Crystal the Artist

Well, it's been a hot minute since I've written anything fresh here. While I would love to sprinkle glittery joy all over this piece of writing and take the time to smooth any rough edges that might offend someone and/or give another person any reason to gift me with another label to disqualify anything I say, yeah, that's just not me anymore. Positivity is great. Hope is great. Encouragement is great. Uplifting others is great. There is a time and place for all of that, but there is also a time and a place to sink to the bottom and rediscover a vulnerability that propels you to act in accordance with your genuine self in response to the current situation you are facing. I'm a wordy writer, I know. I wish I was a simpler writer, but life and my thoughts are truly complex and intermingled in depth that is not easily expressed with simple thoughts. So here we go! Today is Christmas 2023. This marks the 10 year anniversary of the hardest and most profound experience I have

I had a dream this morning and although I don't have time to write it all down, I don't want to forget the key takeaways. It showed me that the most attractive thing to me that I find in people is their compassion for others. I will always stand with those who choose to see humanity without judgment. It is so hard sometimes, you know, like when anger is justified. But the bottom line is we're all human. Whatever differences there are between us and the horrendous neighbor of ours, we can be thankful for what we have been given in life that helps us act better, do better, live better AND we can acknowledge that other people's actions are evidence that we live in a multifaceted world where people live through extremely different experiences that shape them into who they are. I don't blame you if you won't back the actions of those who take no responsibility for shaping their minds and hearts to do more good in the world, but at least don't be a jerk to those w

My oldest child graduated yesterday. The mother behind me in the stands cried (a lot). I could relate to the tears, but I also couldn’t be more happy for graduation. I do admit that I cried too (briefly) when the speaker recognized two students that didn’t make it to graduation. There is no worse thought than losing a child in this life. It’s paralyzing to me and incredibly sad to think there are parents in this world who have felt that loss. I can’t imagine.   I haven’t shared a lot about my parenting journey with my oldest child. It has been an incredible 18+ years of dancing in delight and wading through sorrow. In some ways, I feel like this child and I have parented each other. We have grown up together, experiencing life, and learning through each other's eyes. I’m just going to break the ice and say that HE has become one of my best friends and something like a third parent to my other children. As the oldest child being raised by a single mother, my son has grown into a car

This morning the grief hit me like an unexpected and unrelenting freight train. My plans were forgotten, my determined spirit lost into oblivion. As the waves of sorrow kept on flooding over me, I welcomed the hurt and the remembrance of all that I had lost. I gave myself permission. "It’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to feel, now is the time to grieve." Twenty-four years ago, to this day, I lost my mother to a long fought battle against cancer. I was only nine at the time and was without a clear understanding of what that would mean for the rest of my life. There were so many things I could not have known. I didn’t cry then. Not when I was told the news. Not at her funeral (at least not genuinely). Not in the arranged counseling that followed. I was relieved that her suffering was over and that she was now resting in peace. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted life to continue on and to not dwell on the fact that my mom had just died. She had set me up for success and I

I held my fist so tight. My hand was clenched upon my dreams. They sat inside a darkened cage. The walls were firmly pressing in. Inside the life was fading. Then in a moment of sweet grace, I heard the whisper stated, "Let go." My hand obeyed. With an outstretched palm I sat in wonder. I yearned for my hope to stay and for a moment I thought it would. Then the wind came and swept away my treasure. I watched it leave and fly away. How beautifully it danced upon the breeze. Out, away, far from me, it vanished into the open sky and followed the horizon. I could no longer call it mine. My heart, it wept. My strength was gone. My outstretched palm slowly fell to my side. It was alone and growing colder. And when I forgot why I stood, and where my feet were planted, I felt a hand in mine. A gentle pull beckoned me to follow. With one foggy step, one heavy step, my feet walked with no plan or intention. My only comfort was the man whose shapeless form seemed like a familiar strange

Did I really travel solo to Romania with no lodging lined up? And did I really stay the night at the home of my driver's family? Did I leave the next day with a perfect stranger to cross the border into Ukraine? Did I really have no idea what I was doing? Where I was going? Who I would be meeting? Or how I would return? Did I really end up in a college dormitory with a young woman who could only speak Russian? And was I picked up the next day by more new people? And did I finally see firsthand the work of those serving refugees? Did I hear refugees’ stories in foreign languages? Did I follow their gestures? Did I receive their thanks? Their complaints? Their tears? Their smiles? Did I watch shell shocked children climb aboard a charter bus? Did I watch their fear melt away as we drove up to a park? Did I see their concerned faces light up as they played games with volunteers? As they made crafts? As they giggled chasing each other? And as they ate and ate and ate and ate? Did I wat