up, brought my Anna and Jack out to the little creek and told them about Jack. Not to scare them, but to say hey, this HAPPENS. IT REALLY HAPPENS. And we have new rules now, about that creek.
I do not know if I could ever be as strong as Anna, what an unbelievable woman. I love how you said being with her was like being with God.
And yet somehow, your legwarmer pictures were so perfectly placed at the exact perfect time. I laughed just enough to dry up those tears. You are a gifted writer and Anna is so very lucky yo have you as a friend.
Like so many others here I bumbled (happily I might add) to your blog from another that I read. I think I’ve been reading for an hour now but this one hit me. You articulated so incredibly well the life that I have been stumbling through. Almost 13 years ago, at the ripe old age of 25, my amazing, handsome, wonderful best friend of a husband died at my side after only 8 months of marriage. In that moment and in the aftermath, I truly felt that I had lost everything. I was no longer what I worked so hard to be and was so proud of becoming… I wasn’t a wife, I wouldn’t be a mom to our kids, and I wasn’t even sure if I’d still have “our” (and by our I mean HIS) family anymore. I was numb. I was numb for probably the better part of 2 years. Sure I functioned – finished my degree, got a grown up job, paid the bills, smiled, laughed and functioned just like the girl in the blue suit with the corsage you spoke about in another post. When the numbness started to fade I realized that I was still the same person that the most amazing man I had ever known fell in love with. If I were going to honour his life, I knew I would have to try and find my amazing again. I didn’t “Carpe Diem”… I carped moment to moment most times just remembering to breathe. I did my best to string glimpses of amazing together one at a time and claw my way back to good. 13 years later, I’m still stringing them along. I don’t know if I’m back to good or if I’ll ever be, but I do know that the more moments I string together, the better the view will be when I look back. For me, family was and is everything. With or without him by my side, he validated that I was amazing and I didn’t want to become someone he wouldn’t love. So each day I try. Some days I fail more than I’m awesome… but I keep on being the me he loved. In the end, without losing my everything, I would never have sought out my new everything… my son who came home from Russia in 2010. Having everything and losing it isn’t a “gift” that anyone wants but as I look at the most beautiful, loving, funny, courageous 4 year old I could ever not have deserved I can’t help but see the complexity of life. Sometimes you stare so long at the balloon in the sky that you don’t notice the icecream melting on your plate. Thanks for your post and for your really amazing blog.
What a wonderful way with words you have. I too, gave birth to my son, who gave birth to a new and better me. Crazy how things work, isn’t it? I’m by no means perfect, but I wouldn’t be writing this right now if it wasn’t for him, I’m sure. Keep doing what you’re doing because I know you’re touching so many people’s hearts and lives. And keep baring yourself (warts and all) because I think You are an amazing role model for women. You say the things some people don’t have the cajones to say, and let people know its ok to feel that way, too. Short story long, keep on rocking’ in the free world.
I held my breathe as I read this. I lost my mother almost 10 years ago and that is EXACTLY how I feel, like I lost EVERYTHING. I should tell you that I am married to the most wonderful man (26 years) and we have 5 of the most wonderful children, but yet, without my mom I felt lost. After reading this, for the first time I realize that I would never, ever want my children to feel that way if I were to pass. I am a Critical Care Nurse and deal with death more often then most and I believe with all my heart that there is a heaven and my Mom is there waiting for me and that she would want me to live and love and continue caring for others. Thank you Glennon for putting it in perspective for me for the first time in almost 10 years, you are an Angel here on Earth.
I love the beautiful thoughts here, but I do disagree a little. I don’t think that by saying “family is everything” we imply that we, alone, are nothing.
Last year, my aunt, my mother’s only sister, lost her husband. He died very suddenly and left behind six children, two of whom were volunteering as full-time missionaries on the other side of the country.
To my uncle, family was everything. To my aunt, family is still everything. She isn’t less for having loved and lost my uncle (though we do believe families can be forever): she’s more. And that’s exactly WHY family IS everything: because they make our lives richer even when they’re gone. She’s not nothing without him—she is amazingly, incredibly strong and independent—but she’s more for having had him and their children in their lives.
I found this blog, like so many others, through a fellow mama’s facebook post. Then, while my oldest was at preschool and my youngest was napping, I read through many, many of the posts, subscribed to the RSS feed, and shared several of my favorites on FB. This post spoke to me so much. In May, my husband of 9 years (we’ve been together 12) decided that our marriage was over…our youngest son was 5 months old at the time. We went to counseling for a short time, but in the end, he decided he just “couldn’t do it anymore” and moved out. Every day I remind myself of what you are saying in this post–I am still me. I am my children’s mother, I am my parents’ youngest daughter, I was my husband’s wife, but I am still more than those labels. I take a class at my church called Disciple and this week we learned about the Hebrew word “nephesh” which is frequently translated as “soul”…in reality the meaning is closer to “that which makes me who I am”. I needed to read this to know that other people understand this, about themselves and about me. Thank you.
Hey there,
I just found you from a link, and I don’t even know where that link was from, and I am sobbing and heaving and thanking God that I found this place in cyberspace. Thanks so much for writing and doing this. I’ll be back to read more. But thanks so so much.
New to your blog . . . so very thankful to have found it. My brother thought he lost his everything. It didn’t end well. I wish I could have shared this wisdom with him. So true. I look forward to reading more. And the first glass of wine post . . fantastic.
Thank you. Your beautiful and strong spirit shines through your writing. This post helped me realize that my “everything” is my relationship with God – He is eternal and unchanging. What also helps is this knowledge that I hold dear to my heart: family relationships can continue beyond the grave. Families can be together forever: http://mormon.org/plan-of-happiness/#what-happens-when-i-die
Thank you. As others have said before me and will say after, I am humbled and amazed at every posting. I laugh and cry and think profound thoughts all in the span of a few seconds of time. Thank you for healing us all, one moment at a time.
You ARE on the right track baby….keep up the good work!
Here’s to a really happy 2012!
Cheers!
Thank you for your words. I found your blog yesterday, and although I’ve only read a few posts, they have resonated with me a great deal. Thank you for your honesty and open-heartedness. I look forward to reading more.
And those leg warmers are so perfect for a mom, aren’t they? That’s what my legs look like every day, except with a 4-yea-old attached to them, and not so svelte.
I’ve just come across your blog this morning. I must say this has touched me so – in many ways. First, I, like you, found my self pregnant – out of wed lock and at the time still trying to figure out who I was. Second, I ended up marrying the father of my child which has been the BEST thing I have ever done up into this point. Third, the child in my womb at the moment happened to be a little boy who we ended up naming CHASE! He is my little spit-fire, strong willed, and thriving 3yr old. I don’t know what I would do without him – which brings me to this post. I too have realized that although family is a big part of life and pushes me each day to do the things I need to do, It can’t be everything. I mean just 4yrs ago I didn’t have Joe, my husband, or Chase nor this little baby growing inside of me at this moment. Although, they now make up my family and I love them dearly, but, I know that can’t be everything. Thank you! =]
What a very honest and beautiful post. Chase sounds like an amazing little boy and much wiser than most adults I know. I was introduced to your blog only two days ago and I am gripped, I have laughed and had a lump in my throat at points.
Well done on a fabulous blog.
Just discovered your blog today and you are slaying me! Crying through each post. This is beautiful and so powerful. How much more enjoyable is life to go through without fear? Thanks for sharing.
I happened upon this blog after a friend shared it on Facebook, and I just spent 30 minutes absorbing and loving every word you’ve written recently. You say everything I would like to say but am scared to, and you say it so eloquently.
This post was hard for me to read. I became a mom 3 months ago, and as much as I feel shame in saying it, my family IS my everything. I don’t want them to be because the fear is PARALYZING. How do I get to the point at which you’ve arrived where I can honestly say that they’re not my everything? How do I decide that even if I lost my precious, sweet, colicky Noah, that my life would eventually go on? ‘Cause it feels like it would be the end of me.
Maybe you don’t have an answer. It’s my hardest question that I’ve been looking for an answer to ever since I got married, and a million times more since I got pregnant. Anything you say– as you don’t sugar coat or quote cliches– would be appreciated…
Dear Rachel, I cannot speak for G, but I’d like to share my thoughts, if you don’t mind. It’s sooo hard to not let family be everything. I agree, the fear is paralyzing, and something I struggle with. The only thing I’ve found that truly helps is putting God in His rightful place to be everything and letting all other aspects of life flow out of that. He has said He will never leave or forsake us. He alone is the unchangeable of the universe. When I can finally release my controlling grip on life and turn the fear over to Him, I find that He is trustworthy, although I cannot always understand Him. It’s a process, not a one time thing, but I believe with all my heart that this is the only foundation, the only everything, on which we can live life.
Hi Monkees! It’s so good to finally see our new space. It feels like a more grownup site for the blog. Well done web designers!
G,C,C,T,&A- We missed you so much at Waters house this New Years. It was not the same without your family. Monkees, this year’s march was very special for two reasons. It marked the last high school graduation of the original 13 cousins in our generation. She got to take the troops out and bring them back, nobody has ever got to do both. But before that Bubba led us in saying a very tearful goodbye to our “grandfather-by-proxy” Mr. Lindsay. He lost a battle with cancer last year, we loved Joe and we held his family extra tight that night.
I hope you all had a wonderful celebration with the ones you love.
This is my first time to your blog and wow. I just lost my son, my firstborn, and your post means so much
I hope my comment shows up eventually??????
I can’t believe how you did that, addressed the issue of what happens if we lose our own Jack? I have a Jack. Good God, do I have a Jack. And thank you Lord, for my Jack. The compassion in my Jack’s heart just makes me wince, while making me so proud, or so honored to have him. When I read Anna’s blog, it terrifies me. Terrifies me so much that I consider not reading it. But that would be closing the door on so much wisdom. Anna is so amazing. Amazing is very overly used these days. But Anna really is amazing.
Family cannot be everything. Whether Jesus is real or not, I need Him. So I have Him, and He helps me to see that everything is what He gives and what we do with that in our hearts. Jesus has given us each a heart and no one can take what is in our hearts. That being said, I cannot fathom life without one of my lovies.
Amazing. (Though my Sister-in-law just informed me that the word amazing is OUT for 2012.:)
Love the new site, your words, the mystery of everything. Thank you for kicking off 2012 with a profound, beautiful, AMAZING post.
Wow. Many thanks to you (and Chase) for talking about what’s been on my mind and heart for a awhile now. Since becoming a parent, I think, but most especially since Jack died. I think it’s good to talk about the secret, terrifying, stomach-turning, nightmarish thoughts and fears – to say them aloud. I know it has the potential to be masochistic overkill, but I am always relieved by bringing dark things into the light.
Congratulations on the new blog – it looks great, as do your monkey leg warmers and long hair. Fun.
xoxo
G-
Wow…lots and lots of tears while reading this post. Your relationship with Chase is so precious. Your post really wiggled its way into my heart and has been bouncing around in there ever since. I am so thankful for your thoughtful words. You make a difference….a BIG difference. Love to you and 2012 is gonna be one for the record books!
XO!
love the new space and beautiful words of you, kelle, and anna.
Yet another beautiful post! A speaker I recently heard mentioned that one of the best books she’s read in the last 10 years is When People Are Big and God is Small by Edward Welch. I’m reading it and thought of you… especially after reading this post!
Happy New Years!!! All you sweet monkees. I have been away for a while but am glad to be back. You all have done amazing things while I was gone. Excited to see what happens this year. Love, Grannie Monkee
First, I love the new digs. Very very nice! Second, I’m so glad that you’re alive. Third, I know that this past year has been a tough one for so many people and I know that this year is going to be awesome. Can’t wait to see it through your eyes.
xoxo
Thank you. Thank you.
Chase is a special boy. Your poet. Your philosopher. Your sweet boy.
As for the dancing, you should see the video Sophie brought home of those two little girls of your shaking their “thangs!” Tish has a definite career ahead of her … you might just want to steer her in a different direction.
I am so thankful for Anna introducing me to your blog … mere weeks before Jack’s accident. You are a soulful writer whose words embrace and capture such perfect and honest moments.
You are right, no matter how hard it is to admit it. What the writer you were quoting wrote was very flowery, but it’s rather worldly and it’s simply not true.
Thank you for this. I hope and pray that Anna is comforted by this post. So many of us are praying for her, Tim & Margaret daily.
I pray that you have a wonderful year, and that somehow, this year, there is a grand cure for lymes, and you get it first.
Ahhhh, like coming home!! What a beautiful place this is and such a nice and refreshing way to begin the new year. It’s warm in here even though it’s cold outside! Love you, Tat
I love the community that you have made here, Glennon. Thank you so much for opening your heart and life to us and for creating a place where we can inspire, encourage, and love on one another. Happy New Year!
Dear G
I love you and welcome back. I had this thought while reading your latest. That Family is everything and Family can be created and is created over and over again. There is blood family and there is chosen family. Jaime, Simon, and I are lucky to have both standing next to us as we do hard (and wonderful) things. For some, the blood family goes missing, for all kind of reasons. It’s the chosen family that can be created from nothing and maintained. I love my blood family, with all my being. And, I love my chosen created family. That one has been born of blood and fire too (and way too much time in hospital waiting rooms). I am so lucky to have both. So, for me, family is everything. And just like God, I know I will never be without because it’s in me and them, and in the person I meet, the next moment, and the one after that.
Ginormous love to you.
LF
So happy to see the new site and see everyone here.
Thank you for this— I do agree about family not being everything. Not because it’s a source of pain, or something I lack. I’ve had to beat back depression for much of my decade as a mom, and I have been the loser in that fight often. I want my kids and my life ay home to be enough, and I struggle with guilt when it isn’t. Still, I find the moments when I get the balance just right and I know that it’s one of those both/and things. This is one of the few places where I feel safe to be this honest and I am stronger for it.
Thank you , Glennon, for creating this space. And thank you to Anna– I pray for you and your family often, and I’m comforted by the thought that you and Jack are continuing your beautiful relationship, even in your pain. I just know in my bones that there is beauty being born even from the worst pain– that God has an everything for each of us that is bigger than we could ever imagine.
Glennon…
It’s gorgeous! I love the new look and the new pics and the new post and everything! Thanks for working your cute, little monkee tushy off on all of this. And Thanks Amy!
This was a hard pill to swallow with my coffee this morning. The kids and husband are back to school and work. The washer is running, the dish washer is running, the beds are made… Now what? They are my everything and I honestly would feel that there was nothing without them. Yes , I believe whole heartedly in God and heaven and I would want to be there with them , as if they somehow forgot to bring me. The kicker would be what Chase ( wise soul) suggested that one not all were in Heaven . I am praying for Anna even harder now.
G, I love the new Momastery!
I lost my beloved Papa on Saturday and just needed exactly what you said in your post. Even when he lost his wife of 68 years at the age of 98, and was seperated from his family by four states, he didn’t give up on life. He continued to live and fight to live until he was nearly 104. He’s my inspiration, along with brave Anna, and both will be in my prayers. Love you!
Testing…
wooohoo! adrianne’s back!
I love you, Glennon, and I love Anna. And I am in awe. The blog is beautiful, inside and out, just like you two. Thank you for all your hard work, for being raw, honest, and open, and thanks to Amy for her hard work, too. Thank you for teaching me.
Love,
J
Please, baby Jesus, let this comment actually POST.
Now Adrianne you MUST add a picture so we can see your beautiful face and gorgeous locks. I’m so jealous. I know, I know, baby steps.
Uh-MAZING! First of all, I bought the same striped socks with fuzzy tops from Target, because everyone NEEDS a pair of those to wear over leggings – elf-style! (mine, however, don’t have monkeys that wrap around my calves like yours!)
But, I take this as further proof that we could be bffs. Secondly, beautiful post. I admire your presence of mind in those moments with your kids that allows you to speak such Truth and Love in the moment. I pray I will have that same ability when my 2 year old starts asking such questions. GEEZ!
Love this – and couldn’t agree more with your assessment of being someone’s ‘everything’. So happy Anna has such wonderful friends.
G! Wow. It’s incredible! Every touch, button, font, color, image is so beautiful. And, thank you for such an amazing New Year’s post. I’m excited for 2012. Love, BUMS
That was all sorts of awesome. And don’t you love wise children?
Thank you. This post was exactly what I needed! Love, love, love.
Just Beautiful, Glennon! Not a dry eye over here:)
The site looks amazing…as do the leg warmers!
Dearest Glennon,
What a lovely way to start out the new year! A beautiful new look for this beloved community, and an important lesson for all of us to consider.
Thank you (and thanks AMY!) for all that hard work you put into this grand re-opening, and thank you for committing to another year of baring your soul for all of us, so that we can learn and grow with you.
Good thoughts and prayers for a healthy 2012!
.love.
The site is wonderful, and the first post of the new year was amazing!
Oh Glennon, this is a beautiful post. As always it makes me think, cry a little, but think a lot. Its so good to come back to Momastery and I love the new look!! Like Marley C, I too wish we could take just a little bit of Anna’s pain from her, I have been so in awe of her ability to share herself so freely with us, so honestly, through whatever emotion she is facing that day.
I am looking forward to 2012, a new year, a new start, and lots of great togetherness in this monkee community!
First. Love the new look. Second, love the new pics – beautiful!!! and you got more than one awesome family pic – what a miracle. Last – love the message you chose to write about. Your everything is inside of you, even if it doesn’t always feel like it, you have to choose you and life. lovelovelove Happy NEW Year!
G-Byrdie, I’m kind of bawling after reading this. I’m guessing it has something to do with being a momma. Anyway, I love your words, your spirit, your humor…happy new year sister of my seeeeester! Blessings and more blessings to you, Craig, the kids, and everyone. <3
LOVE it! every bit! and your words…always take my breath away!
Thank you for this post, Glennon! And thanks to all the Monkees who are loving us through this.
The grief book I’m reading right now says a bereaved parent must:
face the finality of the loss;
remember past memories and experiences with their child;
sort out what aspects of their child they can keep and let go;
deal with a sense of FAILURE and PERSONAL DIMINISHMENT; and
build a life for themselves without their child.
I’m kicking and screaming about all of them except remembering memories of my Jack, but I’m grateful to not be facing all of this alone. xo
You are Our Anna! We love you!
That book sounds terrible… ugh. How about we freaking celebrate your SUCCESS and PERSONAL and FAMILIAL ACHIEVEMENT of having gotten through this time with resilience, fortitude, grace, and perspective. And for not just holding your head up, but for smiling, laughing, raging, and crying authentically. Let’s celebrate your ability to share and teach and model for us what this looks like.
It also would be crazy to actually believe that your life will ever be without your Jack. He might not be here physically, but it’s not possible that you could go on being you without him.
We will continue to love you through this whole thing no matter how you do it!!!
lovely G – seeing the new blog and the new post feels like sipping a perfect cup of cocoa – warm, cozy and delicious
love you!
OMG. I just read your “Meet Glennon”. I love it. I just installed my new (Christmas present) printer and I had to print it out. I shoved it into my husband’s face and said “THIS is Glennon! READ IT. This is why I love this woman!”.
Welcome back. Love the lesson. Love the new blog look. I just have to say it (although I know you feel like crap many days) but you are just too damn cute. (I deal with FMS/CFS – so I know I hear “but you don’t LOOK siiiiiiiiiiick). Ugh. Shuddup. I know you feel like crap but you.look.maaaahvalous. Love the long locks.
Your Chase is something else. Can’t wait for the next lesson. Happy New Year.
I love it. Wise, wonderful Sister. Here’s to a year for the books!
Sister
LOVE THE NEW LOOK. As always, this post was amazing. My Jack (and I think of Anna’s Jack EVERY time I write his name.) I always have thought my boys were my everything. I still kinda think it. But I am allowing myself to look into the possibility that maybe it isn’t true. Maybe. You bring up some great thoughts and feelings and as always, giving me something to ponder. I completely agree about the awesomeness of Anna. She writes so beautifully…brutifully, actually. I wish everyone of us could take the teensiest bit of pain and hurt from her.
Thank you! My mom just lost ber beloved husband, my step-father, my childrens Pa-pa and this post has given me clarity during the fog of sadness-thank you again!
Well done!
Love it, G! Happy New Year! xoxo Kling
Yes. Yes. Yes. Both a great way to end 2011 and a breath of fresh air leading into 2012.
I LOVE the new layout. It’s clean and clear and feels like home G. Nice work Amy! Congrats to both of you on capturing Momastery wonderfully.
I just had my own little reminder only yesterday that family cannot be everything, because sometimes family hurts us and we have to go on… with our other everythings!
Really great site– wonderful work!
P.S. Love the sock monkeys.
I love that you were reading someone you always agree with and actually had to pause. You weren’t just reading the words but actually reading for meaning. I always think to myself that I don’t need to have everyone agree with me, and, in fact, enjoy when people disagree as long as they do it with meaning. I truly enjoy that about your posts.
And aside, from that… the new look is rockin’ and the little monkee man is fantastic!! Perfection! I hope you had a wonderful holiday season and look forward to more lessons from 2011!
Happy New Year, Glennon & Monkees! I’ll never forget the little icebreaker game that we played at ATES when you annonced to everyone you were pregnant. I remember thinking something like, gee, she has a lot of spunk. And then our classrooms were across the hall from each other and we got to know each other better. I’m so glad we did and so glad we’re still in touch. Who would have known Chase would become the special, insightful little boy he is? Wow! love you
What a beautiful new site and post! It’s funny because I’ve always cringed at the Valentine’s cards that say “you are my everything” because I don’t think anyone is supposed to be our everything. So I could totally relate. And I love that you read Kelle Hampton’s blog. She’s one of my favorites. Happy New Year, G! I’m so proud to be a Monkee!
What a way to start 2012. Thank you!! Makes me so thankful for “everything” and all that entails!!!
Beautiful post and beautiful blog…..oh, and the sock monkees (literally!) are pretty awesome too!!! Looking forward to a great year of blog-stalking you!!!
Starting us out on the right foot in 2012, G! Looking forward to what’s to come and trying to savor every moment in the NOW. Many, many of God’s blessings to you and yours this year, Glennon, and to ALL the monkees.