Category Archives: Motherhood

How Do You Want to Be Remembered?

Wise Women Chronicles

I Want To Be Remembered:

As someone who unabashedly and out loud expressed my feelings of joy, surprise, glee or sorrow.
I did so as a child.
Why not as an adult?

As a person who spoke her truth, without stooping to sarcasm or snarkiness.
I say what I mean and I mean what I say.
So people will know what I stand for and what I won’t tolerate.

As a Mom who loved my kids with the fierceness of a protective lioness,
the gentle nurturing of a doe,
the playfulness of a squirrel and the
wisdom of the mother bird who demonstrates to her children how to
safely and successfully leave the nest and build their own.

As a wife who loved, respected and appreciated my husband as a fellow human,
my life partner, the father and co-raiser of my children,
an excellent provider, protector and heart mate.

As a friend who listened first, observed second, shared third and judged rarely.

As a daughter who forgave my parents their mistakes and learned from them,
emulated their successes, and always loved and respected them.

As a neighbor who opened my home and heart to the families,
especially the children,
so we could be the village we all yearned for.

As a sister who told my siblings that I loved them, why I loved them
and how they made the world a better place for me and everyone else.

As an aunt who praised my nieces and nephews from the highest rooftops
for their accomplishments and consoled them
when they were in the depths of despair.

As a storyteller who loved and lived Story enough to show others
how they too could enter Story Land and be the hero in their own Story.

I want to be remembered this way.  Although wordy, it would be a great obituary
after I have taken that last, long walk to my journey’s end.  But is it the truth?
The whole truth?
And nothing but the truth?  Nope.
I am going to ask myself some tough questions:

Do I always meet my own high standards?  Goodness no.

Have I been sarcastic or snarky today?  Um, twice so far.  It’s noon.

Do I apologize when I violate my own standards?  Yes, when I realize it.  Most times.

Are there still some lingering judgements about others swirling around in my head, begging to be spoken?  Yep. They’re pretty loud too.

Have I ever considered myself the victim instead of the hero in my own Story? Yessss.

Have I now negated my original list of how I want to be remembered?  I don’t think so. It is still my goal and desire. One I pray I will be able to say someday is the truth.

To reach it, I need to live it.  Each day,
with constant course corrections,
addendums and restarts.
Starting today.

If Little Girls Are Made of Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice, What Are You Made Of?

Wise Women Chronicles

What Am I Made Of? My Daddy’s Mom was soft and round. So am I. She smiled and called squirrels and birds to her side. So do I. My Mommys’ Mom was clean and hard. So am I. She looked after folks and organized lives. So do I. My Daddy’s Dad was silly and hard working. So am I. He honored the past and created the future. So do I. My Mommy’s Dad was short and strong. So am I. He loved to work with his crafty hands. So do I. My Daddy was smart, determined and proud. So am I. He stood straight and met life with his chin. So do I. My Mommy is small and fierce in her love. So am I. She challenged her kids and stood by her man. So do I. So where is the sugar and where is the spice? It’s all in … Continue reading →

A Poem for Mother’s Day

Wise Women Chronicles

For my mother, your mother and every mother who ever was and will ever be. The Fairy Mound “He’s a hero,” they say, When a great deed is done, By a giant, a knight or a lord. But a mother’s love, For her newborn child, Is mightier than any sword. She went to the mound, The Fairy Mound, To rescue her stolen child. She went to the mound, The Fairy Mound, Without weapons, fierce or wild. ‘Twas gifts she brought, Made by her hands, To buy back her child fair. A robe of feathers, Soft and white, Embroidered with her hair. It bought her way, Into the Mound, Filled with the Fairy Folk. The King of the Fey, She had to face, And this is what she spoke: “I made a harp, Of hair and bone. Hear now its lovely sound.” And when she plucked Its golden strings, Song filled … Continue reading →