She hath wings

Learning to soar above life's storms

  • Tonight I made an observation that gave me (and the plaster on the walls) hope. My teen actually hugged me, accepted my apology for chiding too much and… didn’t slam the door.

    Projectiles were thrown earlier (I’m getting better at dodging them!) and I got called an idiot and a moron but… the door wasn’t slammed. It was truly a win tonight.

    Yesterday he had finished writing one of the hardest pieces of writing he will ever have to craft. He did it so well. I believe it was cathartic. May it influence the right people and help him too. Afterwards there was calm. He had been heard.

    How often do we as parents, think we have to say everything first. My teen has a lot of great things to say, but it has to be his timing. I’m learning to overlook the insults and smile that I have been noticed in the room, not just the screen in front of him.

    Celebrate the wins. Door open- that’s a bonus. Door not slammed- it was a good day!

  • I Still Believe

    Over the years, many films have moved me to tears, but only a handful of movies have gone one step further, touching my soul. I Still Believe, is Jeremy and Melissa Camp’s story. Something stirred within me with regards to the trauma of the past five years. Lockdowns, profound losses and very low points, forgetting who I was at times. Wondering what was the point of having interests and growing abilities if I didn’t get opportunity to use them.

    There is a moment in the film where the character who plays Jeremy has a major turning point towards hope. Watch it and let me know how it affected you. The impact on me was that I sensed God say, “Go bigger! It is time to write that book”.

    Let nothing stop you. Don’t let anything rob you of your joy. Embrace disappointment as a stepping stone to growth and a fuller life as it leads you to new things. Thankyou Jeremy for the story behind the song. I still believe…

  • Monday marks the anniversary of the day we saw a great unravelling in our family. The most disturbing news came to us piece by piece, in relatively quick succession. I held a newborn baby in my arms in the early hours of the morning, when the trauma turned to disbelief and shock and temporary almost- paralysis in my limbs. I was meant to be putting baby back to the bassinet after a feed, but I couldn’t move.  Later that day I would make a spontaneous request of a close friend to drive me some distance to say another goodbye, stuck in a nightmare I still, to this day, can hardly believe. She selflessly minded my one month old with a bottle while I sat in a room and waited with others. I hadn’t barely processed watching my own father pass away; I couldn’t bear to watch the final minutes, no matter how much I wanted to be be strong enough this time. Later, I passed my beautiful baby around to those who needed tangible solace. What a gift on such a dark, dark day.

    The next day, the family needed to get out and to have some sunshine, so we went to one of our familiar haunts. The playground was closed, the car engine wouldn’t start and moods slumped further. Roadside assistance came and we were back on our way, with Mum taking the older two to a different park near our house. More ominous news came and I decided I did not want to be alone at night with three kids including a newborn at that time. I packed some things with hubby’s help, then got in the car before dusk with baby, heading to Mum’s where I stayed the night. By the time I went to sleep, it was all over. So began one of the darkest, life-altering chapters our family will ever go through.

  • Tonight as I sat on the end of my eldest son’s bed, pushing through comments like “stop wasting my life”, he finally snapped out of it and quizzed me on some Italian music terms. After impressing him with my memory recall, we came across a  term that eluded me, yet sounded familiar. It means, “but not too much”. It kind of sums up the delicate nature of my relationship with E-man, of late. He still wants mum, but not too much. He wants space, but not too much. He wants food, but not too much. All things are carefully needing balance, as at any moment, he may feel the need to say “go away” or similar hurtful comments.

    I read a very useful piece of information this week which helped me to try once again to build rapport with my son. So often, we let our emotional injury prevent us being unconditionally there for our teen, when really, they need to know, more than ever, that we are there and we are not scared off by their big emotions. This week, I’m going to try to find those moments where E-man lets me into his world, just enough but “not too much”. It might be a game of chess or some shots at the basketball ring. His terms, his timing, his choice to let me be there for him…ma non troppo.

  • Staring into nothingness-

    A place familiar now;

    Tears cannot suffice;

    A heart of jagged shards.

    Months turn into years,

    Yet behind wooden doors,

    We wrestle with ugly feelings;

    The true story unfolds;

    Nana’s not coming today;

    Papa won’t call again-

    Baby won’t even know,

    The joy we had with them;

    Months then years of pain-

    Still not able to heal;

    This grief too deep for words-

    Winter freeze complete.

    © M. Patterson 12.7.25

  • Getting Comfy

    Isn’t it joy beyond words,

    When the guard is let down,

    And smiles brim with love?

    True friendship of the lasting kind;

    Time never enough.

    Muscles relax as words fall like snowflakes-

    Gentle and inviting,

    Lighthearted and fun;

    Silence no longer the undesirable-

    Comfy enough.

    A longing to be known more deeply than before-

    Stories untold,

    Layers peeled back,

    Comfortable, vulnerable, open hearts

    Diamonds cut.

    © M. Patterson 2.6.2025

    The last line of this poem refers to the old saying “True friends are like diamonds, precious and rare…”

  • Tomorrow

    It’s hard to keep showing up

    My smile, glued to the shattered pieces;

    Like a mirror, never again,

    Will it ever be the same,

    And all the while, my eldest stony;

    Running me out of town,

    In his thoughts

    His words and actions;

    Every day a war zone-

    Never quite sure if he’s friend or foe,

    Striving to protect little children

    Listening ears

    Fragile hearts

    Struggling to hold it all together.

    Sandcastle crumbling

    Through my fingers

    Moments of joy suddenly smashed-

    Like a gust of wind bringing waves.

    I sit helpless and forlorn

    Robbed of the joy my toddler brings,

    Yet anxious for my teen-

    He would rather be alone.

    How he misses tears that fall;

    He doesn’t see me limping back

    To pick up the shells,

    The bucket, the spade-

    I’ll come back again

    And build tomorrow.

    © M. Patterson 6.5.25

    Inspired by the children’s book ” Grandpa and Thomas”

  • You are more than the tiny box they put you in-

    More than the insults that crippled your soul-

    You chose to stay- you chose to repair,

    But those pieces weaken when repeatedly glued.

    Your life now a mosaic of “has been” and “might have been”-

    Dearly treasured and

    Deeply painful-

    Mixed media-  an unfinished piece;

    There’s a brighter morrow coming soon;

    It urges you onward and hurries you back;

    You will not listen to their lies-

    You need new wings-

    As long as you soar,

    Your wings can’t be clipped…

    Fly away now- flee to the mountains;

    Hide and build strength in the strongholds there;

    Help others who,  like you, have chosen to rise…

    Return to the nest to feed your young.

    © M. Patterson 2025