When I was a little girl I use to dream of family.
The kind of family where the mommy and daddy loved each other and the kids basked in the glow of that love.
The kind of family where it was a safe place to fail.
The kind of family where kids were encouraged to dream big and use their imagination.
The kind of family where performance didn’t mean acceptance.
The kind of family where perfection and rejection were not related.
Then I grew up.
I married at 20 and had my first baby at 23. Three more followed in the next 7 years. My dream had come true. I was living my dream.
What I didn’t know was how stinking hard it would be to steward the dream.
Continue reading here: The Colors of Our Dreams