The Heart of Life

The family.  We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.  ~Erma Bombeck

The happiest moments of my life have been the few which I have passed at home in the bosom of my family.  ~Thomas Jefferson

The informality of family life is a blessed condition that allows us to become our best while looking our worst.  ~Marge Kennedy

I love my family, and thank God for them everyday. 

No matter where I go, I can never forget where I've been, or who helped along every step of the way.

Bad Day Favorites

coffee, Froggie, black and white movies, candles, peanut butter, a long run, writing a note to someone I love, planning a trip somewhere exotic, taking a drive, string cheese, rock climbing, calling my mom, baking cookies, reading, having a good cry, praying, mint chocolate chip ice cream and, most of all, being with Brian.

Maybe my bad days are not so bad.

Mona Lisa Smile

Every woman tries to achieve mystery. To leave men wanting more, baffled at her thoughts and the reasons behind her every action and word.  Movies, magazines, and best friends coach us on how to become more tantalizing, to hold back more in order to gain more.

The Mona Lisa has done just this. She is transcendental, no one knows for certain what her beguiling smile reveals. For centuries, scholars have tried to unveil the secret, tried to answer the impossible question--what is she thinking, what does that illusive smile allude to? The paradox is, however, that this is a question that simply has no answer. With all of the other advances in our society, technologically and socially, this one question will remain unresolved.

I am no Mona Lisa. My eyes tell my story very clearly. I am open and honest and as much as I try at times, can not withhold my feelings from being written all over my face. My joy and frustration play upon my lips and my eyes and I am read like an open book. My fiance tells me daily that he knows exactly what I am thinking by just looking at me. He knows when I am mad, or excited, or annoyed, or overwhelmed. This, in itself, frustrates me as I often long to keep these feelings to myself. To maintain even a false sense of mystery or obscurity.

But even as I write these words, apart of me entirely disagrees. Haven't I always wanted someone to know me better than I know myself? To know how to comfort me, support me, love me, fight with me, and stand by me, through thick and thin? I am no Mona Lisa. It does not take a scholar to divulge the secret behind my smile, it only takes one man...my man.

And I really think that is what life is all about. Opening up, becoming vulnerable to love and relationships, both romantic and platonic. Revealing the mystery behind your smile to those you love, to those you trust to hold that secret and guard it, because they love you, too.

I am thankful to have a circle of friends and family that can read my eyes, and my lips, and they love me not only despite what they see, but because of what they see.

I am no Mona Lisa, but I am happy to be me-not mysterious, open and honest about love.... just me.

I'll Be Home for Christmas

The question is, where is that home?

As a child, life was blissfully black and white. Right was right and wrong was wrong. Gray was merely an unused crayon in the Crayola box. Home was not a state of mind, it was an actual place. The place (at least in my case) that was full of laughter and fun, petty fighting, delicious food, and most importantly loving, nurturing parents. Home was the place where I came to everyday. Where my mom listened to all of my problems and my sister was my constant companion, my best bud. My brothers were my protectors and my dad was my hero. Home was my house, filled with my family.

Unfortunately, it is no longer this way...I succumbed to adulthood somewhere along the way. Now, many years and many moves later, home is a much more intangible concept, a feeling as opposed to an address. I am not trying to say I'm homeless, just that my family and I have scattered across the country, and now, as many have said before me, home is where my heart is.


Like a multitude of other things in adulthood, home is a gray concept, not a particular location. Something to experience and appreciate fully, because it is much more fleeting.

I am getting married in July (woohoo!!) and about to embark on one of the greatest adventures in life--marriage. I will be creating my own home, and starting my own family, very tangibly. We will be melding our two homes together to create one, and I am very excited for this new chapter in life.

I can imagine our home will be full of laughter and fun, petty fighting, and lots of love, much like the homes we both grew up in....we are blessed to have those memories and examples to build our life upon.

All this said, I will be home for Christmas. In a very real way. Not to the house I grew up in, but to the people who know and love me best. And really, what is home if not the acceptance, love and warm embraces of dear family and friends.

I'll be home, home indeed.