Posted on by palmtreemomma

A Great Love

I have had a great love and I carried it with me these past two months as I hiked forests, sat beside bubbling falls, walked along the water’s edge, and breathed in the air that can only be found at the edge of the salt marsh. I waited breathlessly for sunrises and sunsets and learned to fill the space in between with a new way of being. As I watched Spring slowly come to coastal South Carolina, and later begin the to brush the edges of the mountains further inland, something within me began to come alive as well.

I came face to face with my alone-ness. I let the terrors come so close they brushed against my cheeks and threatened to undo me. The hurt came and went but slowly I began to breathe again. Lungs full of cleansing air that chilled and filled and soothed.

I realized that I had been living my life asleep. And without the affairs that shattered my world, I may never have woken up.

Waking up

I had always told myself that if Austin ever cheated on me, I would be done. That our marriage would be over.

And then it happened. All my worst fears come true. But everything was murky and suddenly nothing was clear anymore. No matter which angle I came at it from, I couldn’t make any sense of anything. The only thing I knew for sure, was that I needed to have some time away.

At first, I wanted to burn our family photos. Shatter the penguin cup we picked out for our last anniversary. I couldn’t bear to look at the paintings on the walls that we bought in Asian markets during our years abroad. Everywhere I looked, there were reminders of the beautiful life and love we had shared. And it just hurt too much.

Today, I’m sitting in our living room. Surrounded by these mementos of that beautiful life. And I have no regrets. I’m glad I didn’t smash or burn them. I am able to treasure them, even if that part of my life is over.

For I have had a great love.

a great love

The blank page before me
fills the screen
I sit in silence,
wondering how to put
these thoughts into words.
If I were a bird I would sing
a melody so bittersweet
it would halt those passing by
with something hauntingly beautiful
the kind of melody only found
after a needed but terrible
storm has passed.
I have had a great love.
Of this I have no doubt.
It swept me off my feet in the beginning,
pulled the rug out from under me later
left me wondering which side was up
for so long.
And yet
it was a great love.
One that I will treasure
for ever
and always.
This love took me around the world
showed me people and cultures
tropical terrains
sights, sounds, and smells too beautiful
and complex for words.
It gave me 3 amazing sons
that make me fiercely proud.
This love gave me the courage
to dance
to a different tune.
One that was born within
and tenderly nurtured
by the earth
and the Great Spirit
and She who gives birth
to life itself.
But most of all,
this love gave me a friend.
One who loved me
as best he could.
Who taught me to laugh
held me when I cried.
Was there when I woke
to all of my losses.
Tenderly coaxed me
out of my shell
applauded when I 
told my story
faced my demons
stepped into the light.
I have had a great love.
And I will carry it with me
as a part of my wings.
For this love has changed me
in all the best ways.
I'm ready to let the past
be the past.
I have no regrets.
For I have had a great love.
`MM

The shift

Something shifted within me during my time away. Something that I still haven’t quite found the words for. But I am trying. As the time came for me to pack up and return home, I was filled with a lot of apprehension. I’ve always loved coming home, but now home did not feel safe anymore.

I couldn’t hide it. Or pretend everything was okay. Hiding is overrated. And pretending slowly sucks the happy out of our souls.

So I was honest. And honesty turned into one conversation which turned into another and I realized with absolute clarity that no matter what, I will always be friends with this beautiful soul who has shared 25 years of my life.

Before I left for South Carolina, I could not imagine remaining friends if our marriage ended. It was too painful. But now I cannot imagine not remaining friends.

finding answers

I didn’t come home with answers. But I came home with honesty and that honesty is leading to the answers.

The biggest shift came in realizing with absolute clarity that I always want to be friends with him. Then I was able to be honest about how difficult it has been for me to go with him to Pride events because they felt threatening to me. To Us. But I realized if I went with him as a friend, instead of his wife, I would be his biggest fan. The relief I felt in my body, at that thought of supporting him as his best friend, was something I did not anticipate. But it was a wake up call to me and I paid attention.

In fact, I feel like all of the things that have shifted and clarified for me are the result of all the years of doing the inner work of self-healing. Of learning to listen to my body.

So when I finally was able to admit to myself that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering if I am the only one, it gave me the final clarity I was looking for. I don’t want to live in question of whether or not I am enough.

finding forgiveness

I have been able to completely forgive Austin for the affairs. And I have no regret for the years we spent together and the beautiful life we had.

In the end, I have come to realize we both have needs and desires that will not be fully met within our marriage. And so we have decided together that marriage is no longer the container for our love and we are moving forward with plans for a divorce.

We have had a great love. Gave it everything we had. We both really wanted this to work. I have no resentment or anger anymore. I am, and always will be, his best friend, biggest fan and loudest cheerleader.

We have had a great love.

Want to hear more? You can also find me on Instagram @maritajmiller and Facebook Beyond The Cocoon. Drop me a line if you want to be added to my email list.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Happy Pride!

June is Pride month. Sparked by the Stonewall Riots in June of 1969, many cities across the US have special activities to celebrate the LGBTQ+ community. But Pride month feels strangely quiet this year. Many parades and events have been canceled due to the pandemic. Racial tensions have sparked protests worldwide and the focus of many has been survival.

Survival. Of the virus. Isolation.

Survival. Of being Black in America.

Survival. Of being Queer. It’s still a thing.

Living colors

Last summer I walked the streets of Pittsburgh in awe as the city came together to celebrate. Moms, Dads, siblings, co-workers, friends. Coming together to support those who were waving their flags and wearing their colors. A living rainbow that is felt even more than it is seen. Unstoppable life. Unquenchable authenticity.

A few weeks later I watched as Austin sat in front of our booth at a local Pride event. He set up a free face painting station and must have painted close to a hundred faces. Rarely stopping from morning until late afternoon.

Queer. Straight. Young. Old. Male. Female. Non-binary. Some wore their pronouns with confidence. Others were still figuring it out. Face after beautiful face, held up to the light, waiting for the brush.

Sometimes those who have suffered repression and hate – but choose life anyway – are the only ones who can show us the light.

My husband painted and passed out glitter. He offered the unstoppable life and light that he had found and accepted the light of others in return.

I just stood there and watched. Toes quivering as the ground shivered from a holy breath that wrapped us all in the breeze.

Sometimes those who have suffered repression and hate – but choose life anyway – are the only ones who can show us the light.

Unquenchable authenticity

I stood in the back of our booth, selling rainbows and unicorns and other fun toys that made people smile. But I kept watching the glow coming from the front, as the light danced and the brush dipped and swirled.

It was as perfect a day as I will ever have. Because I witnessed a space where people did not have to pretend. Authenticity was celebrated. No one was different, only unique. Beautiful. Brave. Real.

If I had to sum up any Pride event in one word, it would have to be “love”.

I grew up in a community that celebrated conformity instead of uniqueness. So I’m still quite taken by the spectacle of unquenchable authenticity. The sheer joy I see in those who have chosen to love and live out of who they are is gloriously scandalous.

Instead of being afraid of them, I find I am drawn in. Because at the core is love. And like the ancient text says, there is no room in love for fear.

If I had to sum up any Pride event in one word, it would have to be “love”.

I close my eyes and try to imagine the whole world this way. The whole of humanity more concerned about being real than about fitting in. Polishing their own lights instead of blocking others. You don’t need to grab the mic or control the stage when you have found your own glorious inner light. You just need to be. Unstoppable life. Unquenchable authenticity. Painted with the purest of love.

New to this site? Read the beginning of my journey here. Feel free to reach out by email here if you need a listening ear or would like to continue this conversation.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Human First

Everyone loves a good story, one filled with hope and redemption. All I need to do is follow the trail of likes, comments and extra visitors on my blog. I can see exactly what people like and want to hear.

Most of us are drawn to what makes us feel comfortable. Our whole lives we’ve been steeped in the lie that tells us life is supposed to feel good. That every story can and should have a happy ending and that bad things aren’t supposed to happen.

The truth is more nuanced and difficult to pin down. My life is much too busy and complicated to figure out what it is supposed to be. All I know is what is. Life is messy, disappointing, surprising, exhilarating, depressing, good, bad, beautiful, ugly all at the same time. It just is.

Many of you shared your love for last week’s post about the business we built out of the ashes of our marriage. Realize however that not everyone has this same story. There are many couples in MOMs who are exhausting themselves with questions and tears. They struggle to figure out whether or not they can and should try to remain in their marriages. Even for us, I still have days when I have doubts. It’s not easy.

Life is Messy

I’ve felt despair shake my body while tears squeezed their way from my heart onto my cheeks, feeling things too deep for words. There are other strains and stresses in my life that I have not shared with you. Years spent living so poor we were an inch from life on the streets. All this in the middle of the earthquake that defined our marriage. Life is messy and sometimes the pain is unbearable.

Perhaps the reason we gravitate toward stories of hope and redemption is because we want to believe that it will be okay in the end, for us. We long for the reassurance that the mud and muck we are wading through will be worth it. We listen to these stories and we share them with others because we want them to experience that same hope. This is not a bad sentiment, but the true test of friendship is when I choose to be present in the midst of the unending crisis. This kind of a friend stays present throughout the course of a disasters or a break-up. Staying for closet door openings and truth telling moments, whether we agree or not. It is not looking for an escape route as soon as the ending is not looking so rosy. True friendship sticks around when life is messy.

It has become clear to me this year that many Christians have a difficult time with this type of love. Loving someone different from themselves seems like too much work and self protection is given a higher priority. All I need to do is to talk about Pride events, the border wall or immigrants and the barriers begin to go up. This is all pretty ironic when you study ancient texts and read the words spoken by their prophet that they will be known (as Christians) because of the love they have for each other.

Perhaps it wasn’t always this way. I hope not. But I’ve noticed a trend in the American church that has been painful.

some things i notice

These Christians feel the need to let us know they love us but they disagree. It’s a weird urge that doesn’t let them commence being friends until they have explained their beliefs. It is as if the only way for them to keep themselves clean is by putting this clarifying distance between us.

This type of Christian loves us but wants to influence us to change in some way. They offer their wisdom or the wisdom of another person who has chosen to live out their queerness in a different way. Perhaps they assume that we have never thought of those things ourselves and wrestled with those same questions.

These folks say their faith is for all people. Much of our experience proves otherwise. They like to surround themselves with those who look like them, speak their language and comply with their unspoken club rules.

Sometimes they are just socially awkward, preferring silence or small talk. They let their discomfort lead them. Instead of leading by doing the work to love all, they prefer to hold on to judgement, especially when life gets messy.

Another way

In February, I had the privilege of returning to Bangladesh. It had been nearly 9 years since I last pressed the soles of my sandals onto the land I had once called home. For 2 weeks I wrapped myself in her embrace. As I listened to her heartbeat, I remembered what my Muslim friends taught me. While the weeks were full of experiences that illustrate my point, the one that shows it best was the day I was so sick the earth felt like it was going to swallow me up.

excerpt from the Kahiniwalla blog –

Misery violently took over my night, pushed sleep aside and sent me rushing to the bathroom. The initial relief was short lived. I soon found myself fumbling in the darkness, desperate for the antibiotics the Traveler’s Clinic had sent with me. I gulped down the first giant tablet, determined to be ready for travel by morning.

Yet, morning still found me pasted to my bed, stomach swirling in unreasonable circles. Eyes squinted tightly shut to block out the light and hands grasping a plastic bag just in case. As we left the city behind and headed towards Dhaka, I laid back in my seat and willed myself to survive the journey.

It was awful, I’m not gonna lie. Our driver, Ramjan, who had been nothing but a gentleman since we left Dhaka, was now doing his best to maneuver his way home. It wasn’t long before I found myself squatting on the side of the road, upheaving the remains of my stomach. Ramjan hovered beside me, full of concern, telling my friend to hold my hand and pull my hair back. He even took a long look at my vomit to try to figure out what I had eaten that was causing my insides to have such a mutiny.

When I was finished, he motioned for me to hold out my hands so he could pour water into them. He showed me how to rinse out my mouth and wash my face. As I squatted in the dirt by the side of the road and cupped my hands to accept his gift of water, I felt the Divine tapping me on the shoulder and I knew I was taking in a holy sacrament. I saw my Creator mirrored so beautifully in the face of our Muslim driver who shared his water with this tired and sick American woman. Something inside came unglued and it’s a wonder I made it back into the van instead of catapulting down the embankment.

Human First

The water shared by our conservative Muslim driver was still wet on my face when I remembered what my Muslim friends had been teaching me all along – to see others as human first. Not once did they share their beliefs before deciding whether or not to be a friend. Though the ancient text they follow may tell them that I am an infidel, they showed me a depth of love and acceptance I rarely see people of my own background and faith giving to those who are, in some way, different.

I cannot count the times I have been shown love and grace by people whose beliefs were quite different from my own. I was a stranger, and they loved me. Though I was different, they accepted me. I was a foreigner and they welcomed me, giving me a seat at the table and the best of their food. Though I was an infidel they took care of me as if I were their own. I held their babies and they held mine. They saw me as human first and they treasured my humanity.

Life is messy and complicated but it becomes beautiful when we see each other as human first. We have so much to learn from those unlike ourselves!


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.