power of the few

mother with son

credit – aperfectworld.org

This past week was one of those intensely bittersweet writing groups. Small, intimate and familiar, we have written with these women on and off for more than four years. Each has enormous odds to overcome in her life, inside and out. Each has suffered small triumphs and overwhelming setbacks. Heartache, loss, and self-loathing snake their way through each woman’s writing.

Yet within our few minutes of writing in this circle of a few women, a power was unleashed that needs to be shared to be understood. In contrast to our usual practice here, I am going to post a writing every other day this week so you, too, can be moved by the power of these few.


My mind was awakened to the early morning’s shuffle of women coming back from breakfast. My eyes popped open and met the dim light peeking through the crack from the door. I’m rested, wide awake. I reach past my alarm clock and make use of my pen and paper. I feel as though, while I was asleep, I was heavy in thought, pondering on my ins and outs of this place and what may become of my future. My second son is at the center of my universe, my third son is in tow.

Amazed at the rich blessings given to me, I’m preparing for the long draining conversations to be had with my boys about my life and how I’ve come to getting where I am today. I’m questioning everything, overlooking nothing. Possibilities are just on the other side of these doors. I’m awakened to the early cup of coffee, the priceless conversation I once thought I’d never have, the love of my son I knew nothing until now about and that’s what springs my feet to action.

Knowing these relationships have been given another opportunity to be restored, making a new start is just within my heart’s desire. There’s one more book, one more story, and the words have yet to hit the page or close to being spoken until now, today.

I’m betting on my whole life, my every fiber of my being, that it will turn out much different this time with my sons by my side. I’ve come to realize I am worth every mistake. I’m worth every ‘I love you.’ And more importantly, I’m worth the words coming out onto the pages I write. It’s very important he knows I love him. I’m here and want to be an active parent, ready to grow with him and change circumstance.


. . . and you?

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