She Brings Joy

Family: 

While I have a rather large family, these two are the ones I am most responsible for. The big one mopes whenever a camera is nearby, so getting a real photo of him is a rarity these days. The little one can't get enough of a camera nearby, so getting a candid shot of her is a rarity. 

I hate the whole selfie thing. When I do selfie, I have to filter and cover and all sorts of stuff, so this is what you get.

When I look at photos of myself, now, I see the difference in my eyes. I see wariness and age. In this photo I can also see that bit of me which has become hard to hearing other people.

My favorite empathy item isn't an image -- it's a little video which was passed around a few years ago on Facebook, but which remains relevant today.

Though not as eloquent, the person I most work on empathy for, is my husband. Because mostly dads get left out of this messy grief thing.

I'd like to believe I've done her honor with this:

For today's post, Intention is the concept. I chose this:

Almost two years after losing my sweet Beatrix, my mother died. For a long time I struggled with being a bridge between these two lost girls -- because like my Bea, my mother was most definitively a lost girl.

I struggled with all of the things I wanted to tell my mother, and with the things I would never learn from her. I struggled with the thought that my own daughter, born two months after my mother died, would never know her grandmother. 

This thought process led me to this little notebook. In my mother's death I found it necessary to accept the fact that someday I would die. And my daughter may find herself wanting my thoughts like I wanted my mother's. 

Over the past two years I have written little entries about life lessons which I believe are important. Thoughts about being a woman in a society which teaches you that the female body is broken. Thoughts about loving others too much and yourself, not enough. Thoughts about retaining faith in a cynical world. 

I've even written about what happens when a baby dies, although I hope that she'll never need to read those pages. 

My intention is to be a good parent while I'm here, and to leave a bit of myself here for my daughter should I go too quickly to share all of these things with her.

My loss amplified the fragility of my own life, and the fragility of the bonds that bind me to those I love.

I intend to leave them with enough of me that they won't ever doubt my love for them after I'm gone. For my daughter, my surviving daughter, this means leaving her with this messy notebook full of meandering thoughts and concepts which may be old-fashioned by the time she reads them..... But unlike my own mothers thoughts, they will be open to her in their inconsistency and their ardor for her.

My intention is that my daughter always know she is loved, even after my life here has ended.

It's difficult to separate her from the nip in the evening air. 

Waiting for winter was so easy before she came, but

(Originally posted 9/8/15. Updated 5/12/19)



So-- I got to thinking about what I was feeling from this post. My protest being love, I mean. It took over my entire week.

I started something I believe will be interesting. In hopes of connecting a like-minded collective of people who will decide to make love be their protest.... beginning next month, I’ll be sending out a newsletter with two to three opportunities to help families in need.

I'd like to begin making commitments to vulnerable families, either via financial donations to established pro-life charities which deal with helping those who choose to continue their pregnancies in less than optimal circumstances, or in tangible goods for the families who I know. I’d also like to begin supporting less visible ProLife organizations which may be helping a segment of the population we may not even be aware of.

If you're moved to do the same, please do so... and then email me images of your Love Protest at sarah@shebringsjoy.com.