01mrm,  Just Me,  writing


We are all connected.

Through the air that we breathe, the ground beneath our feet, the sun that shines down and warms our skin.  The rain that falls and waters our earth, the wind that gusts from here to there.

Through words spoken to neighbors, stories passed down the line, through poetic lyrics blasting through the speakers of another car on the street, through the rhythmic drumming of the musician we stop to watch at the park.

We are connected through the pain of illness, the joy of friendship and love, the beauty of new life.  Through the vision and witnessing of hopeless and hungry men and women standing on street corners, their eyes pleading for help.  Through our desire to help, through our indifference, and through our fear.

We are connected through the food that we eat, the earth that grows it, the farmer who harvests it, the vehicles that carry it, the hands who select, prepare, and serve it.

Giving love where ever I go reminds me that there is more to this life than me.  More than just my children, my family.  More than my city, my state, and my country.  More than my universe.  There is an infinite world of awe inspiring creation and beauty that is nothing short of a miracle, of which I am just a tiny speck.

I believe there is one love in this world, big enough to share, and it is harvested every second of every day by those of us who choose to accept it, deliver it, and spread it through our hearts and hands.

We all love something. We are all of this earth. We were born here and we will die here. Not one of us is exempt. Yet we are not alone. We are all in this together. Give love. Please give love. Do not feed the fear and indifference. Give life. Give food. Give shelter.

In moments of clarity I remind myself to think of these things on the days when frustrations build, on the bad days and the tired busy days. The next time I put up the time out gate, the next time Lucas body slams his brother, the next time I’ve been yelled at, barfed on, or the next time I burn the broccoli and the whole house stinks.  The next time my husband grabs me for a hug when I’m in the middle of 17 things and I just. can’t. relax.  I will remember. And I will be grateful. Because these are the real moments, the raw living moments of this amazing life, where I have everything I need to survive and thrive.

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