“I am tired.” Lately, I’ve been confessing this, way too often.  And that really irks me. It makes me feel weak. As if I can’t handle things, or worse, I am failing in being me. You see, as a bonafide self-acclaimed type A, get it done, multitasker, overachiever, pretty much wannabe Wonder Woman- weakness isn’t something, I so easily embrace, or accept. If anything, my tenacity provokes a kick butt approach to life – pressing through, moving forward, getting back up, is the way I prefer to do things. By no means, am I proclaiming to have it all together, because I don’t.  But, I do admit that I am a teeny (just an iota) bit prideful, and I am sure many of you can relate. The problem with this way of thinking is that at times, I don’t know my limits, or that I am about to jump off the deep end. I have gotten better at this, but then again, I still have my seasons. I am not saying it is wrong to …

A couple of weeks ago, I sat across from a good friend. We were in McDonalds. And we were fasting. Fortunately, I find nothing on the menu appealing, well, not anymore. A few years ago, I was addicted to their Coca Cola. While others in the morning walked into work with a coffee in their hands, I had my medium Coca Cola. I’m convinced they add extra sugar to their mix. This was an issue until  four years ago when a fast stopped that horrible habit. Tear, tear! So, there we were, in a booth, sitting across from each other, with our small coffee (which is a must during our talks) and dried oatmeal topped with some want-to-be fresh fruits. We definitely weren’t there for the gourmet cuisine, or the ambiance for that matter, rather, we were there to empty our hearts, to listen, and to love one another unconditionally. Neither of us put on masks, or speak with religious lingo- “all is well” and  “blessed and highly favored”. There is no religious superstition, such …