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I have a quote posted to my bathroom mirror. It is by French sculptor Auguste Rodin and it reads : Patience is also a form of action.

I need to be reminded of these words every morning (and a few more times throughout the day.) I may look it but I’m not a patient person. When I get a place where I want to make a move or a shift or have something happen, I try to do it. But foster care has taught me that that’s not always an option. I can’t just hop on a plane with my family. I’m not making a move outta LA anytime soon. And certainties that I ache for are simply out of my control.

Of course this is frustrating. I am human and I have my moments of absolutely resisting this. But it’s also taught me to slow down and be with what is. To allow what is to be more than enough. And that’s patience right?.

So my passport isn’t getting much use but my heart is. And a walk around this lake can be the most satisfying in the universe if I’m willing to just be there. To be here.

These are lessons I’m learning over and over again. Sometimes in the sweetest, kindest way and sometimes in a straight up whirlwind of panic. But I’m listening. And I’m here.

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“We do not have to get it together before we show up.”

I read this Anne Lamott quote a few days and everything in me said YES. I remember having a conversation several months back about foster care. A friend of mine told me that we shouldn’t share, write or speak about what we are going through until we are complete with it. I totally understood what she was saying. That we should know why we are sharing something before we do. And I agree.

But I also wholeheartedly believe in sharing the mess. (I mean clearly... 😂) I spent a lot of my twenties absolutely convinced that other people had it figured out and I was behind. Come to find out there’s no equation that can solve all of life’s peaks and valleys. Just presence.

Here’s to baring our underbelly more often than not. To owning up to being human. To say “Yep, me too” rather than judge. Though our story lines might be different we ALL feel and experience the same things. I wanna feel it all.

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As I say goodbye to 2018 I wanted to reflect on what this transformational year has taught me. Here’s my reminders to self of what I’ve learned during 2018, the year the universe schooled me.

+ To limit words like always, never, should.

+ That five years ago you were totally unsure if you wanted to be a mom. And today it’s the greatest gift of your life. Perspectives change as you do.

+ Library cards will save you a ton of money and make you giddy every time you get new books.

+ Try to take things less personally. Let it roll off.

+ You don’t know what’s going to happen in five minutes or five years. When you stop resisting this you embrace uncertainty with curiosity and feel much more free.

+ Hoping does not “jinx” things. Do more of it.

+ “Life is happening for me not to me.” Also file away as: being a victim sucks for you and everybody else so don’t do it anymore.

+ Having a partner who has your back is the greatest gift ever. Even when you have some serious fights on occasion. Don’t make it wrong. Just let yourself be a human.

+ You and the universe are writing your story. No need to explain yourself constantly or label your experiences or yourself.

+ Slowing down is imperative for your wellbeing. Magnetize rather than hustle and struggle.

+ Your resentments have very little to do with other people and everything to do with you.

+ Your coach taught you that reality is always kinder than our thoughts about it. Also asking for help is a good thing. Like hiring someone or calling your best friend at midnight.

+ What is meant for you will find you. Period.

2018, thank you.

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There’s a word I’m going to leave behind in 2018 and that word is HUSTLE.

Instead I’m focusing on being deliberate in where I focus my attention, in what I’m creating and in how I’m caring for myself and my family. Sometimes I scroll through Instagram and feel behind. And truthfully I feel exhausted. More, more, more. There’s so much pressure to create more, to make more, to attract more but the question I’m asking myself now is: What is the cost?.

I don’t want to pay that price by not having the time to appreciate what’s right here now. To pay the price of not being myself. To pay the price by not signing off or out.

As Edith Eger writes: When you have something to prove you aren’t free.

Cheers to slowing down, looking around and saying “Thank you” way more often than “What’s next?” There’s nothing to prove. And there’s everything to appreciate. Quality over quantity. It feels true in every way.

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I used to require so much distraction. My insides were noisy so I craved the same around me. Weekends were filled with dive bars and Excederin. I thought I was connecting but my unwillingness to be quiet or still meant a lot of time was spent apologizing, playing “catch up” or hiding out needing introvert time when I really just needed someone to explain boundaries to me.

This is what connection looks like to me these days. Savoring a cup of coffee. Savoring a vulnerable conversation or belly laughter (or both) with a friend. Savoring these moments sitting on the sidewalk, covered in chalk, and watching a little boy discover the world anew every single morning.

I’m calling in more ease in 2019. Many moments like this where it looks like we are doing nothing but instead this is everything.

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One year ago today we got the phone call we had been waiting for. I was in Venice about to teach a private and the moment Extraordinary Families showed up on my phone my stomach did one hundred back flips.

When I answered the phone the social worker said:
There's a baby who needs you.

We had ten minutes to decide. We didn't know a name, we never saw a photo. We simply said yes.

It was a freefall into trust like we'd never known. You know that exercise where you'd fall backwards and someone would catch you? We were doing that but off the Grand Canyon and were unsure of who or what was at the bottom. For a moment I wondered, who will catch me but then I remembered: I'm here to catch him. I've been caught my whole life, comforted and supported. I'm here to catch him.

But even after all the classes we took, the books I've read, the foster and adoptive moms I've connected with, I was scared. Who would I be? Would I be good at this?.

We pulled up to the hospital. Left the car seat there. Walked in. Okay, wrong building. Left that one, walked into the other one. Got a name tag. And started down the hall.

My entire body was vibrating. Anticipation, excitement, fear. Honestly, in retrospect it was already vibrating with love. Stepped up to the nursery door. A nurse waved us in. And then there he was.

Right there in the middle of the room in a clear bassinet. I could see him from the side, loads of dark brown hair and big brown eyes. My eyes welled with tears and I walked over to place my hand on his very tiny back.

There you are.
You are perfect.
I love you.

My entire body flooded with something I'd never felt before. I recognized him instantly. I loved him even before I recognized him.

I found my purpose.
It is to love with every ounce of my being, no matter what. Without conditions. Without certainty. Without holding back.
And it is to answer life’s call and say "yes" in every damn way.

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Today you are one. It has been my greatest honor to mother you and watch you grow and trust and giggle. To become the beautiful, loving little human you are meant to be.

This year I said goodbye to you maybe one hundred times. I was told to pack your bags. I was told it was time to let go. And yet here we are. Still fumbling and loving side-by-side.

One year ago today we still didn’t “know” you. It would be almost another week until we held you in our arms and looked into your big, brown eyes and felt our hearts melt and transform. I’ve cried more joyful tears in this last year than my entire life.

Sometimes people imply that this journey and this pain will only be worth it if all goes “our way,” if we know it’s forever. To this I say that’s not true. Every single second with you has been worth a thousand times these challenges and this pain. You’ve changed me forever. You’ve brought my entire heart and being alive. You’ve changed the way I see the world.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Happy birthday to the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. You hang the moon.