By Kathy Ha | Featured Contributor
Overthinking and overanalyzing is a common problem with anxiety sufferers. The mind likes to run in endless loops of worthless conjecture, questioning, dissecting and criticizing every decision and response. It becomes a hardwired obsessive behavior that leaves the person physically exhausted and emotionally drained. Without intervention and retraining of the mind, life can feel like an insurmountable hurdle.
By Markie Doczi | Featured Contributor
You aren’t in the frames
But you’re the one behind the lens
Not always at the starting gate
But cheering at the end
Your step-kids cannot see at first
You’re here for their own good
They only see you in the spot
Where once their mother stood
By Rhonda Barnes | Featured Contributor
Author’s Note: This is a poem dedicated to my eldest daughter, Jamie. She is an inspiration to me.
* * *
She was beautiful, perfect, the first to call me momma,
the one with sweet demeanor, the one without the drama,
left me in awe when she spoke her first words,
absolutely overwhelmed me when first steps occurred,
Kissed my tears away
when disappointment ruled the day,
I dressed her in pretty dresses and socks with ruffled trim,
brushed her long brown hair and taught her how to swim.
By Markie Doczi | Featured Contributor
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost has always resonated with me. As a writer, I can appreciate a good simile, and I always want to live my life like he describes in this poem. I think this logic applies to daily life, both the big and the little things. For example, I have always believed in daring to be different, and I take it as a compliment when people call me weird. The only time I go with the flow is when I’m floating down a lazy river!
This is not to say that I live some eccentric lifestyle: I’m married, we have a mortgage, and I’m scratching my head about how to keep the critters out of my garden. And as much as I would love to travel overseas one day, you don’t have to backpack across Europe to take the road less traveled!
By Michele Lee Sefton, M.Ed. | Featured Contributor
“Oh, God,” I pleaded, “Please let me dance with my daughter again.”
That desperate plea flooded my brain during a moment that shattered a picturesque and perfect morning, several years ago, just two days before Christmas. My husband and I had just returned home from a long bicycle ride, when I remembered that our daughter’s preschool teacher had asked for a playpen donation to house a litter of pups. Caught up in the spirit of giving, it seemed like the perfect time to climb into our attic and retrieve our daughter’s playpen. I climbed the pull-down ladder and stepped into the dark and dusty space. My husband was at the bottom of the ladder, waiting for me to lower the playpen down to him. My simple act of generosity did not go according to plan. As I was attempting to lower the playpen, I slipped and in an instant I crashed through drywall, which sent me plummeting to the garage floor below.
Continue reading “Please Let Me Dance Again: Michele’s Story”
By Terin Marlae Benavente | Featured Contributor
Last night, my husband and I snuck outside for a brief yet quiet moment of solitude. Oh, how we long for the days where our conversations were not rushed and now, even demanded at times. We love our children dearly but until the pandemic hit, never knew how much we cherish our alone time. Even for myself. Especially now, I find it even difficult to find enough quiet time to write this article without, “MOM! He’s being mean to me!” or “MOM, where are my shoes?!” Seriously, I had barely written a paragraph before that started. As a SAHM/homeschool teacher/graduate student/writer and blogger, I have found it to be incredibly difficult juggling all of these things at once.
Continue reading “In Due Time: Reflection During a Pandemic”
Fragments of moons past
sketch silhouettes of
a scenery divine.
A daytime reverie.
Fond memory.
A granddaughter missing you.
Do you recall, grandma?
Long ago, a grandbaby born
into an era of bitter lack,
that enriched by your presence,
comforting embrace,
renewed to an age of precious worth?
