CHANGES!

I once had a bishop--the ecclesiastical leader of my church congregation--tell me that change is good.

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We were preparing to move to the city I now live in, and the thought of leaving my beloved neighbors and friends, the community I had lived in for so many years, was devastating to my heart. I was riddled with anxiety and sadness.

The F Word! (FAILURE!)

A couple of weeks ago I had a religious experience at Sephora. (Truth.)

No, I did not see a heavenly angel next to the Smashbox "Full Exposure" mascara, even though I probably should have. (Because DANG, that stuff is awesome!) And no, I did not discover a holy entrance into heaven--a gate, if you will--by the Urban Decay eyeshadows. (Though I swear there has to be one in that section of the store. I will check on my next visit.)

Problems!

I suppose it's safe to say that there are several unwritten "truths" regarding a looooooooong trip in a car. "Road Trip Truths," if you will!

For example:

Packing the trunk efficiently (for optimal use of space) is a lot like a game of Tetris. Truth.

Ice-cream and chocolate are almost always bad selections when choosing a road trip snack. Truth.

Don't Take Anything Personally

My oldest just finished fifth grade--a fact that sort of breaks this mama's heart.

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I ask, "Where did the time go?," and, "How did we get here so quickly?," fairly often. It's amazing to me that she'll be twelve soon, considering she was only three when I started writing this blog. It was an exercise in creativity inspired by her; my little girl who liked to yell, "Mama Leisha!," from her shopping cart perch.

Respectfully Aggressive

Earlier in the week I had the opportunity to speak to three hundred young girls, between the ages of twelve and seventeen, about the importance of being a light in the world.

After my remarks I was approached by a lovely older woman. She proceeded to tell me that she had worked for the FBI and had traveled around the world for her job. She had worked closely with the military over the years, and had been given opportunities to visit places like Afghanistan and Iraq. She. Was. Fascinating. AND...to top it all off, she had blue hair!

The One In Which I Write a Letter

To my dearest Cam,

Oftentimes I find myself wishing I could know what is going on inside that beautiful, intelligent, complicated, mischievous mind of yours.

How I long for you to tell me about your day; your hopes and dreams, what brings you joy and what makes you happy, what causes your heart to ache. So many questions. And so many answers that I don't have.

Spilled Milk, Martin!

"Hello! Hello!," I screamed into the phone, like a shrill madwoman on the verge of homicide.

"Um...yes, hello," a disembodied male voice said into my ear. He cleared his throat and continued: "As I said, this is Martin. How can I help you?"

"Oh," I said, "you have such a smooth and professional voice, Martin. I thought you were a recording."

Time To Be Still

My Mama Jenneice is very wise.

Her insight runs deep as the Mississippi (Is the Mississippi deep? I should have a fact checker!) and her vast life experiences have shown her many truths. I appreciate the perspective she has gained from being...well...old! (Ha!) She seems to know the right things to say at the right moments to say them. She is like that wise "Mr. Owl," except she knows about a whole heck of a lot more than Tootsie Pops!

Pennies From Heaven!

It happened one July when, instead of frigid temperatures, the air was summertime-hot, and instead of a blanket of snow draping the mountains, they were brown and dry and parched from the sun.

A dear friend of mine had sent me a picture on Facebook. The scene was a department store, with the focus of the picture being a handbag display. Shoulder bags adorned dark mannequins, colorful purses were placed on small crates. And there, in the very center of the display, was a beautiful, gold leather, Kate Spade purse. Shaped like a piñata.

Stop It!

My curly-haired Irish saint (who is also known as Bridget, ha!) has recently favored a new phrase; some snappy vernacular to add to her already "saucy" vocabulary.

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That little turkey will not stop saying, "Stop it!"