My Fears Revisited

Have you ever experienced a traumatic event in your lifetime that it continues to haunt you many years later?  Tragic events, milestones, and happier moments in your life all eventually manifest into the person you are today.  It is how we overcome these adversities, relinquish in the positives, and move past the problems of yesterday, that define a more wholesome you.  It takes courage, healing, a positive team, and constant reinforcement.  It is not something that can be tackled within a few hours, weeks, or years.  It takes time and constant work.  It may even take a lifetime.  For some, it is something they'll never forget.  These individuals will move through life, bobbing and weaving through that memory.  And for others, they are merely just existing in the fear as life passes them by.  We've all experienced fearful moments, some worse than others.  Yet, one thing remains the same for all of us, the effect it leaves behind.



The year was 1996 and it was a typical muggy day in Miami when ValuJet 592 crashed into the Everglades.  This fatal crash was a result of a fire that broke out on-board and when a request came in for an emergency landing, it vanished from the radar screens.  The airplane, along with 110 people on-board, nose-dived at above average speeds and what remained was bits of metal and human flesh floating in the swampy waters of the Everglades.   While this particular airplane crash is yesterday's tragedy and a story to tell, I have not forgotten the images on the TV, nor will the boy in my class, who's father died so tragically that day. This event has certainly left me with an indirect fear of flying that will forever be tattooed into my brain.  I am not one who thrives off the butterflies in my stomach while on a roller coaster ride, nor the thrill down a steep water-slide.  It literally scares me.   Yet, I will not let fear keep me from exploring my world.  It does however, take time and preparation when I travel.  I have to mentally prepare myself for the trip.  I have to fly certain airlines and at certain times of the day just to put my mind at ease.  Hey, whatever works to get me on an aircraft!  Nevertheless, with time, a little piece of a Xanax, and more traveling, my fears will subside and like the crash of flight 592, this fear will be a distant memory.

On August 24, 1992, the costliest storm in American history swept across Miami.  And like a thief in the night, Hurricane Andrew, robbed a lot of families of a life they once knew.  Miami consisted of a fun and sun, a thriving night life, and a boasting economy.  However, it was no match for Andrew.  Check mate, bitch!  My mom was preparing for battle.  She mustered up all the flashlights, batteries, and candles.  Bottled up all the water and filled up all the bathtubs.  Everything first aid, bleach, alcohol, and MRE's.  We were prepared for any scenario Andrew was ready to throw at us.  Andrew was reportedly expected to blow through Miami Beach and the surrounding neighborhoods but like all hurricanes, it's track was unpredictable, and shifted south.  A category 5 hurricane swept through southern parts of Miami-Dade with no remorse.  My family and I huddled up in our hallway as the winds shattered every window in our house.  The roof being ripped up, room by room.  My parents left us alone in the hallway for a good portion of the storm trying to keep the door closed so nothing could harm us.  The noises still haunt me to this day.  I remember the wind whipping my hair around and like a horror film, the flashes of light bursting through what used to be windows and doors.  Nothing was left but the concrete walls and I do mean, nothing.  The house my grandfather helped to build was merely walls and nothing else.  The water was up to our ankles and what once was a blue pool, consisted of a swing set, patio furniture, trees, and debris.  This was our worst nightmare and I was just waiting for someone to wake me up.  All we had known was gone within a few hours.  I'll never forget the smell of our house, the fear, or the howling of the wind.  To this day, I have trouble going out if an anticipated storm is expected to hit.  I constantly check the weather for updates and advisories.  And still jump a little during a terrible thunderstorm.  Once your house shakes and roars, no thunderstorm can ever be the same.

My first furry, four-legged love, Puppy, was MY first dog.  He was my first realization into the importance of having a pet and the everlasting bond between man and a dog.  He was my BFF.  I cuddled him like an infant and took him everywhere I could.  And like a baby with its blanket, he was my comfort.  One early morning, while walking to my car with Puppy, I felt a tug in the leash.  When I turned around, he was ripped from his leash by a wolf, dragged away from me, locked in the jaws of this beast by his neck.  This wild animal took my dog, continually throwing him up in the air and catching him like a rag doll, violently shaking him.  His screams that day are all to familiar and a sound I will NEVER forget.  I ran half a block down the road, chasing after this animal and Puppy while screaming, begging for someone to help me.  Help us.  It was my instinct.  In retrospect, it may not have been a wise choice, but I wasn't going to let my dog die in the mouth of this killer.  Not on my watch!  During a split instant when Puppy was thrown in the air, I grabbed him.  He attacked me not knowing it was me.  I said, "Puppy, it's me," and repeated this over and over.  I held him tightly, never giving this animal another chance to get to him.  There I was, being circled by this wolf with nothing between me and him but the grace of God.  Finally, I hear a young voice saying, "Dad, help me! Help me!" It was the son of the owners dog.  The father, a sick and sad individual to drunk for his own good, stood there, just watching, excited by what he just sat back and spectated.  This individual who was as deranged as his dog would allow this dog to attack other animals in the area.  He got a rise out of the torture.  Finally, the dog was taken away and I was left with a dog full of puncture wounds and he was literally bleeding out.  We were both covered in blood.  The police were called and to no surprise, the owner and his dog fled the scene.  My best friend, my little Puppy, survived this attack.  Shockingly, and as luck would have it, he was attacked two more times by my brother's dog.  Again, surviving each attack.  Following these horrific attacks, Puppy was never the same and neither was I.   My dog lived a long, healthy life.  He lived a wonderful life, but sadly, my little Puppy passed away a short time ago.  I was devastated!  I was angry.  Hurt.  Sad.  Depressed. I lived in guilt.  I would lay my head in his UM bed just to smell his memory.  In time, my heart has healed but I have never forgotten.  I can still hear his screams in my head and smell the blood on my shirt.  To this day, I have reoccurring nightmares of the attacks.  I have developed a fear of large animals and prefer not to go near them.  I try to be strong and courageous around other friend's dogs but that fear is always knocking on the walls of my cranium letting me know it's there.

PTSD is real.  Fear is real.  It is how you come to terms with it, is what separates you from the fear itself.  I will never forget some of the events I have been through in my lifetime.   I've learned to coexist with my fears.  They do not dictate my life. They live in me like the day they occurred.  My fears will always echo in my memory, however it is now but a whisper in the wind.  I was not put on this earth to live in a prison that is fear, but to thrive from it's challenges.  This is my mission.

Should you be interested in learning more about PTSD and what you can do to shut it up, click here.

All images were borrowed from Pinterest.

Daddy Drama Revealed

The following story was not written with the intentions to insult or put blame on any one person or persons.  This was intended to bring awareness and light to the millions of children who have been abandoned by their father and are experiencing what I like to call, "Daddy Drama."  This is astonishing, according to the U.S. Census 2010, the number of children living in single-parent households has nearly doubled since the 1960's.  I am saddened by the statistics and the future of our children who are growing up in single-parent households.  It's never to late to reconnect with your children, friends.

I was fortunate enough to grow up with two parents in a beautifully blessed life.  I went to a fabulous school, grew up in a wonderful and safe neighborhood, and most importantly, I had two parents who gave my brothers and I the best life they knew how to give us.  On August 24, 1992, Hurricane Andrew ripped through Miami. As fast as Andrew came and went, so did my parent's marriage.  My parents had a marriage longer than most, approximately fifteen years.  I blinked and just like that, the Graver's were another statistic and the talk amongst Miami gossip for all who knew them.  I was about fifteen years young when my parents divorced.  My brothers were at a more tender and vulnerable age, between ten and thirteen years young.  The divorce had a larger impact on the boys than myself.  I'll never forget the day, we were sitting in my room when my mom told me, "We are getting a divorce."  I was numb and to be honest, I was probably thinking about when I could go back outside and play with my friends in the neighborhood.

Life was tough, it took years for my family to recover from Hurricane Andrew.  They spent years repairing what took a total of a few hours to destroy.  The foundation was broken and so was our family.  If the structure isn't standing, everything inside crumbles, and we were no strangers to that.  My parents split and my father left the state when his children needed him most.  My mom was left to raise three teenagers in an environment  she tried to keep "normal".  However, there was nothing normal about it.  Everything we were used to was no longer readily available.  Private school was no longer an option.  Food and electricity was tough to come by.  Shopping and fun with friends, see ya!  We were left to survive and we did just that, survive.  I will never truly know how my mom did it all, as she made it her mission to keep us in the life we always knew.  My grandparents played a pivotal role in the lives of my brother and I.  They helped keep the lights on, our tummies filled, and clothes on our backs.  

Throughout the years, in friends, other family members, volunteerism, reviewing research, and my own personal life,  I've learned that the absence of a male presence can change the course of a young life.  Without the male presence, a life is being robbed of it's fullest potential indefinitely and the lives to come after them.  Shockingly, nearly 15 million children are being raised without a father.  If that's not a crisis, I don't know what is.  The effects of a child growing up without their father are endless.  A growing number of studies is now showing that children growing up without a male-figure has proven to have a negative impact on social emotional development of children that continues to haunt them into adulthood.  In addition, the child is more likely to engage in delinquent behaviors.  Older children may become sexual at an early age or self-medicate their angst and anxiety with alcohol and drugs.  Children may develop deep-rooted insecurities that affect their trust through friendships, dating, and other relationships.  They may find themselves depressed because the abandonment has lead them to feel inadequate for not keeping their father around.  It's a vicious cycle that can be continued into adulthood and follow into their children's children.  This of course does not mean that every child will live a damaged life.  Some children are naturally more resilient than others, according to Psych Central.  They may have more support or readjust to the world around them as they mature.  I am lucky enough to be amongst those few. Additionally, a father and a mother is a child's first love.  They are the fortress that is supposed to protect an innocent child's heart.  With all the love, support, help, or counseling,  there is no way to fully replace the void of their missing parent and they will forever remain with a hole in their heart.

Moreover, I'm thirty-two years old, I'm married to a wonderful man who loves me unconditionally and loves our daughter whole-heartedly.  I am fortunate that I am not lacking love in anyway.  I am blessed to not harbor feelings of abandonment or resentment because where my father lacked, my grandfather swooped in to pick up the pieces for my brothers and I.  I am not a little girl in search for her daddy.  I am stronger than that and always have been.  I have fully accepted the relationship I have with my dad and can only hope he makes up for his absence in being there for Olivia.  My desire in writing this is to bring attention to all the children out there experiencing a life with anguish and abandonment.  To be their voice when no one is listening, to be their light when there is no light at all, and to bring awareness to the epidemic sweeping across our country.  We are at an all-time high in America with drug abuse, teen pregnancies, alcohol abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, obesity, depression, etc, etc... It all starts with us, the parents.  We are paving the future for our children.  I've always stressed, if they fail, we all fail.  While I may be another statistic and know many people who suffer with a little case of Daddy Drama, I will not let the same fate fall onto Olivia.  That cycle rests in peace with me. Period.

Life is all about choices.  Not even God can change the cards that has been dealt to me, my brothers, or any other child out there.  And for any child out there reading this who has ever experienced feelings of abandonment, filling your heart with anger changes who you are.  It changes the type of friend you are, the type of brother or sister you will be, and most importantly, it limits you to be the best parent that you can be and in turn, inhibits your child to be the best they can be.  It changes every path you take in life.  You have one life.  You can live in anger or make a better life for you and/or your family.  Don't let past mistakes of another dictate the best future you deserve to have.  Let this be the first step you take towards a better life.  The cycle stops here.




Sources include:

Lifesitenews, click here.
Psych Central
US Census

All Pictures were borrowed from Pinterest.

WE are the children. WE are ONE.

Brandon likes to keep Olivia awake in the evening for selfish reasons like playing and spending time with his daughter.  While, I, the crazy drill Sergeant who thrives off a schedule, insist she be bathed, fed, and knocked out  by 8:30 P.M.  I too, have selfish reasons for it.  Yet, with a twinkle in daddy's eye, a big belly laugh from Olivia,  and a smile from mommy, well, who am I to spoil those moments?  After all, these are the moments we cherish most.  

Last night, before preparing for bed, Brandon, Olivia, myself, and the pups were all laying around. We were catching up on our day, sharing stories, laughing, talking shit, typical Smith family stuff.  During a couple moments of silence, Brandon, while looking at Olivia, says to me, "I was crying last night."  I was shocked.  This boy never cries!  I proceeded to ask him, "Why? How come you didn't wake me," I said with a nervous giggle.  "Is everything okay?"  Olivia is teething and it's been fairly difficult on her.  She hasn't been feeling her best and will periodically wake up in the middle of the night.  Last night Brandon brought her in our bed after repeated attempts to calm her down.  As a result, he couldn't go back to sleep so he hopped on the Internet to watch TV as he always does.  He stumbled upon this video that was recorded shortly after the devastating earth quake in Haiti.  

Before you read any further, make sure to watch this video in its entirety so you can understand my story.  It's not just a great song. Pay attention to the children.  Enjoy :)

With watery eyes, Brandon continues to tell me how lucky our daughter is.  How blessed she is.  With so much devastation all over the world we are so fortunate to have a happy, healthy, vibrant little girl with the means to put a solid roof over her head, food in her belly, and nice clothes on her back.  As we watched the video above, together, Brandon pointed out all the happy children.  He explained, these children have nothing and probably always had nothing and they are still so happy.  He proved a very valid point.  He also said, "My daughter has made me such a softy!"  To which I replied, "Love, you were always mushy, she just brings it out of you."  While it's true, Olivia has brought out an even more sensitive side in all of us, she has also made us more aware and sympathetic to other children and not just our own.  

We don't dictate the lives we are born into.  The children in this video were playing games with whatever was lying around, no shoes, some had no teeth, and bared a happier soul than people like us.    We take for granted the life we lead in a country such as ours.  While I have complained that I want a newer car, someone is just hoping that their 3-legged donkey gets them to work on-time.  Shame on me! WE, all of US, are so lucky.  We don't realize how blessed we are as a nation.  While we are fortunate enough to look up at the stars, others have bombs to light up their sky.   We have clean, bottled and/or tap water to drink and shower from, while others drink from a local river, well, or bucket.   I'm sure they don't have a Bath and Body Works on every corner splashing us with floral scented anti-bacterial this and that's.  We have a great nation that boasts education and technology, hybrid cars, air conditioning and heat, flat screen TV's, etc, etc.  Yet, we have the audacity to complain we have nothing or not enough... Shame on all of us.  Perhaps, we have too much and have become spoiled.   Perhaps, it is time we take a look inside each of us and truly see it is not the stuff that keeps us living, it is the love, the passion ignited within us.  Think about it... 

Moreover, my husband and I continued our conversation about life and he said, "I just want to adopt one of these children.  I want to rescue them and give them a better life."  This among many reasons, is why I married this man.  He knows I've always expressed an interest in adopting a child and for the first time, I think he felt the same way.  While the future is unknown for the growing Smith family, I do know our hearts beat loudly and have the willingness to bring some outside love, in.  

Lastly, remember to let love in, friends.  Love is the reason for our existence.  It keeps us passionate, hungry, and foolish.  Take time to appreciate the small things.  We all want nicer and newer things, however we mustn't forget all the beautiful things we already have in our lives, such as, each other.  Give up buying things you don't need.  Learn to manage your money wisely so your money doesn't control you.  Live simply.  We should not live in the past, as it is already forgotten.  Instead, exist in the present.  Today.  Right now.  Right here in this moment, is the only thing that is guaranteed.  Finally, try to better the life of one person.  You may change their whole world.  While it may not be the whole world, it is one world.  Start small. Start now.  Have a beautiful weekend, friends.  The Smith's love you.

All pictures above were borrowed from my Pinterest board.

My Sweet, Olivia: My Greatest Lesson In Love and Life.

Becoming a mommy has been my sweetest joy, biggest love, greatest accomplishment, and a change so
tall and grand, no expert could ever climb it and still comprehend it.  No tell-all or how-to book could quite fully prepare me for my sweet, little Olivia, my greatest lesson learned.  A lesson in life and love that will continue to educate until the end of my time.

On August 7, 2012, six days past Olivia's expected due date,  I was stumbling in slow motion like a zombie.  Not even Daryl Dixon could have rescued me.  That morning I went to get a bikini wax because I knew Olivia would be making her debut soon and I wanted to be decent for her delivery.  Giving birth is not a pretty thing so anything I could do to uphold some dignity, believe me, I was doing it.  There I was, waxing on and waxing off, while the esthetician kept teasing, "You better not go into labor on my table!"  I insisted she not worry that I was scheduled to be induced the following day.  With some help off the table and a fresh pee-pee, I was off.  All I wanted to do was sleep so I headed back to Grandma's hotel.  My mom asked if I could run to Home Depot and pick up some things for her.   Brandon and I were off to what felt like the biggest store on the planet.  With an imaginary megaphone in hand, I was begging Brandon to slow down.  He was walking faster than my swollen feet could handle.  Mr. Smith, your wife is on aisle 2.  She seems to have fallen asleep in a bathtub. Can you come pick her up?  Not a true story, but one I definitely contemplated.  I was dragging ass and wattling slower than any hippo.  My lower back was burning, literally burning.  My pubic bone was hurting more than normal as well.  Get me out of here, I demanded!  Deep down, I knew my body was beginning to prepare itself for birth.  One more stop, I suggested.  I wanted a comfy bra and PJ for my hospital stay.  We drove across the street to Macys.  Thank God for escalators, that's all I'm going to say.  "That will be $32.99," and BAM! It hit me.  My first contraction.  Holy fuck!  I laid my head into the crease of my elbow right at the register and finally, we went home.

My sweetest cupcake ever created still baking in the oven.

Getting closer...

Swollen feet and ankles.  Cute isn't it?

I laid in the same room I had grown up in thinking about my life and the new life that I would soon meet.  I had one dog on patrol guarding my belly, the other propping up my swollen feet. What will she look like?  Will she be healthy?  Will I be a good mom?  Will Brandon help clean the house more now like he promised (I was pushing it, I know)?  Olivia was quiet that day, I assume resting up for her big arrival.  Mimi showed up in her hot pink rollers, hugging and kissing me with excitement.  Of course she had to sing to me and tickle my back and naturally it made me feel better until... My mom would pop in and out of my room with obnoxious jokes that would ultimately make me laugh.  Brandon and I caught up on some Fresh Prince as contractions came and went.  WE were ready, I was ready, and now it was a matter of if Olivia was ready.  Later that evening, my contractions grew stronger and stronger with each passing breath.  I somehow managed to do my hair and shave my legs in the middle of all this, occasionally stopping to lean against the wall in anguish.  My mom continued to make fun of me, Mimi still had rollers in her hair, Brandon was beginning to get nervous, and I was ready to kill someone.  It was time to go!  I arrived at the hospital sometime around 10ish at night.  They wheeled me up and I signed my life away.  I demanded an epidural!  I could no longer stomach the pain.  I became dizzy so they gave me some oxygen.  The pain was so intense, almost indescribable.  Each contraction, I panicked more and more.  In came the cutest Doogie Howser to take away my pain.  My hero! Forehead to forehead, the nurse helped keep me still while I received an epidural.  Minutes later I was at peace.  I told Doogie, I loved him and if I could take him home with me.  He laughed at me and said, "You're welcome."  I no longer was in torture and it became a party in the hospital room.  Visitors dressed in pink came and went and finally it was time to push.  I was ready for it, "let's do this," I said.  It was a wonderful experience.  I was not in pain and was simply enjoying the journey.  Before my last push, I suddenly found myself hungry and wanted a steak, to which my doctor quickly replied, "Can someone get this girl a steak!" After a hearty laugh, I mustered all the strength I had left and gave it one last push.  It was an exhausting process and I pushed for a total of 38 minutes and finally at 3:38 A.M., there she was.  My daughter, Olivia Ashley Smith, was born.  This little person I've cared for, loved, and developed for nine months was here.  All six pounds of her, including her 10 fingers and ten toes.  They placed her on my stomach and she smiled.  From that first smile, life as I knew it, had changed forever.

Olivia's BFF and bodyguard.

Mimi was all ready for the hospital. 

The BEST Dr. and nurse.

Hooked up to some oxygen.  Contractions are a pain ;)

Ouch!

Meet Olivia!

Proud mama moment.

I have heard many horror stories about raising a baby.  Parents tend to forget the positives and giggle there way through the negatives.  "Say goodbye to sleep."  "There goes your relationship."  "Life is over."  I sleep perfectly fine, my relationship is stronger than ever, and life is merely but a dream and just getting started.  I learn every day through Olivia.  She has taught me what she likes to eat, all the different varieties and colors of the rainbow that is ca-ca, the value of setting a schedule early on, and the magic that is an infant's smile and giggle.  Things are not perfect, and like her, we learn as we go - together.

For 17 months I haven't been alone.  For 17 months, either in the womb or sleeping next to me, she still kicks me to let me know she is here.  However, motherhood can be a lonely place.  How is that possible?  In life, you lose and gain new and old friends and my transition into motherhood was no exception. The first couple months we had a ton of visitors eager to meet and play with Olivia.  As time passed by, friends and some family stopped coming over as much.  It was just Olivia and I after Brandon went back to work.  It's hard to uphold a conversation with a baby because as you know, they don't talk back as much.  I get a lot of ba ba ba,  ma, ma, ma, and more ba, ba, ba.  Before I knew it, I forgot how to hold a conversation with a normal adult.  I find myself anxious if Olivia isn't in my arms and let's be honest, I can only talk about The Mickey Mouse Club so much.  However, I have found other's like me.  Other new and old moms who were experiencing the same feelings as me.  One mom I recently spoke with was so excited I shared my story with her because she had always felt the same way but had never uttered a word about her feelings till she realized we shared a common bond.  She was embarrassed.  Can you imagine being an adult who has forgotten how to talk to other adults?  Well, apparently it's common and it does happen.  Cray, cray, I know...

I've learned to adjust to motherhood over the last 8 months.  I've learned to love the new Mickey Mouse

Club.  I've accepted the fact that while some friends and I tend to speak less and less, I have taken an appreciation into the ones who have never left and the new ones I have connected with.  I've learned to go out on play dates and not be so shy.  I've learned to cook baby purees.  I've learned children have an endless supply of boogers and drool.  I've learned it's not as disgusting if it's your own child.   I've learned, babies will throw up and poop on your favorite shirt.   I've learned how to love a life bigger than mine and what it means to raise a child.  I've learned the value of patience and understanding.  I grew an appreciation for my own mother and all other mother's out there because this job ain't easy.  I've learned I am my daughter's best example so I better get my shit together and ease up on the cussing.  Work in progress, I promise.  I've learned that if I never had another normal conversation with an adult ever again, my life could go on babbling with Olivia and nothing else would matter.  Finally, and my most important lesson I've learned on this journey of family and motherhood, my forever best friend, my sweet, Olivia, will always be my side, continuing to learn with me as we go - together.

All pictures borrowed from Pinterest.

Do GOOD feel GOOD challenge

Are you up for a challenge?  Have we really gotten to a point where doing something good is a challenging thing?  Well, here is a chance to redeem ourselves and do some good in the world.  I am proposing a one week challenge to everyone and anyone who is interested.



Starting today, Monday, April 15, 2013, do something good.  Once a day, reach out to a stranger and pick up their coffee tab.  Once a day, pick up some garbage off the floor.  Once a day, leave a note on a stranger's car reminding them it's going to be a great day.  You get the hint....  Once a day, for seven days.  Post your good deeds to our Facebook page to inspire others.  Share tips.  Let's spread some love.  At the end of the week, I will not be picking a winner.  This isn't a challenge that announces a winner because everyone wins.  When you do good, you feel good.

Here are some ideas:

• Leave some quarters at a laundry mat
• Put together a care package for a homeless man/woman
• Send a care package to someone in the military
• Buy a homeless person breakfast, lunch, or dinner
• Remind someone how awesome they are
• Free hugs
• Smile at a stranger
• etc, etc, etc....

Kindness truly changes everything.  When we do the simplest acts of kindness we are doing so much for someone and in return nurturing our soul.  Remember to upload tips and pictures of your good deeds to our Facebook page.  Share the inspiration:  spread the hope, love, and cheer.  Making a difference in someone's day can change their outlook. What if your smile today, saved someone's life tomorrow?

More importantly, what good deed will you do today?

Free hugs and a Smile

The world as we know it is rapidly evolving.  My new MAC is already a dinosaur, families are growing, and I'm sure by the time you finish reading this, there will be a new Iphone.  Have we forgotten to smell the roses?  Just like my original IBook, patience, respect, and volunteerism are a thing of the past.  What ever happened to "love thy neighbor"?


When I was in sixth grade, I was involved in my first volunteer project.  We went to a small school in Goulds, Florida where we played and tutored children. While I was worried about my next Stussy t-shirt, these children were lucky if their parents could afford clothes at all.  However, I was given a glimpse into the real world outside the fancy walls of my private school.  I was finally pinched and woke up from my dream life.  I never forgot those children and the run-down playground they had.

As beautiful, lavish, and luxurious as Miami is, we have a lot of troubled cities within our surrounding neighborhoods.  These neighborhoods contain the forgotten children growing up on the streets of Miami.  These are the children I think of.  While Florida is known as a beach getaway and an endless supply of fake boobs, we also have a silent problem of sex-trafficking and illegal prescription pill mills.

Into my teens and college years,  I continued to serve our community and did other various charity works with local organizations.  I continued to learn about the diverse populations in our communities and superhero organizations en route to help poverished neighborhoods.  Meanwhile, "My kids", as I liked to call them, are still ducking bullets, hiding from drug dealers, and merely trying to survive.  It's important for us to serve those in our community who need it most.  If they fail, we ALL fail.  If you can inspire one child to stay in school, that's one less child on the streets.  In turn, that's one less pregnancy, one less crime committed, and one less spot in jail taking up our tax dollars.




Furthermore, it's time we take charge and restore faith in our humanity.  I have been inspired most recently by a new friend, a friend I have yet to meet, to write this and take some action.  I have been blessed in-between Olivia's naps (while I should be tackling our mountain size laundry pile) to take time to share stories such as this, and have complete strangers from around the world thank me for doing so.  Something as simple as words has brought hope to so many people.  Well, then it's the least I can do.



My husband recently engaged in conversation with an old friend.  It went something like this:

"Hey B! So I constantly read your wife's blogs and I have caught myself teary eyed at times... So I was reading another blog catching up and I drew something that made me think of her... Mind you I don't even know her but by reading her blogs I feel like I've known her forever. She seems to be an extraordinary individual, a great friend and an amazing mother..."


"Tell her to keep up the good work... She is Inspiration to many others through her thoughts and her words!  I put wings because the flying pink elephant reminds me of butterflies and how free they are... They mean rebirth and a new beginning to me...  I will have to meet that wonderful wife of yours one day... She truly inspired me and made me so emotional last night and made me rethink of what is important and what isn't!"


Well, my new friend, while I may have inspired you, it is really you, who has inspired me.  I am humbled and grateful for your kind words.  I can never truly tell you how much they meant to me.  I too was moved to tears.  I appreciate your time in drawing the pink elephant as well.  Continue to inspire and be inspired. Work hard for you and you're family, the rest will follow.  Never forget what is important.  Again, I am truly thankful for your picture and kind words.  For my other followers and do-gooders, thank you, for being you.  I appreciate all your thoughtful comments and emails.  Please keep them coming and update me with all your beautiful stories.  

I realize now more than ever, what limited time in the day we have.  We have family, friends, work, and somewhere in there, a bathroom break or two.  It is free however, to donate your time to a wonderful cause or to help someone in need.  Think of all those who have done something wonderful for you.  Send them a simple note thanking them and a BIG hug is always best.  Have a conversation with a stranger.  The homeless people on the street sometimes prefer a conversation over a dollar.  Leave a kind note on a stranger's car.  Volunteer. For more ideas, visit our friends over at Guerrilla Goodness.  The founder of Guerrilla Goodness and I shared a conversation many years ago and I never forgot it.  I was very inspired by her outlook on life and her willingness to share and spread love in a big and easy way.  Most importantly, I want Olivia to be grateful for the life she leads.  I want her to learn about humanitarianism and what it not only looks like but most importantly, what it feels like to help someone.  When we help others we get more in return without even knowing it.  Our good deeds in life never go un-noticed and if they do, smile knowing you did some good in the world because we need more people like YOU.

If you live in the Miami area and are looking for wonderful ways to get involved or make donations, consider these charitable organizations near and dear to me:

Honey Shine Mentoring Program

Shake-A-Leg Miami

Miami Children's Hospital

University of Miami

All pictures were borrowed from Pinterest.