Dear Sweet Girl, Hear me. As I hold your freckled face between the palms of my hands, I believe you. You are wearing the navy blue shoes your dad bought for you last year. Before. Before everything changed. Before your wrists were pressed into the cold white sheets that December afternoon. Read the rest of…
Author: shelimassie
Too Many Triggers
In 2012 I lived in Uganda. First in Entebbe, then Kampala, with a few visits to Luero and Jinja. It was never my intention to live in Uganda. I had planned on visiting while adopting our youngest son, perhaps three to five weeks. Soon after arriving it became apparent that if we wanted this adoption…
When Silence Can’t Be Heard
“Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.” -Tori Amos I am naked. There is a boy with some sort of facial hair watching me. I am not sure what they gave me, but I know I don’t have a bra on. (Apparently that…
Labor of Pain, Labor of Love
I grew up Catholic. Not an Easter-and-Christmas Catholic. But an every-week-we-went-to-mass-and-my-great-grandmother-taught-us-the-rosary Catholic. We were Irish, loud, played bingo, had the priest over for dinner and I just assumed that everyone else lived the same way we did. I went to Catholic schools, wore the plaid skirts and knew the Stations of the Cross before I…
Nine Quarters and One Santa
When I was a little girl, my grandfather hid quarters behind our ears every time we saw him. The quarters would appear out of nowhere. He did the same trick every time we saw him and every time we were amazed by his level of magic skills. These same quarters would also be “reward” when…
The Garden Warrior
When I was little, “underoos” were a thing. Underwear that suddenly turned you into a superhero. One Christmas my grandma thought it was a cute idea to buy all of the grandkids a pair. We stood in front of the Christmas tree adorned with colorful lights, all in a row, the five oldest cousins in our underoos….
Outside the Evangelical Bubble
I have never felt more out of place than I do with “Christians.” My first year in high school, I tried out for the color guard. Now, keep in mind I have about as much coordination as a two-year-old waking up from a nap with head cold, but there I was trying to make the…
Unicorns and Rainbows…..
“Being adopted is like having blank chapters in the story of your life.” – Adult Adoptee I remember vividly the night after we had been matched with our son from Uganda. I lay awake in bed just sobbing, what I thought was a release of emotions carried these past two years of waiting. My husband…
SheLoves- Ocean Loud Enough to Hold my Grief…..
I had saved my pennies for months. I said no to as many coffees as I could and finally boarded the plane to the Pacific Northwest. To Portland. To my baby sister. She was holding space for me to grieve. Follow the rest of the article here….
When God Held Space
In therapy “holding space” is described as walking alongside someone without judging or trying to fix anything, just hearing and being fully present in the moment. It means to offer unconditional support and letting go of our judgment and control no matter the outcome. I don’t want to brag or anything, but I know my…