My Heart to Yours

It's everyday that I talk about or think about what I'm grateful for in this world, with a side of specificity and clarity. 

At the ripe young age of 38, I have been through enough life and death experiences that I feel like it's what I have do to stay in-check with my big heart, the "magic making" heart that has my friends and family calling me Buck, Rebar, and Sunnybrook. Moving away from Montana has been a process of growing into a new adult, missing mountains and the broad landscape that is home; and yet stoked to be near my momma, exploring and playing with a new landscape that is softening my tough edges, and finding more brilliant community to add to life. It spices and brightens life. 

Since I'm a big dork and love thank you notes, this is from my heart to yours. 

Thank you slow and steady tribe that's growing and thriving all across the country. It's so cool to meet you, see you and hear your stories and watch your growth. 

My gratitude grows further for the mommas who are come here, show up, write to me and tell me their stories.  

For the mommas who have committed to their growth and whom I've worked with in the past year. Thank you. 

For you women setting a new tone in how we (the participants in the maternity care system) take care of you after you give birth. Thank you. 

For the mommas who commit to their growth and healing, period. Thank you. 

For the mommas who are change agents, who live courageously as you grow up. AMEN. Keep going. 

For all the women who wish they could be mommas. I love you big. Thank you. 

For new friends. You add joy to my pulse. Thank you. 

My heart shines when I think of how grateful I am for my sister and my mother, who are two extraordinary mommas and inspire me every damn day. 

I am grateful for our daddy who is dead, but still finds his own way to celebrate with us each year. You're my first love. Nobody will replace your laugh. Thank you for passing it to me. Love you.

This year, I've learned I don't take anything for granted anymore. Life is too short. When you lose things you love that are people, you learn not to take love, friendships, family and neighbors for granted. You never know when you'll need that smile or their love and support. Give, more than you can imagine.  

Pema Chödron sums it up nicely, "There are no promises. Look deeply at joy and sorrow, at laughing and crying, at hoping and fearing, at all that lives and dies. What truly heals is gratitude and tenderness." May your heart be full beyond belief today. If you're not "there," I hope there are a pair of eyes looking at you and saying, "I love you, Momma. You are my world." 

Keep being the world to your little people and be as tender and grateful as you can be with yourself. Love, love, love, love, love and have fun!