The Promised Post

(Disclaimer: I may or may not have just served homemade milkshakes for dinner.  I am clearly NOT in my right mind.  Summer vibes and all...)

This morning I had the honor of meeting a friend for breakfast in PL.  We caught up, swapped stories, and laughed.  Of course, we laughed.  At the end of our meeting she gifted me with a beautiful tote bag that has my favorite Cheryl Strayed quote emblazoned on it.

Be brave enough to break your own heart.

I promised her that I would write a post and I jokingly said it would be full of lies, but after rereading Tiny Beautiful Things this afternoon, I feel compelled to write only truth.

This meet up was the second joyful food sharing experience I've had since summer began.  At the first, I was told of qualities I have as a mother that are to be admired, perhaps even envied.  I was told I am understanding, loving, forgiving...and while those words bounced off my ears at the time, they resonate deeply with me now.

I know I just gave my girls milkshakes for dinner, but what I serve their bellies can barely compare to what their dad and I try to serve their hearts: the knowledge that they matter, that they are seen, that they are loved no matter what.

When my lunch buddy asked me what I want for my girls, I told the truth: I want them to know their own power - in all ways.  Spiritual, mental and physical power.  I want them to be kind.  I don't care if they conform to societal standards but I do care if they are the kind of human beings who make other peoples' lives better because they have existed.

I kissed Aug Pie's forehead on Sunday and remembered all that had been said about my motherhood the day before.  It means a lot to me to be seen as a good mother mostly because I had a good mother who showered me daily with unconditional love and acceptance.  We didn't have much in the way of stuff, but she gave me the priceless gift of confidence.

When she died, I lost a lot, but I won't ever lose knowing what I meant to her, how much she loved me, how proud she was of the daughter she raised.

When I was told that my kids are lucky to have a mom like [me], something in me shifted.  I see what he meant.  Every towel I fold, every meal I prep, every soccer trip or dance class I attend is a conscious act of love.  I love being their mother.

And my love will liberate them.

Love and Light,
Beltran