Every decision I make, every word I speak, is done so with the knowledge that I don’t want to live with regret.  I don’t want to wake up one day, when I’m eighty years old, and say,  “if only I had done this..”  or “I might have had _________ if only I’d said that.”    While I still struggle against the urge to hide,  these days I at least make a conscious effort to avoid doing so.  If I need to say something,  I try very hard to make it a point to say it.  Sometimes I don’t succeed.  Sometimes the habit of hiding behind a cheerful reply is a little too hard to break.  Life is like a kaleidoscope:  it’s full of pieces that, by themselves, just look broken and ragged.  When they are viewed together, as a whole, though, they create a collage that is beautiful and unique….  they create me.

 

My oldest daughter, Breathe, is learning about autobiographies in school.  Today, we spent time filling out a questionnaire to help her start thinking about what she would like to include in her autobiography.  One of the questions asked:  “What have you learned” and my 9 year old daughter wrote in answer:  “That I am loved.”  My heart melted.   As I read that reply, I didn’t care if she never learned anything else ever again so long as she never forgets the lesson she says she’s already learned.  And it dawned on me that the best way to learn such a priceless lesson is by being as forthcoming and true as I can about my successes, and my pain.

 

Recently, I was interviewed by fellow author, Michael Tucker.   He asked very personal questions that really delved into both my history and motivations behind the book, The Character.  I held nothing back;  I was thorough in my responses and candid because it is when we surrender the broken pieces of ourselves that we are most likely to find healing, comfort and even joy.  I invite you to read the interview here, to share it with any who may resonate with something within it and to share your thoughts with me and/or  Mr.  Tucker.