sundays (6 days of giving).

 

The last time I posted, I wrote a letter to my parents. It felt like the best thing to do in the wake of a scary, confusing, and disappointing election. Every time I go on the Internet, I discover another depressing (and terrifying) article. It can feel overwhelming and helpless and sometimes I don't even know where to begin to try and make a positive difference. And in a space like this one, I don't know what to write.

So here I am on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving with little more to say than this: just hug the people you love and promise that you won't become complacent even if that feels like the relieving option. And to really drive that point home, I've decided that for the week of Thanksgiving I will give to causes that are already hurting very deeply and need support.

Here's my timeline. Let me know what you plan to do to shed some light.

Tuesday — EarthJustice || The nation's original and largest nonprofit environmental law organization.
Wednesday —Camp of the Sacred Stones || Needed supplies (or donations!) for those protecting sacred lands and water supplies in North Dakota.
Thursday — ACLU || For almost 100 years, the ACLU has worked to defend and preserve the individual rights and liberties guaranteed by the Constitution and laws of the United States.
Friday — Anti-Defamation League || Founded in 1913 to “stop the defamation of the Jewish people and to secure justice and fair treatment to all.” Today, it fights against anti-semitism and bigotry as one of the largest civil rights organizations in the country.
Saturday —Border Angels || Border Angels is an all volunteer, non profit organization that advocates for human rights, humane immigration reform, and social justice with a special focus on issues related to the US-Mexican border.
Monday — Boys & Girls Clubs of America || Every day in America, over 15 million kids (1 out of 4) are left unsupervised after school. In the summer, 43 million kids (3 out of 4) don't have access to critical summer learning programs. Boys & Girls Clubs of America believes that every kid deserves a Great Future.

Find some small way to pay it forward, friends! Find a cause that makes your heart sing and find some way to support it. Every gesture counts. Love to you all. xo

for the ones who raised me.

 

Dear Mom & Dad,

I remember how we sat at the dinner table together every single night. I remember playing in the front yard. Filling a big Rubbermaid container with water for our toys' community pool. Playing baseball. Playing basketball. The time we put all our Furry Families on the van and Dad accidentally drove off, they all fell off, and we scoured his entire driving path until we found nearly every last one.

I remember conversations about being kind. Sticking by your friends. Sitting next to someone who might be alone at school. I remember the times we talked about respecting everyone. I remember dancing to this song on birthday mornings.  Eskimo kisses. Ice cream sundaes with peanuts. Singing prayers together at the dinner table. I remember Sanibel Island and the Smoky Mountains. I remember Maine and New York City. I remember camping in the middle of Point Reyes and hearing coyotes cackling to one another. I remember learning about acceptance and empathy.

And what I mostly remember is you leading by example. Living out the example you hoped we would someday carry on. Laughing in darkness. Standing brave during hard times. Tucking us in at night. Telling us you love us after every single phone call. I remember the love radiating from our home. Palpable.

Thank you.

Thank you for giving me the courage to find beauty in the many rich differences of the human experience. You are the hope and the fire and the light that I carry in my heart every single day. You are why I believe that people are mostly good and could always use a little bit more love. My gratitude to you is endless. It goes on forever and ever.

Love,
Rox

an election post (the final plea).

I have been asked why I support Hillary Clinton about a million times during this election season, especially because I was also a Hillary supporter in the primaries.

How on earth could I support a candidate who housed a private email server and has engaged in "shady acts" throughout her entire political career?!

I have been catcalled more times than I care to remember. I have been terrified to walk my dog just after sunset. I have been followed home. Numerous (unspeakable) words have been shouted at me and I have called my dad as I ran home in fear. I have been told that I'm too flat chested. That I "could be pretty if my boobs were bigger and I had a few more curves." I have been told that I was wearing too much makeup. Or not enough. I have been told to sit down. Back up. Know my limits. Know my place. Speak softly. Be less vocal. I have been told to be flattered by exploitative comments. I have been told to soften my edges. To take up less space in this world.

And I am a privileged white woman who grew up in an environment with nearly every resource at my fingertips and I was instilled with the belief that my dreams didn't have a ceiling. I have lived a blessed existence. For many women it has been so much worse.

There is a man running for president who literally personifies all the most terrifying experiences I (and countless other women) have endured simply because I AM A WOMAN. He is unqualified and, quite frankly, out of control.

There is also a woman named Hillary Clinton who is running for president. She is strong and fierce and brave and level headed. She is also messy and imperfect. She is human. She has done and said regrettable things and she has sincerely apologized for them. She has made a promise to try harder and better. She has consistently fought for children and families. She has made mistakes and learned from them. She has championed progress for everyone, from all walks of life. And she has done so under a microscope of public opinion and scrutiny (much of that scrutiny tied directly to her womanhood). She has shown grace and class in circumstances where many might unravel or fail. That sounds like a president to me. That's why #ImWithHer.

(Photo via The U.S. National Archives)

when the colors change.

 

The other morning I was driving to work. It was overcast, as it usually is this time of year in Portland. I drive through the heart of the city on my commute and am met with many, many shades of gray. This song was playing. I had just enough time to swing by a drive-thru and get a cup of coffee. The best part of my commute is that I can see the southwest hills in a sweeping landscape as I cross over the Ross Island Bridge. Jeffrey is constantly telling me to look at the hills, to take it all in.

It was the sort of morning where I was just feeling thankful for so many things. It was a welcome feeling after what has been many, many mornings of feeling pretty lost, confused, and uncertain about many, many things. But on this particular morning, I could recognize the beauty and fullness of my life so clearly and so perfectly that I almost could've cried.

As I crossed over the bridge and wondered — audibly — at my great fortune, I noticed (reallllllly noticed) the southwest hills. It would have been impossible to miss them. The trees were bursting with autumnal colors. The gray Portland sky was the perfect backdrop for really capturing and amplifying the bright, vivid colors of the leaves. And I couldn't believe it.

I thought of all the times Jeffrey has told me to look at the hills, to take them in, to immerse myself in the beauty of the city where we live and I have been stubborn. I haven't done it. I've pretended not to care or not to be in awe of it or to find more beauty and joy elsewhere. And it's because I've stiff armed Portland for so long. Moving here brought all my insecurities right to the surface and I was forced to acknowledge them and challenge my best self to do the work of walking through the dark parts to get to where the light is.

There are still so many moments when I feel lost or question my purpose or wonder what I'm doing in this rainy city or feel thoroughly confused and uncertain and foggy, but those moments make way for the moments when I see everything clearly and can glimpse the light and recognize the sheer beauty that is the life I'm building. And a life needs the dark and the light. The confusion and the clarity. That's what makes it whole and rich and vibrant and beautiful.

sundays.

In an effort to document more of my daily life, here's a new series all about Sundays. I'll never forget a conversation I had with a colleague of mine where we basically trashed Sundays (sorry, Sunday). If you are someone who has a Monday through Friday work week, you can probably relate to the Sunday blues, which for me would typically begin at around 4 PM. The thought of an impending work week and what that encompasses, was often enough to send me into an anxious tailspin.

It wasn't until recently that I really came around to appreciating Sundays. We typically like to try and do something a little more ambitious on Saturdays, so Sundays became the low key, relaxed, cozier day of the week. And at exactly the same time on a recent Sunday afternoon, Jeffrey and I both remarked on what a perfect day we were having.

So thanks, Sunday (and sorry for taking awhile to warm up to you). xo

what i know at 27.

Don't make your career the thing about you. Make joy the thing about you. Or a sense of humor. Or optimism. But not your career.

Try to remember that everyone is going through something that feels hard and a little bit hopeless. Show compassion for others and also for yourself.

Give yourself permission to let things go. Forgive yourself. Move on. (This is hard. Start really small.)

You will begin to notice lines (re: wrinkles) forming between your eyebrows and you'll spend too much time examining those lines in the mirror. Stop. Be more interesting than that.

Make the bed most days, but don't make it every now and then, too.

Find joy in small things. File those small things away and save them for a moment when you really need them* (*middle of winter, very cold and wet, dark at 4:30 PM).

Choose kindness. There are a number of ways to respond to situations and people. The kind way is the best way. Every time.

An expert will come to your house to help your dog with his separation anxiety and tell you that dogs don't have a sense of self or think human thoughts or feel certain emotions. Recognize that while this is "true," it's actually not true. Talk to your dog anyway and know that out of all the dogs in the universe, he is the one single dog that actually understands.

When you feel a little bit sad about the state of the world, remember that flowers bloom through cracks in the sidewalk without any help from anyone.

At one point in your life, 27 seemed like an age where you might have lots of things figured out. Realize that "having things figured out" is an illusion that was mostly created to make you feel bad. You are a human being with lots to give. That is enough.

dear love of my life,

We've been you and me for a long time. We've moved in the muggy Florida heat together. We've trekked across the country together. We've perched in the middle of Mt. Hood and watched the sun stretch over the peak together. We've walked down Charleston streets in the muggy midnight together. We've hiked through Cataloochee in 19º mornings together. We've found treasures in middle-of-nowhere antique stores together. We've rescued a dog together. We've planned a wedding together. We've rearranged furniture together. We've made meals together. We've been happy together and sad together and we've changed together. 

I've spent a large part of my life with you by my side. How lucky that is. We all find love in different ways, and it can look different for so many different people. And that's lucky, too. It's lucky that we can all arrive at love in different ways. You and me, we have had the immense fortune of literally growing up together. And we'll continue to grow up together for the rest of our lives.

You have been my very best friend through so many different parts of my life — parts where I felt strong and capable and parts where I felt really small and like I needed some help pulling myself up from whatever struggle I was wallowing in. Parts where I felt sure of myself and ready for the next challenge and parts where I felt confused and terrified. And through all of that, we've counted on one another: to be the voice of reason, to be the one who was strong and willing, to be the one who found the words when the other could not, to be the one who could find clarity in a murky situation, to be the one who reassured, to be the one who comforted, and loved, and cared.

This is what it means to love someone. It means finding the beautiful parts and lifting them up and reveling in them and being so very thankful that those parts exist. It also means staring the ugly parts in the face and claiming them and loving those and being so very thankful that those parts also exist. It means recognizing that both beautiful and ugly are necessary to make a human being whole. And I am so grateful to love the whole you because I wouldn't be the whole me without the whole you.

I love you more today than I ever thought I could. More than the teenage girl who found the daisies on her doorstep. More than the 22-year-old who found post-it notes littered around the apartment after you left for a two-month residency in Montana. More than the 23-year-old who stood and said the vows that so many other beautiful people have said long before we said them. And I will love you more tomorrow and the day after that and forever and ever after that because that's what it means to find the love of your life. Thanks for being mine.

XOXO,
Rox