Best 15 quotes of Debi Tolbert Duggar on MyQuotes

As we got closer to Staten Island and the tip of Manhattan, the sun hung behind the dense wll of skyscrapers that defines the Manhattan skyline. Within minutes, the sun was a gigantic orangish-pink orb suspended over Gotham. I couldn't take my eyes off the scene, but there was nowhere to stop the bike for a photo. It was one of those moments seared into my consciousness for all eternity. The realization that I was riding out of the darkness and into the light of a new day ran through my head as I kept my eyes on that glorious sunrise.

Bart ended our relationship with a shoddy email, void of the romantic twaddle he spouted several months before. Like a jilted teenager, once again I tried to find a small slice of regret in his words, a tiny piece of salvation to clutch on my way down, Alas, Bart left no soft place for my heart to land.

Furthermore, my soul was sick, and heart shattered, seemingly beyond repair. I needed consolation. I sought redemption in the wind. I knew that on Bessie I could navigate around the soul sickness, find solace in the journey, and steer in the opposite direction of all the hefty feelings bearing down on me.

His voice was like velvet, and it alone could seduce a woman into doing things she only fantasized about.

I associate so many fond memories with food. On that damp evening, along in a tiny restaurant smelling of mildew and lobster, I was 1,600 miles from everyone I knew and loved. After one bite of the pie, I closed my eyes, and taste transported me back to the warm, familiar comfort of my grandmother's kitchen. She always had a pie sitting on the kitchen counter, ready to serve, and a fresh pot of coffee brewing.

In the parking lot of the ferry terminal in Maine that day, I gathered up all the pieces of myself that I'd given away in that relationship. I tucked them securely inside the saddlebag, glanced at the atlas, and then headed in my own direction at my own pace.

I ride with my tattoo of three red hearts, intertwined with barbed wire, emblazoned across my lower back, two birthdates delicately etched above each heart. The dates remind me of the day my life changed for the better with each child's birth. The larger heart anchors the two smaller ones, albeit with barbed wire, but anchors them securely to each other - a reminder that a mother's relationship with her daughters is sometimes thorny and sometimes smooth. Regardless of the heartache, she stands securely in between as the anchor, her daughters' her most treasured glory.

It was soothing to sit with life-long friends, the cacophony of bar sounds around us while we caught up on our lives and talked about the glory days of high school. My life since then had been on an accelerated trajectory, not always aimed in the best direction. I acquired a sense of well-being from those friends who married their high school sweethearts, set up housekeeping a stone's throw from where they grew up, and kept the heartbeat of small-town living beating rhythmically.

Momentarily, I could forget the sorrow of my absent daughter by being the daughter who was present.

Several shades of hazy blue hung over the landscape like a heavy tapestry, giving the Blue Ridge Mountains its name. I stopped at one of the scenic overlooks, switched off the bike, and sat in the absolute stillness of the mountains. Their silence was a soothing balm for my soul. The maternal rhythm of nature is a tonic that heals emotionally. I just wanted to sit still, breathe deeply, and match my heartbeat to that rhythm.

She virtually erased her mother from her life, giving herself a blank slate on which to write her life story.

Then, I continue my journey where the wind takes the tears, and the miles soften the memories.

When there was nothing left to do, but say goodbye, I hugged my dad, thanked him for the hospitality, and we both agreed it had been a good visit. Tears welled up in his eyes, and I realized at that moment, it doesn't matter how old our children or parents are, it doesn't get any easier to say good by. I had lost my younger daughter; my oldest will have moved out by the time I returned home, and dad was saying goodby to his oldest daughter. The circle of life connected us. How many times over the last forty-plus years had my dad reluctantly, with tears in his eyes, said goodbye to me? It made my own situation with my daughters more poignant.

With the utmost love as our motivation, we somethings think we are doing what is best for our children by protecting them from unpleasantness or cruelty. All we are really doing is shielding ourselves from owning up to misfortune or bad judgment.

With the utmost love as our motivation, we sometimes think we are doing what is best for our children by protecting them from unpleasantness or cruelty. All we are really doing is shielding ourselves from owning up to misfortune or bad judgment.