Blog Posts, poetry, Previous Posts

I Am Her

I am her
I am her
I am her

I am the middle-aged woman who knows a thing or two, but is still a student; learning and growing
I am at an age where self-definition means: being willing to redefine myself over, and over, again

I’m repurposing purpose, and reshaping my shape; while figuring out what meaning really means
I’m an elder, a mentor, a mother, and a M.O.M. (mother of many)
I ask questions of myself, of God, and any woman willing to be led by God

I look at things from different angles, perspectives
Now that I recognize I’m in a time of transition
I’m recovering, reaping, rehashing, revisiting, ridding, and becoming more okay with the riddles I encounter just about every day

I’m the wise elder woman that Titus mentions
I’m the daughter at The Well seeking redemption and answers
I’m the mother at the foot of the cross weeping tears of sorrow and knowing

I’ve experienced stuff
Grief stuff, relationship stuff, hurting and healing stuff; disappointment and deadly stuff,
And I learned to love myself even while sitting the middle of my own stuff

See, I am her
The her that studied and failed
The her that fought and lost
The her that tried and tripped
I’m the her that peeked and saw way too much

See, I am her
I’ve loved and lost, but laughed anyway
I screamed until my voice left, and sang the very next day
I danced and daydreamed, woke up because I was too afraid to sleep

And like her,
I put in the work for free
I invested time I didn’t own
I even gave money I didn’t have
And because I am her, I can speak to the her that is you

To the 20-year-old her: You don’t know everything
But you know more than you let on

To the 30-year-old her:  Your children, are not your children
Help them establish roots in truth; and remember, one day they will grow wings

To the infertile her: You give birth every day you open your mouth, your heart, and your mind
Your womb is only a part of who you really are.  Be more.  Enjoy more.  Live more!

To the 40-year-old her:  Just when you think life makes sense…
It won’t.  There is a coming and a going; and it’s all called life

To the 50-year-old her: Let your hair down or cut it all off
It’s just hair!

To the 60-year-old her:  Wear your purples, your bright reds and greens!
Dance in public, and drink water directly from the faucet if you want to

To the 70, 80, and 90-year-old her:  Surround yourself with those you love, knowing they too have their own lives
Say, “I love you,” more; “See you later,” And don’t be afraid to say good-bye

I am her
I am her
I am her


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