To the Toddler who Crushed Goldfish into the Target Dressing Room Floor:

To the Toddler who Crushed Goldfish into the Target Dressing Room Floor:

Sweet kiddo: 

I walked into this tiny room
and saw a bed of golden crumbs,
like dandelions start to bloom
Some cracker-y chrysanthemums

I smiled, I laughed, picturing you
squat-sitting at your mama's feet
while she tried on a couple things, 
a hunt for just a little treat

A Dress, or shorts,
or a whatever-it’s-called( for extra support.)

Did you tug on her dress as she
stepped into it, to try, to see? 
Did you give her that glare, *that look* 
that made her breathe deep as she shook
Her head, pausing to ask you why,
oh why, she decided to do this today-- 
She just needed a moment to check the fit, get out of the house, get away

But the thing is: 

the bloom of you it always makes
her say YES to these daily treks
into the fields of grand mistakes
And grand adventures (and ALL their mess)

And, nonetheless, some people say
those goldfish are just junk that feeds
a toddler on a tired day
and dandelions are just weeds

(But moms know they’re perfect
golden treasures,
from perfect tiny wishing seeds) 

And who says goldfish aren’t a feast
between giggling teeth Or crammed car seats
Nutritious for the soul (to say the least)

You know,
She thought of you, packing those fish
hoping they’d make you stop and smile
so she could don a dress, and swish
and sway; feel pretty (for just a while)

Because, you see, she knows she’s not
here to be perfect (she can’t be)
and wants her children to be taught—
There’s more than what the eye can see.

And more, that trail of broken fish
is evidence, that even when
you violate her every wish
she’d choose you all over again.


It's you. And her. A pair, alive; 
A miracle birthed like water to wine
from floaties and swimmies
to jumping off the high dive; 
into a deep pool of fishies. Goldfish, to be precise.

She took a breath, looked in the mirror.
“You ok, mama?” you asked.
as she fought back a white-hot tear
Her heart, her soul, her fears, unmasked


Your dulcet voice the difference makes.

You don't know what you give her
your eyes, your smile; her heart awakes;
she turns from puddle to flood-fed river

She smiled at you: “I’m okay, baby.”
Its healing truth-what the dreamer seeks
What you bring to her days, just maybe
When she wonders if she, as a mother, has the right to speak: 
I am enough. 

“I’m strong, I’m here, I’m filled to burst,
And so now I can meet your thirst
"I am strong. I am here. I am never giving up. 
I am filled, and so I fill my child's cup: 
With a broken heart of full pieces, Her
fear decreases as He increases, you see
Your mom is chosen just for YOU,
It doesnt matter what she did or what you do

Did you know she's the bravest person you'll ever meet? 
Like a redwood, she's rooted, facing all her defeats. 

She is brave every second of every day, in a thousand different ways
Every time she sings or cries
In front of her people without running away

Yes, she’s brave every day, in a thousand different ways
When she says put on your shoes, or counts to three
When she yells but then says “I’m sorry”
When she puts aside her wants and desires
When she gives of herself tirelessly. 

The crushed gold fish "dandelions" on the ground
Arent failure, lost time, or a fallen crown. 

Its a field that all mothers and their babies have walked
Cuz they opened the door
When bravery knocked

So to the mama with the toddler that crushed goldfish all over the floor
Are One of the bravest women I have ever crossed paths with before

The No Pants Dance

The No Pants Dance

Trusting Jesus When you Feel Forgotten by (or Really Mad at) His Church

Trusting Jesus When you Feel Forgotten by (or Really Mad at) His Church