
“I’m not where I want to be.”
Those words seem to keep coming up,
in my mind
in conversations
in the world as it falls short, and living beings slip through the cracks.
“I’m not where I want to be.”
I heard those words frequently last week as I began my recovery process from foot surgery.
‘Four to six weeks in the boot…’
‘Won’t know for a few weeks if the procedure worked…’
‘Healing will be slow…’
My doctor’s words played on repeat in my mind as I sat on the back deck, elevating my throbbing foot.
Next to me were files for a big project I am working on. Atop the files was my writing calendar, the one I made to ensure I stay on track for my publisher’s July 1st deadline.
“I’m not where I want to be,” I said, referring to both my physical state and my project status.
I set aside my laptop in disgust and thought about a recent conversation with my newly graduated middle schooler.
Instead of joy at the closure of this chapter of her young life, there was visible pain.
She’d spoken about how disappointed she was in the choices she made, which now result in less-than-desirable consequences.
“I'm not where I want to be.”
I thought about my friend who’s about to take her kids to the beach for the first time in their lives. I remember what she said about embracing her body, one that looks different than it did a year ago.
“I'm not where I want to be.”
I think about dear Alice Kajoina who’s run out of knitting supplies for her Brave Girls groups in Uganda. For many of these women, learning the skill of knitting offered a way to earn income and belong to a community. Given the toll of the pandemic, Alice was forced to pivot, now teaching the women to make baskets with available materials. With so much hanging in the balance, Alice prays there is a market for the baskets.
“I'm not where I want to be.”
I think about the wastewater spilling into the environment near my parents’ Florida home. My parents shared their concern about the ramifications of this leak on the area residents and wildlife. From their retirement home, they write letters to government officials, pleading for corrective and protective measures for the world their grandchildren will inherit from them.
“I’m not where I want to be.”
I think about George Floyd, his family, and the worldwide movement sparked by his murder one year ago. Although the consciousness of many has been raised, I’m wondering if conversations about racial justice and anti-racism education has led to any real progress. What measures are we taking to ensure Black lives are valued, protected, and elevated?
“I’m not where I want to be.”
In so many ways, individually and collectively, we are not where we want to be.

I realized this again and again over the past week while parked on my back deck where I'm working and healing in nature’s office.
It was on Day Six that a profound shift occurred.
Scott had come out to check on me, immediately noticing the music blaring through the thick patch of trees behind our house.
“What is that?” he asked, perplexed.
“Every morning at eleven o’clock, a mom and her toddler have a dance party. Shake It Off, Party in the USA, Run the World, and Celebrate Good Times. Same four songs. Every day,” I explained matter-of-factly.
Scott and I listened as the parent belted out, “Who runs the world?” and the toddler squealed, “GIRLS!”
“I can’t be mad at them for distracting me from my work,” I admitted to Scott with a smile. “I mean, just listen to that joy.”
Scott smiled back, and as he was about to go back inside, he stopped and said, “That seems like something you would write about.”
I listen to the joyful duo celebrate good times with Kool and the Gang, and that’s when a new thought comes to mind.
“She’s where she wants to be.”
That little girl,
In this moment.
Everything is as it should be
In her world.
It won’t always be this way.
Perhaps when she is fourteen, she’ll encounter her hardest, biggest obstacle of her young life. And that mom, who knows all the lyrics to the little girl’s favorite songs, will be at a loss.
Every day that mom will wonder, how can I help? She’ll try everything she knows to do, but the territory is so uncertain, so rough, so vast, that it feels hopeless. It will take coming across a lifeline written by a brilliant guide to help her gain perspective.
It will be words like these, written by a woman who knows first-hand the brutal reality of the world, yet still believes in its capability to fully heal and freely live.
Inclusion specialist, educator, and author Krystle Cobran writes:
“Sometimes, in the midst of sorrow, the most significant choice we can make is to stay in it. Stay in the journey, stay in the conversation, stay in the pathway of discovery, stay in the learning, stay in the listening, stay in the willingness to make conscious choices.
Stay willing to keep beginning – so we can move towards growth, even as we navigate pain.
Stay.”
And that’s when I look down at my restrictive boot serving a very important purpose at this moment in time. I see that even in my grounded state, there is movement. It might be slow… it might be painful… it might even look like nothing, but it’s not nothing. I am here… and you are here too.
As painful as it is to take another step in this world some days, let’s stay the course, dear ones.
Because although we might not be able to see it, there’s joy on the other side of the trees.
Listen now… and believe it’s not too far away.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. Our beloved Hands Free Shop that my sister-in-law Stacie has managed for us so beautifully over the years is closing. Stacie has marked the small inventory we have left down to $10. If you love the Hands Free Pledge, the Facing Fear Manifesto, the Soul Builder cuff or the Come As You Are bracelet, now is your chance to get them. Stacie and I are grateful to all who supported the shop which featured the work of local artists, as well as our friend Alice Kajoina in Uganda. I look forward to moving in the direction my heart is leading, which is teaching and companioning people through their own personal journeys to live authentically and love for real.
I am absolutely thrilled to know 21 of you have already registered for the restorative Soul Shift retreat happening in North Carolina in November. Click here for all the information if you are interested in joining us. Thank you for being a light in my life.
In case you missed it on Facebook or Instagram, earlier this month, I was interviewed on the show Chaos to Calm with Noelle Kirchner. What unfolded was a raw, heartfelt dialogue about navigating this challenging time with our kids – the impact of the pandemic, supporting self-regulation and healthy boundaries around tech, helping kids connect to their purpose… and much more. In this episode, I weave tools of my trade as a special education teacher with the daily rhythms of life and bring them right to your home.
Thank you for all your love and support.
So many times I have not been where I wanted to be. Like when my husband died or being in covid quarantine alone this past year. It always takes some time and a lot of work but when I can come to accept where I am – I can enjoy life. They’re not easy to find, but there are positives even during the difficult times.
I am a better person because I continued to grow during my darkest times.
What a powerful and hopeful testimony, dear Cathy. Your light shines brightly, dear one. Thank you for shining here.
Thank you for this. Though I didn’t get to the store to get any of the other bracelets, I appreciate you letting us know and the words you wrote for this blog post. I am not where I want to be right now. I have an undercurrent of uneasiness that I’ve been unable to put a finger on until this morning. It has made me question my faith and the most basic tenets I’ve based my life on. I am at an in-between place I very much don’t like, and I think it’s because I don’t have control. Thank you for putting yourself out there and for all the good nuggets to reflect on. Love and (((hugs))) from Alabama!
Thank you for sharing your heart, dear Alisa. I feel you standing beside me in this in-between and that brings me comfort. I feel your hugs and they mean so much. My hand in yours.
Rachel Macy Stafford, I must tell you, it’s you.
“Every day that mom will wonder, how can I help?”…
“ It will be words like these, written by a woman who knows first-hand the brutal reality of the world, yet still believes in its capability to fully heal and freely live. For so many of us, that woman is you. I see how much you’ve grown and who you are, and I thank you for encouraging us that we, too, can make the journey. Thank you for shining the light and always guiding those behind you.