What It's All About

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“Many people die with their music still in them. Too often it is because they are always getting ready to live. Before they know it time runs out.”
-Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Do you know the feeling you get when you hear from a dad at back to school night that your child had invited his child to join him at lunch when he was sitting alone? Or when your 10 month old smiles up at you as you rub her down with a lavender oil lotion after her bath? What about when your nine year old bashfully presents you with a hand drawn Mother's Day card, promising to help you make dinner? Or when your six year old pleads with you to help the sad man holding the cardboard sign? How about when your best friend calls you in crisis and then ends the call saying that what you told her was exactly what she needed to hear? How about what happened to me yesterday: the blessed, tear-springing experience of dropping my oldest girl off at her dorm for the first time and knowing (though I can take no credit), with absolute certainty that she will be a benefit to EVERYONE who comes within her radar? 
These moments let you and me know that the little violin obligato of our life is melding with the symphony that is humanity; that our presence just might be an improvement over our absence; that our brief turn on this earth, in fact means something. As a poster child for introverts, horrible at small talk, a perpetual failure at "thinking on my feet", but with a heart drawn out in a virtual hug big enough for the world, these are the kinds of moments I exist for.  And these are the moments I long to create for you.
I want the book I wrote to be the one you reach for when you snuggle up with your kiddo at bedtime, and together you feast your senses on each rustling page of the exquisite illustrations, and the rhythmic verses and imagery roll off your tongue, and the healing truths interwoven in the magical story begin to warm your heart and moisten your eyes, and you feel that thrumming inner witness that you are not only nurturing your child, but feeding her very soul, and by extension yours, and that all the striving and straining and bum-wiping has been worth it. That is my dearest dream.
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