Atti Goes Viral

Snuggly Atticus

The last couple of days have been wild, but I think that I should really just start accepting that as understood when I start writing my posts. I just don’t seem to run optimally unless I’m surrounded by chaos.

I took what was supposed to be a super quick road trip (bookmark that story for another day) and yadda yadda yadda didn’t get home until two days later then expected. Then my activism stuff kicked into high gear as my church issued a press release that was super super problematic around issues of abuse. Writing about that turned one eye of the internet towards me as I started getting hit with some ugliness that comes with attention.

But then. On the very same day I’m dealing with the underbelly of humanity by advocating around child abuse, Atti’s skate park video gets published on Upworthy and suddenly the other eye of the internet turns toward me. But this time with effusive love and support. This time I was hearing about how great we are and how amazing my little hero is and suddenly I feel like human beings are worth fighting for.

And then I started reading the comments to Atticus.

(I left out all the ones chastising us for not using a helmet because, Guess what folks? If your child can’t walk you don’t buy them a helmet. This was not a matter of being too lazy to put one on, this was a matter of not having reason to believe he would ever need one. We had no idea he would love this like he did. Plus he’s on five wheels, not two. He’s way more stable than a skateboard. He has a helmet now. Shush with your able bodied privilege.)

Atti is an EXTREMELY shy kid. Sometimes we’ve met people who know him from videos and he hides behind me or closes his eyes and covers his ears. But he is always wanting me to show him the videos I’ve made of him. There he can see himself as who he really is. And seeing how many people were watching that video? And cheering him on? Made such an amazing difference to him. He went to bed giggling. He was hugging and kissing me all night. I kept saying “Look at all these people who believe in you!” And as we put him to bed we went to read him stories, but last night? He read them to us. He gathered up his courage to try reading out loud. To risk sounding “funny” as he struggled to make the words with his mouth and to show us just what that sweet little brain could do. You all gave him faith in himself.

If you don’t have a disability, imagine the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. Maybe it was a sport and you had a coach who really pushed you to do your best. Maybe you struggled with math or reading. Maybe your parents really wanted to play an instrument and you hated every second of it. Imagine whatever that thing is. Remember how discouraged you got? Remember how bad you felt about yourself? Maybe you even said “I’m so stupid!” when you got a bad grade. And how all those bad feelings about yourself kept you from trying. Maybe you gave up on that instrument. Or quit that sport. Or are still telling yourself “I just can’t do math.”

Now imagine that all of those feelings you have, instead of being around math or sports or the piano, was about talking. Imagine it was about walking. Imagine that every single human encounter you had required you to do a complicated math problem. That’s the world my Atticus lives in.

My job as his mom is to protect that sweet brave spirit. To make sure that he never gets discouraged enough to give up. I need to be his coach and tell him that Rome wasn’t built in a day and that It’s better to have tried and failed than never tried and that Winners never quit and quitters never win. All day long I’m trying to make up for how hard the whole rest of the world is by telling him how much I believe in him.

I wish you all could have seen his face when I told him that a million other people believe in him too.

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So. What’s new with you?

IMG_2142

Hey pals.

So. Last we spoke I was calling “uncle” during the run up to Christmas. Turns out that major abdominal surgery during the holidays tends to throw a monkey wrench in your productivity plans. The recovery was pretty brutal. Six weeks, so, technically, I’m STILL recovering. But today I got Atticus on the bus all by myself, and then went for a two mile walk around the lake. That feels like a benchmark.

During my post-op appointment my surgeon told me all about what he found, and like surgeons often do, he made it sound like it wasn’t that out of the ordinary. And for him, maybe it wasn’t. All he does is look at endometriosis ridden bodies, after all. But when my fertility clinic saw it they all lost their minds. My nurse Sue called me up saying “Oh my gosh!! We had no idea it was so involved! How were you walking?!” Which, I won’t lie, felt pretty great. Some people compete in triathlons, I just get through my day with my innards all attached to each other.

There was scarring and adhesions and fibroids just EVERYWHERE. On my intestines, blocking my uterus, attaching my ovaries to the inside of my pelvic wall like they were one of those fraternity pranks where someone is plastered to the wall with duct tape. My bladder was “fused” (that was the actual word the surgeon used) to my uterus. And of course scar tissue from the emergency C-section that saved me and Atti. It was a crime scene in there.

Recovery has been super hard – give thanks for your abdominal muscles next time you need to cough or poop – but I’m feeling so much better. It’s been years since I had this much energy and motivation. Since I had…hope? That I wouldn’t always need to apologize for backing out? Or begging off? Or asking for help? That maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to just..do..all the things that so many people take for granted.

Including having a baby. We’re in the middle of our latest attempt at a cycle right now. Just yesterday I climbed up into those stirrups that I should really just start paying rent for at this point, and had another ultrasound. From my many years of tracking my ovulation, I know that I tend to go pretty late in my cycle, which is a bit of a problem when you’re trying to control so many variables. My reproductive system is just too punk rock to be controlled, though. It’s all “Go ahead and pump all the medicine you want in me. I won’t be rushed. I do what I want. You might call me uterus, but I say it’s uterMe.” And then it puts on some aviator shades as a screaming YEOOOOOWWW echoes behind it.

If my dang body will just play along already, then we’re hoping for a transfer in a couple of weeks. Just in time for yet another December birthday in the family.

My niece is still living with us and that is going awesome. I have a whole lot I want to say about that, but I can’t do it today. Or maybe ever. Dang grown people with their own idea about what they want spread on the internet. It has been a big adjustment but a wonderful one. And maybe one of these days I’ll convince her to let me put her on the blog. She is so incredibly gorgeous and talented, and maybe the only person I’ve ever known who didn’t want to share that with the Internet.

There is still so much more to talk about. Atti’s new wheelchair and his big breakthroughs, my own big endeavors, my plans to make all my dreams come true, and how Force Awakens blew my mind. But I’m trying to learn to pace myself. I am still recovering after all.

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Christmas FAIL

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Show You Care

Happy love

This neverending fertility journey I’m on has been horrific. I got some more bad news this week, but I’ll get into that another day. Right now I’m deep into self-care mode with lots of puzzle doing, cat snuggling, and playing with Atti to get me through the hard stuff.

As I’ve been wading through all my tender feelings, it’s really hard to not sink into a place of desperation or loneliness. It’s really really easy to succumb to all the magical thinking that tells you there’s a reason you can’t have kids, and that it’s because there is something wrong with you. This infertility stuff, I tell you, it gets right down to the core of your identity and the love you have to give and long to receive.

But one beautiful bright spot in all this darkness is how people have shown up for me.

When I go through a hard time, I cocoon. I don’t leave the house, I don’t reach out for help, I hide in a safe space until I feel strong enough to re-engage with the world. Of course, this coping mechanism comes with some significant drawbacks. Namely, when the hard time is your own body and mind, a cocoon isn’t always a safe place. And often, hiding by yourself just intensifies the loneliness. But what is a person to do when they need support but don’t have the energy or courage to ask? You ask in whatever way you can bring yourself to. Sometimes that’s just squeaking out “help” to a trusted friend, sometimes it’s attending a meeting, sometimes it’s even vaguebooking.

Over the last few days the texts and PM’s and emails have been flying my way from all sides. Some who recognize what it means when I post about having a “bummer day” while in the midst of fertility treatments. Some responding to a more detailed call for help, and some just following an impulse inspired by whatever you want to call the human connection we all share. I call it God.

As I’ve been lost in the fog of my own problems, I’m constantly amazed at the goodness of people, putting aside their own problems to care about mine. To take the time to send a text while they’re racing around with all their own responsibilities. Who forgive me when I need to take some time to respond from the well I’m at the bottom of. Who never ignore that impulse to offer kindness.

When I’m more myself, I tend to wander through life with a big goofy grin on my face and my unmistakable cackle announcing my arrival. My laugh is something I’ve been self-conscious of forever – it is loud and omnipresent, but I know that if you ask people who love me what they love about me, my laugh comes to the top of the list. And even strangers have told me that my laugh cheered them up. How silly that something so small as a laugh is all it takes to spread a little joy. When something as untaxing as a high five can turn a day around. From my current vantage point under the covers, a text is hope. A friendly nod can overcome so much sorrow.

SoulPancake, home of Kitten Therapy and Kid President, has launched their latest viral campaign to put some goodness into the world by challenging people to show they care. This video totally made me cry at how beautiful the world is. From the high-fiving baby to the gentleman on the phone spelling out plainly exactly what the person on the other end meant to them, it’s a lovely reminder to step outside ourselves and our fear of rejection and prove how much love is in the world.

Because there is always more love than loneliness. And it takes so little to remind us of that. So do it today. #showyoucare

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Farmer Atticus

Tomato Picking

Since losing my little dreamhouse on Courage Street back in 2010, we’ve been renters. In the last five years we’ve lived in three houses that were pretty great, all things considered. And because we’ve had such good luck I haven’t been in a rush to re-enter the market. Plus, to be honest, I wasn’t ready to love again. I am such a home body – like, a literal agoraphobe – and a home is such an important symbol to me of the roots I long to put down and the safe place I long to create, that losing my first home of my own left a mark on me. (And of course there was the whole destroyed credit and no down payment thing that comes with having a foreclosure on your record. Curse you financial meltdown!!)

Our current house is just ridiculously gorgeous and great for us. We have amazing neighbors, Atti can use his wheelchair to get anywhere in the house, and this backyard. I mean. But it’s not ours. And I’m feeling those hunger pains again.

We went looking at a property last week and it was PERFECT. I can’t stop thinking about it. But they were asking A LOT because there were three houses on the parcel, and yet they were all trailers. To do what we’d want to do we’d have to tear everything down and build again, which would be great, except for the land being way too expensive for that to make any sense. But this land. I dream about it. Views of the mountains on one side, the valley on the other. Acres of rolling hills only ten minutes from Bear’s work. If only.

It might take us a whole other year to really get what we want because as God is my witness I’m never moving again. Bear keeps wanting to play conservative because he doesn’t want to be house poor again, I keep saying I don’t care if we’re house poor for a few years if it means that I never have to pack another box in my life. And I have my heart set on lots and lots of land. In part because I have big plans for a group home for gay kids who can work the farm to prepare for their future and save for college, but also just for Atticus. This kid is an outdoor kid.

When you spend your whole childhood in physical and occupational therapy, you get what they call “therapized.” He’s so used to being bossed around, picked up and lifted into position, told to do simple tasks that have no context, and eventually he’s gotten rebellious. At therapy he pretends he can’t stand or take steps, but at home, if there is a box of Cheerios on the counter out of his reach, he can suddenly master his body in ways I can hardly believe. It’s a constant battle to provide a reward or context that makes enough sense to him to keep doing the work it takes to move his body. And these days, it’s really hard to teach a kid to work.

But! If we had a farm! For a kid who loves playing outside so much every piece of clothing that goes on his lower body is ripped up from dragging against the concrete, whose back is as bronzed as the face of a cowboy but with a belly as pale as a lizard’s, who has callouses on his knees and his toes from the unique way he travels, on a farm, he would work.

Last night I told him that I would take him outside to pick tomatoes with me and we could send them to school for his teachers. He got so excited he jumped on my belly and giggled and refused to go to sleep. First thing this morning I got him dressed in his outside clothes as we sang about Little Atticus had a Farm and all the animals he would have and the tomatoes he would grow with a pick pick here and a pick pick there. We went to my little backyard patch and Atti – who you have to bribe to eat anything not carb based – ate every tomato that hit the bottom of the bowl. And then got entranced by “the little green ones” and picked tomatoes until he counted to 100.

He told me that the first animal he wants to get is a goat. And then a chicken so he can eat the eggs for breakfast. I want to get him a donkey he can ride around or pull him in a wagon. If we had a little donkey, he could take it hiking. Seeing how the world could open up for him in these old fashioned ways, I get teary eyed just thinking about it.

So for now we’ll have to make do with little tomatoes and wrangling cats. Because I am not settling for another house. When I move again, it will be for our Dreamfarm.

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Year of Pleasures: Tiny Tomatoes

Tiny Tomato
My garden is going crazy this summer. I still haven’t had much success starting from seeds, but I’m not too shabby at the rest of it. I went out this morning to check on things and my little cherry tomato plant is covered in jewels. And some of them so itsy bitsy it’s too adorable to believe. I’ve been eating them straight off the vine all morning, filling up a big bowl and eating them like popcorn, not even bothering to wash off the dirt. One of the pleasures of home grown food, there’s nothing to be afraid of and there’s nothing like eating a fresh tomato warm from the sun.

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Outdoor Slipcovers

Outdoor Slipcover
This is one of those awesome Summer projects I’ve been talking about forever. And it was so massive to put together all the different photos and videos and instructions that it sat on my harddrive for my whole year of sickness. Today is the day it gets it’s due.

Outdoor Furniture
In this house I have the most amazing backyard. Totally landscaped by the owner, huge and with all kinds of levels to it, whatever patio furniture I had before was just swallowed up as soon as we put it out there. And if you’ve ever shopped for patio furniture, you know it is ridiculously expensive. Like, you might as well put the real stuff out there, expensive. Which meant that I had to get pretty creative to make this space usable and not just pretty.

Outdoor CouchI found this couch on the side of the road, cushions destroyed by a dog, waiting for the garbage man. So I snatched it up. I figured that even if I couldn’t do what I envisioned, I wasn’t out anything, so I’d give it a try. The results are so amazing I couldn’t have imagined it. When we had a wedding at our house this summer this little spot was the most popular place in the whole yard. You had to fight for a spot.

Outdoor ArmchairThis chair I got at our local thrift store when they were having a 50% off sale, which means I got this chair for $5. With such low stakes, I couldn’t go too far wrong. The only expense to this project was the outdoor fabric, which I got at an end of season discount from Joann’s. So hey, maybe my lack of timeliness could work in your favor. Snatch up the fabric today and even if you’re skidding into fall you’ll be all set to give this project a go.

The tutorial really works best once you see it in action, so I didn’t even try and get action shots. Just watch me do my work in the video.

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Summer is over

2015 First Day of School
Last Wednesday was Atti’s first day of second grade. I have a lot of feelings.

But mostly, I have total relief.

This summer has been ridiculous. All the in vitro stuff, a busted wheelchair, weddings, Atti’s surgery and recovery, a sudden emergency that had me away from home for a week, home for two days, then driving alone across the desert to a conference followed immediately by a camping trip where I cooked for 100 people, another freaking root canal, and then school. I did so. much. laundry. I should have taken a picture. If a wonderful friend didn’t come over and force me to let her help, that mountain of laundry would still be covering up two giant couches.

And now, I’ve had a week to get myself together. I rested up to fight the weariness that made me a shell of myself. I slept off the root canal. I did all the laundry and washed the mud off the camping gear and organized my pantry and bought food. And I find myself wandering around the house wondering what’s next. You get in those hyperactive frenzies when everything is coming at you so fast, and then once it settles down you don’t know what to do with yourself.

In my case it’s led to a whole lot of angst about what I’m doing with my life. Like creative people do, I have a lot of irons in the fire, and right now, they’re all stalled. Novels that can’t find an agent, shows that need production help, companies in the planning stages, product lines being rejected, and all the while this little blog waiting patiently in the background. Except, no one reads blogs anymore. There are a few bright exceptions, but even Dooce stepped back from blogging. The kind of blog that I write – a personal one sharing my life and growth – is a dinosaur.

But I’m REALLY uninterested in the kind of blogs that are getting read these days. I tried, I really did, to hang with all the SEO and Pinterest Ready and Trending Content but it just bores me silly to produce it, even though I consume it. That’s just not what I have to offer. So a dinosaur I will remain. But it also means that I need to change my perspective on this place.

The punk-rock DIY days of blogging are far behind us. Now it’s media conglomerates and listicles and content scraping roundups. I sound a million years old, but that’s what a decade of internet time will do to you. People don’t read and develop relationships with the author anymore. I think about some of the valuable friendships I’ve made with readers over the years and it does make me sad that those wouldn’t happen today. Now everything has to be discrete chunks of info that can be searched on Pinterest.

I remember years ago, I watched as another blog I loved went dark, and the author said something like “I’ve realized my blog is never going to break through.” I thought that was sad and pessimistic, but I totally get it now. After ten years of typing here and watching the internet reinvent itself at least as many times, I find myself in that same place. I’ve realized my blog is never going to break through.

That doesn’t feel sad to me, though. I’m not giving up this space. I’m not going to stop blogging. I’m just going to give up the pressure. If I don’t have anything I feel like sharing, I won’t post that day. I’m not going to worry about how something fits in with viral news stories or seasonal content. In fact, if I was a good blogger, I’d be through all my summer projects and getting close to Halloween stuff by now. Except I’ve got some truly excellent summer projects that didn’t get attention, so I’m going to share them anyway. Because I don’t have to be a “good” blogger anymore. I can just do me. And these days, me is about two months behind everything.

I started this blog because in my secret heart I was a writer, but I was too terrified to write. I was drowning under the pain of chronic illness and infertility. Now I have Atticus, we’re hopeful about more, and I am an honest to goodness, paid for the work, published and everything, Writer. My blog may have never broken through, but I did.

Snuggle

This is really just a letter to myself. I don’t think things will change much around here. Other than I might write more about some behind the scenes projects that are in development that good blogging rules would tell me I should keep under wraps until I had a brand and a marketing plan. But I’m not going to worry about that anymore. Blogging has given me so so much, I’ll never give up on it, but I think it’s time I started looking beyond.

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Atti’s Introvert Friendly Birthday Party

Birthday Party
For Atti’s whole life, any mention of a birthday party was met with screams and tears. Even attending other kids birthday parties were too much for him to take as he was humiliated by proxy with all the attention on the birthday kid. Even hearing Happy Birthday in a restaurant was enough to send him into redfaced earcovered dripping wet tears. And for a kid as introverted as mine? A birthday party really would be torture. All that special attention is great for an extrovert, but with my guy being too shy to speak, I can’t imagine a greater hell than opening presents while everyone watched.

So we did things just the three of us. I’d make a special cake, or he’d pick out a special present, but it really couldn’t get lower key. Until this year. Atti finally said he wanted a birthday party. We were so shocked I kept asking him over and over again. “Really? A birthday party? Do you want your friends from school to come? And church friends? Really?” But he kept saying yes, so I jumped on the chance to go absolutely crazy.

And I did. Special invitations, so so so much food (that will be coming later this week), lots of decorations, but I also kept one eye on Atti the whole time, making sure that I had built in some safeguards for my gentle little boy.

So if you have an introverted kid, here’s some tips I’ve tested out for you.

Dance Party
Don’t make your child play host. I made a music playlist and had it going on the computer so as people arrived I’d hand the kids a balloon to blow up or play with (as age appropriate) and told them we were having a dance party. We built the chaos of those early minutes into the party so I never had to ask Atti to go and take a kid to play. We were all just playing from the moment they walked in the door.

Cow Kiss
Create a safe space. For our activity we rented a petting zoo (hashtag country living privilege) but the point of it was to have something Atti could hide in while the other kids could still be entertained. If things got too overwhelming – which they did – he could hang back and make friends with a special calf while all the other kids ran around the backyard doing whatever they wanted. In a pinch a safe space could be a bedroom, or even your lap, but it helps to have a place your child knows they can check in for a few deep breaths to ward off the big overwhelming feelings.

Alpaca
Hit the invitation sweet spot. It might seem counter intuitive, but if you’re not having a party with a couple close friends, than the answer is to throw a rager. We invited a LOT of people. And we told everyone to bring their siblings and parents. We basically had an open door policy. What you’re looking for is reaching peak crowd. If you have enough people that you can’t all sit around and talk in one large group? You did it right. A crowd allows people to break off into smaller groups, people can disappear for a minute if necessary, your child isn’t the source of entertainment, and they can hang back as much as they need in order to be comfortable without anyone being worried or changing the fun of the party.

Goat
Throw out the program. It was really important to me that if we were going to throw a party, I wasn’t going to neglect Atti to entertain a bunch of other kids. Free form activities allowed me to make sure Atti was having a special time, but if the other kids were bored with the dance party, they could play with stickers set out on the table. Or pet the animals, or go crazy in the backyard, or play in Atti’s room. There were enough adults around to make sure nothing got broken, but otherwise I encouraged the kids to just play and let go of any plans of moving orderly from one activity to the other. Any kind of an activity that came with an expert to take charge would be great too, as long as they were warned not to single out the birthday kid.

Calf
Have a buffet style spread. I made so much food for this party. Partly because it was so much fun for me, but also because I thought of the food as another activity that could provide a distraction as necessary. I spent plenty of time around the snack table as a teenager, and I hang with so many introverted internet types that I know the punch bowl is a perennial comfort zone. So keeping with the motive of not having to control or lead anything, I had all the food out on the table and made it up for grabs through the whole party. Including the birthday cake. We didn’t sing happy birthday, I didn’t walk in with lit candles, we just had it on the table and about halfway through the party I started cutting it up and putting it on plates.

Cowboy
Make One on One time. When a stressed out overstimulated introverted kid starts getting overwhelmed, the LAST thing they want is attention drawn to that fact. If you can make some activities that require one on one time, you can release some of that pressure without anybody being the wiser. For us it was taking turns on the pony rides, but it could be facepainting, or a turn on the trampoline, or special cupcake decorating time, anything that lets the kid chill out on their own for a minute.

Horseriding
Forget the presents. This will not only save your introvert some unwanted attention, but it will make you a hero among parents.
Buying presents for kids parties is the worst! Who knows what some kid at school wants? You’re left spending money you don’t want to spend on plastic crap the kid might not even want. Boo. Instead we took Atti shopping and let him pick out his own presents, and then we had a couple other things – like his Big Boy Bed – that were surprises. If your kid really really has their heart set on presents, then maybe you could stash them in a back room somewhere so you don’t have to open them while people are at the party.

Family
Throwing this party was a total dream come true for me. I’ve been waiting to go Pinterest crazy with a birthday party for Atti’s entire life! But one of my core values as a parent is not to make Atti’s childhood all about me. It has to be what he enjoys, in a way that he wants to celebrate, no matter how many adorable paper goods I’ve had to pass by. I think with this party we managed to make both of our dreams come true.

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Friendship Retreat

Retreat
During the last year from hell when I was busily trying not to kill myself, a lot of my relationships took a big hit. I had to pull away completely from casual friends and acquaintances, developing relationships got nipped in the bud, and some long-term relationships were blown to bits. Being that vulnerable and exposed left me feeling naked and wounded in every encounter I had with another human, but it also made me need people more than ever. It’s been weird.

So with everything being so fraught and complicated and vulnerable on my end of things, it was the perfect timing to have a retreat with some of my favorite people from around the nation. Us Mormon Feminists LOVE our retreats. So often you’re the only one who thinks like you at church every Sunday, retreats are times to gather together, celebrate our relationships and our work, and nourish our hearts until we’re strong enough to get back out there and keep at it.

These gals are all a special breed of trouble that I run the Feminist Mormon Housewives empire with. We chat online every day about the minutia of our lives, problem solving all the issues that come with running a giant online community, and raging against the man. I love them totally, and getting to have a few of them in the flesh was heavenly.

Cooking
I forced everyone to travel to my house so that I could pamper everyone silly. I had the very best time cooking for everyone, fussing over bedding, making sure everyone was comfortable and watching the whole season of the Bachelor while we critiqued it through a feminist lens. And then Christa made us all homemade potstickers from a secret family recipe.

DungeonsandDragons
My friend Melissa schools me in all things Nerdly, and it was her gentle hand that guided me through my first ever Dungeons and Dragons experience. Turns out, it’s just like an improv game! I’ve wasted so much time not playing this!

Dudebro
My friend Noelle just went through an unpleasant divorce and if there’s one thing us MoFem’s like as much as retreats it’s rituals. Anytime we get together we come up with reasons to celebrate, to mark the occasion, to recognize milestones. There are just not enough moments in a woman’s life where she gets surrounded by her community in support and celebration, so when we get together we make those moments happen. For Noelle we decided to have a letting go ceremony. I had white tissue paper lanterns on hand we use for birthday celebrations, so we took one of them and we all wrote on it together. On one side we wrote all of the things we didn’t want to be a part of the next phase of her life – fear, sorrow, shame – and on the other side we wrote all of the great things we wanted for her. Then we lit it up and watched it rise into the night sky, glowing the whole way.

Dudebro tears is something we want to be banished from her life forever.

(Because it’s a fire hazard and I live in forest fire country we kept it tethered and then disposed of it safely once it was done burning.)

Friends
I must love these ladies an awful lot to make that face in a photo.

It was three restorative days with women that I love so so much. It’s almost too good to be true. And then last week I got to go to Utah for another retreat. This was for a conference about race and Mormonism and I flew in and showed up because I deeply care about anti-racism. I thought I was making a sacrifice. But then I got PREACHED to, and once again it was restorative. It cracked me open and poured me out and filled me back up with holiness. Luckily, you get to listen to the keynote address too. If you need a little retreat, a little ritual, a little restoration, go and listen. It’s enough to keep you going until you see the people you love in the flesh.

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