Tag: endings

The Letter L: Lessons, Layers, and the Beauty of Letting Go

by Mothersense, posted in Mental Health Recovery, Reclamation


Today marks a fresh page in the notebook. If you caught my post Saturday August 1,  on A New Beginning, you know we are stepping into this season with fresh intention, a clean slate, and a willingness to embrace where we are right now.
As we keep moving through our alphabetical journey, we’ve arrived at L. And honestly? It couldn’t have come at a better time. Life isn’t linear—it’s full of turns, unexpected shifts, and quiet victories. Today, we’re unpacking three “L” words that help us make sense of the journey and keep us grounded as we build what’s next.
1. Lessons (The Gold in the Grit)
Every season leaves behind a trail of wisdom—if we’re willing to look for it. The hard days, the messy kitchen tables, the pivots in our plans, and the unexpected delays aren’t waste; they are curriculum.
When we look back on where we’ve been, the goal isn’t to linger on what went wrong, but to gather up the lessons. What did that challenging week teach you about your boundaries? What did that creative block teach you about rest? When you view every outcome as information rather than failure, suddenly nothing is lost. Everything becomes fuel for where you’re going next.
Takeaway: Don’t regret the detours. Write down the lesson, keep the wisdom, and drop the weight.
2. Layers (Embracing Your Multitudes)
None of us are just one thing. You aren’t just defined by your day job, your family role, your creative side projects, or your past. You are a collection of layers built over time.
Sometimes we feel pulled in a dozen directions because we carry so many different passions and responsibilities. But here’s the beauty of layers: they give you depth. The patience you practice in one area of your life feeds into your creative work. The organizational systems you build for your home give you the freedom to dream bigger. Embrace all the different titles and talents you carry—they don’t make you scattered; they make you whole.
Takeaway: You don’t have to fit into a single box. Give yourself permission to honor every layer of who you are today.
3. Letting Go (Making Room for the New)
You can’t start a new chapter if you’re still holding onto the clutter of the last one. Whether it’s physical space, old expectations, or the pressure to have everything figured out by Monday morning, letting go is the ultimate act of trust.
As we launch into this new season, take a look around your desk, your calendar, and your mind. What are you holding onto simply out of habit? What mental tabs can you close today? When you clear out what isn’t serving your current season, you create the quiet space needed for new ideas, new energy, and new peace to settle in.
Takeaway: Hands that are full of old clutter can’t reach for new blessings. Open your hands and let it go.
Bringing It Home Today
As you move through this weekend, take a quiet moment over your morning coffee or evening wind-down to ask yourself:
What lesson am I carrying forward into this new start?
What layer of myself have I been neglecting lately?
What space do I need to clear out to make room for what’s next?
Here’s to living intentionally, learning as we go, and giving ourselves grace for the journey.

The Weight and the Warmth of June 19th

by Mothersense, posted in This Life


The calendar tells us that Friday, June 19th is Juneteenth—a day designated for collective reflection, freedom, and celebration. But for me, the date always pulls me backward into a deeply personal history. It forces a quiet pause in the middle of summer. It rewinds the clock to 2019, to a road trip to Louisiana, and to a room filled with a heavy, holy kind of love.
June 19th was my precious Uncle John’s birthday. For probably twenty years or more, if you asked him his age, he’d grin and tell you he was “39 and holding.” But on that specific Wednesday in 2019, time was finally catching up. My sisters and I traveled down to see him, knowing we were stepping into a celebration that was also a final, fragile goodbye. He was about to be transitioned to comfort care.
The air in the room was heavy. We each took a turn to have a moment alone with him. When my turn came, I leaned in close. I leaned into the space between this world and whatever comes next, and I whispered into his ear that it was okay to go. I told him that Jeff would take care of me now. I’m not entirely sure how aware he was in that moment, but whispering those words into the quiet of the room was a balm for my own aching heart.
Then, the priest arrived to perform the anointing of the sick. Because Uncle John was a deacon, he shared a long, deeply rooted history with the priest—a brotherhood of faith and service. Yet, in the middle of all that sorrow, a strange and beautiful thing happened. The priest looked at me, knew exactly who I was, and called me by my name. “Emeline’s daughter,” he recognized. Uncle John had woven stories of me into his life and friendships long before those final days. He had carried me in his conversations for years, just as he carried me in his heart.
I still sit with that moment. I think about it every June 19th, right before the anniversary of his passing on June 20th. I look up at the sky and whisper back to him, hoping with everything I have that I am making him proud.
The Magic of a Louisiana Kitchen
When the grief settles into something softer, it usually leads me straight to the stove.
Truthfully, I was blessed with a family of cooks. Uncle John and Aunt Mertie weren’t the only ones who let me sit and pepper them with a million questions while they worked. But being in those Louisiana kitchens? That was a different kind of magic entirely.
Growing up, learning from Mom or Granny had its own rhythm, rooted in the familiar comfort of daily life. But stepping into Uncle John and Aunt Mertie’s kitchen felt like entering a sacred, vibrant sanctuary of flavor and storytelling. The humidity, the slow simmer of a roux, the effortless dance between them as they threw together dishes that tasted like pure love—it was an education in hospitality. They didn’t do it through formal lessons; they taught me simply by letting me exist in their space, answering every curious question a young girl could dream up.
To pass down a legacy is to answer the questions of the curious girl standing by the counter, watching you create.
God, I miss them. I miss the laughter, the Louisiana warmth, and the safe harbor of their home. But every time I replicate a flavor, test the seasoning, or cook with that patient, soul-filled instinct they modeled for me, they are right there.
So this Friday, while the world celebrates, I’ll be holding a quiet space for the deacon who was forever 39, for the mother who came before me, and for the beautiful, heartbreaking privilege of having people in our lives who are this terribly hard to lose.
Happy Birthday, Uncle Johnny. I hope the kitchen in heaven is everything you ever wanted.

The Bridge Between Roots and Wings: Chasing the Next Chapter

by Mothersense, posted in Mental Health Recovery, Reclamation


There is a specific kind of quiet that settles in the second week of May. Mother’s Day has just passed—a day for looking back, offering gratitude, and honoring the foundations of home. But right in front of us, the air is buzzing with the energy of graduation.
For my nieces, my nephew, and my cousins, this week represents the “in-between.” They are standing on the edge of a finished chapter, pens poised to start the next one. Watching them, it’s impossible not to feel the weight of those connections and the beautiful, bittersweet cycle of growth.
The Art of the Ending:
Endings are rarely just about saying goodbye; they are about inventory. As these graduates pack up their desks and turn their tassels, they aren’t just leaving a building. They are carrying forward every late-night study session, every hard lesson learned, and the steady support of the family that cheered them on from the sidelines.
We often think of graduation as a destination, but it’s actually a pivot point. It is the moment where “what you’ve done” becomes the fuel for “where you’re going.”
The “Never-Stop” Mindset
If there is one thing I hope the graduates in my life carry with them, it’s the realization that bettering ourselves has no expiration date. The diploma is a milestone, not a finish line. The most successful and fulfilled people I know are those who treat life like a permanent apprenticeship. Whether you are eighteen or eighty, the goal remains the same:
Stay Curious: Ask the questions that others are too afraid or too tired to ask.
Chase the Dream, but Value the Grind: The “big dream” is the North Star, but the daily effort is the boat that actually gets you there.
Be a Student of People: Some of the best education comes from listening to the stories of those who walked the path before you.
Looking Ahead
To the Class of 2026: The world is loud, and it will try to tell you who to be. But remember the roots we celebrated just a few days ago. Those connections are your anchor. They give you the permission to take risks, to fail forward, and to keep reaching for something better.
Never stop learning. Never stop growing. And most importantly, never stop believing that the next chapter can be even better than the one you just wrote.