It's been a long time since I took a day to recover.
A day to recover emotional wellness, to recover hope, to recover self. As a mom of three with a part-time job and a traveling husband and various other hats and responsibilities I have in the community, it took some work to make happen.
But here I am. Recovery Day.
A day for recovering some personal things that have been lost.
And I keep thinking of my friends, my acquaintances, my Americans and Veterans who need recovery, too.
This election has slung mud that has reached places I never thought it could. Every party included. And I want to reach out and extend a hand of recovery to those who feel afraid, lost, sad, confused, marginalized, numb, apathetic.
To my fellow women, my dearest sisters of every and any color: may we recover joy, self-worth, and dignity; crowns of beauty and acts of kindness.
To my gay friends: may you recover hope and peace and sleep at night. May you recover a true sense of belonging, because you do.
To the privileged: may we recover empathy. In the Brene Brown sense of the word.
To the oppressed: may you recover an appetite, laughter, hope and freedom from fear. May you recover a sense of community and loving neighbors and extended arms.
To my friends of color (a friend this morning spoke of her half-black, half-white daughter being told "they're going to send you back to Africa"): may you recover strength and grit and wisdom as to what to do and what to say or not do and say to those who are cruel. May you recover identity, pride and freedom.
To President-elect Donald Trump: may you recover a healthy fear and respect of your responsibility, your duties and the weight of The Oval Office.
To Secretary Hillary Clinton: may you recover rest, perspective and wellness.
To Veterans: may you recover respect, dignity, pride. May you recover jobs and family bonding and self-worth.
To those who live in America: may we recover unconditional, outrageous love.