I didn’t grow up with black friends. I lived in a white suburb, surrounded by white neighbors. I don’t remember a single person of color in my elementary school and there were only a handful in my very large high school. I’ve worked with one black man in my entire career.

After my husband and I got married, I gained a black niece and her four children have become my great-niece and nephews. Through blogging, I have met some of the most thought-provoking women (and men) of color. These people, this family, and community is mine, regardless of the shade of their skin. Where I came from and what I experienced growing up no longer matter.

Right now, these friends are hurting. People act out because they are hurting. Just the other day, I was slamming doors and drawers and I actually punched a wall because I was hurting. It is not fair for me to judge others for their reaction to pain.

My niece and friends live in fear for their sons’ lives and my heart is breaking. I’m not even talking about the people protesting in Ferguson, I’m talking about my family across town and my friends in Cincinnati, Chicago, New York, Houston, Albany, Austin, Atlanta, and every other city across the United States. These are American mothers and fathers who go to work, love their families, and shouldn’t have to live under a different system than white people. It’s really that simple.

But, of course, it’s not simple.

At church last week, the homily was about treating every person you come in contact with as if they were Jesus. It’s hard not to gossip, judge, and be open to new thoughts; I know I am guilty of it. But, don’t we owe it to these young people in our midst to try? Just listen to the stories. Really listen. Without judgment. That should be simple enough. It’s a start, at least.

Just because I was privileged enough to be born with white skin doesn’t make me privileged enough to not care.

My great-nephews lives may depend upon it.

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I think there are certain ways that people are always themselves, but I do think people change. -Mike White

I’m sure you’ve heard that you should never try to change someone, but what if that person used to be loving and kind and has changed into a destructive jerk? Shouldn’t you try to change them back to who they once were?

Yes, you should, and here’s why.

I am that person. Most of you don’t know it, but I lost control of my priorities and became a distant, grumpy, tired, shell of a person. Not all the time, unless you were fortunate enough to be one of the people who really love me; then you had meanest Momo every day.

My husband tried to tell me, but I thought it was impossible to shift my priorities from where they were; work, kids (which encompasses driving, sports, cooking, homework, doctors and more), house, laundry, blog, husband. Lucky guy, that one.

But, a couple of months ago I had a breakthrough, or what a therapist told me was “an awakening.”

Even though I thought there was NO WAY I could give any more of myself, in any capacity, I intentionally shifted my priorities. INTENTION being the key component of what I’m about to tell you, so make sure you see that word and soak it in.

I-N-T-E-N-T-I-O-N.

I intentionally made changes.

Work was still my #1 priority, but only during working hours and occasional overtime, like yesterday. During non-working hours, my husband went into the #1 slot, then kids, house, laundry and blog.

Sometimes laundry fell into the last slot, which is why we ran out of underwear, but I never waivered from keeping everything else in its rightful place. And, you know what? It wasn’t even that hard.

As a matter of fact, I started enjoying the heck out of my husband again and that carried over into how I interact with my children. I became nicer. Calmer. More peaceful.

Okay, that last one is a total lie. I’ve been grinding my teeth like crazy and I’ve HAD to start running again out of mental necessity, but I’m not taking out my frustrations on the people I care about more than anything.

I feel like my old self again. I uncovered the person who was buried under a pile of resentment, anger, jealousy and ego.

And, that change feels really good.

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These people. These goofy, blurry, imperfect people to my right are what make my life sane, clear and ideal. Okay, not sane exactly, but they do keep my head on straight. They are my purpose. My gift.

They are why I get out of bed every morning and wash dishes every night. They are why I’m buried in laundry and, occasionally, smothered with love. They are my everything.

Is that healthy? Probably not. But, I don’t care. All of my eggs are in this kooky basket of misfits and I’m fine with it. Before a concerned reader emails me and tells me I’m not living my life right, let me say that I take care of me too. I started running again, I hit the gym a few times a week, I write, I took a painting class, I started coloring thanks to a generous gift of Coloring Animal Mandalas from my friend, Melisa – so, I’m not neglecting myself.

But, those people up there? They lift me up and they keep me grounded at the same time. And, you can’t ask for a better atmosphere than that.

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Do you ever think about the things that make you truly happy? If you don’t, you should. When you’re searching for peace, you think of them a lot. Trust me, I know.

I’ll give Maria raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, but she loses me at bright copper kettles. I mean, you’d REALLY have to love tea. I like tea, but I don’t care how the water gets boiled. Plus, I think you have to polish copper and I hate chores.

So, what does make me happy – or, rather, peaceful? In no particular order:

1. Sunshine.

2. My husband touching my face or hair. The touch of a cheek or gently holding the nape of a neck is intimate and lovely.

3. A clear, starry sky. For making wishes.

4. Intense, exhausting workouts. I don’t look happy while I’m doing them and I complain A LOT, but pulling a rope with a 400 lb. tire attached to the other end makes me feel strong, powerful and confident even though my face is purple and I’m dripping with sweat.

5. Watching my kids try anything. A new food, a new experience, a new activity; seeing them attempt something makes them achievers in my eyes, even if they fail.

6. Cold beer. Duh.

7. The beach. Sand between my toes, the sound of the waves, and saltwater making my hair look pretty without any effort – I’ll take that ALL DAY LONG. Combined with #1, #5 and #6? Heaven.

8. A clean house. I never get this one. Never.

9. A good movie. Throw in Milk Duds and it’s even better.

10. Puppies, good friends, flowers, board games, slow-dancing, campfires, music, and snuggling. Not all at once, but I didn’t want this list to get too long.

While things have seemed kind of bleak lately, I’m finding it helpful to come back to this list to seek out, and give myself, the things I can. Thankfully, that hasn’t resulted in too many Milk Duds, but don’t even come near me without expecting a snuggle.

What would your list look like? What are your favorite things?

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