The story begins with an ordinary day, a simple act of showing up. I walked into a speech therapy session, my mind preoccupied with the familiar routine. But that day, the routine was interrupted.

A beautiful foster mom sat in the foyer of her warm, life-filled home. Her children ran and played nearby, their laughter filling the room. As I stepped in, I was welcomed into their family’s village, embraced by their kindness and warmth. As I settled in, she asked a question that would change the course of our lives forever:

“Do you know anyone that might be able to adopt?”

It felt like time stopped. The words echoed in my heart, touching a place I hadn’t dared to let hope visit for years. It was as if a seed of possibility was being planted. Little did I know, the answer to her question would become the answer to a prayer written years before, tucked away in my husband’s gratitude journal since 2016. Yet, this happened on November 17, 2020.

Four years earlier, he had written, “Lord, if it’s Your will, bring forth a son.” I had no idea he’d written that prayer—not just once, but on every single page of his gratitude journal. And unbeknownst to him, he didn’t know how many nights I had spent crying out to God, aching for the child we had yet to hold.

The journey began quietly, like the unfolding of a miracle too big to see all at once. Over the next nine months, we walked a path full of hope, paperwork, and prayer, not realizing how beautifully orchestrated it all was. The moment finally came on a day already heavy with meaning—a day tied to both sorrow and healing.

It was a due date I had carried in my heart for years, tied to a miscarriage that had once left me shattered. But it was also the very same day we stood before a judge, holding hands, and became the parents of the most beautiful boy—our son.

God had taken the broken pieces of my story and made something beautiful. What once was a date of mourning became a day of indescribable joy. He had turned my sorrow into joy in a way I never imagined possible.

Fifteen years of tears fell in that virtual courtroom, but they were no longer tears of grief. They were tears of gratitude, awe, and love for the child we were finally able to call our own.

For anyone who knows the void of infertility, who feels the ache of unfulfilled longing, I want you to know this: your story isn’t over. There is still hope. The journey may not look the way you imagined, and it may take longer than your heart feels it can bear, but miracles have a way of finding us when we least expect them.

Sometimes, they come through a foster family asking a question. Sometimes, they come through a prayer written quietly in a journal. And sometimes, they come on the very day you thought joy was impossible.

Hold on. There is still hope. YOUR STORY IS NOT OVER!

Question
“If the deepest pain you’ve experienced was meant to prepare you for a purpose greater than you imagined, how might that change the way you view your journey?”

Walking the dogs at night,
They don’t ask for much.
My pups,
just a stroll.
They teach me so much,
to stop and pause,
to look up and sniff.

So much can be seen!

I hear the children laughing and yelling and the sound of whistles from the referees.
The sky is bright with both baseball field lights and the full moon.
The leaves already brown and orange and crunchy under my feet
An owl in the distance mixes with the aromas of rosemary by the sidewalk’s edge.

I feel a presence.

I see my grandpa in my mind’s eye, dressed in white,
wearing a hat and smoking a cigar,
strolling behind me, whistling then lowly singing a song I have never heard
but feels familiar just the same

(Even though I didn’t know him or the song in this life…)

The moon, the stars, the kids in the distance, the sound of panting and patter of paws on the concrete-
It doesn’t get better than this,
And it is just Monday.

I put my thoughts in compartments, your’s labeled,”Pink’s Ribbons.”
Where we were free, no worries or cares. Just you & me- running, falling, barbecuing, writing rhymes, drinking Coronas, smoking, laughing, until we couldn’t breath. Always getting a free pass from jail or VIP stat for just being us. We were wild cards aka “Dueces Wild.” We never gave a shit of what others did or thought. We always lived in our bubble of no hopes or dreams- dirty jeans, boots and a Newport hanging off of our lips while we spoke & drove on a whim of recklessness. Time has been good to us. I’ve grown to live in the moment, as you, even if the moment means picking up a pen & remembering our past in drafts. No one really knew us, for I only showed the club and you the heart- though we freely loved life- never pressured the future or over thought the past. We just lived- and everyday that we do, it’s so worth it. I show traces of white hair, a few lines on the edge of my lips reminding me how I always laughed, even throughout the toughest struggles. Reminding myself that I am a believer of noncoincidence & we come across people & situations in life for reasons unknown at the time until you reflect. Some part of me died throughout the years. The world looks so different today-in a positive light. Where my dimension has excelled to a different place spiritually. Who knew that growing from within meant enlightenment. This is my sweet spot. The place that I wish more of us could find. As we always knew we are the chosen ones. Star children with gifts we hid not to sound crazy to the “norm”. Who could I have possibly wanted shared with most-those/these moments. Only we know how we reached the depth of destruction only to be reborn and rise from our ashes, as you have always been my lucky star. Yesterday, today, tomorrow and forever~11/11💖 We both equal 18- the number of Life & Abundance. The life we continue to decifer & cherish until the depths of the universe-and that’s how much I love you. Deep to the nebulas in the galaxies of the Milkyway, the Andromeda & to the Whirlpool Galaxy~I’m so blessed to have you next to me in our universe~sharing I can’t give you or thank you enough for just being you in my life~
#PinksRibbon #ScorpioSisters

i have been shaken
By: Jim Kellogg
(The Queer Poet)
12-2-24
i have been shaken
by your trembling breath
slumbering in my arms
the melody it makes
when your heart is at ease
our bodies intertwined
our souls harmoniously dancing
the tune of unadulterated love
once in a lifetime magic
tears flow like nature’s uncontrollable fury
as i read this poem
i have been shaken

It was Diwali eve.
Walking about on the crowded streets of a busy bazaar, with a handful of unnecessarily full shopping bags, I attempted to absorb the capitalistic madness and the sensory overload all around me. Evidently, I had spent too much time away from home, and had clearly lost the knack of smart street side shopping. A skill over which, I had unwittingly relinquished my mastery.
Looking to purchase those lovely bangles from the street stall, I found myself shamelessly bargaining with the vendor to reduce the ticket price by 200 rupees(2 dollars) . Not because I did’not want to pay the extra couple of bucks but because it felt like a gratifying activity to engage in .There was something ego boosting about seeing someone succumb to my whimsical wishes.
It was then I felt a gentle pat on my back.
In front of me , well below eye level stood a little boy who if had to guess, was no older than possibly 8 years. A boy whose smile matched the smiles on the colorful balloons he carried and intended to sell. I was smitten and felt an instant liking. Right away, I experienced a fondness for his face, his untainted innocence, his purity, his aura.But I had no logical need for his giant balloons, then or ever at all. Sadly realizing this, I gently shooed him away. His face fell but he didn’t move. It was clear he wasn’t just about ready to give up on me yet.Mustering up courage , he begged me for help stating he had’nt eaten in a while and any money I could hand out would go a long way in feeding him and his sister.I wanted to help him but I had no local currency. As I rummaged through my purse I kept glancing at him, half expecting him to grab my purse any minute and run away. But he waited patiently. “I am sorry but I don’t have any local money” , I informed him sadly.Although he was disappointed , at some level I believe he could sense my genuine intent to help.Sheepishly he folded his hands behind his back and stuttered” Aunty, it’s ok. But can I walk you to a store near by? They have firecrackers and accept credit cards”
I found myself smiling involuntarily.
Clearly, it wasn’t a very thought out request . He was hungry and needed food. He has no need for frivolous fireworks. He just wanted them.
In front of me , I saw just a child. A child searching for joy in unsuspecting ways. A child who had no plan about his next meal. A child who had his priorities all wrong.
He was a child and that was all there was to him.
And that fact , justified all aspects irrational about the “please” he said to me that day .As I accompanied him to the store and got him the fireworks he desired, he walked away elated while I walked away with an awakening.
Sometimes, it is ok to just not foresee a future.
Sometimes, It is ok to be frivolous.
It is ok to look for instant gratification.
It is ok to not have a plan at all for some tomorrows.
Vetrivel and many such kids continue to live their lives by the day.
All they have is this today
A today that can never guarantee that a tomorrow shall even be.
All they have is this today
A today to tide through
In hope, joy and wishful childlike glee.

Dear Unsealers,

When I was a little girl, my grandfather bounced me on his knee and sang “Three Little Fishes” as I giggled through the song. All he ever wanted was for me to feel joy in life. He died when I was 13. It was my first experience with overwhelming grief, and I was devastated. I coped by leaning into the idea that my grandfather was watching over me and cheering me on in all my pursuits.

He used to tell me that the rain was good luck. So, whenever it rained during big moments of my life, I believed it was my grandfather signaling to me, “Don’t worry, I am here.” It rained at my high school graduation. It rained when I scored big goals in soccer. It rained when I interviewed for my dream job as a sports anchor. It poured the day I was offered that job, which happened to be my late grandfather’s birthday. It seemed like it was always raining on the most important days of my life, which only cemented my belief that my grandfather was watching out for me.

However, on November 30, 2022, it was a clear night in Miami — not a cloud in the sky. I decided to attend a networking event for people in Miami who work in technology. There, I made eye contact with this tall, handsome man. He started talking to me, and after telling him about my company, The Unsealed, he told me that he had founded an online company when he was younger. He said his site received 20,000 organic hits daily (that’s a lot). And so, I started asking many questions — it was rapid-fire, one after the other. At some point, he stopped me and said, “Do you want to continue this conversation over tacos?” And so, we left and ate Mexican street corn and tacos on a picnic table outside a restaurant that doubles as a speakeasy.

It didn’t take me long to realize that this man was kind, intelligent, classy, funny, and thoughtful. From that day forward, we started spending a lot of time together: dinners, events, and even weekend trips. As I opened up to him about my past and my pain, he listened closely. He asked questions, and he never judged me. One time, we were watching a movie, and I had a flashback from my sexual assault. I put the pillow over my head and asked him to change the channel quickly. He turned off the TV, and as my eyes started to well up with tears, he said, “Come here, let me hold you.” When I shared my fears and insecurities about building a company, he said, “Lauren, think of the ten smartest people you’ve ever encountered, and I promise you at least nine of them couldn’t do what you’ve done.” To this day, he always follows through when he makes a promise to me, whether it be a trip to a foreign place or to my favorite restaurant. From the beginning, he has known when I am happy, anxious, frustrated, or hungry — just by the look on my face — and has responded accordingly. He is so in tune with who I am and how I feel that it seems as though my peace is his priority.

Even so, early in our relationship, I was afraid to trust the authenticity of his love. I had been disappointed so many times in love and relationships, and I was on edge, just waiting for the shoe to drop — just waiting for something to go wrong. I couldn’t live in the moment as I was too afraid it would soon end. One night, he was on his computer while I was resting on his couch, and I randomly asked him what his name meant in his culture. He was in the middle of working and responded, “I don’t know — something with water.” So I googled it. His name translates as “the God of rain.”

In disbelief, that was the moment I began to let myself love and be loved. That was the moment I started to trust my partner and the universe. It was the reassurance I needed to know I was safe. About a year later, he proposed to me on the boardwalk at Disney World. We are getting married in a few months, and I am so excited. Falling in love has enriched my life and made the present moment so special, so much so that it has made me believe that magic exists in all of our lives.
For years, the rain was a way for me to stay connected to the joy my grandfather brought me, but now, it’s what allowed me to embrace the joy right before me.

With immense hope and gratitude,

Enchantment I can see, the world is full of possibilities…
The connection that I feel, to something POWERFUL, something greater than me
The feeling of heaven on earth,
The channeling of mystical energy
Feeling what I feel, receiving an inner knowing that magic is REAL
Believing what I see, signs in the universe make me believe, make me believe in magic
What I imagine, is what I see
Dream a little and you will see,
Dream BIG, and it will be!
When I believe, the POWER’S in me, then I will see!
If I BELIEVE in magic

running in slow motion
By: Jim Kellogg
(The Queer Poet)
9-30-24

running in slow motion
at an exceptionally reduced pace
toward
away from
not content in the middle
looking back
with mixed emotions
hostility
satisfaction
looking forward
with mystery
a riddle
a question mark
creating a kaleidoscope
black and white
dazzling hues
unsteady
stable
mirrors and shards of broken glass
reflecting
challenging
creating madness
birthing sageness

running in slow motion
at an exceptionally reduced pace
closed doors
barriers and secrets
open doors
exploration and opportunities

I FEEL IT, I LOVE IT
IT’s THAT FEELING CALLED HOME.

Kicking off my shoes, as I undo my hair
Hanging up the keys, as I climb up the stairs
I feel the same reassurance flooding my inside
As I peel off my pretenses, my ego, my pride.
Standing there exposed, leaving it all on the outside
There was no longer a need to cover
To fake , to pretend or hide.

For I was finally home!

Kindling up the fires , I brew a comforting cup of tea
With no inhibitions or rules, my soul feels happy, peaceful and free.
This was my shelter , my no judgement zone
Unburdening the weight of opinions
I feel light as just me and me alone.

For I was finally home!

Nudging me to step out,
To discover, conquer and explore,
But enticing me to return,
Today and everyday even more.
Quelling my fears while keeping me calm,
This is one place where I know no one can do me harm.

As I shut the doors each day , I ask myself
Do I ever truly leave?
For though around me , the world and it’s people I see
In my pocket, I secretly carry that piece of home with me!

See these footsteps? These are the imprints of the precious little feet I created with my DNA. My little son walking, frolicking, and playing in the sand. Living life and enjoying it in the moment. I can now hold on to this picture, the memories attached to it- and now even this letter … forever and ever 🌹❤️

May the strength of my men always carry me through the longest of walks in life.

Mr. Rogers,

I wanted to tell you thank you for everything. Thank you for encouraging me to continue writing. Thank you for giving me a safe place to crash when things were chaotic in my life. Thank you for introducing me to your family and friends. But, most of all thank you for just being you.

If “Love is patient”
and “Love is kind”,
then why do I feel
like I’m losing my mind?

It’s not easy to be patient,
when your family is all around.
It’s also hard to be kind,
Or, at least, that’s what I have found.

My mother’s mind wanders,
she never stays on task.
When it comes to what she’s doing,
I always have to ask!

“Where are you going now?”
“How long will it take?”
“Do you have to do that right away?”
“You’re going to make us late!”

Granny’s got a mouth,
and she runs it every day.
When it comes to me and Mom,
she’s always got something to say!

“Go brush your hair,
it looks like a wig!”
“Oh, you’re getting seconds?
Your belly’s getting big!”

Snapping back is in my nature,
sometimes I want to fight!
But I love them both so much,
so, on my tongue, I bite.

I give myself some time,
to process what I heard.
I remember who I’m talking to,
before I speak a word.

Mom might drive me crazy,
but she brought me in this world.
I know I gave her a hard time,
when I was just a girl.

Granny doesn’t mean to hurt us,
when her words come out so sharp.
She just doesn’t have a filter,
but she does have a heart.

We’re all a little crazy,
we’re each a little nuts.
But at the end of the day,
that’s what makes us “US”!

So it may not be easy
to be patient and kind,
but I’ll put in the extra work
for this family of mine.

-Caitlin Jablonsky

“I wrote this poem from my wife’s perspective about her relationship with her mother and grandmother.”
-Matty Jablonsky

Was driving home from work after not having the greatest night… and I saw a guy, with his hazards on, pushing his van…

I came back around and asked him if he needed some help (along with another person who had stopped) and he said that he had run out of gas. I told him that I needed some, too, and to hop in my car.

We pull up to the gas station and there’s a container sitting right next to the pump. Could not have scripted it better…

While I was filling the container, we were talking and he told me how thankful he was… I said that it was no problem and that he had to pay it forward. He then told me that a few days earlier, he had helped a man who was suicidal. I said that’s amazing and that this is just coming back to him for doing the right thing!

My point in telling this story is that the world is not as bleak as it is made out to be… times are obviously very tough right now, but there is still something to be said for helping each other out. I told the guy as he was leaving that good deeds go in a cycle, from one person to the next… we hugged and went on our separate ways, both better for having met each other.

“Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on Earth.”

— Muhammad Ali