The young woman of her 20’s, the teenage girl, the little girl, the toddler, the infant… A snapshot backwards. These persons she grew from before she became a Mom are her load-bearing parts. The bits and pieces below her ground level. These parts are her story and when she tells her story she smiles, she cries, she dances around the broken parts, and she catches a giggle that escapes her as tries to hold on along her journey. She desires to pass onwards to her children the intuition of the importance of something. Maybe the “something’s” that have come to make up the woman she is today. Her emboldened torchlight.
My own three daughters do not really know the young girls and younger woman and Mom (Charity) that are a part of me still. They do not really know the load bearing parts of me. The parts born and raised in northern Idaho, way up by the Canadian border. The baby that lived in an old ice house converted into a basic family home. The parts of me grown by a big and loving red-neck family full of talents, spit, vinegar, and resourcefulness both good and bad. They do not really know the bits and pieces below my ground level as I grew up riding horses bare back, cruising motorcycles through hay fields, hunting, skiing, writing poetry, stealing my first kiss, sewing my first Madonna glove for a school dance, and having my first “mean girl” fight. They never met the young woman that I was as a college drop-out, veterinarian technician, and professional pizza maker. Nor did my girls really know the single young Mom (Charity) who raised them while paying a mortgage, running a business, and attending college online through dial-up internet days long gone.
My three daughters came to know this Mom (Charity) as the person who loved them so deeply that she would wipe their noses, their rears, their tears, and their fears. They came to know this Mom (Charity) as the one that rallied them to their homework, their chores, their prayers, and their apologies. These three young girls raised in the suburbs of the Arizona desert grew only to know the part of this Mom (Charity) who had traded her speedy downhill skis for the high-speed internet, this Mom (Charity) who would help two husbands grow their careers, and take fifteen years to complete her own degree. Three grown girls that love their Mom (Charity), would in turn wipe their Mom’s (Charity’s) tears, speak truth into their Mom (Charity), and cheer on their Mom (Charity) as she recaptures herself and her dreams.
But there’s more to the Mom story than just mine. There’s yours, there’s hers, and hers over there and there…
Faith, hope, love, and encouragement are in each or our Mom stories. Here on my website you will find videos of some amazing Moms that I have met along my road. They are recapturing the woman inside of themselves and overcoming some really tough stuff. You will also find photos of Moms who are learning some new jobs and starting foundations and businesses as a part of their current Mom story. I will also feature guest “vloggers” like my own Mom joining me on some of my couch surfing adventures. I record our travels as we figure out new challenges together. Also, watch me learn new “side jobs”, or just couch surf to the homes of my big and loving red neck family members, deal with surprise health issues and surgeries on the road, and discover new coffee shops. Most of all, may you be encouraged to recapture yourself, your dreams, and your own Mom (insert your name here) story with grace and love for yourself as you’re encouraged by other moms everywhere out there. And then, maybe some day, sharing your Mom torchlight with the legacy you love.