Today is St. Patrick’s Day! Easter is in 10 days. And Mother’s Day will be here before we know it. With that in mind, I’m already planning my annual Mother’s Day guest post series, Special Mamas.

In May 2013, I hosted my first Special Mamas series. The series featured guest posts from a variety of moms who experienced unique journeys to and through motherhood. The series went fabulously and I knew immediately I would continue it annually.

Time got away from me in in the spring of 2014, so I skipped Special Mamas and wrote a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled instead. It, too, went well, but I always knew I’d return to Special Mamas in 2015.

In May 2015, I went full in and hosted the largest Special Mamas yet. It was an incredible honor to host 13 moms as they shared their unique stories to and through motherhood.

As the host of this month-long series, I can tell you with certainty that it is a high honor to stand beside you as you share your stories with the world. Real life unfolds your mothering stories, you write them down in whatever way works for you, I receive the stories and pretty them up with formatting and photos, then we stand together, sharing the struggles, the joys, the mountains climbed, the valleys endured to get to and through this story called motherhood.

The readers? They LOVE it. They WANT to hear your story. I’ve done this enough to know it’s true.

Motherhood is a journey.

It’s real. It’s important. And it’s holy.

All of us, every one of us, have a unique path to motherhood and a unique journey through motherhood.

We are special mamas.

So here we are. Mother’s Day will be here before we know it! I run the Special Mamas guest post series all of May, which means it’s time to start lining up a group of special mamas who are willing to write about their journey to and/or through motherhood.

In 2013, I personally invited all the special mamas who guest posted.

In 2015, I opened the invitation to anyone who wanted to participate.

This year, I’m mixing it up. Two moms have already accepted a personal invitation, but I’m also extending the invitation to anyone who would like to participate!

Think you might be interested?

Here are the details…

1) You like to write! And maybe you’re good at it too?!

2) You’re willing to share your mothering story publicly in a guest post on my blog, amybethpederson.com.

3) You’re willing to be vulnerable in telling your story. These posts will have the greatest impact if you’re willing to share your journey, but also your thoughts and feelings about the journey. Perhaps you’ve had to be patient. Perhaps your faith has led you through. Perhaps you’ve had to tap into community to help along the way. Perhaps motherhood isn’t anything like you expected. Perhaps you’re frustrated, in grief, or elated beyond belief. I don’t know your story, but we want to hear it.

Listen moms. I need you to hear this. Your story doesn’t need to be perfect or resolved or awesome or incredibly holy and inspiring to be good. Don’t disqualify yourself because you think your story isn’t “good enough.” I want ALL the stories. The easy ones, the hard ones, the inspiring ones, the off-the-wall ones, and everything in-between. I KNOW there are hidden gems out there.

4) Your guest post will need to be between 500-1,200 words in length. I will accept longer submissions up to 2,000 words if your story necessitates, but will not accept submissions shorter than 500 words. Please note, you are responsible for revising and editing your story before sending it to me.

5) I’ll need a minimum of 4-5 photographs from you to include in the blog post, horizontal orientation strongly preferred. More photos are just fine. This blog is big on photos! If I read your story and feel additional photos would be helpful to tell the story, I may ask you to send more.

6) You have plenty of time to write and edit your guest post. All posts will be published on my blog, Divine in the Daily, between May 1st and May 31st, 2016. All posts need to be submitted to me 7-10 days in advance of your assigned date of publication. When you sign up to guest post, I’ll ask whether you prefer to be published early, middle, or late May. I’ll assign a date based on the preference you indicated!

7) Once your story is in my hands, I promise to read it and send you general thoughts and impressions within THREE days. This series requires that I am on top of my game, constantly pulling in content, sorting it, organizing it, and pushing it back out. But I am WHOLLY COMMITTED to honoring your story by reading it and responding in a timely a fashion, even if I’m not able to get to details until closer to publication date. TWO and THREE days PRIOR to publication, I will be in contact with you heavily via email to review details, provide updates, and gather additional information.

8) You don’t have to be a blogger to participate in this series, but bloggers are more than welcome! If you’re a blogger, I will NOT edit your post unless I catch spelling errors. If you are NOT a blogger, I reserve the right to make small edits to your post, with final review by you prior to publication.

9) Let’s just say this…I am open to giveaways and special surprises! If you have any ideas along these lines, please let me know and I am happy to discuss the possibilities.

Last, but not least, you might be a good fit for this series if you are…

• A foster mama
• An adoptive mama
• A mama in the process of adopting
• A foster mama who turned into an adoptive mama
• A mama who’s going through infertility
• A woman who REALLY WANTS TO BE A MAMA, but isn’t yet
• A mama of a child who has special needs of any kind
• A mama who has a mental illness
• A mama of a child who has a mental illness
• A mama of multiples
• A mama with multiple children (6 or more children)
• A mama who has one child (by choice or for other reasons)
• A mama who’s going through a major life transition
• A missionary mama
• A mama whose husband has passed away
• A mama living abroad
• A mama who’s been through divorce
• A teen mama or someone who gave birth as a teen
• A military mama
• A mama whose mother passed away at an early age
• A mama who never had a mother in her life at all
• A mama who was adopted as an infant or child
• A mama who’s single
• A woman who doesn’t plan to have children
• A mama who’s living in poverty
• A grandma who’s raising her grandchildren
• A grandma who’s actively helping raise her grandchildren
• A stepmom
• A mama who’s experienced more than one miscarriage
• A mama who’s experienced stillbirth
• A mama who’s lost a baby or child
• A mama whose child HAS experienced or IS experiencing a significant medical crisis
• A husband who would like to honor his wife’s mothering journey
• A father who would like to honor his daughter’s mothering journey
• A mother who would like to honor her daughter’s mothering journey
• Children (small or all grown up) who would like to honor their mother’s journey

If you don’t see yourself listed above, but think your mothering story is similarly unique, please let me know! We’ll connect and definitely get you in the series if your journey seems to fit.

If you’re unsure and want to get an idea of what the guest posts are like, I strongly encourage you to look through last year’s series. CLICK HERE to connect to Special Mamas 2015, then scroll to the bottom where all 13 posts are listed and linked. 

If everything I’ve listed above feels like a match, and you’d like to write a guest post for my “Special Mamas” guest post series in May 2016, please fill out the Survey Monkey form below. It’s just a few questions and shouldn’t take you more than a couple minutes. This is a way to share your name, email and brief summary of who you are without making it public quite yet.

CLICK HERE TO CONNECT TO THE SURVEY AND INDICATE INTEREST IN WRITING A GUEST POST FOR THE SPECIAL MAMAS SERIES 2016!

This year, I’ll be featuring a total of 9 moms in the Special Mamas series. I already have 2 mamas committed to sharing. That means, I’m looking for 7 more mamas to share guest posts in May.

Thanks everyone! I can’t wait to see who’ll be sharing this year. I’ll keep an update here on the blog and on Facebook so you know when I’ve reached 9, or if I’m still looking for submissions. In the meantime, if you know anyone who might be interested in sharing their story, please share this post!

I started a re-entry post, got all the way to 384 words and decided it wasn’t right. So here goes. My second try. My second shot. My best attempt to tell you where I’ve been these past two weeks.

No need to beat around the bush.

I need to write something bold, something brave, something public even though it’s not perfectly composed.

So let’s jump right in.

Let’s start with this bombshell of a reality.

Some of us need to start feeling ALL the feelings.

That’s right.

That’s what I said.

I’m truth telling today.

Have you anesthetized yourself?

Have you anesthetized your life so it’s clean, pretty, tidied up good?

Have you anesthetized your emotions so all you are is a robot, living in the gray middle ground of safe, don’t offend, don’t ruffle any feathers?

Yep, that’s me.

How about you?

Anesthetized.

Blah. Blah. Blah blah blah.

Anesthetized.

It definitely doesn’t describe all of you, but undoubtedly some of you.

Perhaps you’ve gone dead. Perhaps you’ve turned parts of you off. Perhaps you lost your fire, forgot how to cry, or don’t ever get angry anymore. Perhaps you play nice guy, good girl, or I’m down with that ALL the time. Perhaps you say you don’t care when you really care a whole lot. Perhaps you’re fearful and you play brave. Perhaps you’re dying inside and nobody knows. Perhaps you’re crying a river behind closed shades and everyone thinks you’re winning every corner of life. Perhaps you’re insecure hiding behind the security of jobs, money, bigger cars and bigger bank accounts. Perhaps you don’t have a clue as to what the purpose of your life is and you’re pretending you got this, man. Perhaps you’re ticked off and you haven’t let on for one minute that something’s irking you. Perhaps you’re wishing for a friend and you haven’t a clue how to be one so you just keep pretending it’s all good. Perhaps you want to rock the world upside down, but you’ve played meek as a mouse your whole life long. Perhaps you have a whole lot of opinion, but you’ve decided it’s best to just shut up and zip your lips. Perhaps you’re vibrant and lively, but clean and easy doesn’t rock the boat nearly as much. Perhaps you were hurt badly and you’re having a really hard time forgiving, but you let those burdens fester until they dry you up inside. Perhaps you’re jealous, envious of their vacation, their home, their pool, their children, their career, their spring wardrobe, their holiness, their carefree, optimistic lifestyle, but you blunt it and play fake. “Yay, we’re so glad for you!” when inside you’re dying, won’t acknowledge you haven’t tended your soul for a decade, maybe more. Perhaps you love the Lord, but you’re playing secular to be liked. Perhaps you want to be independent, but you let everyone wait on you hand and foot because it’s easier that way. Perhaps you’re addicted and you don’t know how to handle life anymore, so you numb and blind yourself to your dangerous reality because it’s easier that way. Perhaps you haven’t sat down for a minute to ponder what’s going on in your life, so you keep running and doing and working and trying hard to quiet the reality in front of you. Perhaps you’re tired, but nobody’s there to help so you suck it up. Perhaps this world feels all too much and you just can’t do it anymore, but everybody else seems to be running the race, so shut up and shape up and ship out because it works for everyone else, so why not you? Perhaps you need help, but you never ask. Perhaps you’ve blamed and shamed yourself for years, for all the things you did wrong, for all the ways you went wrong, and you push it away, you push it away some more, but it festers and you ignore it and you numb it and that little voice won’t stop talking, but you listen and keep it quiet, to yourself. Perhaps you need to grieve, but you shove it down because there is no time for grief. Perhaps you have opinions, big opinions about politics, but you keep quiet because you don’t want to rock the boat. Perhaps you eat doughnuts, fast food, endless energy drinks and fudge chunk brownies late at night. Perhaps you work out like a mad person. You count every calorie, watch every morsel in some pursuit of better, more, less, I’ll be better if, I’ll be better when mentality. Perhaps you’re playing angry when really you’re just plain hurt. Perhaps you’re hurt and you’re just plain numb. Perhaps you’re numb because you’ve never let anyone see ALL of you.

Yes, we anesthetize ourselves.

It’s true. And it’s no good.

Searing and singing the bottom, top and middle gray-grounds of our emotions is toxic, troubling and terrifying.

It’s better to be reserved, you say.

Better to hold it in.

Better to be kind and nice, patient and understanding.

Better to suck it up.

Better to use good judgement.

Better to be discerning.

Yes, have a discerning spirit.

For the sake of those who need to hear it, let me say this…

Some of us have been far too discerning for far too long.

Stop discerning every detail up, down and sideways.

Here’s why…

At its worst, hyperactive discernment leads to hyper-vigilant awareness of ourselves, our emotions and our surroundings, which leads us overthinkers, overachievers and people pleasers to believe the best solution is to anesthetize ourselves and our lives.

Stop. anesthetizing. everything.

Good.

Good enough.

Fine.

FINE is no longer FINE.

FINE is an anesthetized life.

Let us feel all the feelings.

I cannot and will not live anesthetized any longer.

I must practice authenticity.

I must live with integrity.

I must show how I feel.

I must speak up when I don’t feel right about something.

I must tell you when I don’t understand.

I must tell you when you’ve crossed the line. Gracefully, of course.

I must tell you when you hurt me, when that doesn’t work for me, when you’re trying to shut down part of me and I don’t want to be shut down anymore.

I must work through my emotions instead of letting them simmer down in.

I must not hide.

I must be true to myself.

I must be true to the world.

Anesthetized people. Let’s wake. Let’s rise. Let’s be who we are. Let’s stop hiding and harboring it in. Let’s live. Let’s live on the fringes and everywhere in-between. Let’s live WHOLE lives instead of SAFE lives. Anesthetized is safe. Safe is good, but let’s be honest, it’s not that good. Let’s live boldly. Bravely. Let’s gain a little ground for the sake of authenticity.

I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of the anesthetized life.

Whole living.

Authentic living.

The world needs all of us, not just the safe, pretty parts of us.

How about that for something to ponder?

Fire up.

Awaken, precious soul.

Rise up and feel again.

 

Dearest Blog Readers,

My iPhone died late this afternoon. I tried a bunch of things and nothing’s working to fix it. Looks like I’m going to have to bring it into AT&T tomorrow to see what’s wrong.

For some odd reason, the temporary death of my iPhone caused me to have a significant revelation this evening.

Something is off with me.

Something is not sitting well with my soul.

My last day of work as a 14 1/2 year speech-language therapist was December 18, 2014.

That was followed by two months of my husband’s eye cancer.

That was followed by two months of hefty spring cleaning and acclimating to new normal.

That was followed by a crazy busy summer, home full-time with our three children for the first time ever.

That was followed by September through December 2015, four of the crazy-busiest, all-encompassing AND life-giving months I’ve experienced in my life.

That four month, crazy-busy period was followed by January and February 2016, which have been the quietest, LEAST BUSY months in MY. ENTIRE. LIFE.

How odd is that?

Since the first week of January, I’ve been spending every Tuesday and Thursday working on a long-standing dream. Writing books. I’m working on a children’s book series. The first two children’s books are fully drafted and have been edited MANY times. I think they’re good, potentially very good and unique, too, but doubt and disbelief definitely get in the way. The third children’s book is a crappy first draft that needs at least 500 words edited out before it has any sort of viability. The fourth book is adult nonfiction. It’s a slow go. SLOW. VERY SLOW. It will likely be a year or two or five before it’s viable. But I’m going. I’m moving on it.

I’m certain God’s granted me these months of quiet space for a very good reason. He’s given me quiet before the storm, or quiet to work on these books. Perhaps BOTH. Either way, I’m doing my part. I’m taking advantage of the quietest space I’ve had in my adult life.

For months, I felt as if I’d emerged from a wilderness or captivity, but was standing at the bottom of a wall looking straight up. I wasn’t sure how to get over the wall and was feeling stuck.

In December and January, I had revelation not once, but three times, that God was going to take care of moving that wall, NOT me. I’ve felt freedom in that realization. I no longer feel stuck like that.

But since that revelation, I’ve felt more and more that I’m LOST. Or maybe I’m drowning due to my own lack of faith. 14 months ago, I took a major leap of faith, arguably the biggest leap of faith I’ve ever taken. I’m in the water. I’m in the deepest deep. But I’ve lost sight of something. I’m feeling a certain panic about the complete UNknown that comes with a leap of faith. I have no idea what’s next. I have no guarantee of what’s going to happen next week, next month, next year or five years from now when it comes to this leap of faith to focus on writing, photography, and staying home with my children. I can’t promise myself or my husband, my family or anyone else what’s going to happen next. There IS no paved path. It’s just me and God here. If I’m completely honest, this is freaking me out a bit (or a lot). It’s testing my faith. I’m simultaneously bored and all wired up. I’m simultaneously full of faith and lacking faith in what God has planned next.

But there’s something else.

I’ve become aware of a grief that’s in me. It’s come out sideways for a long time now. I wasn’t aware it was grief until a few months ago. Now I know better.

Yesterday, I watched a video of researcher, author and speaker Brene Brown. It was about grief and allowing ourselves to say good bye to some things before we’re fully able to embrace and move into what’s next.

That video resonated with me. Deeply.

I’m believing more and more that I need to grieve some things.

This is private business.

This will not be public.

This is for me and me only.

I need to get with God.

I need to do some journaling.

I need to create some crappy art, to do some crappy writing that nobody will see or judge except me.

I’ve already visited one pastor for some conversation. I’m thinking I need to visit another.

I need to give myself time to explore this grief. What is this? Who and what do I need to grieve before I can move on to what’s next?

What is it about me that needs to move out of the way so I can fully embrace this next season God has for me? Thank you, my friend Monica, for helping me see that I NEED TO MOVE OUT OF THE WAY.

Thirteen months ago, my writer friend, Kris Camealy, told me that my “five point plan [wasn’t] going to work anymore.” I have NO idea how she knew that. But she was spot on. My five-point plan isn’t working anymore. I’ve been trying to work a five-point plan, and let me share a little insight. Five-point plans don’t work in God’s economy. Five-point plans aren’t compatible with leaps of faith. Five-point plans don’t cut it when you need to grieve some things you weren’t even aware you needed to grieve.

It’s time.

I’m nearly 40 years old. I’ve already told you I’m going to ROCK my 40s and beyond. I WILL do just that.

I’m also keenly aware that I have no plan B. I’m already IN plan B. Plan B WILL BE God’s way.

There’s been a struggle, here.

I haven’t cracked the struggle wide open yet.

But I’m willing. And ready.

I didn’t expect this. I didn’t plan this AT. ALL. It’s not a part of the five-point plan. Honestly, this all just occurred to me TONIGHT. But I’m taking a blogging break, effective immediately, for a minimum of two weeks. We’re in the middle of a series titled “Love Letters to Friends.” Four posts remain. God’s up to something with this series. And those last four posts are important to me. I’m not willing to write those posts and move forward unless I’m ready. Tonight, it came to my attention that I’m not ready. Not quite yet, anyway.

I’m not ready to finish this blog series until I do some work.

I’m not ready to move to the next step in writing those books and book proposals until I do some work.

I’m not ready to break free until I do some work.

I’m not ready until I’ve cracked the struggle wide open.

I’m not ready to move into my future until I’ve grieved the things of the past.

And I’m not fully surrendered to God until I COMPLETELY surrender my strong people-pleasing tendencies. This is a problem, people. Taking a leap of faith is not a time to worry about people, what they think, how they respond, or how they don’t respond. I thought I’ve been real, but I’m worrying too much if I’m resonating. And it’s spilling over into my book writing.

I have some work to do, friends.

So long.

Farewell.

I want to be better for you.

I’m called to this. So I have to work through this.

Offline for now. Online again, once I’ve worked through some things.

Thanks. I adore you for reading and understanding and hanging in there with me. Please pray I’ll come back better. It’s time for soul care and deep digging.

 

Dear Friend,

I sigh as I sit down to type this letter. Do you know why? Because I’ve neglected you. I’ve outright neglected you. It’s not okay. It’s simply not okay.

Back in the day, we were best friends. You’re so humble, kind and gracious to have still called me best friend this past year. But I’m afraid I haven’t acted like a best friend. AT. ALL.

Back in the day, we were active friends. We lived together. We did lots of stuff together. We shared our deepest, darkest secrets with one another at the dinner table. Long walks and late night conversations bonded us forever. Not to mention all the crazy fun we had together. Honestly, I’ve never had so much fun as I did with you.

You made me free.

You made me laugh.

You made me feel special.

You noticed all the little things.

And you always had the capacity to go deep.

Back in the day, we spent a lot of time together. In fact, I’ve spent more time with you than 90% of friends I’ve had in nearly 40 years. Time. It’s worth something. It means something. It meant something to me. Time means we went deep. Time means we were true. Time means you saw me, and I saw you. Flaws, beauty and all.

Back in the day, I’m sure we would’ve never imagined that you’d move there and I’d be here. SO far. Yet so close.

What does this mean for us?

It means I haven’t seen you in something like seven years. Maybe more?

Wow.

I’m sighing again, friend.

That’s too long.

Distance made me immune. Distance caused me to believe we’ll never recapture the essence of the friendship we once had. Distance made me believe it’s okay to NOT respond in a timely fashion. Distance made me forget your awesome, beautiful, gracious humanity. Distance told me “Hey, no worries. It’s not like we can go out on Saturday night, anyway.” Distance made me inconsistent and terribly unpredictable as a friend.

I’m not nearly as awesome at friendship as I once was.

And I’ve proven myself to be a horrible long-distance friend.

I’ve neglected to return phone calls. Worse yet, my best excuses were “so busy,” “too busy,” and “too crazy around here.”

I’ve neglected to return emails in a timely fashion. You’re AMAZING at email, and I’m hit and miss when it comes to responding to personal email of any length, width or depth. It irks me beyond belief that you sent an email wishing me Happy Birthday and Happy Anniversary last July 4th, and I found it in my inbox a couple weeks ago, realizing I likely never even responded.

I neglected to acknowledge your 40th birthday with a call or card.

And yeah, back to email. It seems like every time I throw you a tough one, you respond immediately, with depth, sincerity and love. And I don’t respond for another month or two, three or four. What’s up with me and this long-distance friendship thing? Clearly, I did MUCH, MUCH better when you were in my daily physical space.

I’m running myself into a rut, and I know this isn’t what you would want for me. You always want the best. You always love, even when it’s not justified. You always send the sincerest, even when I’ve been more selfish than I care to admit. You’re always honest. Always kind. Always true. Always loyal. Always FULL of grace. Forgiving. Thoughtful. And humble.

Sighing again, friend. This is weighing on my heart.

I don’t know what to do.

Honestly, I hate talking on the phone. I just need to get better at email. And somehow…we need to see each other again and maybe more often.

Seven plus years is too long.

We need a night or two together.

Girl’s night. Just you and me.

Then maybe another girl’s night with some of our old friends.

Then an afternoon hanging with our kids at the park. They play. We chat. We eat picnic lunch. However long it takes.

No rush.

No distractions.

Just us.

Catching up. In real life. In real time.

Yeah, that would be good.

That would be awesome.

I’m sorry, friend.

Please accept my apologies.

I know I’ve already addressed this up and down, and I know you’re filled to the brim with GRACE, GRACE and MORE GRACE, but I’m wholly convicted. I’ve not been good at this long-distance friend thing.

I don’t have a great solution, but one thing’s for sure…you’re worth more than I’ve given.

This, I need you to know. 

You’re still in my heart. You’re still there. Nothing’s changed deep down.

Above all, I pray you find a true heart hidden in this letter.

A heart still loyal.

A heart that still calls you friend.

A heart that remembers the best days, treasures the bond, and expects hope and a future. For us. As friends. For now…LONG, LONG-distance best friends.

 

 

 

This is part of a month-long series on friendship titled Love Letters to Friends. To read the rest of the posts in the series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the series introductory post. Scroll to the bottom and you’ll find all the posts listed and linked for your reading pleasure.

This is a guest post written by my younger sister, Tiffany, who has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. Tiffany has shared a monthly guest post on my blog since February 2015. The purpose of these posts is to raise awareness of what it’s like to live with mental illness. I’m also hoping the posts will help readers recognize that we all have hopes, dreams, challenges and mountains to climb regardless of our mental health status. If you’d like to read the posts I’ve written about Tiffany’s journey and all the guest posts she’s shared on this blog, check out the mental health page. Without further ado, here’s Tiffany.

I was a freshman in college, sitting in Psychology 101, towards the back in the middle. I looked right and noticed a new friend. She was hip and had short hair. She walked by and sat in the middle, right hand side.

I lived in a dorm for athletes. I wanted a change, so I asked to be put on the waiting list for a dorm transfer. Guess whose room had an opening? That cool girl I saw in Psychology 101. Sure, I’ll live there!

That cool girl and I became very close. One day she was sitting on the roof. I was on the ground below. We had some simple conversations and began to understand each other.

That cool girl has been there for me through so much.

That cool girl had an idea to write notes to each other in a journal. We sent that thing back and forth for months.

That cool girl drove through a winter storm with me. We were off track a bit, but we made it home.

That cool girl was there to listen when I was pacing, screaming and crying on a roof in Venice Beach, California, telling her every detail about what was going on. Not understanding why life was like that. She had a plane ticket to fly to Los Angeles to hang out. That would have been so much fun, but I was not in the right mindset. She cancelled her plane ticket.

That cool girl knows when something is just not right with me. And, usually yes! She is right.

That cool girl is the one who taught me how beautiful friendships are. We don’t see each other too often, but we keep in touch. Thanks for being a friend!

Tiffany

This is part of a month-long series on friendship titled Love Letters to Friends. To read the rest of the posts in the series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the series introductory post. Scroll to the bottom and you’ll find all the posts listed and linked for your reading pleasure.