He Always Knows

Yesterday we dropped the van off at the body shop for repair. After being smashed into at 80mph she sure deserves it!

Joseph drove me to the shop and back and when we arrived home we did something we have done a million times. I stopped, even though he was already walking away. Without looking at me, he knew I wasn’t walking anymore, and instead I was waiting for him to pick up on my body language that I required sugar.

He of course knew what I wanted smiled and kissed me. But it made me realize that instead of our time together the last near seven years dulling our senses to each other or breeding laziness, it has created a deeper threaded bond. And that moment reminded me of so many moments where I never had to speak.

So this was birthed out of those moments.

He always knows what is needed a moment before I do.

As if the cord that binds us sends electrical charges, signals of my impending need

He always knows

A pause, a moment. “I must kiss her.”

He always knows.

Without eyes meeting, without a touch he wraps me in a blanket of certainty.

He always knows.

Is it an embrace? A gentle kiss? A passionate undertaking? It matters not the need.

He always knows.

Is it a text, a call or a love note hand written?

He always knows

Time has not dulled the need for his presence nor has it created distance.

Each passing day brings that thread closer together, closing out the darkness and filling our space with light. Truly he is my penguin, the one my soul longs for, and a sense of comfort is ever present when he is in my thoughts.

No distance, or space can change or contain those threads.

I will always be awaiting when space and time are overcome by those moments.

Why?

Because he always knows.

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As He Goes

Try as he might, there was no rousing me this morning. Though he certainly tried.

He littered my face with his kisses. His day about to begin.

He made coffee and ironed all the while stopping to plant more love upon my face.

The garden of his adoration.

With blankets up to my eyes, he loaded his briefcase and he prepared his lunch.

Taking moments in between to drop a kiss on my cheek. To fill his eyes with my image.

I stood to see him off, arms around his neck. He drew the shape of my face with his hand. Pulled me close and held me in his arms.

He paused to gaze at me, kissed my forehead one more time.

More moments to come upon his return, but for now I watch him as he goes.

– Lady Tompkins

5 Things I learned from My Mom

My oldest wrote this for me for Mother’s Day. There is no more wonderous thing than being a mom.

5 Things I’ve Learned From You

Manners

All of my manners come from the many times you scolded me for not saying please and thank you, or when I would sit the wrong way in a dress.

Old movies

Without you I most likely wouldn’t have gotten to explore the amazing collection of old movies that I missed out on. They’re always so enjoyable, and getting to watch them with you makes it 100% better.

My sisters

It’s a slow process and I haven’t quite gotten there, but you’re helping me get along with Aimee and Sarah (for the most part). I want to spend more time with them, although sometimes I feel kind of awkward for all of the times I was rude to them or straight up ignored them. I want to fix my mistakes and become a better role model for my sisters, especially Aimee. Middle school is a hellish rollercoaster and I want to make sure that she doesn’t end up like me, so I will give her the support and attention that she needs.

Dealing with anxiety

Learning how to cope with my anxiety is one of the most important things you’ve taught me. Taking deep breaths, listening to that scientifically proven song, taking breaks. Now I can help my sisters and my friends whenever they’re having panic attacks or nervous about something.

How to be happy

In middle school it was difficult to be happy, constantly stressed out, and worried about my friends. I never got to see your cool side, I hid away, never said I love you unless I was forced or even hug you. I can’t even imagine how much that must’ve hurt. Being in online school is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If I had gone to regular high school I’m sure my depression would’ve only gotten worse. Thank you for showing me what it’s like to be happy in a hard part of my life.

To the Lost

To those I have lost,

Growing up, all I ever wanted to be was a mom. I watched the struggles my mom went through and all I wanted was to lift her up and help her and then be the best mom ever. It created within me the longing that I would hold my own little babies one day. What an incredible responsibility!

Loss of life and acceptance of death are tremendously hard things. There is never a moment that goes by when you don’t wonder if you had been given the chance at life if the world would look like a different place. The pain becomes a dull reminder that it isn’t your place to know those things. But grace is the power to know that one day we will meet.

When I found out that I was pregnant with you and I was going to be a mom was one of the most joyous moments of my life. It was what I had dreamed of coming true. I cried, I rejoiced, and I knew that we were going to be best friends and I was going to take care of you. I was ready for you to be in my arms the moment that I knew you were in my womb. But that wasn’t part of God’s plan. 9 weeks into your life, I lost you. The trauma of those moments still has not left my heart. When you sit on a cold table, hurting, scared and you hear the sonographer say, “I don’t see any baby.” The world around your momma shattered. I never got to see your form. I never got to see or hear your little heartbeat. I never got to kiss your forehead and tell you I love you. You were there one moment and gone the next. I was no longer going to be a mother. My body had failed you and there wasn’t a thing I could do but cry. There is a lump in my throat thinking of the room that I had begun filling with your things. I closed the door and it stayed untouched for a year. Miscarriage is so common, that most people shrug the depth of this hurt off. They say it must not have been a real viable embryo. You were my child, and it was real.

Time will decrease the pain of you going back to God, but my fear will always be present.  “Will I ever have children?”

To my first lost little one, you have a beautiful little sister and she is incredible. She gave me hope. Hope that despite my body failing you that God really did have a plan!

To my second lost little one, suffering once again, in this familiar pain, and knowing what it meant was one of the hardest things that I have ever done. I knew before we left for the hospital that you were gone. The people that cared for me while you passed away were amazing. I am grateful for their hearts and their sensitive nature during that time. It was so different from the brash and abrasive loss of your older sibling. I am comforted that you two can be together as I am here helping your sisters grow up. You both have two amazing sisters now. I have told them your stories and they know that someday they will meet you. Oh what a glorious day that will be!

Looking at your sisters will remind me that I have had 4 little babies inside my womb and that I only get to hug and kiss two. It is a harsh reminder that life does take the things we love. We have to overcome the grief and not get buried there. I embraced your loss, but I didn’t pack up and live there. I had to be strong. I grieved, but I know you are waiting for me. And I am here to help your sisters grow up in love, and knowing that you are also loved.

To my last lost mini me. It pains me to even type this. How fresh your loss is to me despite it being 10 years ago. Your loss was one of the hardest. Not that I loved you more. But that when I started to lose you, I went to the doctors, I saw you on the monitor. Your little heart was just beating away. It was 3 days until my birthday, and I was told to rest. Surely it will be fine.

You left us on my birthday, and laying in my bed, with your big sisters so confused at why their mommy was so very sad, I was lost. In that moment, all I could think of was, “Why?” Why did God take every other one of my babies home to be with him?

I don’t have an answer. I am comforted only by the fact that I will see each of you again. You built inside me a strength to withstand some of the darkest times in my life. If I can survive the loss of a child, not to mention the loss of 3, then I can survive anything.

God brought new life despite the loss so shortly after when I became pregnant with Sarah. She stayed safely in my womb till she was born and is currently the last sibling you have, though I hope to change that in God’s time.

Just in case you look down on me and your 3 sisters from heaven, I want each of you to know, you are all loved. You each have your own place in all of our hearts. With a death before each new life that I brought into this world by only the grace of God, I learned to appreciate life in a new way. His mercy and grace overcoming my fear with each new life that made it here.

I stand before each of you today, still with that fear in me. That fear of loss. I pray that as you look down upon me, you know I love you. The day that I see you again will be filled with tears of joy and gratitude that you have prepared a place for me and wait anxiously to meet your mommy.

I love you all,

Tiarra

 

 

Be Joyful

It’s been a week, I am not going to lie. But now that it comes to a close on our mortal standards of a week. I am left reflecting that in all things we should be daring and choose joy. Not happiness which is fleeting and can change moment by moment, but daring and full of joy. Joy that can see the light in even the darkest moment.

When all looks bleak, still finding hope and still being able to smile.

I read so many books in what I do, hear so many gut-wrenching stories that make me realize that to our way of thinking I am more than amazingly blessed than so many others. But in having a conversation with someone the other day, I realized something.

We do NOT understand God’s ways. A friend of mine saw a picture of my daughter having a breathing treatment. She responded that she didn’t understand why God let children suffer. It occurred to me through that thought that God sees us all the same. There is no age difference. We are all just as fragile in God’s eyes. It is just like sin. We think that a lie is different than murder. But it isn’t to God. It is a huge thought to think that the God that created us sees us as just as fragile as an infant.

In all things we have a choice, to choose joy, to choose sadness. And if you are struggling with anxiety or depression and you are struggling with that choice, remember to reach out for help. Sometimes the choice is too much and too hard. There is no shame in needing help. If you do or don’t have the right people around you, know that I am always here and if you can read this, I care, I love you, and I want you to know that you can message me, email me and reach out. I am here, working daily to do the same thing. Choosing Joy even when it seems impossible.

 

Always,

Tiarra

It was always you

Slowly the petals fell, eyes closed, the fall took over and put all things to sleep. She was unrecognizable as she was dead to who she truly was.

Winter came, in seemingly endless slumber and Clothed in frost, appearing lifeless on the outside. So beautiful yet so cold and unmoving.

Spring came and with it you. You breathed life into her. The frost melted, her leaves turned green and flowers blossomed. Bits of who she was fell into place. Rebirth, and a new beginning as is always there in spring.

Before you arrived, she was thirsty like the flowers in the summer without rain. Like endless desert walks with no oasis. No distant city on the horizon offering hope.

Each moment after that breath of life gave new hope and new energy to her growth. She saw things from her own eyes and you loved her for it.

Moments and seasons passed, and with each passing season you gave her life renewed to stay awake and alive during each moment. No hiding or hibernation.

Instead in the Fall, as life and nature begins its preparation for slumber, you watered and bathed her in heat and light.

When winters frost came and threatened to bury everything in its lifeless cold, you wrapped your arms around her and provided her warmth and love through the bitter cold.

When spring came to make all things new you opened your arms to let her be reborn and to fly. Free to live and breath, fueled by the perfect love of just what and who she was to you. Not a fictional creation someone else would have wanted her to be.

And when it came time for you to transition into those seasons, she breathed that same life into you. Preparing you with the same renewed sense of self that you had unselfishly poured into her.

As she saw you spread your wings and fly, only to return home to her, she knew. In all that she had waited for, it was always you.

The Ledge

The drop is far. The path that leads to the edge of the cliffs is small. Certain death if you misstep. There is no going back, only forward. It’s windy and all you know is the endless fear that you just can’t make it. You might as well jump because at least then the choice was yours. It wasn’t your failure to walk steadily. It wasn’t someone behind you. The choice to fall and fail was yours. The wind blows and you feel that uneasy fear that you can’t make it. You won’t make it. Why did you step out onto this ledge? What felt so important on the other side that you stepped out in the first place?

Was it love, or maybe your dream that forced you out? Perhaps you woke up on that ledge, unaware that all those sure bets and choices you had made put you in a place you didn’t feel you belong.

The only sure thing is change and fear. Fear isn’t bad. For the most part, when it is healthy fear, it prevents us from harm and helps us make decisions that are best for our safety and our future. Bad fear holds us back, trapped in fight or flight mode. Instead of fighting, some of us flee and abandon our dream or goal. Never to be seen again.

Walking across the ledge to reach your dreams is hard, and it can be scary. Don’t look down. Just keep going. Soon enough you will turn around and see that it was nothing more than an illusion. The drop and fall didn’t exist anywhere but inside of your imagination.

Take power over your thoughts and keep moving. I believe in you.