Michigan-Lady

Losing Sunshine...

2012-01-14T19:43:00.000-08:00

Bob lost a good friend today. Her name was Boni. A friend from his California days that he’d carried in his heart all these years. She was 11 years his senior but together, along with his buddy Pat, the three of them had a special quality that only friendships can bring.

Bob met Boni while working at the Caltech Library in Pasadena, California. She was a librarian in the archives department and loved books, spending days reading, studying, and researching whatever her job required. Bob loved working with her and from the time I met him, heard story after story of the friendship they shared, so when we got married, I wasn’t surprised that the first trip we took would be to Caltech so I could meet her and see the places matching the stories he told.

When I met Boni, I saw a person that personified love and zest for life like no one I’d ever met. She had a big smile and a warm embrace that matched her love for Jesus and she loved to talk about Him to whomever she met. Walking with a cane due to a severe hip abnormality, she walked slow and sometimes painfully, but I was amazed at her energy and optimism, treating every day as a gift because she could. Boni, for sure, was a treasure – I could see that myself – and from that day forward we kept in touch through Christmas letters for more than 30 years.

As each year passed, the Christmas cards would come – a one page typed letter telling of her work at Caltech, visits to Spain, and family news. Then she’d sign the bottom with simply, “Sunshine” and Christmas felt complete.

Then the letters stopped, but we didn’t know why. The last one we’d received was 2009 but we figured it was just due to busy schedules or maybe extended travel. 2010 went by, then 2011 and Bob decided to give her a call. Looking up her name and finding it disconnected, he went on the internet to find another number but instead of a connection – found a notice saying she’d gone to be with the Lord.

How do you deal with news like that? With the hole in your heart that aches for the loss? It’s hard, that’s for sure, and it reminds us how fragile life can really be. Earlier today, Bob and I passed our church on the way to the movies. A funeral was in session and we wondered who had passed. For a moment we drove in silence, then talked about Bob’s mom and the difference she made in our lives. Not everyone knew her, but those she touched, will always remember her for loving ways.

That would be Boni. A life who loved to live and lived to love.

Journaling God

2011-11-13T18:48:00.000-08:00

I used to keep a journal called God-sightings. Every day I would write something down that helped me focus on thankfulness. Sometimes it would be big things, other times it would be something small, but at the end of the year I could look back and see that God was a part of my life in everything I did.

It takes work to keep a God journal. You have to make time to look around you. To see the small stuff. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve kept up my journal and I now wish I could recapture the lost miracles. But I’ve made up my mind that it’s too worth it to not make the time. With Thanksgiving fast approaching, it seems appropriate to begin my daily ritual again.

This week God blessed me in many ways ~ from getting me through a busy 5 days at work, to giving me an unexpected surprise with my published article in Reminisce. Even today, someone in the parking lot at church caught me unawares by telling me she’d read my article. I got two calls from Andrew over the weekend, enjoyed crisp sunny weather, spending the day getting the yard ready for winter. God helped me fix an incredible meal of ribs and winter squash and has helped me stretch my money in my wallet when our resources have been low.

This week, my boss gave us tickets to see his daughter’s high school performance, so Bob and I had the chance to spend an evening with he and his wife and meet his stepmom and father. When given the sad news that my other boss’s wife learned she has cancer, God helped me give him words of encouragement and the chance to pray.

Thanksgiving is everywhere if we take the time to look. I , for one, need to set my sights on Him and get ready to really give thanks.

Have you seen God lately? Try writing it down...

Where are you on 9/11?

2011-09-11T20:30:00.000-07:00

It was early morning in Phoenix, and I was getting ready for work. Bob had just turned on the TV in the bedroom and as we both stood there mesmerized by the news reporters words, we witnessed the worst crime committed to the United States in history. I couldn't take my eyes off the screen and felt my emotions rise within me as the smoke billowed from the twin tower. Then...while we watched the tragedy unfold, the other plane hit the second tower. Was it an accident, my mind asked, or was it really an act of terrorism? The plane ignited, sending flames of fire shooting into the sky. Within minutes, the first tower began its descent, crumbling within the ugly smoke, followed by the second tower. Then we learned there was another hijacked plane that had crashed in Pennsylvania, filled with innocent people, leaving America awash in ash and death.

I thought about people I didn't even know that had become a part of me, wanting to never forget who they were. For days I watched rerun after rerun of the nightmarish scenes, imagining demons forming in the smoke. Freedom was forever ripped from my mind as I tried to understand why Al Quaida hated us so much. Every time I heard the words Iraq, Muslim, or Isama bin Laden, it made my heart burn as hot as the twin tower flames. How could I ever trust again? Now, ten years later, the phrase "9/11" still brings instant images to my mind. I still feel a great loss and think about our soldiers dying every day to keep our country safe.

Do I still feel anger and fear? Do I wonder if every person that wears Muslim attire is bad and means to harm? Do I worry that America is just one step away from destruction and feel that I can never trust again?

If I am honest, I would say that sometimes those feelings surface in my mind, but the other part of me, the Christ-filled believer part of me says God is greater than anything America endures. He loves Muslims and Iraqis as much as He loves me and trust means knowing that no matter what happens this day or next, God's in control and provides peace inside and out.

Where are you on 9/11?

Good Deals

2011-07-30T10:39:00.000-07:00

For an avid bargain hunter, there's nothin' better than getting a good deal at a local yard sale. Browsing through the myriad of treasures randomly displayed on foldable tables, it's like looking for gold in a African jungle cave. Never knowing what you'll find, the measure of intrigue is always there and the obsession takes over to seek sales from every corner.

My friend Julie and I decided today was a good day to track the perfect sales. So when we spotted a couple of signs, we quickly turned down the street, despite puzzled travelers behind our car, who'd had to brake fast to avoid hitting our car.

The first house we came to had some rooster decor but nothing that snagged my attention, so we went to the next block's sale to seek what we could find. It didn't take me long to see a beautiful, near-new, king size quilt, neatly folded and clearly marked at $15. Another lady was looking at it and I waited at the next table to bide some time, then circled back as soon as I saw she'd left. Its' red, white and blue design was clean and crisp and it even had two king shams and I knew it was a good deal even at the price it been given. But since bargaining for the best deal is part of the fun, I asked the owner to consider $10 and to my surprise she quickly agreed and I carted my new found treasure to the car.

The next house we came to had victorian dolls, kitchen items, and furniture for sale, but I couldn't find anything significant until I rounded the back table one more time. In front of the dolls sat a small little box with different jewelry items displayed at $1.00 each. I sifted through some rings and a pearl bracelet, when I discovered some Cold Water Creek genuine stone earrings on the original card and turned face down. The price on the card showed $24.00 and knowing this high priced store, I realized what a find it was, so I took them in my hand and...yes...asked the young woman managing the sale if she'd take $.50 cents. The humorous thing about it all is that the woman was about to say yes when her husband piped up and asked, "What were they marked at?" As if he knew their worth. Considering they were marked at a dollar, why would he even squabble at $.50 cents?? The lady smiled and told me yes, so again, I trotted down the driveway with treasure in hand.

My adrenaline was rushing and I was ready to do more but we headed home to get some lunch. Regardless of the time we spent, I came home with a sense of accomplishment, ready to conquer yet another good deal.

As Scarlett O'Hare said in "Gone with the Wind", "Tomorrow IS another day."

Heaven between rain

2011-07-29T20:11:00.000-07:00

In the book, "a big little life - the memoir of a joyful dog" by Dean Koontz, he writes:

"If we allow ourselves to be enchanted by the ordinary, we begin to see all things as extraordinary. If we allow ourselves to be humbled by what we do not and cannot know, in our humility we are exalted. If we allow ourselves to recognize the mystery and the wonder of existence, our fogged minds clear. Thinking clearly, we follow wonder to awe, and in a state of awe, we are as close to true wisdom as we will ever be."

For over six months, I worked, planned, and dreamed my boss's Finance conference into existence. Lists, negotiations, and registration took over my world and when I say I breathed, ate and slept the details, it is true. Every facet of every task was given to silent prayer and it became such a norm that when the time came, it was just a natural response for me to say, "Thank you, Lord" for even the minutest thing.

When the day arrived and my planning became real, I stood back in wonder as the miracles began to unfold and watched as God took over answering all the spoken and unspoken requests that had filled my heart.

Heaven started with a beautiful drive to Fontana, arriving safely at The Abbey to discover I had a harbor view suite. Getting settled was a breeze and I even got blessed with two colleagues staying up way past midnight to help me put together registration bags.

Then Sunday as the participants started to arrive despite torrential rains and flight delays, the group transportation maneuvered the flooded streets flawlessly, depositing everyone at the hotel to enjoy their first ever Wisconsin BBQ and bonfire.

Amazingly, the conference logistics were smooth and Monday evening's dinner and live music entertainment was like walking into an elegant royal event. Everyone who attended marveled at the surroundings and repeatedly told me they felt such a peaceful feeling, as if they were on a caribbean island. Just seeing their smiles gave me such a high, knowing that God was at work and had again blessed me in ways I had not even imagined.

For all my trepidation over the team medley planned, it too went smooth. The games were fun and my co-workers spent the day bonding, competing, and lastly relaying in the lake from the boats they'd built. The best part of all was keeping them guessing with the surprises I'd planned and then hearing their delight as each one unfolded. When they all boarded the Grand Belle cruise line, it was the last hurrah as we sailed into the sunset with calypso music playing and the gentle sway of the ship.

The day of departures brought torrential rains again even though the in between days were sunny and warm. I couldn't help but smile at how God had touched every detail, even down to the weather. It was like the floodgates of heaven showered blessing after blessing...from the public recognition my boss gave me and the gift of flowers and candy to finding out that my suite was free when I checked out on my last day there. Not one thing went wrong for the entire event and my boss was amazed at this, giving me accolades of praise whenever he spoke.

As I drove down the road towards Kalamazoo I couldn't help but smile remembering the week and how God had come through again. His awesome power and infinite love answered every prayer I prayed as a reward for my trust in Him.

A bit of heaven between the rain.

The Three L'S

2011-06-18T06:35:00.000-07:00

The old adage, “Be careful what you ask for” is especially true when you pray to God. He has a profound way of answering your requests in the most unusual fashion. For me, I have learned to look for the unexpected, to be aware that my answer I seek can be in any form and then trust Him with the answer He’s chosen and allow myself to bask in His abundance.

This week was one of those weeks. I had been feeling spiritually dry, letting God sit on my dusty shelf, filling my days with work and fatigue and not really giving Him all that I could. Going to church was beginning to feel repetitious with no real purpose and I found myself longing for the days when my early days of fervency were foremost in my life.

So I prayed. “God, please bring renewal into my life and help me to live for you.” One sentence – easily forgotten – my days seemingly the same – until last Sunday.

Then walked in Loreta.

A young, college aged student who came into my church seeking housing for the summer. I just happened to be in the foyer and just happened to see her walking shyly into the door. Because I have a heart for newcomers, I went to introduce myself and learned she’d just arrived from Lithuania to sell children’s books and needed someplace to live. “Was she alone?” I asked. “No,” she said in her broken English. “I have two other roommates that are with me that need housing as well.” Listening to her story and not recognizing the company she was working for, I sensed her vulnerability and immediately wanted to help her. Was she here to really sell books or did the company bring her thousands of miles from home to exploit her and leave her used?

Before I had time to change my mind, I decided to put them into my life. Without regard for fear, risk, time, or other things that could present themselves, I said without hesitation, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Loreta – today you are coming home with me. I’ll talk to my husband and we’ll find a way to help.” She followed me across the foyer, into the gym where our service was and I showed her a seat. Quickly talking to Bob, I explained her circumstance, told him what I had done, and proceeded to plead their case. My logical husband thought I was nuts, questioned my intentions and began to methodically search the internet to verify their company. He spent the church hour processing my proposition and in the end decided to follow his heart and mine and brought home two young girls from Lithuania.

We fixed a light lunch, held their hands around the table to bless the food and spent a delightful afternoon learning about Loreta and Lauryne’s families, country, summer job and getting them settled into their “new” home. We found out they are Catholic, had not been in church for awhile, but had good moral values, respected our household rules and planned to work very hard and that the third girl, Laime, would arrive on Friday.

I prayed for spiritual renewal two weeks ago and God answered my prayer. He decided to fill my home with laughter, young ladies that need Jesus, and a summer of opportunities to make a difference in their lives. It’s not a coincidence that the three L’s are in my life. God knew I needed them and the blessing of having them around.

Thank you, Lord, for answering my prayer far beyond my wildest imagination and for granting me the chance to show You to Loreta, Lauryne and Laime…

…my three L’s.

Me and My Mom...

2011-05-08T19:16:00.000-07:00

During the Mother's Day service at church today, the pastor asked two questions, "What is the one thing you are like your mother?" and "What is one thing you are like your mother that you wish you weren't?"

Immediately when I thought about my similarities with my mom, the first thing that popped into my head was her scatter brain ways. My mom was always losing things (her keys, pieces of jewelry, books, pieces of paper that were important to only her, and other odds and ends). When she'd lose something, she'd always say,"I prayed to Jesus...He'll help me find it." And He would. Then she'd call me and the excitement in her voice was that of a little kid. "I TOLD you He'd find it!" That's me.

The other way I'm like my mom is the way she could have fun if given the chance. My mom always said she was a little girl in a grown up body and that's the truth. In alot of ways she was childlike in her thinking, looking for the unexpected, cherishing the serendipities in her life, seizing every opportunity that gave her an ounce of fun and never looking back. If someone would say, "Diane, let's go shopping, or let's do some yard saling," my mom would drop her agenda and do the fun first. That's me.

When I look inside myself and really take time to reflect, I find that there are many ways I'm like my mom, even if there's things I don't like. She had a way of being selfish at times and could also make a snap judgment on someone without giving the benefit of the doubt. She sometimes allowed her past to dictate her future and lived in a shadow of fear and doubt that at times paralyzed her. It was only until she gave her heart to Jesus that changed these areas but she still struggled with them all her life. That's me.

BUT

Did she leave an impression on me? Yes
Was she an influence? Yes
What did she leave behind that made a difference? Herself.

I hope I can do the same.

Love you, Mom.

The Wedding of the Century

2011-04-29T20:29:00.000-07:00

Memories came flooding back as I made plans to watch Kate & Will’s matrimony today. It was 1981 and I’d been married only three years. Bob and I lived in Champaign, Illinois in a small newlywed apartment with our first real purchase – a big console TV. I remember getting up at the crack of dawn to experience history in the making – the wedding of Prince Charles and Diana. I remember soaking it all in, Diana’s dress, the pomp and circumstance, the wedding kiss and the throngs of people cheering them on, a moment I’ll never forget.

Today was no different, except for the players and again, my hopelessly romantic self, rose in the early morning hours to watch history unfold with the wedding of the century. Printing out the agenda the day before, I knew precisely when everything would take place, which gave me plenty of time to get settled in front of the TV. Finding the perfect antique teacup, which was royal blue with gold trim, I brewed some English tea and sat down to anticipate the event. Calling my friends, Pam,and Gabrielle, I learned we all had PJs on and were sipping tea in our own special way. Pam had added crumpets to her menu and Gabrielle had a special mug with the photo of Kate and Will, but Pam impressed me that she’d decided to add a bit of charm to her attire by donning a necklace and earrings in honor of the day. Together we enjoyed the service, commenting at times on the beauty of Kate’s dress and the various elements of the occasion.

When the service began, tears welled up in my eyes as I was caught up in the moment, taking in the significance of everything I saw. I was mesmerized by the beauty of it all, from the simplicity of the dress to the selections of music and scripture, thinking “I’m witnessing history in the making – I’m seeing England’s future king and queen.” Deeply moved, I could not help but imagine how this union would change peoples’ lives, what example they would give, and the strength of character they both share that would chart the course of the world forever. The tiera of history, passed down from generation to generation, sat beautifully on Kate’s head, another reminder that the woman standing on Buckingham’s balcony would someday be England’s new queen.

Princess Diana would be happy, I am sure, and as the sun shown through the clouds today as the new couple rode away, it was as if she was there…

...at another wedding of the century.

Where it all began...

2011-03-22T16:38:00.000-07:00

Those words transport me back more than 32 years to a time when I had my sights on a young man that I knew in my heart that I could not live without. I had met him at church while playing in a band and had gone up to him, nervously, but driven because I just had to know who this man was – this man with dark brown eyes that shone when he smiled. He seemed strong, self assured, mature, someone I wanted to know. So, I introduced myself, found out he’d just moved to KC – this California man.

It was Christmas and he was headed home for the holidays. I offered to drive him to the airport and as he and I stood waiting for his flight, I thought to myself, “I wonder if he’ll forget me…I wonder if this is just a fleeting feeling…two weeks…it seems like forever.”

But he didn’t forget me and after he returned we started to date. My dream had come true – we were inseparable and before I knew it the day had come when he would be my husband, my best friend, my lifetime love.

Over the weekend my husband had a chance to spend time in KC with a friend. He took the time to drive by the home where I’d lived and took a picture of it, sending it to me with a caption that said, “Memories”.

Today my husband sat waiting for his flight in KC to bring him home. He called just to say, “Guess where I am?” "Where?" I said. To which he replied

"Where it all began…"

In Honor of Wanda

2011-02-25T19:49:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow will mark the day when Wanda Kingan will be laid to rest. I really didn’t know her well, but of the times I did spend with her, she exhibited graciousness, kindness and loved to talk about her family.

Wanda was a hard worker and was proud of the many years she’d worked at her job. Her lean body spoke of her toil which she never quit doing even in her golden years. She tirelessly took great care of her family and shared her home whenever needed.

If one could capture the essence of her life, the love for her children would sum it all up. Wanda adored each one and extended that love to her grandchildren and great-grands. Sitting in her easy chair, she’d smile and share antidotes while watching them play, patiently enjoying their antics as a doting grandmother can only do.

Wanda’s time on earth may be gone but what she gave to others will always live on. She made a difference to those close to her and to those who knew her only a little. That difference was love and when life is measured…that’s all that counts.

New Year Letter 2011

2011-02-05T19:03:00.000-08:00

February 2011

Well, this is the latest I’ve been in getting our New Years letter to you. With each Christmas card we received, it was a reminder that I’d better hurry up or the season would be over and you’d have to wait ‘til NEXT year to hear from us!

The reason for the delay is that Christmas this year was spent on Oahu, Hawaii, spending two and half weeks with Andrew and Amelia’s family on the North Shore. But before I go any further, let’s turn back the pages to October 2009 to bring you up-to-date. Andrew had been living in Las Vegas, working part time for Office Depot and playing trumpet gigs any chance he got. He’d been on the road earlier in the year with the Broadway show, “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” but got tired of the low pay and backbreaking work, so he quit and moved back to LV. At the end of summer, 2009, he got a second opportunity to perform in Macau, China with the R&B jazz artist, Delisco. He spent three months performing at the Venetian Resort and while there, met a beautiful young Australian dancer named Amelia Stein, who was fulfilling a dance internship for the Brisbane University. They hit it off and soon the two became a pair. When the gig was over, Andrew came home to Michigan to spend the holidays with us. It was great having him home, listening to trumpet sounds from the basement, fixing him his favorite foods, and spending time with him. He filled us in on the experiences he’d had, as well as this wonderful girl he’d met. During his visit, he told us he had his sights set on Australia, so in Feburary 2010, he got his paperwork in order and moved to the other side of the world. He got work almost immediately teaching trumpet, doing corporate gigs, and traveling with Little River Band. In addition, he’s learned the fishing trade, working for a local Brisbane fish market gutting fish. (Versatile, this boy is). He’s enjoyed being an “Aussie”, while living with Amelia and her 18 year old sister, Clare. In December of this year, Amelia graduated college and in January began a 4-6 month dancing job at the Macau Venetian Resort, while Andrew maintains his life in Brisbane.

In April of this year, Amelia’s parents initiated acquaintance through mail, Facebook and phone. Through our friendship, it became apparent that Andrew and Amelia were getting serious, so Paul and Leslie invited us to spend Christmas with them in Oahu for their reunion they’d scheduled with extended family. Soon we were planning to vacation with them, making reservations and anticipating the day when we’d eventually meet. On December 19th, we flew to Oahu, rented our car and slept in the Honolulu parking garage for six hours until their international flight arrived. (A sleepless night I plan not to repeat – weird people love parking garages). Once together, it seemed we’d known each other forever and our time was a treasure. We spent Christmas and New Years on Hawaii, making memories together in many ways and when Andrew chose to propose to Amelia during a sunset photo shoot on Maui, it was like icing on a cake. We were able to witness this event (a rare and priceless moment) and then share their joy with Amelia’s folks upon our return. We rang in 2011 with our new extended family knowing life was taking a turn, looking towards August 2012 when Australian wedding bells would chime. The wedding will be at the Lake Tineraroo Catholic Retreat Center near Cairns, which Paul and Leslie manage. Surrounded by rainforest, Amelia says she’ll make sure the area is clear of snakes for me, but I’m sure we’ll see roaming kangaroo, wallabies, and giant lizards and a spider or two! Check out www.photosonmaui.com to see Andrew and Amelia's sunset photo shoot.

Two days after our return from Hawaii, Andrew and Clare experienced the worst Brisbane flood in the history of the town. The house where they lived sat close to the West End river which had overflowed. Clare, who was staying with friends outside Brisbane, called to warn Andrew of the impending disaster. Since it was morning, Andrew was sleeping and didn’t realize the severity of the situation until he went outside of his home to discover the park next to his house was completely under water. Police were evacuating the area and gave him only two hours to collect his things and flee to safety. Due to the rising water, Andrew was told his house (on 7ft stilts) would most likely be submerged. He took the only highway (parallel to the river and already flooding) out of Brisbane to get to his friend’s home, and stayed with them for two weeks. With no electricity and only enough food and water to get by, Andrew battled horrid floods, contaminated water and river mosquitos. But God’s mercy reigned and when he was able to check on his home, miraculously the flood waters came within 6 ft of his backyard and stopped. Not one drop of water touched his house or the street he lived on, even though the street directly behind him was completely flooded out! He told us he felt he was the luckiest boy in Brisbane after seeing the devastation and felt God’s intervention and vowed to help as a volunteer to clean up the area. Bob and I were so very thankful for God’s protection of our son and know that miracles do happen. In February, he moved to a suburb outside Brisbane and may move to Macau for a few months or travel again on the Royal Caribbean with Amelia or perhaps join up again with BLAST if he and Amelia can go together. The AJ team (Andrew James and Amelia June) bring new developments each time they call and we never know what’s ahead, but what an adventure they both live!

Having been gone from work for two and half weeks, it is hard to figure which is worse – preparing FOR vacation or returning FROM vacation. Either way, work consumes us with Bob traveling extensively for PCI and me working for Continental. In October, Bob celebrated 5 years with his company and in February 2011, I too, will celebrate 5 years. Sometimes we feel like two ships passing in the night with Bob leaving on two day trips and occasional weekend deliveries and me working nine to ten hour days. When we do see each other, we spend our evenings with the dogs in our laps and the cats at our shoulders watching Raymond reruns or whatever channel hits our fancy. In my spare time, I continue to write memoirs for people and recently completed a 125 page book on the life of my great aunt Juanita.

The big news in Bob’s life was having two knee replacements in November 2009 and again in February 2010. After years of enduring joint pain in his knees, he healed remarkably after two surgeries within six weeks of each other and can walk virtually pain free. He even earned the honor of “Poster Bob” at the Rochester Knee and Sports Therapy Office for his quick recovery. It’s truly amazing to see the energy in his walk and experience his new lease on life.

July 4-11 was spent in Phoenix with my family, with a trip to Sedona to ring in Independence Day. It was great reconnecting everyone as well as long time friends even if it meant going in the hottest time of the year. Shopping at Desert Ridge in 114 degree heat was the top story of my trip. Shortly after my return, I headed for Charlotte, NC for Continental business trip, conquering Level 3 rapids at the Olympic Whitewater Center for our team activity. It was a nerve-wracking ordeal that allowed me to become well-acquainted with one of my team mates I’d never met, for I held onto him with a death grip King Kong couldn’t have pried loose. But I lived to tell the tale and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God does exist and does answer prayer! Since I am in charge of the event this next year, let’s just say my choice for entertainment will be mild – not wild! Also in July, niece Brittany came for a visit, falling in love with Michigan and deciding she’d like to move here if she could. We shopped and traveled around, the highlight being a weekend stay at Mackinac Island and eating at the Grand Hotel. In August, we celebrated our friends, Rick & Julie Lee’s 40th wedding anniversary together cruising the Woodward Dream Cruise, then in October, we celebrated our 32nd wedding anniversary in Portage with them. Thanksgiving was spent with my cousin Beth and family.

It’s hard to believe another year has passed and we’re on our way into 2011. January just flew by and February blew in with a horrific winter blizzard that blanketed us with 18 inches of snow. So before the tulips show their face, we’re sending you wishes for a prosperous year, lots of goodness and blessings beyond measure.

Greetings from Michigan ~ we love you all!

Bob and Marion

Day 1 - Bound for Hawaii

2010-12-19T09:47:00.000-08:00

We’ve been planning this day since August, this Christmas in Hawaii vacation of dreams. After day, weeks, and months of preparation ~ we’re finally on our way. I wish I had a dollar for every person that asked me, “Are you packed yet?” I wish I could answer affirmatively, but as always, as the days drew near, the chaos increased, which brought me to the day before, so my Saturday was filled with errands to run, making last minute purchases, getting my nails done and taking the dogs to the dogsitter. By the time I got to pack, it was midnight and after that – I cleaned the house! (I couldn’t let our neighbor who was taking care of the cats see all the dust and fur, not to mention the dishes in the sink!)

Sooo…after only getting 5 hours of sleep, we woke at 6am to scurry out of the house at 7am to our awaiting limo ride to the airport. Bob thought it would be easier to be driven to the airport rather than worry about our car, and it was appreciated, however, Bob keeps to the clock, so like the chime of Big Ben, Bob would remind me every 5 minutes what time it was. Now, in his mind, I am sure he thought he was helping me keep on track, but to a person who could hardly see herself in the mirror because of fatigue, it caused somewhat of a frenzy as I tried to put my makeup on straight and pack up my last minute items before he headed out the door. As I got into the car, I just knew I’d forgotten some things, but also knew I’d cause apoplexy of Bob if I tried to go back, so we drove away. I shivered in the car feeling the subzero weather with no overcoat but only my short sleeves and thin jacket. Just how DO you dress when you live in a frozen tundra and vacation on a beach? Even our driver, Edwin, wondered where we were going because of our attire. I didn’t have the heart to have him turn up the car heat since he was dressed in wool, so he warmed us instead with his constant chatter, talking about his family, his Florida condo and showed us pics of his grandkids.

We got to the airport in plenty of time, checked our bags and as I was standing there waiting for Bob, I noticed a gentlemen next to us that had the cutest Yorkie in a pet carrier strapped to his belly. The little dog had her head peeked out, taking in all the sights and seemed calm and happy, snuggled up by her master. For a moment I thought how easy a little dog like that would be, then couldn’t help myself but wish for Daisy and Chamberlain, wondering if they’d be as calm and collected in the Christmas madness.

After an easy security check, we made it to our gate, just in time to enter the priority line for our first class flight. Boy, could I get used to flying like this! Roomy seats, cranapple juice to sip, and as many peanuts and pretzels a person can eat. Soon we took off and the next thing I knew, we’d landed in Minneapolis for a 3-hour wait for the next flight to San Francisco.

I’d slept through the whole flight….imagine that!

The Hunger Sign

2010-11-26T06:54:00.000-08:00

We were on our way to spend Thanksgiving day with cousin Beth and family. My morning had been relaxing and easy with Bob preparing his famous green bean casserole and sweet potato dish and me reading the newspaper while sipping my coffee. After Bob was done in the kitchen, it was my turn to start baking biscuits for the meal. Using my grandmother's favorite recipe, I stood at the counter mixing ingredients and thinking of her, thinking of family, and enjoying the restful atmosphere. Surrounded with sounds of the Thanksgiving Parade in the background, the dogs sitting happily by my feet and knowing I was off work for an entire weekend, it was a perfect day. Enjoying my biscuit baking time, I kept on baking, not thinking about how many I was making. When I finished, my container was overflowing, I had made so many. With only 10 in attendance for the dinner, everyone was going to have to have 5 biscuits with their meal to get rid of them all!

Noon finally came and we packed up the car and headed out. Dressed in my new outfit with our goodies in the trunk, I eagerly sat anticipating the day, watching all the other cars scurry along to their family and friends.

Stopping at an intersection light, not far from home, I looked to my right and there on the corner was a man holding a sign. It said, "Family is hungry, please help." He didn't look like the typical homeless person, in fact, he had on Docker pants, a casual shirt and a windbreaker jacket. A car was parked right behind him with the motor running and there were people inside, another nicely dressed man and several children in the backseat. I wondered to myself why this man was standing there. Why wasn't he at one of the Thanksgiving Day shelters around town? Was he for real or just trying to take advantage of people's goodwill? I looked at Bob and thought about my biscuits. I had made so many and even had an extra ziplock bag in the backseat. My heart said to help and I wanted to jump out of the car and hand the man my biscuits but I didn't. How much money did I have in my wallet? Would it be enough or too much? The light was about ready to change and it would have meant dodging other cars quickly to get to the man. My logic caused me to hesitate and instantly it was too late. The cars began to move again and soon Bob and I were on our way. I wanted to turn around but it would have meant being late to our own destination.

I turned and asked Bob if he had seen what I had seen? Should we do something? Neither of us did but we talked about that man all the way to Beth's. Our skepticism snatched away an opportunity to serve. We questioned how much we should trust a stranger's plea. Is it our place to question the intention? The scenario touched my heart and the feast I ate at Beth's house, with family all around, was a stark reminder that one lonely, needy man, was without. It made me think. Who was that man? Was he a family man who had lost his job and had no money in the bank for food? What was the purpose of him humbly standing in the cold rain in front of his kids? What kind of Thanksgiving did he eventually have?

It was a lesson for me - a reminder that Thanksgiving is much more than gathering with friends and family, fixing food to match our traditions, and keeping our blessings inside the walls of our homes.

I will never forget this man. I came home with loads of leftover biscuits, the opportunity lost to share, but with a renewed mind to be prepared...

for the next time...

Desert Walk

2010-11-07T18:38:00.000-08:00

I've just emerged from several months of desert walking. Have you ever done that? Where your heart feels desolate, you isolate yourself from those you love and spend lonely days wandering aimlessly in circles looking for life's answers. Sounds pretty awful, doesn't it? I look at my August entry now and wonder what in the world happened between then and now? Was it health related? Menopause? Stress or concern? "Yes, yes, yes, I say" - which is why this seasoned Christian began to doubt and allowed myself to slowly drift from what I'd always believed.

Desert walking isnt fun, in fact, the pitfalls are endless and the energy I used to dodge the danger took all my strength. Instead of looking up to view my path, my eyes were down, watching only my dusty steps, giving me no sense of direction as I plodded along.

The more I walked, the more tired I became and my mind began to play tricks on me, making me wander even more. "Where was God if there was a God?" I said to myself, "Perhaps my non-Christian friends are right". "What if it's pointless and my beliefs are in vain?" "How am I supposed to know, Why even try?" I spent months wrestling, waging war with what I'd been taught. I felt guilty for the questions, which led me to shame, which caused me to shut prayer out since I was doubting His name. In my weakest moment, I began to cry, feeling nothing but emptiness and anguish inside. Life seemed twisted, distorted and dull. "Is this what it's like, to want something more?"

In the midst of my heart ache, God reached out to me in the most unusual way. He used a seeker, a neighbor friend of mine, to remind me to pray and let go of my problems, that it works, I should try. I went home after our visit and crawled into bed, having only the strength to say, "Lord", that is all I said. The name seemed like salve to a deep, gaping wound, and the more I repeated it, I felt God in the room. I fell alseep easily like I was cradled as a child, feeling safe and secure. My desert walk had taken me far and I know that the questions I asked brought me back to the start. What did I learn from my trek across dry land? That I'd rather believe than not.

What brings a person to the point of belief? Belief in what, some might say? If you mean Christ, then to each one his own. But I say when life seems meaningless and your strength is spent, when your search for life's answers bring emptiness and distress - let go of the doubting and let God walk your path. His peace will replace pitfalls...

- from my desert point of view.

Birthday Lesson

2010-08-06T20:25:00.000-07:00

Well, in the past few days, I've been gently reminded by friends, family and God that birthdays are the first day of the rest of your life. Even though every year I go through the birthday blues, I always end up being blessed by phone calls, cards, gifts and time spent with friends and family.

How can I stay sad when every day since my blog I got a card in the mail wishing me happiness and telling me how special I am. Getting a phone call from my Dad telling me to celebrate life and take one day at a time was his way of helping me gain perspective. He practices what he preaches and keeps an active lifestyle, not looking back but enjoying what each day gives.

I realized I really do have alot to be thankful for and God has lavished me with lots of love. I got a dose of spontaneity this week and surprises coming from all directions that brought so many smiles to my face it was hard to stay sad.

So here's to birthdays - I guess they're not so bad.

One more birthday...

2010-08-03T19:52:00.000-07:00

Four days before my 54th birthday. Every year I struggle with turning another year older and I find myself teary eyed, irritable, and depressed. I look at my body and I see a woman with a middle aged spread, going through menopause, and no energy. I buy temporary things to make me temporarily happy but what I want is the young me back.

Inside I know what I need to do in order to feel better but every day I sit on my couch or sit outside while I watch the dogs run around, thinking if I ran as hard as my dogs do in fetching balls for me, I’d look lean and mean and be able to look myself in the mirror.

I compare myself with others at work, always wondering inside what others think of me. I spend as much time on my hair and makeup as I can in the morning, hiding behind my gel and jewelry, so I can go to work and keep up.

I hate my birthdays yet love the attention, planning fun with friends or private get a ways so that I have good memories to carry me through. I’ve had good memories throughout my life when my birthday comes along, but as the day draws near, it frightens me.

I want to be beautiful, sexy, thin, an accomplisher of many dreams, respected, loved, admired, and completely whole with no health issues or fear of loss. I feel like the proverbial gerbil running the wheel with no end in sight, my inside dreams fading because all I do is work my job. I tell myself that I’m satisfied but what I really want is to have enough money so I don’t have to work, to be able to spend my time writing books, go to college and have time to keep a clean house.

Sound silly? Sound unrealistic? Maybe – should I be ashamed of feeling this way? If I say yes, then I deny my womanhood and everything that stands for who I am. If I say no, it sounds selfish and childish to wish for something I’m not. As a Christian, I know that God is the only Person that brings true satisfaction and that if I believe in Him, He can make me whole. But as a woman, I have a myriad of emotions that surge within me, one day giving me heights and the ability to soar, then other days pushing me down into the depths of despair.

How can I believe and be a woman at the same time? I guess that’s why God gives us age. Hopefully someday I’ll not care and love me just the way I am, enjoying life and birthdays and wisdom with gray hair.

My Dad

2010-06-20T19:22:00.000-07:00

In church today, our pastor asked each of us stop a moment and think about our dads. I closed my eyes and thought about mine and was thankful that my dad's been in my life forever. He's always been steadfast, has always been strong, and gave me security just by being around.

My Dad isn't the kind of guy that wears his emotions on his sleeve. Yet, if you do what's right, use the talents you possess, press on when things get tough, and put God first, he'll be the first one to tell how proud he is of you.

My Dad is an optimist and is always looking for the silver lining. He doesn't let hard times get him down, but focuses on taking one day at a time.

My Dad loves sports and history and dancing and friends. He loves his family and loves his church and through this love he's shown me much.

In a brief moment I thought about these things and when I opened my eyes after praying my prayer - I smiled and knew God had blessed me in a special way...

...a time to lovingly remember my father - my Dad.

Happy Father's Day

The Town Parade

2010-05-31T16:30:00.000-07:00

My mind went back to Overland Park, little red wagons pulled by moms, all decorated in red, white and blue. I was six or seven years old and Mom had joined me in the Campfire girls organization. The summer day was hot and sunny, but as we assembled in the back lot together as a troop, we felt excited because in a few moments we were going to march in the town parade, proudly displaying the badges and beads of our accomplishments. I remember wearing navy blue shorts and a white blouse and my shoes, of course, were the black and white oxfords with socks. Mom was a troop helper and each girl had decorated her own wagon. I don't recall the importance of the day or why so many people lined the street. I don't recall the music or the floats or how long the march was, but only remembered I was proud to be a Campfire girl and that Brownies were the rival.

As we gathered together after the parade, a man began passing out popsicles to each child who'd marched. I remember him telling us we could only have one and as I stood enjoying my sicle in the sun, my eyes wandered to another girl waiting to get her pick. She hid her previously eaten popsicle stick behind her back and as the man stooped over to hand her her choice, it made a lasting impression on me that she had lied and that it was wrong.

Today, I watched another parade, with red white and blue banners, veterans and marching bands trekking down the street. I saw babies and kiddies and parents marching alongside. And as I stood with the crowds, it occurred to me what Memorial Day is...it's time to honor soldiers and time for families to gather. It's time for BBQ's and picnics in the park, but most importantly, it's time to show children what this day is all about...

...a time to remember.

In Honor of Mom

2010-05-21T20:11:00.000-07:00

I thought about Mom today and wondered if I'd make it. Would it affect me like it had for the past two years, my mind wandering and reliving the day like a marathon movie running in my brain. Would I be weepy or melancholy at the mention of her name or have the sudden urge to call someone to talk and wonder if the day would ever come that I wouldn't feel sad?

I thought about her today, on and off throughout my day. At least I had a job to do, expectations to meet, a routine that preoccupied my time. This year didn't seem so hard and I actually left work with a smile, feeling peace and a gentle rest, knowing she was ok.

I thought about Mom as I played ball with the dogs, cooked hamburgers on the grill and watched a red bird perch itself high in our shade tree. I thought about her as I ate a quiet dinner with Bob, listened to the rainstorm outside and felt the cool spring air drift into the house.

I thought of her as Bob and I watched TV and the evening grew later and I thought, "I must do something outrageously wacky, like eating ice cream in the rain or take a late night ride - something she'd love to do", so guess what we did?

We piled in our car, with the rain pouring down, and drove around late at night and found ourselves at a favorite place. We ordered a hot fudge sundae with two large spoons and the first bite I took...

I toasted "In honor of Mom" and thought of her...

Knowing Mable

2010-05-17T17:56:00.000-07:00

The first time I met Mable was when my sister married. She was quiet and unassuming and welcomed my sister as her daughter throughout her years. She prided herself as a woman of order and loved to bustle about, keeping busy with whatever needed to be done, then when she sat down to rest (which wasn't very often), her mainstay was a challenge of Scrabble either against someone else or by herself. Making her own rules along the way, her objective was to use up all the letters, one word at a time, just to see if she could. Keeping score was not the intent, just playing the game. And when she wasn't playing Scrabble, Mable liked to paint and create forms of art, a legacy she passed on to her children, a gift of herself.

As I got to know Mable, I saw she was one of a kind, a woman who lived a simple life, making do with what she had and showing others what contentment was all about. She didn't have lots of money or get to travel much, but she loved her family and her family loved her, knowing that whatever she gave, it came from her heart.

If anyone knew Mable, they'd see a woman who cared, a woman who loved and a woman who took life seriously. I'm honored to have known her and know that if she were here today, she'd tell us not to grieve, but to enjoy what life has to give, no matter what form, and learn to live simply...so we can simply live.

Mother's Day Moments

2010-05-09T16:17:00.000-07:00

As I spent Mother's Day enjoying a great Italian meal at Palazzo di Bocce with Bob, it occurred to me that I'm more like my mother the older I get. I can't help but think of her when this special day comes around and when I do, it immediately brings back memories of her and I together.

The thing I discovered about me and my mom is that I love to have fun. No matter how tired I am or how full my schedule is, if an opportunity comes along that has a hint of adventure, count me in - I'm ready to go. If a friend calls and says, "Let's go shopping", my mind does not linger on what chores have to be done, but only in spending time with a friend. My mom was like that. She loved to live and loved to laugh and surround herself with family and friends, babies and children. She had a creative spirit that wouldn't quit and an imagination that kept her heart young. As a youth, I didn't appreciate those qualities as much as I do now, but now I know the lesson she taught.

Her recipe was to seize each moment as if it's your last, fill each day with people you love and find creative ways to make them smile. It's what she did best and how I want to be.

Thanks, Mom, for being with me today. With every hug from a friend, the love I felt from Bob and the surprise call I received from my son, it reminded of you.

And I enjoyed every minute.

Australian Friends

2010-04-27T18:29:00.000-07:00

Little did I know that when my son moved to Australia, that I would in six months be corresponding with his girlfriend's family. They initiated the greeting with a surprise packet of Australian news, then soon we began sending each other emails to get acquainted.

We have alot in common, most in the love of our kids, and it feels really great to know that even though Andrew's clear across the other side of the world,

the world's not so big after all.

The Faith Healing

2010-04-16T19:37:00.000-07:00

This past week my pastor asked a group of us the question, "So,what's God been doing lately in your life?" For me, it's always been pretty easy to answer that question because when you are in step with God, it makes you aware of what He's doing in your life. In thinking about that question, I immediately thought about all the opportunities latey I've had to witness to people, either through prayer, being a friend, or witnessing a miracle in others' lives and having them give credit to me as the one that brought them to that point. Whichever the case, I feel God the closest at those times, knowing He's at work, orchestrating my steps to give Him final glory.

I learned a great deal about God this week as I experienced a religious faith healing service conducted by a Dr. Nehemy, a Cleveland acupuncture doctor that self-proclaims to have the gift of healing. I'd been invited to attend by a friend who's seeking God and as a friend I decided to go, just to be there for her. As thousands came to feel his touch, I recognized what God is not by seeing hundreds of people faint at the doctor's feet. Dr. Nehemy's term of "resting in the Holy Spirit" meant letting go of consciousness, allowing God to free us from sin and sickness, but what he really was doing was pressing nerve points on a person's arm or leg to cause numbness and total loss of body control. I sat through a day of witnessing people hungrily seeking wholeness and truly believing they'd had the touch of God when in reality the temporary euphoria was only fraud. How did I know it wasn't God? Because Dr. Nehemy touched ME, manipulated ME, and left ME out of control at his feet.

As an ambassador of Christ, my witness to my friend meant attending something I knew to be false. It meant being willing to experience what she would be feeling so that in the end I could tell her what was true. My witness was hard, frightening, and for a moment very dark, but through it all I was able to show her love, answer her questions, pray and guide her steps towards the One and Only God.

The best part of all is that He's renewed and refreshed my soul and opened my eyes wider to understanding what trusting is all about. He's given me opportunities galore to proclaim His goodness, then I watch in wonder as He unfolds like tiny droplets of dew - evidence of my witness to others.

So what has God done lately in your life? Take a moment to see...

2010-02-20T19:45:00.000-08:00

Well, my intentions for getting back into blogging went out the window early this year. My life has been pre-empted with a long awaited visit from Andrew, Bob having two knee replacements almost back to back, me learning how to be a nurse while Bob's needed care, and on top of everything else, working a full-time job and writing my aunt's memoir in my spare time. Time has been swallowed up and as each day progresses into the next, I found myself not wanting to open this blog because I knew the last blog date would be staring me in the face as if to say, "Where've you been?"

But even though you haven't seen my words, my inner being is still writing, my life full of daily titles that never get past my mind.

This past two weeks as I've watched the Winter Olympics, it's reminded me that I must keep focused and remember that daily setbacks are just a part of the game. It's sort of a ritual cleansing that wipes my writing slate clean, giving me time to gather my thoughts and

press on towards my goal.

I'm b-a-c-k...

2009-12-28T16:34:00.000-08:00

Boy, does it feel good to sit down and get back to blogging. This year has been quite full and actually since my last entry, I've entertained visitors, taken care of a spouse that had his knee replaced, volunteered for various activities and gotten ready for the holidays. Thus, the reason for the time lapse. Sorry - that's how life goes sometimes. So, in order to catch up, I've posted my annual end of the year Christmas Letter for 2009 - hoping that 2010 will provide opportunities to write and share. The letter is written from the perspective of our oldest cat, Hope, who has lived most of his nine lives as a member of the Smiths.

December 2009

Well I’ve lived with this family for nine years and was finally given a chance to voice MY opinion regarding life around here. Last year, you got the dog’s perspective, but since I am the oldest member of the Smith’s family (next to the humans, of course), it seems only right that you get the real litter scoop.

To begin with, the first thing I want to make purrfectly clear is that CATS RULE and DOGS DROOL!!! (Literally). For meowing out loud, if you’ve ever tried walking the floors in this place, it’s like swimming through a lake with the water dripped from Daisy and Mr. C’s mouth. Hello, what IS it about dogs and the way they drink??? It’s like they take a bath in their water dish! Not only do they leave a trail everywhere they go, but they also think they OWN the place. Mom has my food dish and litter box in the same vicinity but do I get to eat and poop in privacy? No siree ~ they follow me close, sniffing me all the way and if given the chance, will eat all my food in one gulp, leaving their trail of drool behind. You also do not want to be near the garage door when they’re ready to go outside or coming in. I’ve gotten stepped on, my tail caught in the doorway, or chased down the hallway, only to have them get real uppity when I get near their toys. Obviously they don’t have a clue who’s really in charge, but you’d think they’d get the hint with all the thumps in the nose they’ve received. Overall, Daisy and I get along pretty well, but that brat she bore has another thing coming. He thinks he’s king or a general or something (thanks Dad, for naming him after your favorite Civil War hero). Mom thinks he’s the cutest thing, even when he grazes her kitchen counter and eats an entire batch of homemade peanut butter cookies or when Dad calls her while babysitting and tells her Mr. C’s eaten a whole summer sausage and has the runs or when he wears her out fetching his stupid bouncy ball. The only good thing that happened this year is when Mom and Dad invested in obedience training for him and put shock collars on them both. It’s amazing what a little voltage can do. Mom probably wished she’d had one for me when I decided to regularly pee on her sofa to deal with my inner turmoil. Now that she’s got things clean, she banishes me to the laundry room every time she’s away and lectures me daily that it’s better than death. Not sure if I agree with THAT, considering I’m in the Dogs’ place, but I give her a run for the money trying to catch me. However, when I’m allowed to run free, my favorite post is on the back of the sofa, right behind Mom’s neck, kneading her shoulder and rubbing my face near her cheek. It’s my way of making up, you know, and somehow it works. As far as Faith is concerned, her attitude has won the scariest cat award. The dogs steer clear of her and will opt not to eat if she stands between them and their food dish. Way to go, Faith!

Andrew comes home every now and then. This year he got a chance to work as merchandiser for the Broadway show, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. For three months, Andrew managed the show’s inventory by driving cross country, setting up and tearing down the sales booth and hauling entertainment luggage across the U.S. and Canada. According to Mom, even though he was grateful to have a job, he decided manual labor was not his first love, so he quit to go home and got a job one month later as sales associate for Office Depot in Las Vegas. All summer, Andrew learned a lot about business management, then in July, got another opportunity to travel to Macau, China, to perform at the Venetian Resort with the Las Vegas headliner Delisco. As musical director, he plans the nightly shows and has expanded his art to vocal, keyboard, and guitar, performing between 10:00p and 3:00a. The gig ended Dec 17 and we were delighted to have him come home to be with us for the holidays. He surprised Mom by playing at the Christmas Eve service at church and then gave her and Dad some really cool Chinese gifts for Christmas. Since Mom had vacation time, she and Andrew have been spending loads of time together and even got to go see the Tran Siberian Orchestra in concert. Hanging with him is great – in fact, he plans to hang around here for a month or more before he heads on to Australia, then back to China for another gig. His favorite pastime is shopping in Hong Kong, taking in the tourist attractions, talking on the phone with his pal Amelia and sleeping. He and I are a lot alike, especially the sleeping part and life on the road must be exciting, at least that’s what I wonder when the front door is open too long. But unfortunately, I’ve only gotten out as far as the front stoop.

Dad works a lot at his PCI job, designing and consulting churches around the country. This year he had opportunity to see some special longtime friends during his business travels ~ Donna List in Seattle, a Pomona Nazarene Church friend, and Steve Powers in Virginia Beach, a college buddy from Pasadena College. He also got to spend some quality time with Mom’s family in Phoenix during a two week consultation this summer. When home, he and Mom have dinner dates on Friday night and on Sundays he serves on the tech team for the Fresh Ground contemporary service at Williams Lake Nazarene Church. However, throughout the year, I noticed Dad suffering a lot from severe knee pain, which caused him to get treatment. His doctor prescribed gel injections but after many months of minimal relief, the doctor scheduled Dad for a full left knee replacement in November. He came through it with flying colors and is planning on doing the right knee as soon as he’s able. Being a three legged feline, having lost my foot as a babe, my heart goes out to him as I see him limping by with his cane. When Dad named me Hope so long ago so I could get another chance to live, perhaps I was given that name to give him hope too. Dad’s allergic to cats, so I don’t get to spend much time kneading on him, but he sure has a keen eye from his recliner. I can’t get away with nothing, especially when I’m under the Christmas tree chewing on light strings.

Mom also enjoys working for Continental as assistant to Finance, beginning her day early, taking care of us and packing lunches for her and Dad. Evenings are usually spent relaxing on the sofa, or playing with the dogs. In her spare moments, Mom works on finishing Aunt Juanita’s memoir and on Wednesdays, she joined a book club to discuss The Shack. On weekends, she either takes Mr. C to his obedience class or shops the local thrift shops and on Sundays, she helps the tech team or serves as a greeter, then she and Dad go to their favorite Mexican restaurant and come home or take a country drive. Mom also corresponds with her longtime pen pal Misako and has started writing Sachiko, the Japanese friend she met on the Alaskan cruise last year. In addition, she writes Doreen Hopkins, a pen friend her mother had that lives in England.

For me, the safest place to sit is on the dining room chair cushion or under Dad’s lamp table when I REALLY want to get away. It seems Mom and Dad are always busy and with the dogs always running around like banshees, it saves me from getting in the way and adds a bit of sanity to my life. This year, we’ve had quite a number of visitors, which Faith and I love showing affection to. In June, a lady named Ruth Lee came, Mom and Dad’s longtime friend, and boy did I like her. She was DEFINITELY an animal lover and spent her entire time doting on us, giving us gifts, and allowing us to be with her the whole time. She especially enjoyed Daisy and Chamberlain (although I tried to divert her from this destructive behavior). She educated Mom on the type of food we should eat, and then sent Daisy and Mr. C a special box filled with treats after she’d gone home. Rick and Julie also came to visit in mid-August to enjoy their first Woodward Dream Cruise with Mom and Dad. Next, Mom’s daddy came to visit for a week in early September. Mom took him to Ohio for the day to visit a friend, than drove up north to Petoskey / Bayview area to visit Aunt Shirley. While up north, Mom took Granddaddy to cross the Mackinac Bridge to the Upper Peninsula, than took the ferry to Mackinac Island where they toured the island by horse-drawn carriage. In October, Mom’s sister and husband, Emily and Terry, came to visit for a week. They’d never been to Michigan, so Mom took them to local sights, than later in the week, she and Dad drove them up north to stay at the famous Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island for Mom and Dad’s wedding anniversary. On the way back home, Bob’s birthday was celebrated at The Farm, a wonderful country restaurant in Harbor Beach.

Other highlights of the year included a Valentine’s meal at Greenfield Village’s Eagle Tavern, served 1850’s style. Mom got to eat her first roasted bison, along with other Michigan grown edibles, while enjoying 1850’s atmosphere and music. In May, Mom and Dad traveled to Phoenix to see niece Gaylen graduate high school and visit friends and family. Also, Chamberlain turned one year old and had his very own birthday party with eight of his doggie friends, complete with hamburgers, presents and “doggie bag” treats. (I told you he was a brat). Mom took a couple of day trips with friends ~ her annual Tip of the Thumb trip and later in the summer to Lexington, MI, a little coastal town. Then, in August, Dad took Mom to Port Huron’s Thomas Edison Inn for her birthday and spent the day chauffeuring her around to any garage sale or antique shop she wanted – even in the rain.

And as for me, I’ve lived around this place a pretty long time and have realized in my ultimate feline wisdom that family and friends are what it’s all about. This time of year is my favorite because while napping all nestled under the pretty Christmas tree, I am reminded that life is good, as long as you’re loved, you get to eat fresh tuna out of a can, and you have a fresh litter pan. If you get a chance to visit us, know you’re welcome, no matter the season ~ but if you come in the winter, Dad will let you try out the snow blower!

Have a Hope-full Christmas and Faith-filled New Year,
Love, Hope and the rest of the family (Faith, Daisy, Mr. C, Bob, Marion, & Andrew)

Papa - Study of The Shack - Part 1

2009-10-04T19:36:00.000-07:00

“Mackenzie, It’s been awhile, I’ve missed you. I’ll be at the shack next weekend if you want to get together. – Papa”

This week I started reading the popular novel, “The Shack”, written by Wm. Paul Young. It’s a story about a man grappling with a loss and trying to redefine his relationship with God. In the first chapter, Mackenzie has gotten a note from an unknown source, inviting him to come to the place where he experienced, what the book describes as, “The Great Sadness.” Overcome by curiosity, yet angered by the audacity of whoever had opened up his wound again, he goes on a journey to the shack to meet face to face his opponent. And as the story progresses, Mackenzie discovers God in a very real and controversial way. God, who is called “Papa” greets Mack at the door of the shack, full of love and warmth, but Mack questions what he sees and feels.

God appears in the form of a large, black woman and says, “I am neither male nor female, even though both genders are derived from my nature. For me to appear to you as a woman and suggest that you call me ‘Papa’ is simply to mix metaphors, to help you from falling so easily back into your religious conditioning.” As in Mack’s case, he viewed God as a “very large, white grandfather figure with a flowing beard, like Gandalf.” But he also smelled the poignant perfume of his mother while God was embracing him in a hug.

So, is God a neutral gender? Depending on how you were raised or what your circumstances are now, what is the image you see when God comes to mind? According to the Bible, God is male, as stated in Isaiah 9:6 where he is described as “Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. In Matthew 6:9, Jesus addresses God by saying, “Our Father in heaven…”, and Psalm 66:5 reads, “Come and see what God has done, how awesome his works in man’s behalf!” Moses, by faith, left Egypt, persevering because he saw Him who is invisible, as stated in Hebrews 11:27 and in John 1:18 says, “No one has seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father’s side, has made him known.

The symbolism of God comforting Mack in the only form he could accept is like encountering kindness from a stranger. The comfort received from a random act of kindness is like coming in contact with God himself. Regardless of how I view God, He remains the same yesterday, today and forever – One who is capable of comforting me and meeting me in my pain just where I am.

…as my Almighty Father.

God's Promise to Prisoners

2009-09-29T19:20:00.000-07:00

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Isaiah 41:10 (NIV)

Dad, this one's for you. Tell Preston, this one's for him too.

God goes straight to the point of our greatest obstacle: fear - that word that rules us, causes us to doubt, makes us do things we shouldn't do, leaves us hiding behind what we don't want to face.

But He tells us not to fear because He is near - interesting...that He would choose two words that sound so very much alike, but are as far apart as the east is from the west.

God picks us up from the foothold of our fears and takes away our tears - reminding us that He is ours. "For I am YOUR God", He says, the One who cares and hears. What fear is greater than God that brings our tears? - there is none that overcomes that He can't hear.

Fears and tears are near to the heart of God - He hears, clears, then steers our hearts toward Him. His strength heals and helps and by His power we are sustained. And before you know it and we look deep inside...

...our fear is gone.

The Headless Fork

2009-09-16T19:36:00.000-07:00

Today while in the cafeteria at lunch, I reached into the basket of plastic forks and found a headless fork. It was molded plastic that didn't have prongs, a half-molded creation that had stopped short of it's purpose. It was a wanna-be fork, good for nothing but could have been formed into anything. With a little imagination, it could have been a sfoon or a kfife or maybe a knork. But it had missed the most important part of it's molding and was absently placed in the vast basket of full-fledged forks, thinking it could be useful, but instead was unable to be anything at all.

To me, it was a great analogy how sometimes people live their lives. They rush ahead, growing up fast, not taking the time to mold and develop their purpose. They think they're ready as soon as they're grown and embark on their journey into the great big world. Trying to fit in with those that took the time to seek and find maturity, within time - their identify is revealed and like the useless fork, are found useless - spending a lifetime being something they're not.

Are you living your life as a headless fork or have prongs of purpose?

Now, there's something to munch on...

You know what?

2009-09-15T18:04:00.000-07:00

You know what? I've been battling all week whether I should remove the Motion Sensor blog because my entries I've written up until now have been safe, non-edgy, and not subject to private matters. I've imagined how many people would judge me for my candidness and wondering if God would be honored with it. You know what? I discovered I don't like what I wrote and it doesn't match my personality, however I also hope that I planted a seed in my friend to think before writing nonsense because you are what you write.

You know what? It occurred to me today that God is faithful even in my unfaithfulness. When I pray to him in the morning for a successful day, to help me achieve my goals and to give me grace, He immediately answers the prayer - not always right when I'm thinking of my circumstance or even praying, but within the course of the day or night, He answers. You know what? Why can't I be like that? I wonder if He prays for me, wanting me to answer His prayer immediately by totally trusting Him, spending time with Him, and giving Him my all?

You know what? I found out today that my neighbor is a writer (alias hairdresser). She told me she is writing her own book about her life, putting down all the words that come to her mind and not worrying who eventually will read it because it's her life. She told me she doesn't try to find the perfect words, but perfects the words later, letting the honesty run free. You know what? I found out by talking to her that there must be a reason why I think so hard about the words I write. Why do I have to try and be perfect all the time? What is it that I'm afraid of? You know what? I don't know.

You know what? Most of the time I feel overwhelmed by work, memoir writing, blog writing, taking care of the dogs, doing stuff at church, and not having enough time to adequately take care of my house, or read the bible or other books I want to read, or do things I want to do. Yet the things I just listed are important to me all in their own way, it's just overwhelming not having enough hours in the day to do them all good. So you know what? I end up either putting my all into one and letting the others slide or not doing any one of them well. I have constant guilt about it and watch the clock tick away, wishing things were different.

You know what? This blog felt pretty good. I'm still thinking too much about the words I'm writing, but you know what? practice makes perfect, right?

Motion Sensor

2009-09-12T08:54:00.000-07:00

After chatting on FB with a colleague of mine last evening, he mentioned he'd started a new blog and wanted me to critique it. Opening up to the site, I initially was shocked at what he had put as his first entry - a descriptive story about a guy that was totally unaware that he was pooping on a toilet that had a broken flushing sensor. He had a picture of this person largely displayed in the right corner of his blog and I thought to myself, "Whoa - what kind of blog is this??" We continued chatting on FB for a while, him laughing at my reaction and my giving him my "expert" opinion.

In the course of our conversation, he said something very revealing (no pun intended) that made me think. He said, "I plan on telling the truth with a twist and want people to know what's going on in this little brain of mine." Now, I want all you readers of my blog to know that I've been friends with this colleague for several years. I know that he's a great worker, loves his family, loves to have fun and is someone you can trust. I also know his element of shock factor comes out every now and then in stark contrast to his serious nature and leaves you wondering what's next.

I squirmed at his frankness and yet deep inside I envied his style, telling him that sometimes I pause before penning as sort of a safety net. I want people to really know who I am, but on the other hand, I hide behind my blog, journaling only one side of me. He listened, then wrote one last line..."I challenge you to write "You know what?...", then left me to ponder at the very thought.

Well, you know what? I think I will.

Time with Dad

2009-09-05T18:39:00.000-07:00

There have been only a few times in my life that I have had the privilege of spending alone time with my dad. The earliest moment I remember was when I was about five. Dad smoked a cherry tobacco pipe when he was young and I loved the aroma it gave. One day I vividly recall sitting on his lap watching him puff the pipe and reading his newspaper, feeling extra special to be in his world. Another time was when I was about ten. I remember getting to ride in his Jacobsen orange truck while he went down to his office on a Saturday. I recall the big lawn equipment and golf carts parked in the showroom and his office being in the back. Tagging along that day gave me a glimpse of him as our provider even though at that young age I didn't quite understand the magnitude. One time when I was about twelve, he let me help him organize catalogs that he'd put together for customers. It was my first lesson in office work and was probably the catalyst that formed my career as a professional assistant I do today. One time I remember him taking me to a Kansas City Chiefs game and being on the side line with him as he worked that day driving the cameraman down the sideline on a golfcart to film the game. I didn't particularly love sports, but I knew he did and felt very important that he included me that day. I remember one family gathering when he and I playfully started to rough house. We both laughed together and tickled each other and played so hard I accidentally bumped my nose and got a nose bleed. I remember my mom and grandmother being so upset at my getting hurt, but I was more upset that our brief encounter of playfulness was over, inwardly hoping we'd have the chance again. When Mom died, the times with Dad got even more special and when I've visited Phoenix, I try to find the time for us to share lunch or visit a bit. So when Dad agreed to come to Michigan, I knew it was going to be good - a whole week to spend with Dad, just he and me.

We planned to take a trip to Ohio to visit his best friend, Joan. Her family lived in Bluffton, Ohio on a large farm in Amish country. Dad arrived the evening before, spent time with Bob and I over a homecooked meatloaf meal, then fetched balls with Daisy & Chamberlain before finishing off the night with a hearty game of Scrabble.

Tuesday morning dawned bright and sunny as we drove to Bluffton, Ohio to spend the day with Joan's family. With trip ticket in hand and Dad with the atlas, we meandered outside Michigan and into the Ohio countryside, amidst rolling hills of cornfields and eventually found the rambling capecod. Dad seemed pleased to be with his friend and meet her family, then sit down to a good old fashioned farmhouse meal. I found out Dad loved home grown tomatoes and Joan's fresh peach pie was also a hit. The afternoon included seeing her childhood church and the family gravestones, visiting local Amish homes to buy fresh bread and cheese, then stopping by to view Joan's childhood 100 year old home. My favorite part of the trip was meeting Bernetta. At 97, she joyfully agreed to play the rest home piano, entertaining us with hymn after hymn while Joan and I accompanied her in duet. Her obvious love for the Lord and agreeable nature brought a tear to my eye, and I recognized the sweet serendipity God had shown me in her. Dad and I started for home at evening time, tuning the radio to Country Willie, enjoying bluegrass and Bob Wills - another treasure I'd not forget.

Wednesday, again was bright and clear as we began our adventure to Petoskey. Starting the drive with Reba McIntyre, then ending up with Johnny Cash and Patti Page, we bee-bopped our way through Northern Michigan and windy curves and rolled in to cousin Shirley's late that afternoon. Her warm greeting made the long drive seem short and I knew Dad was in store for a wonderful time. To celebrate his birthday early, we ate an elegant meal at Bayview Inn, overlooking Lake Michigan, enjoying Parmesan encrusted fresh Lake Perch and a chocolate birthday cake decorated with strawberries. Afterwards we strolled along the coast, admiring the vintage homes as Shirley gave us a historical tour of the camp, then sat in the car to watch the sun set over the lake before heading back to the cottage to play a game of Scrabble.

It was great visiting with Shirley over breakfast the next day, taking a leisure walk through camp as Shirley toured us around. Suggesting we take a drive to Mackinaw, Dad and I took Shirley's offer and drove the 30 miles to the Mackinac Bridge. As we crossed the five mile stretch, we decided to take the ferry to Mackinac Island, then spent the day touring the area on a horse drawn carriage to see the sights. The day was beautiful with colorful holly hocks and petunias adorning the way. The carriage tour skirted the Grand Hotel, the Govenor's Mansion, Fort Mackinac and took us through the state park, showing us a glimpse of what life must have been like a century ago. Our last stop was Ryba's Fudge Shop for Mackinac Fudge ice cream before we boarded the ferry for our return home. Dinner with Shirley was casual and relaxed as we talked about our day and other family news.

We said our goodbyes mid Friday morning,
then headed for Petoskey to walk around town. Lunch was at the famous Jaspersons restaurant, family owned for 104 years. Dad and I shared a hamburger and fresh strawberry rhubarb pie together, then began our descent home. Going through Charlevoix, we saw beautiful sailboats in the harbor and sidewalks filled with travelers just like us. The road wound it's way through miles and miles of country, while Dad and I discovered another bluegrass channel. It seemed just the right mood with the banjo and fiddle music and when Dad would see certain farm equipment, I'd get a lesson or some sort of trivia that only Dad can do. The drive home was enjoyable and we ended the evening with a Mexican dinner at Bob's favorite place - Trini & Carmen's and playing one last game of Scrabble, Dad's favorite game.

Out of all the places and things we did - the treasure I value most was...

Time with Dad.

Blessings

2009-07-25T19:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you just can't explain away blessings that fall on your shoulders like raindrops hitting your face. When they come, they catch you unaware, even though you might have prayed just for that very thing. I have conditioned my life to look for these delicious life-ities, seeing God work in mysterious ways to render smiles.

Lately, I've experienced these phenonemon on a daily basis and I marvel at each one as they've come to me. Like last week when I had my boss pull me aside to tell me I'm doing a great job, then getting a long awaited email from my Japanese friend I met in Alaska. This week I had a friend give me her mother's beautiful antique china cabinet that matched perfectly with my antique bedroom set, then spent the afternoon with me to visit and chat.

It's connecting with long lost friends on Facebook and instantly feeling giddy with excitement when you see their page pop up. It's hearing a favorite song on the radio you can sing along to on your way home from work, then pulling up on the drive and being greeted exhuberantly by your dogs as if you've been gone forever.

Other times, God's blessings are a simple answer to a difficult situation or perhaps a secret envelope filled with money addressed to you. It's His quiet voice whispering words of guidance you hadn't thought of before or giving you a friend that you can confide in. Blessings are always around, sometimes visible and other times naked to the eye, but when felt - they clothe the soul like a warm blanket.

It's sometimes easy to think life just happens, but I don't think so. I believe God created these tidbits of Himself to give us so we might have a taste of heaven on earth.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring???

Simply Vacation

2009-07-04T18:00:00.001-07:00

Being on vacation and not going anywhere significant has been a challenge this past eight days. I've always thought of vacation as something exotic, a time to pack in fun and do until you drop. It's been kind of hard relaxing my mind because inwardly I feel I'm wasting time. But I have to say it's also been refreshing to sit outside each morning, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book while watching the dogs run. I've also spent time weeding the flower beds, working on memoirs, doing some leisure shopping and spending time with friends. I got invited to dinner by my neighbor one night and another day I took a day to drive up the coast with a friend. I've chosen not to spend hours cleaning but have been able to tidy up things presentable, so I guess when I look back at the things I've done, it's brought me the gift of simplicity, which is the very thing I've craved the most.

I'm learning that vacations don't have to be filled with lists of to do's and they don't have to be filled with lots of fun. Sometimes the best vacation is letting go of your expectations and grasping contentment like a nice cup of tea.

Today I spent July 4th making my very first potato salad. It turned out pretty good (which says a whole lot considering my trials and errors of cooking). Bob and I ate our meal outside on our patio munching on meatloaf, corn on the cob, fresh watermelon and potato salad while listening to birds chirping and lawns being mowed. Then I took the dogs for an afternoon swim in the lake and a walk around the block.

Darkness has settled in the summer sky and as I write this, firecrackers and popping noises can be heard nearby. Tradition has begun as I stand outside to watch the fireworks display. Like a little girl experiencing her first 4th of July, I oooh and aaah at the dazzling lights, allowing this serendipity to penetrate me and once again I'm reminded that this is what it's all about...

Simple pleasure.

Child of my Dad

2009-06-21T17:04:00.000-07:00

I've been told I look just like my dad. I have his blue eyes, his high cheekbones, his bone structure and smile. When I was a little girl I didn't notice this too much and really concentrated more on who my Dad was.

My Dad grew up in Missouri with his mom, dad and two brothers. Family was important and showed me that no matter what, you spend time with those you love. This picture, taken on Father's Day long ago, shows my Granddad, my dad at the right, Charles, his brother, and on the left his youngest brother Keith.

When Dad was in school, he excelled in sports and totally amazes me after all these years that at the age of 78, he can still recite all the games he played, which position he had and all the scores that were recorded. He still has a love for sports and knows more trivia than anyone I've met.

And when he began his career, Dad worked hard and enjoyed his sales jobs the most out of all. Talking to people and having the challenge of a sale brought satisfaction and joy as he made friends along they way. His winning smile and tenacious spirit showed me that work could be rewarding if you work hard enough and he lives the motto "When the going gets tough, the tough gets going."

His character is strong and he knows what he loves, which is by far the most valuable lesson I've learned to this day. He loved my mom, providing the best that he could, giving us shelter, food, vacations and trips - the memories still playing in my mind. He took us to church like he did as a boy taking his responsibility seriously in bringing us up to respect and revere God. I look back now at the example he gave and unknowingly learned that to be a person of strength is to take good times with the bad, giving the best that you have and regardless of cost - put God always first.

My dad continues to carry the torch with his grandkids today. He's a part of their lives, showing his love and support by holding them, being with them and giving them time.

This Father's Day I want my Dad to know how much he means to me, that his life is significant in the eyes of those who know him and that I'm proud to be called...

a child of my dad.

Shipshewana Day

2009-06-14T17:48:00.000-07:00

I visited my friend Julie this past weekend to take a mini trip to Shipshewana, Indiana. As we drove through farmland and all the little towns in between, I tried to imagine what Shipshewana was going to be like. Landmark farms with huge white barns and miles of white fences indicated we were in Amish country where communities lived off the land. Freshly laundered clothes hung drying in the summer air while Amish women worked in the gardens, donning crisp white bonnets and long cotton dresses. The closer we came to town, cars were not the only mode of transportation on the road. Instead, we began to see Amish buggies drawn by horses, trotting along carrying their families to meet at the local market.

The scene seemed so different than life as I knew. I wondered what it would be like to ride along the road slow enough so that I could really look at God's nature and smell the beautiful aroma of summer. What would it be like to not have noise or clatter in my life, TV or radio, only books and eat only what I'd grown or pastured, not having to worry about preservatives or chemicals destroying my health. Rather than spending money on trendy fashion, I could wear the simplist of garments and not be concerned about having it all together. Would I be happy with quilting and cooking and tending only to my family's needs and when Sunday came, would the quietness of worship give me satisfaction in my soul?

The other part of me wondered how effective I'd be in making a difference in the outside world. Could I close myself off from people that searched and fulfill the commandment, "Therefore, go and make disciples in Samaria, Judea, and to the ends of the earth?" When outsiders would click a picture of my unusual style of living, how could I convey to them my love for their life and show that I cared to be their friend?

I spent the afternoon browsing the shops and enjoying an Amish meal, then got in the car to drive away at the end of the day. I went back to the noise and clatter and conveniences of my life and thought to myself, "Which way is better?" A day with the Amish made me slow down and revisit the past, reflecting on God's desire to take care of us. It prepared my heart as I headed back to my world and reminded me that life on the other side of the fence can make a difference as well. The pasture of the world is rich with opportunities galore to grow and produce a harvest for God.

Is living simply and being detached from the world what God determined our purpose to be? Or did He want us to be in the world but not of the world by living simple in our heart? His word directs us to be a light shining in the dark - an avenue by which people are drawn to experience Him. The difference we make is in how we live.

Which side of the fence are you on?

Happy Birthday, Chamberlain!

2009-05-17T19:12:00.000-07:00

I couldn't let Chamberlain's first birthday go by without celebrating in some way, so I decided to throw him a bash. I got special doggy invitations and he and I walked around the neighborhood to personally invite his doggie friends - Luna and Doodles, Harley and Bear, Daisy, of course and Tyke and neighborhead friends.

Even though I took quite a ribbing at planning such an event, I found out I wasn't alone in my insane endeavor as a friend from church told me she'd actually put together a doggy wedding, complete with a song, "One bark - for a lifetime together."

His first guests were Tracy and Phil with Andrew and Colton and his first present was a little daffy duck and rawhide bone. Then came Gordy and Becky, Pam and Doodles, Tracy and Luna, then Nancy and Craig with Harley and Bear. The backyard was a bedlam of dogs, running and romping, checking out all the smells and kids chasing after them throwing the toys. Chamberlain was a good sport - donning a party hat, behaving himself (for the most part) and totally enjoying all the attention he got. As each of his presents were opened, he eagerly snatched each one, parading around with it in his mouth, then came back to the bags to search for more.

Bob barbequed burgers and hotdogs and served potato salad and chips. Bob cooked special burgers for the dogs and cut them in half to give them each a nibble. Talk about eating them whole! As soon as we dangled them in front of their noses, they disappeared so quickly I couldn't even catch a pic! No wonder Daisy and Chamberlain kept belching through the evening - it probably was due to the burgers, watermelon, rawhide bones and doggy biscuits or it possibly could have been the beer that Chamberlain licked up that someone had spilled onto the patio.

As each guest left, I gave each guest a "doggy" bag full of party favors consisting of doggy biscuits, a rawhide slice and a tennis ball. Chamberlain sacked out in Bob's lap and even now as I write - both dogs are laid out on the floor - exhausted from all their frolic and food.
Chamberlain, the pup had quite a year - and so have we. So why not celebrate?

Happy Birthday, little guy - you are now....a dog.

Mother's Day - A timeless treasure

2009-05-09T19:44:00.000-07:00

I read in the newspaper today a quote that said, "It's not the gift that Mom wants the most for Mother's Day, it's being remembered."

I feel very fortunate that my son remembers special moments in my life. He takes the time to give me a call, just to say, "I love you, Mom" and it's the sweetest feeling in all the world to know that I'm his mom. When he was little I'd get a homemade card and a gift made by his little hands, like the time he made me a clothes pin brooch made out of tissue paper flowers. I still have that gift, by the way, and remember the day I got it - just like it was yesterday.

This week I thought about my mom and the Mother's Day gifts I used to give her. Sometimes it was books or movies or a beautiful dress. Other times it was dinner out or flowers or a card sent in the mail, but the gift she treasured most was my time.

The moments we'd spend shopping at the mall or taking a day to hit all the yard sales is something I miss and look back as time well spent. It's hard giving time, especially in this day and age. It's easier to buy something quick and give without a thought cause time is at a premium with full time jobs, responsibilities and bills. But now that I'm older, I realize how valuable time is and wish I had more.
When moments come along that make me slow down, I seize the chance to witness small miracles, like birds nesting in my outside light fixtures and seeing them rest upon their little eggs. It's when a senior citizen from my church treats me to lunch even though I'm tired and have things to do, but we spend the day enjoying each others' company and looking at pics. It's moments like Saturday morning calls with my Dad or weekend visits from friends far away. The miracles that bloom are the memories we collect, the ones that make us smile and cause us to breathe.

My mother taught me a lesson by the way she viewed life. Every chance she had to have fun, be with people she loved, and use her imagination to create taught me without even knowing, that life is more than living a routine. She enjoyed the serendipities that came her way and dropped whatever she was doing to sieze that moment.

So, in honor of my mom - sieze your moments and experience joy. It's worth the time.

Questions and Answers

2009-04-21T19:24:00.000-07:00

Sunday night I found myself watching the Miss America Pageant just about the time they picked the five finalists. Did you notice that Miss California stood up for beliefs in marriage between a man and woman? Did you notice that the judge that asked her that question scoffed at her answer? She ended up not winning.

Today the subject came up at work about why she didn't win. The general consensus was that she had gotten too political in her statement, unveiling her own private views that did not include same sex marriage. The question she was asked was "What are your views on California's laws on same sex marriage?"

Miss California at first stated that everyone had a right to their choice, however she went on to say that she personally felt that marriage should be as God intended -between a man and a woman.

Was she wrong in voicing her opinion? Was she not diverse enough considering her role as representative of the United States? As a Christian, are we soft-pedaling our beliefs if we don't strongly take a stand? Can we make a difference and stay neutral?

I thought about these questions and wondered how I would have answered them. I came to the conclusion that Miss California got her reward and will someday receive her crown for being a woman of faith.

Congratulations, Miss California - you've got my vote!

The Road to Contentment

2009-04-04T08:08:00.000-07:00

I think I’ve shared this before…that one of my favorite things to do is to find a country road I haven’t traveled and slowly take in all that is around me. You never know what you’ll find. It could be a sea of sunflowers melting into the horizon or a dilapidated barn that has stood seasons of time. Sometimes you might see wildlife hidden in the deep forest or spot a beautiful wildflower sprouting by the roadside. The road twists and turns with gullies and potholes or perhaps the road is smooth dirt that has been packed down from other travelers going the same way.

Whatever the case, the part I love is the pleasure of peace. In my opinion, there is nothing quite like being on a lonely road, breathing deep and allowing my mind to relax. The commune with nature brings God closer than ever and I begin to listen to what He has to say.

Concentrating on contentment is a hard thing to do because life as we know it just doesn’t give us much opportunity to slow down. Work, family pressures or financial problems all weigh in on us, robbing us of genuine contentment, replacing it with harried schedules, frustration, worry and stress. Lately I have been in this mode – it’s easy to do. Rather than remembering the good in my life, I chose to get bogged down in all my responsibilities and wistfully wondered if there was anything better. The problem with this mentality is that it began to drain me of my energy, making me irritable and cranky, giving Satan a real foothold in convincing me that my life (as I know it) was not good enough.

But God is good – because He never lets you fall farther than where He can pick you up. I began to pray this week for my contentment to run deep. I asked God to help me see the serendipities, the minutest miracles that surround my life and train me again to be content wherever I am. It’s a mind-over-matter purging of the heart and works every time if you just let Him lead.

This week I saw a quiet meadow filled with deer, felt love and trust from my son, experienced satisfaction in my job, had lunch with my best co-worker friend and enjoyed a nice Friday night date with my husband, sharing fajitas (my favorite) and eating Dairy Queen ice cream together in his car on the way home. This morning I’m writing this blog while sitting at Panera’s, sipping Hazelnut coffee and listening to light classical tunes.

Phillipians 4:11-13 says, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” The key word for me is “learned”. The road to contentment is well traveled, sometimes rough, sometimes smooth and always filled with twists and turns. Along the way you’ll discover beauty if you look and if you continue down this well-worn path, the end of the road is peace.

Ruth

2009-03-29T19:06:00.000-07:00

This weekend our long time So. Cal friend, Ruth came to stay with us. It had been so long since I'd seen her that she didn't recognize me and I didn't recognize her when she arrived in baggage claim! As Bob and I sat in the booth at Famous Dave's with her, we all tried to figure out how long it had been and determined it had been at least 7 years. But you know - when you're friends - time melts away and before you know it you've caught up on all the news and it's like you've never been apart. That's the way it is with Ruth.

Today during lunch she told the others with us how we'd become friends, a story I'd forgotten, but one that I soon remembered as she reminisced about our friendship. Then later she bought me the sweetest Willow Tree angel holding a golden retriever puppy (in fact - it was a replacement of the one I lost in Frankenmuth she'd bought me just the day before, insisting that she wanted to do it).

We spent the weekend talking non-stop, visiting Frankenmuth, playing a game of checkers, shopping, eating Zenders chicken, buying fudge and driving home while eating sugar-coated almonds, then stayed up late to watch a chick flick. After church on Sunday, we shopped some more, checked all the dog food brands at the pet store (I found out she is an expert on the subject), then took a long drive around the area as a snow storm blew in. We even got to see a herd of deer frolicking in the snow and leisurely eating their evening meal - a scene we suddenly stumbled on. As we rounded the corner of the country road, I slowly stopped across the road and took advantage of the Kodak moment, giving Ruth a snapshot souvenier to take back home.

Even now - I hear Ruth and Bob talking and laughing as he is showing her his Facebook. He's connected with many friends from both of their pasts since Ruth knew Bob as a kid and I can hear them naming names and sharing tidbits of who they've seen and it has a happy sound...

the sound of friendship.

2009-03-12T18:35:00.000-07:00

Tonight we had a dog training company called Sit-Means-Sit.com come to our house and talk to us about how to effectively train Chamberlain. They use a remote collar system that is supposed to train dogs how to obey using mere commands with no leash. Bob and I were impressed with the program and most likely will enroll our little general into this rigorous class.

At ten months of age, the only behavior we've overcome is housebreaking, but we have a long way to go when it comes to digging, chewing, barking, grazing, biting, and jumping. Other than that - Chamberlain's a great dog!

A Random Act of Kindness

2009-03-03T16:59:00.000-08:00

Have you ever experienced a random act of kindness? A totally unexpected rainfall of goodness too awesome to describe? When it happens, you know you've been blessed. Time stands still for that one breathless moment and the warmth of God's love covers you from head to toe.

I had one of those moments today. It actually began Sunday during a visit to the nail salon. Nail salons are a curious thing. Once you arrive and are seated at the nail center, the technician takes your hand and begins talking to you as if you've been best friends forever. They ask about your job, your family, the vacations you're planning and what you're doing for the weekend. For me, I tend to be a chatterbox anyway, so it's a very relaxing time. As usual, I was sharing with "Lien" my weekend plans of hosting a slumber party for the high school girls from my church. I told her I'd visited the Dollar Store and got some really cute "girlie" items, like slipper socks with teeny-bopper sayings and colorful mini scrunchies and planned to do a "spa" night with them using food items for facials and foot scrubs and such.

While I was talking, another customer, who was sitting nearby, asked me, "So, are you going to give them gift bags too?" And I said no, that I'd already spent my limit, but that they'd have fun just watching movies and giggling. This lady then said to me, "I might be able to help you with some gifts." And I replied, "What??" She then told me she had an online novelty store that sold inexpensive items and she thought she'd be able to give me some things they would like.

When I told her again that I had spent all I could, she smiled a big smile and said, "Oh, I was planning on giving you what I had." Giving, I thought?? Surely I had heard wrong, so I asked her, "Why would you give me things when you have a business?" And she answered me with "Why are you doing what you're doing?" I thought for a minute and told her I was just trying to help and she said, "That's what I'm doing...for you." Then she asked me how many guests were coming and she promised me she'd arrange a little assortment for everyone who came. Then she gave me her card with her information and phone and I gave her mine and she left.

Now, when random acts of kindness suddenly appear, we're so conditioned to thinking there's a catch, that sometimes our skepticism can rob us of momentary joy. For me, I began to wonder who this lady was, if she was for real, and even became nervous that I'd be taken advantage of. But true to her word, she called me the next night, arranged a time for us to meet and I took my lunch hour to receive what she was to give.

When I arrived at our spot, her husband walked towards me with a large grocery bag full of goodies (miniature satin purses, glittery nail files, nail care kits, colorful necklaces, hair pieces and little jugs of lip gloss). I told him again what a blessing he and Missy were and he gently said, "We're happy to do it and we even have a special gift for you", then he got in his car and drove away. As I sat in my car gazing at all the things, I noticed a tiny box tucked inside and opened it up. A pair of mother of pearl earrings with sterling silver clasps were displayed against black satin...with shades of my favorite colors - blue, pink and teal.

Her random act of kindness spell bound me the rest of the day. I calculated how much money this gift had to be and all I could think of was...priceless.

The Greatest Thing

2009-03-01T17:51:00.000-08:00

Sorry it's taken so long to write new articles, but my computer wouldn't give me internet access for about a month. In the interim, life brought some serendipities that I plan to write about, so stay tuned.

Today in church, the sermon was about sacrifice, the deep-heart kind that only happens when you give up everything that means anything to you for the sake of the cross. The story told was about three guys who decided that following God was more important than serving an arrogant king who insisted on being first. Even at the point of death, these guys decided to face the fire and die because regardless of what others thought - they knew the right thing to do. In fact, their very words were, "If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, but even if He does not, we want you to know, O King that we will not serve your gods or worship you." The story tells us they had to go into that fire, not knowing the outcome. But in the midst of the fire, their belief won them their life without pain, without scorch, without even a hair on their head singed and even won the heart of the king.

While the pastor talked, I thought about my life, the things that hold my heart - my family and friends, my material possessions and job. What would I be willing to give up if someone told me I had to? Would I be willing to give up everything that meant everything to me...for the sake of Christ? The thing is, is that following Christ doesn't mean you have to live without things you love, but that love for Him becomes more important than the things you have. For Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego their ultimate sacrifice was life...not death, for they knew that regardless of the cost, their treasure was Him.

The greatest thing.

Inaugural Thoughts

2009-01-20T17:35:00.000-08:00

As a veteran blogger, it would be remiss for me to not mention such a historical day as today.

As I stood in the hallway of my workplace watching CNN on the company TV, chills formed within me as I witnessed Barak Obama's inauguration as President of the United States. Awe swept over me as I heard Aretha Franklin singing her rendition of My Country Tis of Thee, viewed the swearing in and listened to the poetic melody of the strings playing "Air and Simple Gifts". The giant mass of race-less humanity facing freezing temperatures in the mall captured just a glimpse of what hope is like. People willing to endure in order to be a part of history, showed dedication to their belief, a quality that is worthy in itself, regardless of whether you voted for Obama or not.

While I stood watching history unfold, I thought about other world history events that I remember the most. I was in second grade sitting in my school classroom when the news came that JFK was killed. I do remember watching Johnson get sworn in even though I didn't totally understand the event. The Vietnam war raged on during my junior high years and I remember seeing images of death splashed on the news. I remember the impeachment of Nixon and hearing him resign his seat as President of the United States.

Other inaugurations I remember was the swearing in of Jimmy Carter, than Ford, than after that, President Reagan. It was this time in history I became interested in our political world and watched raptly the release of the American prisoners from Iran and listening to State of the Union addresses by this favorite President of mine.

How many of you remember when Princess Di got married and where you were at that time? I lived in Illinois at the time and had to get up in the wee hours of the morning to witness the event and was mesmorized at repeat after repeat of newscasts showing the fairytale. Years later I remember sitting on my sofa watching in disbelief her horrible death and was so moved that I kept every article and even an unopened copy of Elton John's tribute song. I vividly remember when the Challenger soared into the sky and moments later burst into flames in front of my eyes. Andrew was two and I was ironing laundry when all at once the dreams of a teacher went up in smoke. Desert Storm took my brother into war and I wore a yellow ribbon to work every day. When he came home, the feeling of pride overwhelmed me as I saw his military garb as he walked off the plane. Than when 9/11 hit, I'll never forget that point in time. I was getting ready for work with the TV on. I saw the tower fall and than first hand see the plane crash into the second.

Yes, today should be mentioned. Our country has entered into a momentious era and is on the way to making more history. I, for one, am grateful I got to see what I saw today. The expectations of tomorrow can only be fulfilled if we know that God is control. We only have to hope and believe.

Sorrow's Prayer

2009-01-17T18:45:00.000-08:00

Today I found out a friend of mine lost her teen daughter to suicide this week. My friend lives down the street from me and we saw each other only a few months ago when the weather was warm. We walked our dogs together and talked of kids, of work, of vacation plans for the summer and I thought back to my friend's zest for living and the joy she had in being a mom.

Trying to call her I wondered what I would say and rehearsed my speech as the phone rang in my ear, but it wasn't to be. Her line was busy so I didn't try again. I'll send her a card instead.

Praying for her today with another friend of mine, we lifted her up, asking God to comfort her in this trial she's in. Mothers reaching out to mothers - feeling her sorrow - from the depths of our hearts.

On behalf of my friend - whisper a prayer. She needs it so.

Holidays with the Hound Dogs

2009-01-04T17:41:00.000-08:00

When Bob surprised me with a holiday trip to Phoenix this past week, I’m sure he thought taking care of Daisy and Chamberlain along with two cats would be a piece of cake. On the way to the airport he explained to me casually his plan to work at home, while caring for the animals. He figured as long as the dogs were taken out to pee and poo regularly, that there was a clean litter box for the cats and there was enough food for them to eat, life would be easy. It all sounded good but I knew from experience that these animals are no ordinary animals. I knew that in a split second all my well-laid out plans could vanish as a vapor with the conniving nature of these lovable creatures. Their looks of innocence are deceiving and only the shrewdest of humans can outwit and defy their beguiling ways.

Since it is not often that I get to travel on my own, I certainly didn’t want to discourage my wonderful husband, so I calmly assured myself that he was a grown man, capable of managing the house and actually was rather excited to have Bob experience the full extent of what I do on a daily basis so he could bond too.

As soon as the plane landed I called Bob to see how he was doing and was greeted with a frantic voice saying, “Marion, I almost lost the dogs!” I asked calmly, “What happened, Bob? How did you almost lose the dogs?” Breathlessly he replied, “Daisy got off her lead somehow was running the neighborhood and while I was out yelling for Daisy, Chamberlain snuck out the back door and ran away too! Dave (our next door neighbor) helped me catch them and they’re back inside now. It took forever - Daisy doesn’t come when called!” Then he added, “When are you coming home???” I chuckled when I got off the phone thinking, “Mmm – he already misses me, this is good.”

The rest of the week seemed to be going smoothly, except for Daisy and Chamberlain running off a second time, but overall Bob was getting the hang of things. I’d call every morning about 10am and he’d cheerfully be in his office with a cup of coffee working away, with the dogs at his feet, telling me his plans for the day and briefings on the weather. No mention about the cats, but I figured no news was good news so I began to relax. Then New Year’s Eve I got a voice mail from Bob asking me to return his call. When I called back his voice was panicky and he informed me that Chamberlain had eaten an entire summer sausage log! “How did THAT happen, Bob?” Well, he’d gotten out the sausage to cut up into cubes to take to a New Year’s Eve party and decided to have some for a snack. Forgetting to put away the sausage, Bob comfortably ate his snack in his living room lounger and then decided to take a snooze. He awoke later to the sound of Chamberlain chewing on paper and went to investigate. Apparently Chamberlain had grazed the kitchen counter, confiscated the sausage roll and consumed the entire thing all by himself! He was just finishing up on the wrapper when Bob discovered the deed. “What shall I do, shall I go to the party or stay at home with the dog?” Bob asked. We both knew Chamberlain was going to get sick, we just didn’t know when it would happen and which end it would affect. Bob was opting to stay at home but I felt Chamberlain would probably be ok since he’d eaten half my fresh baked peanut butter cookies the week before and had done just fine. I ended the call by advising him to “go to the party – you can clean up his mess later if he does get sick.” At midnight, I received a Happy New Year voice mail from Bob stating he’d opted to stay at home and was oh so glad he did. Chamberlain pooped his way into the new year with Bob at his side (outside to be exact) and the two of them trotted off to bed at the stroke of midnight all pooped out (no pun intended). The song, “Every party has a pooper that’s why we invited you” brings new meaning now every time I sing it.

New Year’s Day dawned and I called Bob as usual. “When are you coming home?” Bob asked. Then he began to tell me due to the night before, he’d decided to spend his morning reading up on Chow breeds and had found an informative article on www.dogbreedinfo.com. He figured with a little discipline, Chamberlain could be trained but we needed to know what we were dealing with. Was Chamberlain destined to be a bundle of disaster or was there a remote chance our little General could truly be a golden dog? Bob’s New Year resolution was to immediately enter Chamberlain into Bob’s doggy boot camp and work on the basic commands. All was going well until I received a text message that night asking if Chamberlain had had his rabies shot. Not knowing what had prompted Bob to ask me THAT question, I quickly called him back and left a voice mail to have him quickly call me back. I thought to myself, “What in the world had happened?” I knew Chamberlain had an attitude but I couldn’t imagine anything serious as needing rabies shots. When Bob called me back he said, “I tried to walk Chamberlain to his kennel using only my hand on his collar explaining to him that he was going into his kennel. I guess he did’nt like the word “kennel” because he snapped at me and bit my finger!” Bob figured if Chamberlain had not had his shots, Bob would be getting his. So much for doggy boot camp! Bob didn’t seem nearly as upset as I was and even admitted that perhaps little Chamberlain had been worked over quite a bit that day in camp which possibly caused him to be a little irritated, but thought that with consistent obedience training, he’d be a perfect pup in no time. After quizzing Bob about his finger and was he SURE he was alright, I hung up the phone realizing that bonding had occurred – and not just with his finger.

Soon my trip was over and Bob was at the airport picking me up. He seemed unusually happy to see me and said his life just wasn’t the same while I was gone. How nice to be missed! I must plan a trip again soon!

Christmas 2008

2008-12-19T19:20:00.000-08:00

From a dog’s point of view, living here with my family isn’t too bad. Life is good, as long as I have food to eat, water to slop, bones to chew and a chance to play. And it REALLY gets good when I’m allowed to snuggle on the sofa with my head in Mom’s lap. I don’t get in trouble near as much as last year ‘cause I’m almost three years old. I’m done with digging in the backyard, chewing up rugs and drinking out of the toilet but I still get yelled at quite often for rolling in duck poop and tracking in mud. I’m only doing what Golden Retrievers do best, you know, the scent thing, but for some reason I always end up in the bathtub after I’ve done that.

My best friend is Luna, next door. Gerianne (Luna’s mom) comes over every day to take me out to play. She’s like my second mom and I love her a lot. Me and Luna romp and play in the yard, chasing squirrels, playing tag and ball while my mom goes away to work. According to Mom, her job changed a bit after Continental bought Siemens VDO this year and has her supporting the VP of Finance and Controller along with both Finance departments, traveling between two local offices several times a week. As soon as she gets home, I twirl and dance for her ‘cause I’m so excited to be with her again. Mom also was busy writing stories this year and got her first Hospice assignment in July to write a memoir for a man that was 99 ½ years old. I got real good at laying at her feet while she typed away but nudged her with my nose every now and then just to let her know I was there. Mom also had some writing jobs for her memoir business and I hear her talking about how much she enjoys writing life stories and writing on her blog http://michigan-lady.blogspot.com.

Most nights Mom’s home with me, but on Wednesdays she joined a band to play keyboard for her church’s new worship service called “Fresh Ground.” Once a month she also volunteers as a helper in distributing food for Angel Food Ministries. At night when it’s time to sleep, she lets me guard her at the foot of the bed. It’s the least I can do since I hurt her real bad by accident this summer. While taking one of our summer walks, I decided to go after a cat and forgot how strong I was. Mom got yanked to the ground while holding my lead which separated her left shoulder. I never did catch the cat but when I stopped my chase, I saw what I had done. After Mom was helped up, she and I were driven home by some nice neighbors, than soon lots of medical trucks and people were in our house. Mom got her first ride in an ambulance all by herself since Dad was traveling. When she finally came home later that night, my poor Mommy was in a sling and couldn’t take care of me for several weeks! Mom’s much better now and has full use of her arm but is very careful. I’m trying to be a better dog.

Dad goes to work every day to PCI and sometimes is gone for a day or so. When he’s ready to leave, I stand at the back door for him to say, “Abba na da!” (which he heard on his favorite show Everybody Loves Raymond). I don’t understand why he says it but he and Mom jokingly say it everyday. Dad says it means, “Have a nice day!” and when he says it to me, he pats me on the head and walks out the door. When Dad is home for the weekend he works in his office sorting papers, doing music editing and taking lots of breaks in front of the TV. He and Mom go out to dinner every Friday night and on Saturday night help to set up the media equipment for the new worship service at the church. Dad and I are pals and I especially love it when he lets me lick the remnants out of his yogurt cup. My favorite time is chewing on a rawhide bone in the middle of the living room floor while Mom and Dad are watching TV.

In May of this year, life as I knew it changed forever. Because of a fleeting romance I had in February with a chow down the street (it seemed like a good idea at the time), I found myself giving birth to three puppies. Because of all my fur and the fact that I like to eat, Mom didn’t discover this until two weeks prior. She always said she wanted to be a Grandma, but I don’t think this is what she had in mind. Anyway, after the initial shock wore off, Mom and Dad learned everything there was to know about birthing puppies. Dad built me the coolest whelping box, complete with a hinged door, and when the time came on May 20th, I did most of the birthing myself. My first pup was born healthy, but as hard as I tried, the other two didn’t make it.

Dad named my boy General Chamberlain, after his favorite Civil War soldier.
He looks just like me but has an attitude like his father down the street. Being a mom is hard work and I’ve done my part in teaching everything I know, however when he tries to be “the man”, it’s cute only a short while until he steals all my bones. Overall, he’s doing pretty good, though. He’s almost housebroken, eats all of his food, knows his basic commands and is fairly respectful. The only part I don’t like now is sharing Mom and Dad, but I should’ve thought about that before I had my fling. I almost forgot what it’s like being a puppy, but in watching Chamberlain, he reminds me how fun it is to wrestle, to roll out toilet paper, play tug of war and explore everything inside and out, including barking and growling at falling snowflakes! Now, if only I can just keep him from chewing up all of the Christmas tree ornaments! I just love him to bits. I can’t say that the cats love him that much, but we’re all learning to tolerate each other more. (Just the other day the black kitty laid on Mommy’s lap while I was on the couch beside her and Hope and Chamberlain are friends). Mom and Dad are getting used to cleaning up our messes and living with extra fur and show infinite patience even when Chamberlain gets carsick in Mom’s new car.

I don’t see Andrew very much but when he does come to visit, he’s a lot of fun. I can tell he loves having me around and lets me hang around with him and sleep on his bed. I watch him do his Pilates exercises and listen as he practices trumpet. Sometimes he takes me for a run, but it’s real hard to keep up cause he’s FAST. When he’s away, Mom and Dad miss him a lot but I can tell they are really proud. His travels have taken him all around the world as he plays for various Broadway shows and Las Vegas headliners. He spent almost two years as lead trumpeter for BLAST, touring the US and even Japan. Then when he came back, he soon got a gig with the group “Take 9”, featuring Delisco at the Venetian Resort in Macao, China during this year’s Olympics. When he finished the gig, he came home to visit us for a bit and took a mini trip with Dad to Chicago to see his BLAST buddy, Mike. In early November, Andrew got hired as a merchandiser for the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang show and is in charge of selling and inventorying the show’s products. He’s learning how to drive a big truck and gets to load and unload stuff all day. It sounds like hard work to me but Andrew’s grateful to have the job while he waits for another performing gig. Andrew calls Mom and Dad all the time wherever he is and they say his latest personal project is working on a solo CD. It was great seeing him for a week in December and I can’t wait to see him again when he comes for Christmas Day!!!

As far as trips, the only time I got to go anywhere interesting was in February to Rick and Julie Lee’s when Mom and Dad went to see Andrew perform BLAST in Kalamazoo. In March, Dad took care of me while Mom took a trip to Chicago with her friend, Nancy to the Country Living Women Entrepeneur’s Conference. Mom came home very excited at all she saw and and even got to see the famous St. Patty’s Day celebration where they dyed the Chicago River green. In August, Mom took a short birthday trip with her neighbor friend, MaryAnn to visit Aunt Shirley in Petoskey, Michigan. She bought a large electric lighthouse to put in the front yard as a birthday present to herself and enjoyed the rest and relaxation away from me and Chamberlain. In September, Mom and Dad took a 14 day trip which included an Alaskan cruise to commemorate their 30th wedding anniversary. They briefly visited with their Alaska friends, Mari and Eli, than sailed to Glacier Bay, Juneau, Ketchikan and Vancouver and ended their trip on Vashon Island spending a couple of days with friends Robert and Diane and met up with Dad’s friends Norm and Val. While Mom and Dad were gone, we got acquainted with Daniel and Rachel, our temporary caregivers, and took care of them by treating them as normal as possible, which educated them greatly. Two weeks is a long time and we were VERY happy when Mom and Dad came home. I guess Daniel and Rachel told them they’ve decided they aren’t ready for pets or children and nicknamed Chamberlain “The Disaster Maker.”

Other highlights this year included a visit from Pastor Jonathan in February. I was thrilled to meet him and found out he loves snow just as much as me – and decided to shovel our driveway just for fun. Also in February, I got to meet my first real cowboy named Jim, and Memorial Day weekend we got a visit from Rick and Julie who wanted to see my new baby, Chamberlain.

Well, that’s about it. I hope every person reading this note from me gets a good dose of sloppy dog kisses and wet nose nuzzles to keep you warmly loved. And remember:
•Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joy ride.
•If what you want what lies buried, dig until you find it.
•Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.
•When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.
•When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
•Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
•When it's in your best interest, practice obedience.
•Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
•Let others know when they've invaded your territory.
•On hot days, drink lots of water and lay under a shady tree.
•Take naps and stretch before rising.
•When you are happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
•Run, romp, and play daily.
•No matter how often you are scolded, don't buy into the guilt thing and pout...run right back and make friends.
•Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.
•Bond with your pack.
•Be loyal.
•Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.
•Never pretend to be something you are not.

Merry Christmas – Daisy, Chamberlain, Hope, Faith, Bob, Marion and Andrew

The Cookie Bandits

2008-12-05T18:36:00.000-08:00

Chamberlain has developed a very bad habit. He thinks he's king. I wonder how that happened? Is it because we named him GENERAL Chamberlain?? He steals Daisy's bones, expects to have his way, and barks fiercely to protect his domain. Despite his assertive behavior, his cute little face melts my heart and I can't help but smile at my civil war general.

But SOMETIMES he pushes the button a bit too far.

The last batch of peanut butter cookies were cooling on my kitchen countertop when I decided to make a phone call. Going downstairs so I could talk to my friend, I suddenly heard commotion upstairs and Bob yelling at Daisy and Chamberlain exclaiming "What have you done???" When I came up the steps, both dogs hovered around me, looking as innocent as ever while the story started to unfold.

Chamberlain, the ring leader, decided he'd steal not one, not two, but nine cookies by standing on his hind feet and grabbing what he could. Cookies went all over the floor whereby he and Daisy had a free for all. Bob was sure both dogs would later be sick and informed me to be prepared for the worst.

It took a couple of hours before we began to see the signs - bloated tummies, belches and farts and poor Daisy looking as if she was ready to die. She listlessly laid on the sofa, her stomach making terrible digestive noises, and Chamberlain was sacked out on the floor.

It took several hours to see them get back to normal and I wonder if the cookie bandits thought about their caper while they convalesced? I definitely hope so considering my cookie batch is half gone!

Dreaming of Mom

2008-12-04T08:55:00.001-08:00

I dreamed about my mom again. We were together, walking outdoors on a sunny day towards a group of children that were singing on risers in a school field. As we approached the group, Mom kept telling me she wanted to spend time with her child, a boy, who was one of the singers but was not able to do so because she'd been restricted.

In the dream, I couldn't understand why she had been restricted and felt upset that there was nothing I could do but try to comfort her. As we neared the group, Mom decided to turn down a dirt path and walk away. She was silently crying and was explaining to me why it had to be so. In the dream she was perhaps in her fifties, dressed in casual clothes, her hair dark and short. As we walked along, she on the left - me on the right, the dirt path led us upward into a housing development nestled in some pines. The day was cool but not overly so and I remember the sun being very bright. In my next memory we were sitting in a sunlit living room void of furniture. She led me to a corner of the room where she had a small bookcase with books and articles she had kept. She sat on a small ottoman and began showing me devotions and poems I had written she had kept over the years. She showed me her favorite one that she said comforted her every time she read it. I don't remember the words, but I remember her smiling at me, enjoying the moment.

The next thing I remember we were standing outside again and I gave her a hug. We were Mom and child, yet years had made me a woman. In my hug I wanted her to know she had a friend. Inside, even though I didn't understand why she was the way she was or decisions she had made, I realized she was no different from me. She needed to be understood, needed to be hugged and loved and allowed to be herself.

When I woke, she was still with me and stayed with me all through the day. I thought about her as I sipped my morning coffee while watching gently falling snow and thought about her as I shopped the mall, weaving through endless shops, my back wearily aching. I thought about her as I went to an evening Christmas pageant, listening to the carols being sung and wondering if she could hear.

I'm not sure why I dreamed such a dream and it brought me a bit of sadness, but it also reminded me that when I have the opportunity to love - do it - because that's what Mom's do.

Getting ready for Christmas

2008-11-30T16:23:00.000-08:00

On the eve of Dec 1, God decided to send our first wintry storm which when finished will blanket most of Michigan with almost a foot of snow. I believe it's His way to welcome in the season of Christmas with a picture perfect Currier & Ives scene.

I decorated a week early this year and am sitting on my sofa in front of my lit up Christmas tree adorned with silver and red ornaments and crystal icycles draping every other branch. The mantel and old hoosier cabinet sport country Christmas memorabilia that gives my living room a 1930's look.

The dogs are busy chewing on their bones while the cats quietly watch and the TV is turned on with "To Kill a Mockingbird."

It's the one time of year that gives me that cozy kind of feeling and brings me utter content as I get ready for Christmas.

What Thanksgiving is not...

2008-11-28T14:13:00.000-08:00

Every year when Thanksgiving rolls around, families and organizations around the U.S. take that one day to gather together and offer thanks in one way or another for what they have. It wasn't until I became a Christian that I truly understood the essence of Thanksgiving and what Thanksgiving is not.

First and foremost, it's NOT about how big a turkey you can buy and what recipe you use to cook it with.

It's NOT about whether the green bean casserole is perfect or if the sweet potatoes are whole or mashed.

It's NOT about being late or what you plan to wear.

It's NOT about which football game is on and the men sitting around while the women do the dishes.

It's NOT about who says grace and who sits at the head of the table.

It's NOT about whether the house is clean enough and whether all the cleaning you did gets messed up the minute a busload of relatives come in through the door.

As a pilgrim on my own journey of thankfulness, I realize the older I get that all the superficialities of the modern Thanksgiving is hardly what the original pilgrims had in mind. With all the conveniences of the 21st century, one has to really imagine what the first Thanksgiving must have been like as the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock so far away from the comforts of home.

In my opinion, the pilgrims purpose was not only to find a place where they could worship God the way they wanted, but also to show others how to really be thankful in good times and bad. At the end of the day, they still were able to thank God for the bare essentials of life and live each day with strength and courage. They spent their first Thanksgiving just being grateful - for life, for family and for friends.

Sept 20 - Alaska - Day 7

2008-11-07T18:25:00.000-08:00

In continuation of my cruise blog, I couldn't leave out the end of the story. We had spent 7 glorious days on the Sapphire and we were soon to reach Vancouver after sailing a day and a half to disembark our cruise.

We arrived early in the morning and had been instructed by the crew that our designated time for deboarding was to be 7:15am, which meant we had to set our alarm for 4:30am the night before in order to meet at our station. We had packed the day before, the crew had taken all our luggage with the exception of our carry on bags, and we had stayed up late preparing our clothing and showering so we'd not have much to do in the a.m. But I must tell you - even though we did all that and went to bed around 11:00pm, as dog tired as I was, I tossed and turned all night, hardly sleeping a wink, afraid the alarm would not ring or that we'd oversleep.

Well - it did ring and we forced ourselves to get up and going. We hastily dressed and went up to the Horizon buffet to have our last breakfast on the ship. Others were groggily getting their coffee and food, sitting at various tables looking like they'd had just as little sleep as us. Everything seemed different, not as relaxed, as I sat and drank my coffee. The crew was still nice and pleasant, but they too seemed anxious for us to leave so they could prepare for the next group of vacationers. Soon we were finished with our breakfast and we headed for our muster station. We were supposed to meet in the Santa Fe, the Mexican restaurant that had been our favorite. Other fellow cruisers had already arrived and were sitting at tables awaiting further instruction. We all waited together like children on the first day of school. One by one more people straggled in, some arriving well past the designated time. I couldn't help but feel a bit irritated because I had gotten up at the crack of dawn to be on time and these people were nonchalantly strolling in like they had all the time in the world.

As it turned out, the crew was late in disembarking us and we actually didn't leave the ship until 8:30am. We walked down the plank into a holding room to show our passports and board a bus that would take us to the Canadian/US border. Finding a seat on the bus, they sealed us in with our luggage in the baggage compartment and began the 3 hour drive to the border. It was a gray, rainy day and the ride soon lulled us all asleep. About halfway into the journey, the bus driver stopped at a local gas station so we could get out and stretch and buy a snack. Apparently this was the place where all the buses stopped because there was another busload as well. We all filed into the little store, forming a line to use the two bathrooms, making conversation as we waited our turn. After everyone had finished up, we headed back to the bus to ride the rest of the way. When we arrived at customs, we sat on the bus forever it seemed, waiting for clearance to enter the U.S. The border guard eventually entered the bus, checked all our passports, cleared passage and we were on our way. As we crossed into the US, the bus driver commented that on a previous run a passenger had angrily spoken to the customs official which caused the patrol to make all the passengers deboard the bus, take all the luggage and search through every belonging. He was glad we had decided to stay quiet.

About an hour later we arrived at the Seattle airport where we met my former boss Robert and his wife Diane. The last leg of our trip was to visit with them and stay at their beautiful home on Vashon Island ~ Another blog, another day...

2008-11-02T18:09:00.000-08:00

Sometimes luck happens and when it does, you need to just grab it and go. I call it by a favorite word of mine "Serendipity" which means "the accidental discovery of something pleasant, valuable, or useful." That is how I would describe what happened to me this week.

Friday as I finished up my day at work, I was offered twenty tickets to the 2008 World Tour of Gymnastic Superstars in the company suite. Apparently the tickets had been offered to management to give for employee recognition but because the event was this weekend, no one was interested and the tickets were going to go to waste. Since there were no takers, I told my boss I might be interested in going and could likely use them for a youth outing if that was ok. He agreed to the idea and I immediately thought "now there's a serendipity if there ever was one" and began to plan the impromptu youth event. After making several calls on Saturday, I had filled every seat and began to look forward to the Sunday company gig.

Caravaning together, we arrived at will call and just like the instructions I had been given, the tickets were given to me. It was all so exciting getting to share such a day with all my friends and as we took the elevator up to the suites, the anticipation grew. As the guard opened the suite door, we all walked in and it was pure enjoyment to hear their exclamations of, "how cool! oh wow! I can't believe I'm in a suite!"

None of us really knew what the program was about except we knew the US Olympic Team would be performing their feats. When the arena darkened and the stage lights appeared, the energy was electrifying as the music and choreographed gymnastics began. For the next two hours we saw expert exhibitions from gold, silver and bronze medalists on balance beams, parallel bars, the horse and acrobatic flips. Glitzy outfits and swirling lights along with the High School Musical band made it all spectacular. Taking picture after picture, I was amused at how much fun we all had knowing that God had made it happen - the God of serendipities.

Growing up with Disney

2008-11-01T19:48:00.000-07:00

Remember the Wonderful World of Disney that used to air on Sunday nights? I know I'm aging myself, but it was one of my favorite shows as a little kid and I couldn't wait for six o'clock to come so I could sit and watch.

Soon the famous Disney castle would appear with Tinkerbell's magic dust sprinkling across the screen, the music intro would sound and Walt Disney would appear on the TV screen to speak directly to his audience, announcing whatever subject the show was going to be. Sometimes the show would be a short story about Davy Crockett and other times it was educational programs about the life of animals or up close pictorials of how nature exists.

For an hour I was mesmerized watching shows like Old Yeller, or The Alamo or documentaries about brown bears living in the wild. Sometimes cartoons entertained with Pluto teaching about the automobile and what not to do while driving a car. And sometimes Mr. Disney would give a tour of the Disneyland Amusement Park taking a visual ride on the Monorail right from my living room.

I dreamed of owning Mickey Mouse ears and being a Mousketeer like "Annette" but that's as far as my dreams went for a young girl living in Kansas. For me, watching the Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday nights with my grandparents was wonderful enough.

Mom's Halloween

2008-10-31T19:25:00.000-07:00

Halloween has never been a favorite holiday for me. I always wished there was a way I could get that big bag of candy without having to dress in costume and be something I'm not. Unlike my mom, I dreaded having to figure out what I was going to wear and all the makeup that went along with it. My mom, on the other hand, had an avid imagination and used her skill as an artist to conjur up all kinds of outfits for us kids to wear. She went to great lengths to turn us into whatever she thought fun and painted our faces as perfect as the paintings she drew.

Each year my mother would dress up in her Wicked Witch of the West costume, coloring her face a horrid green and shadowing it with black pen that made wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She'd paint her teeth black and even had a bit of red near her eyes, giving her a frightening evil appearance that looked so real. Her dress was black and flowing with a huge pointed witch's hat that perched on top of her head and if I looked really close, I couldn't tell if she was really a witch or if she was my mom.

In the darkness of the night, our house seemed spooky with the green light on the porch and Mom would raise the window just slightly so that those coming up the walk could hear the ghost record making wailing sounds from the phonograph. We'd then all file out to walk up and down the street, each of us kids going door to door with our big plastic jack o' lanterns to trick or treat with.

Mom never seemed to tire and sometimes we'd walk three or four blocks just so we could get as much candy as we could, even when it was bitterly cold. When the clock struck ten, we'd head back to our house to sort out our loot, each of us counting how many pieces we had. Chocolate candies were the most favored and I remember savoring my Snickers and Babe Ruths, Butterfingers and M&Ms. Next came Tootsie Rolls and Tootsie Pops, then bubblegum and red licorice. If you got waxed lips or a pack of play cigarettes you really made it big, and of course popcorn balls or carameled apples were also a big treat. Sitting on the living room floor, us kids would eat to our heart's content, eating as much as our little stomachs could hold.

As far as Mom was concerned, trick or treating had no age limit and she encouraged us to enjoy the make-believe night as long as we had a desire to do so. After we grew up, she loved to see her grandkids all dressed up in characters of their choice and take them up and down the street to carry on her tradition. Even though she no longer gave honor to Halloween as far as witches and ghouls, she still saw it as a chance to be a child ~ and felt it important to never let go of the chance to pretend.

I still am shy when it comes to dressing up for Halloween, but there's a part of me that holds the child that was my mom. Tonight I went as a Frito Bandito Ukele Lady to the neighborhood party, dressed in a floppy tropical straw hat with penciled freckles on my face.

Mom would've been proud.

Sept 17 – Ketchikan – Day 6

2008-10-10T18:15:00.001-07:00

Each day the ship staff would slip a Princess Patter newsletter under our door that outlined what the day had to offer. Jam packed full of activities, the main attraction was always the port we were to visit. Day 6 was to be Ketchikan, another coastal town sprawled lengthwise about two miles facing the sea. This day we arrived mid-morning, watching the ship slowly drift into the dock. The weather was warm but misty and clouds hung overhead with the threat of rain. As soon as the anchor was dropped, the announcement from the ship coordinator sounded, giving us the go ahead that we could get off the ship to peruse the city. Bob and I took a short taxi ride to the heart of the town and we started to walk down a main thoroughfare to try and find a place for Bob to relax. After walking more than a block, we finally found a small coffee shop wedged in between stores of Alaskan treasures. Wooden totem poles depicting eagles or Indian symbols stood as Ketchikan landmarks and the main attraction was a logging show where skilled lumbermen entertained tourists while they balanced themselves on wet, twirling logs.

Shopping was difficult since four cruise ships had deposited their passengers and the sidewalks were dense with the added population. Similar to Skagway and Juneau, every other store seemed to sell the same thing, full of touristy trinkets for the mass of shoppers. Interspersed amongst the mega marts were specialty shops with local artistry, jewelry and furs for those with an endless bank account. While I dodged fellow passengers, Bob had finished his coffee and decided to head back to the ship, leaving me to spend the day purchasing last minute souvenirs. Walking away from the main streets, I discovered Ketchikan’s historic Creek Mill named after the city’s famous salmon creek. A small wooden bridge connected the town to the shopping district and I noticed not as many people were in this area so the stroll was more pleasant. As I neared the end of the town, I passed by an old Salvation Army store, my favorite haunt when I’m back home. After walking through the tiny thrift store, I noticed a tapestry purse with brown leather accents and decided to purchase my unusual find for the thrifty price of only $.3.50! Feeling tired, yet satisfied from my day of window shopping, I headed back to the ship to spend my anniversary evening at Sabbotini’s with Bob, another blog waiting to be told.

Sept 16 – Juneau – Day 5

2008-10-05T17:32:00.000-07:00

By the time we ate breakfast and got off the ship it was going on 10:30a. Bob had prepaid for an excursion this day, an outdoor salmon bake, where we’d hop onto a shuttle to go to the designated spot. On our bus there was only six, so to kill time, the driver wound us around the town of Juneau giving us a highlighted tour of the capital city. The driver was friendly but grizzly-looking just the same. His hair was long and scraggly, peeking out of his wilderness hat and his clothes consisted of a shirt, a flannel shirt and baggy jeans. Most of the locals dressed this way, almost as if they were from the hippie era, their friendly nature matching the relaxed feel of the land.

As he drove, he pointed out the capitol and state buildings as well as the cemetery where Joe Juneau was laid. The governor’s mansion, instead of being set apart, was close in proximity to other peoples’ homes and its’ colonial look appeared stately as it sat on a hill overlooking the city. Expecting the drive to take a while, I was surprised when the bus suddenly turned down a narrow road. Within minutes we stopped in a wooded picnic area that resembled a campground with tents and tables and wood burning grills.

The morning was raining hard but it just added to the element of intrigue, having learned early on when we arrived in Alaska that you never go anywhere without an umbrella. Coming into the picnic area, we saw rugged awnings with serving counters laden with hot clam chowder, corn bread, barbequed beans and slaw. The fish was being grilled in the center of the area and you could smell the hickory smoked salmon as the cooks got it ready. While we waited, Bob and I took a walk up a nearby trail. Immediately to the left was a surging river where the salmon spawned and at the trails’ end was a massive waterfall, rushing down to the river downstream. Everywhere you looked there were ferns and trees and moss, marked occasionally by red berry bushes that held tiny clusters of color. Bob, being the careful hunter, watched for evidence of bear, giving me a lesson on what to do if we encountered one. We noticed by the river some trash that was strewn around, evidence that a bear had visited during the night.

Because we had eaten breakfast so late, it was hard to eat again so early in the day. But we forced ourselves to take a plate and slowly enjoyed the tantalizing fish. The caramelized sauce gave the flavor of brown sugar, molasses and soy sauce, giving it a unique taste all its’ own. While we ate, a family of musicians serenaded us, playing bluegrass tunes with their fiddles and bass. Relaxed and VERY full, we decided to take shuttle back into town and hopped onto the shuttle they offered ~ an extremely old yellow school bus that reminded both of us of our elementary days.

We spent the remainder of the day on Mt. Roberts and rode the tramway up the 1800 ft rise in elevation to the lookout point. Having not been on a tram since my early twenties, at first I was a bit dubious, but I was surprised to find the tram smooth and secure and I even braved taking a few pictures. Once at the top, we stopped at the lookout point, toured the nature center and got to see a female bald eagle in captivity. Trails were everywhere, but because the area was remote, I chose to take a short half mile hike to the furthest lookout point. The view was magnificent and very picturesque and on the way back looking up to the sky, I saw several bald eagles soaring nearby which made the trip worthwhile.

Heading back to the ship just in time for departure, I felt like very peaceful, knowing I had chosen the best the Juneau had to offer. I looked at the town as we slowly sailed away, trying the capture the image before me and wondering if I’d ever see it again.

Sept 16 - Skagway – Day 4

2008-10-05T17:29:00.000-07:00

For some reason I woke up in the early dawn today. Quietly getting out of bed, I looked out of our balcony to see we had docked. Like a parking lot of boats, other ships had also docked and the one opposite to ours was lit up like a Christmas tree. To the right of the ship I saw the misty outline of Skagway, a miners’ town from the Klondike Days.

We showered and got ready for the day, Bob and I leisurely eating breakfast in the Horizon Court, than descended the ship’s walkway to head towards town. About half the length of the ship, transport buses waited to take us to Main Street where we’d spend the day. The trip was quick and we were deposited in the middle of town that had jewelry posts and galleries mixed with touristy stores selling novelty items and local Alaskan treasures.

Bob quickly found a coffee hangout and decided to relax there rather than going from store to store, leaving me to explore three blocks of shops to get my Skagway fix. The day was wet with constant rain, so while dodging puddles and my umbrella dripping wet, I weaved in and out of what the town had to offer, looking for regional artistry, wanting to find Alaska for real. Walking the streets it had the appeal of what it might have been like back in the gold rush with saloons and stores and the train station, the White Pass Yukon. Looping back to the coffee shop where Bob sat and read, I found him still there, permanently planted with his 1977 Readers Digest. He seemed content to stay there all day, so I ordered a turkey avocado sandwich with a blueberry smoothie and ate my lunch, gaining strength for the second half of the day.

The streets were full of people, mostly from the ships, except for one local gentlemen, clad in a sloppy plaid shirt and jeans. His grizzly appearance looked as if he’d stepped back in time, his companion a black keeshond dog, looking as wooly as the owner he followed. I asked the man the name of his dog, to which he replied, “Phoenix,” and realized that for Skagwanians, life means living like the landscape ~ whatever comes is what life’s about. No stress, no strain, just breathing in and breathing out like the tide of the sea.

I shopped til I dropped and ended my spree, than hopped on the transport bus back to the ship. Skagway was definitely what I expected ~ a sleepy old town that lives in the past while enjoying the present ~ one day leading to the next.

Sept 15 - Glacier Bay – Day 3

2008-10-05T17:25:00.000-07:00

It took two days of sailing to get to Glacier Bay and after sailing since Saturday, I was beginning to get cabin fever just a wee bit. I didn’t prepare myself in knowing the ship’s schedule and was anxious to get to our first destination. When it came into view, the long hours of sailing across the Alaskan gulf seemed distant compared to the beauty unfolding before me. Slowly the ship made its’ way into the bay, the day filled with fog, but giving the mountains a mystical theme.

Standing on our balcony, we were mesmerized by what we saw, not minding the chilly cold air and wind in our face. All around us majestic mountains stood with snow capped peaks with waterfalls cascading down to the sea. Looking like the veins of an old person’s hand, they twisted and turned amongst the birch and pines, painting a glorious picture of autumn hues. Bob ordered pizza and we sat and ate while watching glaciers and I thought to myself, “It doesn’t get any better than this.” The bay was calm as we made our way and the splendor was mirrored in the glass-looking sea. As the boat glided along, the glacier ice that had broken off, dotted the water like miniature islands that wood ducks and otters sat upon. Capturing a picture of some birds sunning themselves, we also looked for otter, but they were hiding, at least for this day. The ship slowly turned around, giving everyone a chance to take a look, then backtracked through the inlet, allowing us to once again enjoy the beauty. Behind as we left where we’d been, gentle ripples worked their way through the water, drawing a sculpture of its’ own.

Moving towards the pacific sea, the rain began once again and the evening fog settled in. For dinner we ate at The Santa Fe, one of the ship’s international fares. Dining on fajitas, we relaxed and talked, later enjoying a piano soloist playing soothing music on the ship promenade. That is where I met Shishiko, a Christian Japanese woman who asked the pianist to play Amazing Grace. She must have heard me softly singing the words and asked if I was a Christian, which started us sharing and a promise to correspond. The day was perfect as far as I was concerned and all that was left was to fall asleep and dream.

Life Jacket Training

2008-10-04T20:19:00.000-07:00

I remember the first time I ever took a cruise. Bob and I took a 3-day trip to the Bahamas on Premier cruiselines. Unbeknownst to me, all ships require some sort of a roundup headcount for all passengers aboard. When Bob told me I had to put on my lifejacket and head to the main deck, I remember looking at him in horror and thinking “this HAS to be a joke!” He and I had a big argument about it because I didn’t want to be embarrassed. Well, come to find out – it was for real. As I saw passengers briskly walking down the deck hallways with their life jackets on, I realized that it meant I was to do it too.

Fifteen years have passed since my first experience donning a lifejacket but being told in no uncertain terms by the ship captain to report to the designated Muster stations remain the same. As we headed back to our Dolphin Deck stateroom, the announcement intercom came on and reminded us that promptly at 8:00pm we were supposed to report to “Muster Station A”, which I found out later was the ship theatre that seated approximately 500.

Not knowing this, however, I dressed as warm as I could, putting on my parka and winter gloves since the Alaska weather and the wind from the sea was just a tad bit cold. I insisted that Bob take his coat also, even though he insisted back that it wasn’t necessary. True to the way my life usually goes, when I got to the elevator, we were ushered into an elegant theatre inside the ship, me dressed like I lived in the Anartic, filing in with others, like cows to the pasture, carrying our bright orange jackets for a mini training session.

The theatre hostess on stage instructed another crewman to demonstrate what to do and at the count of three we were all supposed to stand up and put on our lifejackets, complete with strapping them around our waist and securing them tightly. We looked like a sea of beginner swimmers getting ready to do a mass swim. As soon as we were done, we were dismissed to take our lifejackets back to our rooms in the hopes that they’d never be worn, but kept ~ just in case.

Being an avid reader of ship lore history, I’m glad the ships now-a-days take the time to show their life saving drills. I’d rather look a little silly wearing heels and an orange lifesaver and know if the ship went down I’d be a bobbing orange.

Sept 13 – The Sapphire Princess - Evening One

2008-10-04T20:15:00.000-07:00

We boarded around 3:00pm and by 6:00pm the ship began to sail. Each deck had approximately 100 – 200 rooms and had an assigned steward to take care of them. Our steward’s name was Noelle who was from the Phillipines. It was up to Noelle to bring us our luggage from the bus, so we read up on all the ship brochures, checked out the balcony and got used to our new surroundings while we waited for the bags to arrive. Every now and then the ship coordinator would make an all passenger announcement on the intercom, giving times for when the entertainment would begin or when the shops would be open or most importantly, when to expect the life jacket training, which was scheduled for later that evening.

As I unpacked and hung my outfits, I realized I had seriously misjudged what I should have brought. In reading the ship brochures, I discovered that at least two of the nights were formal and that gowns and tuxedos were to be the norm. I had only packed casual wear with only two tops that could warrant being called dressy and Bob had not packed any suit and tie, but just a couple of dress shirts and pants. Selecting the best of what my suitcase had to offer, we called for dinner reservations and headed out the door.

We decided to dine at The China Moon for our first night on board which was located on the sixth deck of the ship. It was decorated with an Asian flare, with the waiters dressed in white tuxedos and black pants and the dishes and linens white, along with the menus. As we were ushered in, we were seated at a mini table, along a mirrored wall with several other passengers that had already arrived. Those seated around us were animatedly talking to each other, asking where each one lived, the atmosphere of the room having a sense of expectancy like a child eager to open a present. At first it seemed awkward, everyone talking to each other as if we had been old friends all along, but I soon overcame my shyness and decided to ask the two young ladies who sat next to us at their own small table and learned they were teachers from Tucson, Arizona – imagine that?

After a delectable meal, Bob and I strolled back to our cabin, looking at all the ornate beauty of the ship, checking out the shops, casino and art gallery and listening to live music from the string quartet. I smiled and thought – “Here I am - on a ship of dreams with marble staircases and seven days of bliss.” “I could easily get used to this kind of life, yes I could.”

Sept 13 - The Sapphire Princess – Day 1

2008-09-30T19:18:00.000-07:00

Traveling back to Anchorage Airport, we boarded the Princess coach bus. Bob and I commented on how fortunate we’d been to have already driven the same route up to Soldotna and Kenai getting the chance to see the same scenery to Whittier that most of the other cruisers had not. Soon we were on our way with the driver guiding us back towards the passage, taking us to the tunnel that would take us towards the ship. The two and half mile tunnel used by rail and car had a strict time schedule so neither could use it at the same time. Being the pessimist that I am, I sat and waited and wondered if we’d meet the train head on, and as I was lost in that thought, the bus moved forward, entering into the dark crevasse, the hole black as night with only the bus light to shine the way. The road was narrow with hewn rocks on each side and the walls were close enough to touch. The ceiling seemed low, like a burrow would be, and feeling claustrophobic, I held my breath as if that would make it better. Straining to see a passage of light, suddenly it appeared and I sighed a relief.

Upon exiting the long, long tunnel, there in front of us floated the Sapphire Princess cruise ship waiting our check in and ready to sail, looking gigantic with its’ 19 stories. As I walked up the canopied gangplank, I couldn’t help but pretend I was Rose boarding the Titanic. The crew greeted us as we entered the ship, all smiles, all happy, as if we were the maiden voyage passengers. Already having our room number (Dolphin 210) we were ushered to the elevator that would take us there.

As we walked down the aisle to open our room, I tried to imagine what I would find, than held my breath as I entered through the door. I was delighted to find luxurious living decorated in gold. The brass and walnut furnishings, coordinated with colors of cream and sage, gave a soft, natural look and the granite tabletops accented the walnut moldings and insets surrounding the room. The twin beds extended from a wall of beautiful mirrors outlined in gold and were covered with matching comforters of sage and cream. At the far end of the room, an olive green sofa sat, along with an oval glass and wooden coffee table with a gold accent chair sitting on the opposite side. The room was lit with several brass lamps, showing off carpet that had a cream and sage diamond design. The cream walls were adorned with watercolor paintings resembling Monet. The bathroom, bright with white and green mosaic tile, had a tub and shower and a large mirrored area and counter. Having toured one time through Frank Lloyd Wright’s home, the stateroom gave me the feeling like I’d stepped back into the 1940’s, with it’s streamlined elegance. The private balcony had a patio table and chairs and overlooked a breathtaking view of the Alaskan mountains. As I looked out over the water, I saw a freight train, slowly moving down a track, whistling a mournful whistle as it disappeared into the fog. Cruising along the Alaska landscape is way more than I ever imagined and I pinch myself to make sure it’s true.

Sept 12 - Discovering Soldotna & Kenai - Day 2

2008-09-30T19:07:00.000-07:00

Being on Michigan time, my body clock kept telling me it’s 7am and time to get up when actually it was only 3am in the morning. I forced myself to stay in bed until I heard the rustling of Mari taking out the dogs.

Our plan for the day was to see the local area, driving around Soldotna and Kenai, allowing Bob a chance to reminisce. First on the agenda was the Kenai Cultural Center featuring the history of the De’naia Indians. Walking around from room to room, we read how life was lived back then using nature in various forms, like jackets made from dried bear intestines and shoes made from moose knee bone. Interesting stories of Captain Cook’s explorations outlined his travels and in the center of the room was a display of an old wagon and pan used for sifting gold, the primitive tools dirty with toil. In old Kenai village stood the first Russian Orthodox Church with its’ octagon steeple etched in gold. I wondered what it must have been like to see all this beauty for the very first time, and how it must have felt for those challenging the cold abrasive temperatures in hopes of searching for wealth.

Stopping at Sailor’s Galley, the three of us ate a seafood lunch, than spent the afternoon driving around the Kenai area, bringing back good memories of Bob’s past Alaska fishing trips. We finished the day going through galleries and shops and spent a relaxing evening together eating Mexican food and enjoying a game of Greed.

Our visit was soon going to be over and tomorrow would be the day we’d board the ship. Meeting Mari and getting to know her family was like visiting close relatives after a long awaited year. I’ll never forget her welcoming friendship and know someday I’ll be back.

Sept 11 Eve - Soldotna

2008-09-28T17:50:00.000-07:00

For years I had heard Bob describe his fishing trips in Soldotna and secretly wondered if I'd ever get to see what he saw every year. Every picture Bob had would show him standing in front of a large fish scale, him holding his catch of the century of halibut or salmon. I heard story after story of his Kenai river adventures and his deep sea fishing excursions with Skip and Mari and watched his videos of large bald eagles sitting on a glacier. So when we arrived in Soldotna I felt like I'd been there already and looked so forward to meeting his friends. Turning up their drive, I recognized the house I'd seen in pictures, nestled in the pines and sitting back from the main road. As I got out of the car, I saw Mari looking at us from inside her house, than opening up the door before we even knocked. She greeted us at the door, along with Eli, her 19 year old son and 2 Corgis and soon we were seated in her family room chatting like old friends.

For dinner, we decided on The Asian Cuisine, the restaurant that Mari said “where Eli works,” eating moo shu pork and sizzling prawns. Afterwards, we drove through town before heading back to their home to unload our bags. Relaxed and comfortable, I could see that they lived a simple life with simple things, their log home surrounded in bear country with forest all around. The remainder of the night was spent watching the hurricane news and showing family pics, than we turned in for the night, dreaming of tomorrow.

Sept 11 - Leaving for Alaska

2008-09-28T16:23:00.000-07:00

For months Bob and I planned on how we'd celebrate our 30th anniversary. We discussed many destinations and seriously considered Europe but than decided on Alaska as an economical choice and one that was a dream for both he and I. Bob, being the trip planner that he is, searched and searched for just the right cruise, and chose Princess cruise lines for our autumn adventure. The plan was to leave Sept 11 for a 7-day cruise, taking time at the beginning and end of the trip to visit friends, which would give us a full 14 day vacation.

Now, it doesn't matter whether I'm going just for a weekend trip or if I'm going some place far away, I always have been a last minute packer. True to my nature, I didn’t think it would take me long to get things ready for this trip since I generally had an idea of what I was going to take. Of course, that was only if I had been able to get off work at the normal time of 5:00pm. But nothing ever goes as planned. By noon, I knew I was falling behind since I was still knee-deep in getting my deadlines done. Five o’clock came and passed as I steadily pursued my tasks and when I walked out of the building at 8:00pm, I was exhausted but satisfied, knowing I had accomplished my goals. As I drove toward home, I mentally calcuated the last minute items I had to buy, what I was going to pack, and the time it would take to clean up my house. I didn’t figure it would take me long, but I figured wrong and ended up finishing up with only five hours to sleep. Soon the alarm rang and we busied ourselves to get out the door. Thankfully we had hired a driver to take us to the airport and as I sat in the back of the large sedan, I began to unwind from all the preparation and anticipate the journey.

Now flying on September 11 is not one of my favorite things to do. It permeated my mind the entire time as I boarded the plane. My imagination running, I looked to my left and saw two smoke stacks standing close together as we ascended into the sky, each one billowing out smoke into the air. Casting an eerie resemblance to the twin towers that burned that fateful day, I prayed to God we’d have a safe flight. I was relieved when we landed in Minneapolis, thanking God for answered prayer and praying again for the next leg of the flight. Six more hours in the air seemed like eternity, especially when seated in economy coach as the plane was fully loaded, packing us in like a can of sardines. Even though Bob and I sat on aisle seats across from each other, we still felt cramped but when the plane touched down in Anchorage, our discomfort melted away once we got our rental car for the drive to Soldotna.

As I stood in the terminal waiting for Bob, I looked around at the scenery before me, enjoying the glorious sight of Alaska's rugged country. Unhibited by the rain and fog, we started up the coast, watching for Baluga whales in the gray gulf that stretched into the sea. It was interesting to me that the road was nearly void of travelers, leaving us to enjoy the pristine beauty and vastness of the land alone.
Capturing nature with picture after picture, I spent the next four hours filling my camera of lakes and trees and distant mountains with snow. Stopping for a brief moment, we got out at Portage Glacier to view icebergs floating in the water, hoping to get a glimpse of the massive glacier. Cold wind whipped in my face as I stood at the water's edge, the rain continously falling. Even though fog hid the view of the massive glacier, the untouched terrain was breathtakingly beautiful and I thought to myself, "If this was what Alaska was all about, this was going to be a trip to remember."

The Yogurt Cup

2008-08-23T18:59:00.000-07:00

I never used to like yogurt. Just the thought of eating live cultures just sent me over the top and I couldn't get past the idea of eating something live no matter how creamy. But when Bob and I started the task of losing extra pounds, we decided ice cream was going to have to go and Yoplait yogurt was to be the all time dessert.

We've gotten used to eating the stuff and actually look forward to spooning bites out of our cups, tasting flavors like Key Lime Pie and Apple Turnover and Blackberry Harvest. We've even gotten creative by adding granola or fresh fruit that adds just the right amount of substance and tastes so good! When I went to Japan and was given goat yogurt with banana slices on my first day there, I realized how much I missed those little yogurt cups and couldn't wait to get back to my evening routine.

I don't know when it started but it's become a ritual for Daisy and Chamberlain too. They must have bionic ears because as soon as I open the refrigerator door, there they are, aleady drooling at the anticipation of licking out the remnants, straining their little tongues to reach the bottom of the cup to lick out every last morsel. If prizes were given, I'd say Daisy would win the "clean cup" prize as she works and works to get every ounce and knows that if she waits patiently, she'll get - not one, but TWO chances to lick if she's good.

Now Chamberlain's gotten into the action and spotted Bob the other night sitting in his recliner eating his yogurt dessert. Like centurions guarding their post, Daisy and little Chamberlain sat next to Bob's chair, inching closer and closer, hopefully waiting for the last clink of the spoon. Like two acrobats in a balancing act, they stood on their hind legs,
thinking if they could get as close as they could, maybe - just maybe - their efforts would be rewarded. Would Bob see their pleading little eyes and grant them the desire of their hearts?
You bet - It worked and the yogurt cup was enjoyed by all.

A Century of Living

2008-08-22T18:42:00.000-07:00

For the past month, I had the opportunity to write my first memoir for a Hospice patient. The person I was assigned to was ninety nine and a half years old, a living legacy all wrapped up in one life. Each Saturday we visited for an hour or so, me asking questions and him sitting in his recliner, relaxed and thoughtful as he journeyed back through his life. Life as a child, as a young boy, as a teenager, then as an adult.

During our visits, I saw, not an old man, but a young boy discovering his youth, eager to experience each day as it came. I saw where he lived and the family he loved and walked with him through time as if we were there, reliving each scene, each smell, each feeling, each year. What impressed me the most is that he embraced what life had to offer, no holds barred, and ended by saying he had no regrets and his life was worthwhile.

Finishing the manuscript was rewarding yet bittersweet as I knew that the chapters I had written would be soon closed forever. But it also felt good knowing he'll never be forgotten and the time we spent together was time well spent.

Tonight I passed on the memoir to his two daughters and enjoyed seeing their delight as they gently held onto their father's memories. Two sisters sitting side by side, carrying on the legacy once started so long ago.

New birth has emerged in friendship for the future like passing the baton in a summer olympic race and a century of living is not just a hundred years but is a quest to reach more, and finish knowing that life has just begun.

Living with a 3-month old

2008-08-11T19:09:00.000-07:00

The General turns three months on Tuesday this week. Did you notice we've nick named him The General??? He has assumed the role and we as his owners have learned who's the boss - and let me tell you, it's not us.

Don't let his cute little face fool you. He has a feisty-ness unequaled by most. He has learned to bark and bark frequently. He also knows how to dig. We have mini craters all over our yard and yesterday when it rained, I had forgotten how long he'd been outside. I went to get him and as I turned the corner, I saw what used to be my little golden boy. He was mud from head to toe having fun digging in the mud puddle where rain was gushing out from the rain gutter. He was snout deep in mud and from the look of him, was lovin every minute. I now have little muddy paw prints up and down my sidewalk on the side of my house. My flowers - oh, did I say flowers? Excuse me - I didn't mean to say that. What ONCE was my daylilies is a wilted, broken leaf napping area for when it's time to rest and when he's not laying on them he's eating them. He's got Bob and I pretty well house broken, meaning every 45 minutes we take him out to pee and poo, but if we forget - he leaves a present right in my entry way floor. He HAS learned to sleep through the night, at least until 6:00am, then like a little clock, wakes up and starts his yipping to let me know it's time to get outdoors...or else.
Sometimes his body clock gets up as early as 5:00am, but after I let him out to go pee, he's learned to scamper back to me and will calmly return to his crate to let me sleep a few more winks.

He also christened my car over the weekend. After visiting the vet for his wellness check, he'd gotten all worked up over his harrowing experience of getting his temperature taken. That hadn't gone too well. The tech had done it a little too fast with no warning at all and poor Chamberlain got the surprise of his life. Even though he was fed a few small treats to win him over, on the way back home, he barfed twice in the backseat (thankfully on a blanket) and one more time in the front seat that was NOT protected at all! Picture me driving and I look over at my cute little pup just as he upchucked all over my beautiful red car! So much for keeping my car in mint condition. Thanks to Bob - the car guy - he was able to transform my seat from a yucky golden barf color back to gray with his trusty upholstery cleaner.

Chamberlain does have some good qualities though. He has learned to heel when walking and even knows to sit and stay when a car is coming down the road. He knows how to fetch a ball and loves to keep Daisy occupied with tug of war and wrestling on the floor. His avid interest in everything makes me laugh. He does pretty good getting bathed in the bathtub and ignores the cats. He can spend at least an hour chewing on Daisy's bones and enjoys playing with all his puppy toys. If you could see my living room floor at this very moment, you'd see a stuffed squeaky snake, a stuffed squirrel with his head bit off and little chunks of rubber from a ball Daisy's destroyed.

Ahhh the life - living with a three month old!

Birthday #52

2008-08-07T18:56:00.000-07:00

I was just telling Bob tonight after my birthday dinner that this time last year I remember having a hard time turning 51. It must've been a carry over from turning the big 5-0 I guess, because I remember being emotional about it all day and not enjoying it one little bit.

But this year seemed different. Like God finally got through to me that it's ok, that I'm ok and that getting older just means you get more freedom. I never thought I'd identify with the poem "When I get old I shall wear purple" by Jenny Joseph, but more and more I'm coming of age - where wearing purple actually seems like a pretty good idea. I'm a perfect 10 inside my body and have discovered that elastic waisted pants are much more comfortable. I've learned that dust can wait, and that second hand items are twice as good as buying things new. And that serendipities come once in a lifetime, so you better act quick or you might miss out on fun.

For my birthday I received a bouquet of spring flowers, a day off from work, a leisure day of shopping while slurping a frappachino, cards from family and friends, gifts from Doreen, went to see X-Files with Bob with no one in the theatre but us, dinner at Peppi's, calls from family in Arizona and a call from my son in China.

As my brother reminded me just before ending the call "If you turn 52 around - you're really only 25!"

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other peoples' gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

I love the color purple...

Bayview

2008-08-03T17:53:00.000-07:00

I promised myself last year when I visited Aunt Shirley in Bayview that if she'd agree, my birthday weekend would always be spent with her as a present to myself. Just getting to know my Aunt Shirley was treasure enough as I never knew her while growing up and then finding out she lived in Michigan was like a gift from heaven. Her summers are spent at the Bayview cottage nestled in a Methodist campground overlooking Lake Michigan, surrounded by century old buildings and Victorian mansions built only to be lived in six months out of the year.

When I first visited Petoskey/Bayview, my imagination soared as I looked upon all the beauty. I can understand why Aunt Shirley loves to be there because it resonates a sense of happiness and peace that only cool breezes and scent of pine can bring. My memories of last year's trip brought such joy that I could hardly wait to spend this weekend with her - this time with my neighbor Maryann. Bob mapped out the drive I'd take, winding me through little towns to peruse antiques and novelty shops, like Clare, Michigan's Herrick House, that had gifts and a cute little cafe where we shared a sandwich and iced tea. From there we continued on and arrived at Aunt Shirley's just in time for dinner. After greetings and hugs, the three of walked down a short way to the famous Terrace Inn, an 1880's Victorian Inn and Restaurant to enjoy an evening meal of white plank fish and Hemingway chicken.

Since this was Maryann's first time to Bayview, it seemed the natural thing to do to stroll around the area, eventually walking down to the memorial garden and watching a beautiful sunset while swinging on a park swing, then climb into comfy beds anticipating a day in Petoskey.

Saturday dawned bright and plans were made to spend the day at the Petoskey Antiques Festival and shopping in historic downtown, then another restful evening and stroll with Aunt Shirley. The best part of all was finding myself a birthday gift - a 5 ft wooden lighthouse for the front yard, painted dark forest green with charming white trim, complete with an electric beacon. For lunch we ate at Jesperson's the oldest cafe in Petoskey and known for their homemade fruit pies. Sitting at the old diner counter eating a grilled reuben sandwich, I felt like I'd stepped back in time and left with just enough room for a Murdick's Moosetrack ice cream cone, most likely 1,000 calories a bite!

Sunday morning I decided to spend some time on the campground trail and enjoyed the stillness and natural beauty initially until I got lost and ended up (as I found out an hour and a half later) that I had taken the old Indian trail leading out of Bayview to Harbor Springs. I should have known that as the trail shortened and became overgrown with weeds that I was beyond the campground limits, but I kept going, climbing up a steep incline that deposited me behind someone's house! I was greeted by two knarly dogs that wondered who I was and followed me all the way to the end of their street and when I got to a main thoroughfare, discovered I was well on my way outside of the Petoskey limit with no phone, no direction and late for church. After walking what seemed like forever, I finally got myself to Aunt Shirley's - weary and teary, but thankful for a place to rest. I vowed never to travel the Indian trail again, at least not by myself, and realized the adage "you're as old as you feel" did not hold up water as far as I was concerned, as I felt older than dirt as I walked in circles in Bayview and beyond.

After attending church, we said our goodbyes and went on our way, remarking to each other what a wonderful weekend we both had had, anticipating another year of birthday memories that only Aunt Shirley can bring and stories that will fill my blogs galore!

Unconditional Love

2008-07-20T17:08:00.000-07:00

About a week before Andrew left for China, he and I had a heart-to-heart, mom to son talk one day. We were talking about passions and how he felt that this new gig he was doing was exactly what he was supposed to be doing right at that very time and very moment in his life. We talked about what led up to him getting to this point and how it will mold him for the next adventure God has planned for him, sort of like stepping stones. I asked him what his passion is and for the first time I heard him articulate the love of his life in such a way that it caused me to stop and think about my own life.

Andrew shared with me that for him, music is his life. His dream and passion is that people that hear him play will feel his unconditional love for them. I had never thought about unconditional love in this way before. That all we do, all we are, all we aim to be is summed up in how we want others to perceive it. It's not enough to just work at our jobs, to have dreams, to be who we are without realizing that we have such an opportunity to give love...unconditional love. His words struck a chord with me and it has changed the way I view my God-given purpose.

Recently I was given the opportuniy to write the life story of a person through Hospice. He's lived almost a century and has shared with me his accomplishments, his dreams and his heart. Yesterday as I finished up one of my sessions with him, we chatted a bit and he learned about how full my life is with work, church, homelife and of course Daisy and her puppy. Out of the blue, he asked me what was I trying to prove. His question took me by surprise and I had to stop and think "What was I trying to prove?" But then I said to him, "You know, when I was young I didn't apply myself in school and didn't pursue my potential as much as I should have. But now that I'm older I want to prove to myself that I can make a difference and make up for lost time. And mostly, my passion is to make people happy." He asked me if I ever say no, to which I replied, "Rarely - I usually say yes, because you never know what opportunity leads to another."

Even though sometimes I'm so busy with life that I feel like I'm missing life itself, I realized that I wouldn't be happy if my days were not full, with no purpose other than to serve myself. I want to be able to look back when I am a century old and know that I did my best and that people felt loved...

Unconditionally.

The Heart of Summer

2008-07-09T09:45:00.000-07:00

There's just something about a midwest summer that brings me back to my childhood days. Yesterday as I walked through my local Walmart, I spotted Otterpops piled high in a bin close to the front door. The image took me back to when I was a little girl, looking in mom's refrigerator freezer and picking out my favorite - blue or cherry. I remember mom cutting off the top and giving it back to me so I could go outside eat it before it would melt. I remember comparing my tongue to my friend Janet's tongue to see which was more colored and no matter how hard I tried, by the time I was finished, blue dye was running down my arms.

I always loved being outside and back in those days it was unheard of for kids to stay in all day. Hot summer days meant running through the sprinklers, riding your two wheeler bike, and making cloverleaf chains with the weeds in the yard. I spent hours making mud pies, playing house with my dolls, and laying out in the grass looking up at the sky as I imagined shapes in the clouds. Time stood still and life was simple. The only bad part about summer was getting a sunburn or playing so hard I skinned up my knees.

When people ask me what's my favorite season, I usually say autumn or winter because I do like the cool, fresh scent of nature settling in. But to be honest with myself, I would have to say that each season is my favorite and I look forward to seeing them come.

Some of my best memories of childhood are wrapped around summer. The two week camping trips across the country in my parent's Starcraft trailer to riding down the sidewalk in the surrey that my grandfather made for me. The anticipated excitement of the last day of school to catching lightening bugs in my grandma's front yard. I especially remember the Maple Street block neighborhood block parties where families would gather and BBQ and talk while we kids played hide and seek in the dark.

As I look back at those times, I remember wanting so bad to be grown up. Now that I'm grown, I long to be a child again and sample simplicity in it's rarest form. I guess that's why I'm a child at heart, why I love filling my house with treasures from the past, why I love to weed my garden and smell freshly mown grass. It's the heart of summer that beckons to me and I'm a child once again.

Having Puppies - Part 5

2008-06-27T18:37:00.000-07:00

I kind of lost track, writing about the puppy - it's been such a whirlwind around here. I'd forgotten what it's like having a toddler under foot, always exploring, always chewing, always whining for love and attention.

Chamberlain hit the 5 week mark this week and let me tell you, life is not dull. He weighs in at 4lbs but looks like 10 with his ball of fur and now has teeth as sharp as needles when he bites my toe! He's as cute as any puppy I've ever seen and makes me laugh at his playful antics, trying to be so grown up just like his Mom, yet stumbling over his feet as the front of his body goes faster than the back.

He's had many first evers in the past two weeks - he migrated from Mommy's milk to rice cereal to honest to goodness puppy food and even got into Mommy's bowl (feet first sunk down to the bottom) chowing down on the kernels of food. He has started sleeping through the night and waking up "dry", but I still don't think he knows that that's a good thing. As soon as my alarm rings at 6:30am - he starts his little yapping to wake me up to go "pee". Earlier this week when Bob had to make a trip to Virginia, the rollerboard going through the house woke my little general up at 3:00am in the morning and as soon as Bob left, he continued to bark and yap and whine for two solid hours as he had his night and day mixed up. He sort of knows his name and if you say it enough times and clap your hands, he'll come running with his ears flapping in the breeze. He can climb out of his whelping box and has started being a tough guy and enjoys wrestling with his mom, diving into her again and again, biting at her face or her tail or her feet. He still prefers Mommy's "supply" but found out this week that not much of the "supply" is left. He tries and tries to grab onto his favorite milk jug and does his best to suck out every last drop. Daisy isn't too thrilled with his constant nipple harassment and will simply get up or walk away just as Chamberlain's latched on tight. This week they learned how to play tug of war with Mom's rope bone, both of them holding the end of the rope. Daisy's patience amazes me as she lets him romp and tug and bite, then suddenly she'll chase him down and give him a dose of his own medicine, gently wrestling him until he's cries "UNCLE!" He walked with a leash called "Bad to the Bone" all the way to the end of the street and then learned to give me "the look" so I'd pick him up and carry him the rest of the way. He's become the neighborhood mascot and is adored by all.

Just like watching children as they sleep, my favorite part is watching him rest. He has a favorite blanket and a favorite toy bear and at the end of the day will crawl into his box to curl up for the night...dreaming dreams that only a puppy can dream.

My Birthday Mom

2008-06-26T19:10:00.000-07:00

I couldn't let this day pass by without saying Happy 78th Birthday, Mom. I was thinking today how much you loved birthdays and did your best to celebrate. You loved surprises and chocolate cake and I remember you were tickled pink if you received the latest kitchen gadget. Later when I got older, the best birthday gift you always preferred was my time. I'd take the day off so we could shop or take a drive and one year I remember spending the day with you going through the Arizona Historical Museum, wheeling you in your wheelchair and reading to you all the signs. One year I took you to Prescott as we garage saled along the way and then there was the time we spent the day in old Glendale and ate at the victorian Spicery. You seemed most content just being together and it meant more to you than money could buy just hanging out - the two of us.

Probably the reason I'm such a birthday diva is because I had such a good example. Birthdays are something to celebrate, no matter what you decide to do and acknowledgement is the key, which is something you always did well.

My favorite birthday memories were watching you make my favorite meal: first it was fried shrimp, then it changed to reuben sandwiches. I don't recall much else about the meal, except for the taste and knowing you'd put your heart and soul into making it nice. I don't ever remember having a store bought cake. You always made our cakes and served them with vanilla ice cream. You'd gather the family together and what I remember best was the off-key unharmonious Birthday Song, sung in it's entirety, loud and slow. You loved making sure whatever age we were that the cake had that many candles, so that by the time I was grown, it got tougher and tougher to blow out all those candles all at once.

Your birthday gifts were always unique, never expected, and definitely a surprise. I have to admit to you that some of your gifts were completely useless, but I never dared throw them away because invariably you'd ask if I still had it, even if you'd not seen me wear it or hang it or use it in a year. Your sense of reason was eccentric in many ways and I could tell when your gift was a good garage sale find or thrift store treasure a mile away. But sometimes you hit the mark and really tried hard to find that special something you knew would make me smile.

Well, today I spent my day thinking of you and imagining what we'd do if time hadn't stopped. Knowing you and your childlike joy, I bet you and the Lord had your own celebration, just Him and you and the best part of all is knowing your dreams have come true.

Happy Birthday, Mom
Sending my love...

The Unsung Hero - Dad

2008-06-15T15:17:00.000-07:00

This year I've had the opportunity to start writing my father's life history. The idea spawned when my mother passed away, putting a sense of urgency in me to learn more about my dad. I've enjoyed the frequent phone calls to Dad - me asking him interview questions - and him talking about his childhood days that I never before took time to find out. Through our time together, I've discovered who this man is that I call Dad. I found out he has a deep pride for his family heritage and the solid foundation he received from his mom and dad. Some of the recurring things my Dad speaks about during our weekly phone chats is his good memories of school, the friends he made, the simple lifestyle of growing up in a small midwestern town where everybody knew everybody and the example he was shown of what it meant to work hard and live the Christian life.

He loved education and excelled in every subject, especially math and sports and geography. When asked what he found amazing as a child, he remarked, "The ability to read a lot of books. When you read, you develop knowledge." He mastered arithmetic, multiplication, fractions, division, and knowing the capitals in each state. In fact, when I was growing up and in the 5th grade, I remember my dad drilling me on the multiplication tables, urging me to answer as quick as I could but it always came hard for me. I now look back at that time and realized that he was teaching me to be as smart as I could be, to stretch my mind as he had done. It amazes me that he can still rattle off every score of his junior and high school team games, remember his first grade teacher's name and all the names of his school mates, where they live and what they eventually did for a living. Friends and family were important and some of his best memories were summertime family reunions and time spent with boyhood friends.

His tenacity and work ethic stand out to me as the earmark of his life. He has always worked hard and felt dedication and loyalty were a part of the job. Regardless of adversity, he never quits, but keeps on keeping on because that's the right thing to do. To him, earning a living means giving your best, rising to the top, and taking all challenges as an opportunity to grow.

As long as I can remember, Dad always spent time reading the newspaper. Coming home from work, he'd settle down right before dinner and read up on all the current events, politics and what was happening in the world of sports. As a kid, I never understood the importance of knowing what was going on and resisted Dad's persistent coaxing for me to learn as much as I could. Now I know and have a thirst for words that somehow must have been triggered by those early images of him.

I don't ever remember having one on one times with my dad, but when we did spend time together it was always with family. The yearly treks to the Wallace family reunion showed me how important it was to keep close ties regardless of how far. We'd meet and mingle with our Ozark cousins gathered at the family graveside and ate talked and shared family stories. Summer vacations meant camping in our Starcraft trailer and discovering the US - one adventure after another. Other fun memories included summer night golfcart rides through our Kansas neighborhood, my dad cruising the street with my mom by his side with my sister and I behind them sitting in the backseat.

For Father's Day today, my pastor talked about dads and what kind of example needs to be set in order for them to do the job well. He didn't say anything about being perfect or having lots of money or following what the world says a dad has to be. Instead, he spoke of living a Christian life, showing your kids you love them and never giving up, even when it's hard.

My dad's not perfect and he isn't rich by what the world's standards are, but he's kept what's important close to his heart - his children, his heritage, and his love for God. To me that's what being a dad is all about.

Happy Father's Day, Dad

Having Puppies Part 4

2008-05-22T18:12:00.000-07:00

Countless people kept telling me that dogs instinctively know how to mother. I had to see it to believe it and Daisy is proving it true. From the moment her pup was born, she instinctively protects him and cleans him, and answers his every cry like a good mom should.

Getting to experience puppies being born is a wonder all its own. Watching Daisy prepare herself, then seeing her actually have them, endeared her to me all the more, taking me back to the day when Andrew was born. Significantly, Daisy ended up with a one and only boy, and a miracle one at that. The sadness in her eyes when she saw me caring for the lost ones was a look only a mother can know. Since he was born just a day shy of my mom's memorial anniversary, I felt Daisy's offspring was a gift meant just for me. Inwardly I wanted him to stay with our family but knew Bob had to agree, so when I asked him to name the pup, I knew this pup would be ours forever.

Being a civil war buff and the fact that it's Memorial Day weekend, Bob chose to name the little pup, Chamberlin, after a famous general in the war. It fits him to a tee since he's a fighter, the only one who fought to live and came out healthy and strong.

As we buried Chamberlin's siblings, my mom's funeral day came flashing back. It seemed like dejavu as I remembered standing by my mom's grave. The tears flowed from memories present and memories past, but as I walked away, I felt a release knowing that a little pup awaited me to bring me joy in the newness of his life.

It is said that a dog is man's best friend. Daisy's offering of love to me is a reminder how true that is.
Thanks to her, Memorial Weekend will never be the same.

Having Puppies - Part 3

2008-05-22T07:23:00.000-07:00

Waiting for puppies to be born can be such an aggravating annoyance. I paced and fretted as I waited for days wondering when the blessed event would occur. The doctors had told me it would happen this past weekend, so like a dutiful Grandma, I chose to stay close to home rather than take my designated vacation trip to Wichita and spent the weekend looking for "signs." For all my anxt and worry, Daisy continued on as normal, bounding with energy and eating double portions, oblivious to the fact that her lack of delivery was causing me great distress.

By Monday, I'd decided my calculations must've been wrong, that perhaps her due date was not until June and that I might as well get back into my routine and stop wishing for what was not to be. I went to work and came home that night to, again, nothing and figured I'd keep on keeping my schedule. Looking back now, her boundless energy and romping in the backyard reminds me of how it is right before a pregnant woman gives birth. I remember having loads of energy and felt refreshed the night before Andrew came. Monday evening as I relaxed on the couch, I noticed Daisy being restless - going from room to room, recliner to sofa, floor to floor, trying to find just the right spot to lay down. I inwardly wondered, but not too much, because I had gotten myself into such a frenzy, I figured this was just another day and no cause for worry.

She slept through the night and Tuesday morning got up as usual, however, this time, after going out to do business, she went straight for her whelping box and laid down in it, not wanting to move. I thought it rather strange since up until this moment, she didn't like going into the laundry room because that meant she was going to be confined. Throughout the morning, she stayed in her box and I had a gut feeling something was going to occur. I went to work anyway, thinking I'd come home for lunch and all would be well.

My mother's intuition must have been right, cause when I came home right after the stroke of noon, there lay Daisy with her puppy suckling her breast and one lost puppy that had never seen the light of day. She'd done it all on her own without a hand to help and looked like the proud little mother as I peeked at the newborn babe. I knew she had one more to go, so I took her into be checked and determined that one more indeed was waiting to be born. Quickly coming home, I freshened up her bed and hovered my charge as we waited for the final one to come out. But when the time finally came, five hours later, the third one also never woke. Daisy did her best as she worked on the little pup and carefully watched as I scooped him up to give it a try. Her sad eyes told me she knew and soon it was apparent that we'd done all we could.

Daisy's one and only pup was destined to have life and enjoy it to the full as he can suckle to his heart's content. Not one flavor, not two flavors, but eight flavors in all, grasping all he could gather for his first day of life.

Reflections - Remembering my Mom

2008-05-21T21:31:00.000-07:00

For the past week, I’ve been formulating this blog in a sort of tribute/memory of my mom. Today marked one year since she passed away and as expected, the day was filled with various emotions as I grappled with the thought. As I sat drinking my morning coffee, I looked at the clock and reminisced with myself how this time last year I was on a plane to Phoenix, weary but waiting, hoping I’d make it so I could say goodbye.

Waking early, I tiptoed through the house to check on Daisy’s newly born pup and thought what a blessing for God to bring me new life and give me reason to smile so my sadness wouldn’t be so great. It somehow helped to hear his soft, gentle whimper and watch Daisy’s mothering, giving the day a sense of order and restfulness unlike the memory of last year.

Recently, my church choir presented a musical called “My Utmost for His Highest”. Its’ purpose was to remind the listeners of the impact we have when living our lives and how important it is to make a mark. One particular song’s lyrics sung, “When people see me, do they see Jesus in me?” It got me thinking about my life and the life my mom lived and caused me to stop and ponder the question, wondering how people view me and what mark I’m leaving now and for when I am gone. I thought about my mom and what was it that made her her? What were the treasures she valued and what was the legacy she left behind? What is it that I remember when I speak the name, “Mom”, helping me to know beyond a shadow of a doubt what my mother stood for, what made her who she was?

Well, to begin with, I know she loved me and loved to be my mom. She loved her family and loved to be the center of our world. I knew I’d never go hungry and I’d have good clothes to wear and I knew she’d always be home when I’d come home from school. From early on, I learned right from wrong and respect for my elders and the value of family and tradition. I always knew I could count on her for kisses and hugs and a motherly talk when I was hurting. Her show of affection was important to her and she ingrained it in me, so much so, that it’s just a natural part of my life. My mom knew how to have fun and humor was always in her back pocket. When it came to our talents, she nurtured and encouraged, developing me into who I am today. Even though my mom was not perfect, I do remember her love for God. She trusted Him with all of her heart and left a lasting legacy that even now lives on even after her death. For I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my mom loved Jesus and wanted her family to love Him too. The song “Who am I” by Mark Hall sums it up saying,

“ I am a flower quickly fading, here today and gone tomorrow; a wave tossed in the ocean, a vapor in the wind. Still, You hear me when I’m calling, Lord, You catch me when I’m falling and You’ve told me who I am…I am Yours.”

Who’s that he’s talking about? That’s my mom.

Having Puppies - Part 2

2008-05-12T17:15:00.000-07:00

In preparing for Daisy's big day, I read through the doctor's pamphlet on whelping pups and immediately felt nervousness, heart palpitations and knots in my stomach thinking about what's coming ahead. Birthing puppies isn't what it used to be according to doctors and breeders of today. I just don't get it - they make it so complicated you'd think that the dog really can't do it on their own, yet isn't it natural for them to know what to do?

Over the weekend I found myself watching at least a half a dozen YouTube videos on dogs in labor and delivery from all over the world. People have some weird stuff out there and after watching blobs being born with closeups on placentas, umbilical cords and painful yipes, I'd had my fill. Some videos had music backgrounds from Rocky's Theme for each puppy born, while others had soft, instrumental tunes as Fido starred in her own show. The more websites I looked at, I discovered that the breeders I read about were anal and out of control, from sleeping on the floor with their dogs for 10 days to cutting puppy nails on a weekly basis to feeding them bouillon soup! The more I learned, the more scared I got, inwardly hoping that Daisy's natural instincts will suddenly kick in and she'll be able to pull it off all by herself.

Having been told that a dog's temperature decreases on the onset of labor, I bought a digital thermometer and decided to practice on Daisy to make sure I had the procedure down pat. I called to Daisy and she eagerly came to greet me, not knowing what was in store, but she dutifully stood wondering what the heck I was doing lifting her tail. Now, typically I don't usually get very close to a dog's behind but I bent over her body and looked at the place I thought looked official and stuck the thermometer in, thinking "Hey - this isn't so bad." Well, Daisy must have had a different view on the subject because she immediately moved forward, dislodging the thermometer and promptly trotted out of the room. The reading was nonexistent since it had been inserted for less than a second and I thought "Well, how gross is THIS???" and changed my mind completely that maybe Daisy doesn't need her temperature taken after all! I triple washed off the unit while talking to myself like a crazy woman and thought for sure THIS thermometer has now been christened to be DAISY's forever (if you know what I mean). I might even label it and store it in the GARAGE, so Bob doesn't mistakenly use it for himself!

Well, Florence Nightingale I am not, so I'm steering clear of any such activity or anything resembling that fact, to Daisy's gratefulness I'm sure. I make a great encourager and can even help with Lamaze, but if doggies could talk, I think she'd say, "As long as you don't stick me with that thing again, I'll do whatever you want!"

Happy Mother's Day

2008-05-11T18:05:00.000-07:00

I wasn't sure how it would be, celebrating Mother's Day this year. It definitely took on a whole new meaning as I thought about not being able to call my mom. Saturday was the hardest, believe it or not, and I found myself emotional and teary at the least little thing, so I spent the morning cleaning out my basement, reorganizing and throwing things out to keep my mind occupied. When I came upstairs, I noticed the day was warm and sunny so I sat outside for awhile watching nature and listening to my inner thoughts.

In the movie, Fried Green Tomatoes, Mrs. Threadgood, in her tale of Buddy's death, said to her friend, Evelyn, "A heart can be broken but it keeps on beating just the same." That's me in a nutshell - broken but beating. I sat and thought about how life hasn't stopped, but has continued on and has been good. Just like Mother's Day - I know May 21 will possibly be just as hard, but isn't it just like God to provide me with a distraction, like birthing puppies, to keep me light with laughter?
God's goodness has been in my family, being able to phone my Dad for early Saturday morning talks, hearing from my siblings and feeling their closeness even in the distance and feeling the bond that only families can give. He's given me a nice home, a good job and a husband that loves me enough to let me be me and a son that is successful and calls me just to say "Hi, it's been a few days - I just thought I'd call". I have friends and neighbors that have filled my life and a passion for writing that has taken me to new heights.

Mother's Day dawned rainy and cold, but Bob had planned an excursion, bringing anticipation and adventure to honor the day. I was pleasantly surprised that the dress I had bought matched perfectly with the jacket I'd worn at my mother's funeral and as I walked from the church parking lot, I got a compliment on how pretty I looked. Then during friendship time, the pastor came to me and said I'd been in his prayers, remembering that he and I shared the bond of losing our mom's this year and wanted me to know he'd been thinking of me.

The surprise Bob had planned ended up being a delightful Victorian brunch at the 100 year old Holly Hotel and a ride through the country, then later in the day I got a phone call from Andrew and his girlfriend for a short little chat.

This evening Andrew called again and as a family we were able to reminisce about grandmothers and grieving and questions about life. The one thing we all agreed upon was that their memory is still alive, so much so that we can almost feel them in the room, watching over us and sending us their love.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom - thanks for giving me life.

Having Puppies - Part I

2008-05-10T19:18:00.000-07:00

I found out this week my Golden Retriever is having puppies. Not only is she having puppies, but she is having them in less than 10 days! I think I am as surprised as she will be the day she goes into labor! You might ask, “Who’s the lucky fellow?” THAT is the million dollar question that I wish I knew. The only inkling I have on the subject is that it MIGHT be the cute little Jack Russell Terrier that lives on the next block. You heard me – Jack Russell Terrier. Please do not make a face and ask the question, “How did THAT happen?” “How could he…whatever?” I’m tired of the jokes about how he had to use a ladder or how he had to jump to get it done. I’m through with it, ok???

Your next question might be “Why wasn’t she spayed?” Well, the reason to THAT question is that I wanted puppies…Golden Retriever puppies…and had been trying to convince Bob for two and a half years that having puppies would be fun and that Daisy needed a companion and it would calm her down, however my reasoning never convinced him. Instead, Bob finally had convinced ME that having only Daisy was fun enough, that the cats were her companions and that puppies DEFINITELY would not calm her down – neither would it calm HIM down. So it was decided that she would see Dr. Snippits right after her heat. I fully intended to take her in but never got around to it, then sort of forgot.

When my neighbor called me at work this week to tell me that she thought Daisy was pregnant, I instantly went into denial. “No, she isn’t, you’ve just been feeding her extra, haven’t you?” She then went into full detail about Daisy’s swollen belly, her swollen “you know whats” and her lethargical behavior. I began to fear the inevitable and hurried home that evening to check her out myself. Sure enough, she did seem a tad bit bigger and her “you know whats” did seem pretty big and I also noticed she was scarfing down her food (something she NEVER does). OK, so perhaps I am in denial, but I think it was because I didn’t want to tell Bob. THAT was going to be more painful than Daisy having the pups!

Now, Bob and I have a great relationship. Overall, we communicate well and have no problem talking to each other. Except for when you have to tell your already convinced husband who is out of town, that your purebred dog that has not been spayed for two and a half years might be having puppies. Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being Grandpa. Well, after the initial shock wore off – he did come home and is actually willing to build the birthing bed and get a temporary fencing for the wee ones to poop in. He’s even started smiling again.

I took Daisy into the vet the next day for the revealing x-ray and saw with my own two eyes, three little blobs inside her belly. After the doctor gave me the due date, gave me a policy manual on how to help with the birth and gave me the bill – Daisy and I stopped by the pet store to buy puppy food and prenatal vitamins to transition her for the big day. At least they are small blobs and there are only three, so it shouldn’t be too bad, right?? Unless I have to do mouth to mouth resuscitation if it’s not breathing or actually help her have it, or cut the umbilical cord. Oh boy, THIS does sound like fun…

Duck - Squawk - Egg

2008-05-04T18:47:00.000-07:00

This week I received an email from my sister and read that my brother-in-law Terry had a very interesting experience. He’d heard a duck squawking out in the street in front of their house, so he went outside to investigate why. The duck had disappeared but apparently had laid an egg! Deciding on the opportunity to hatch a duck egg, he decided to take the egg into the house and put it into a dish. Then looking up on the internet he found what temperature was needed to incubate an egg and pointed a light directly on it in the laundry room, not knowing whether it had been fertilized or not. Now, my brother-in-law grew up on a farm in Iowa, but that was 20 years ago and my sister NEVER lived in a rural setting. In fact, they currently live in metropolitan Phoenix, so, hatching a duck egg isn’t quite the normal thing for the suburbia lifestyle they live.

However, knowing my brother-in-law, I can visualize him doing this because he’s a creative kind of a guy. He loves to learn and create and invent, making the most out of every opportunity known to man. So, imagining him carrying a duck egg through the house and creating some sort of coop, fits into the scope of how he is. Somehow, though, it is hard to imagine my practical sister, Emily, in urban Phoenix doing her laundry with a make-shift incubator atop her new washer and dryer.

It reminds me of my experience on my sister-in-law’s farm last year when I went to get some eggs out of their fridg and was told, “NOT THOSE EGGS - THOSE EGGS HAVE CHICKENS IN “EM!”

So I wonder what my sister will do if one morning she’s goes into her laundry room and will be greeted with a tiny chirp, instantly becoming the mother of a new baby duck!

And what about the family cat?

Friendship Bouquets

2008-05-01T19:19:00.000-07:00

I was just telling a friend the other day that I love to take pictures of flowers. The best ones are the close ups that outline the intricacies of each delicate petal. When my Japanese pen pal Misako sends me pictures, she poses in fields of brilliant blossoms and takes thoughtful photos of nature, like cherry tree branches draping village walkways, their big pink petals softly framing the picture like feathers from a goose down pillow.

Last week was Professional Administrative Week and I unexpectedly received flowers from a very dear co-worker. Her surprise was tiny yellow carnations wrapped up in cellophane. She didn’t know it, but I’ve always been partial to carnations, regardless of color. I think the reason is because of their dainty fragrance and the way they keep their bloom. Did you know that carnations express love, fascination, and distinction, depending on the color? Light red carnations represent admiration, while dark red denote deep love and affection. White carnations indicate pure love and good luck, while pink carnations have the most symbolic and historical significance. According to a Christian legend, carnations first appeared on Earth as Jesus carried the Cross. The Virgin Mary shed tears at Jesus' plight, and carnations sprang up from where her tears fell. Thus the pink carnation became the symbol of a mother's undying love. Carnations come in all sorts of colors, but the tiny yellow buds seemed to me as if they were smiling with a sunny disposition, making my day bright just by their appearance.

One day a couple of weeks ago, while at church, I came across a friend that was feeling kind of blue. She’d recently experienced tragedy and as she stood and shared with me her heart, she said to me, “You know, to make myself feel better, sometimes when I go to the store, I buy myself a bouquet of flowers to put on my kitchen table. It just makes me feel better – you should try it sometime.” The idea was refreshing, but I have to say, in my entire life, I have never purchased a bouquet just for me. Her words I could not forget and each time I visit the grocery, I longingly look at the beautiful assortment of bouquets, wondering if I should splurge on such a treat. Then yesterday during choir rehearsal, I saw the young lady walk towards me and present to me a small bouquet of deep red carnations, gently tied together with a floral bow. I was so surprised by her gesture of kindness I could not help but ask her why. She said, “I was at the store to buy myself some flowers and thought of you, so I decided to buy you some too.” What she didn’t realize is that I’d had a hard day and needed a lift.

“And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” John 12:3

Whether photographing flowers, receiving flowers or giving them away, the gift is the same – a beautiful fragrance that leaves a memory.

Storm on the Sea

2008-04-27T18:10:00.000-07:00

The adventure of watching dark gray clouds moving across the sky, of hearing strong winds blowing and whistling during the night or of rain pelting against the rooftop of our home, are sounds and visuals that I love from the time I was a child. Contrary to most people living in Michigan, I even enjoy driving in snow storms that bring treacherous snow-packed roads. Even though I know the element of danger, the thrill of facing the elements is something that lures excitement. Is it the challenge of conquering Mother Nature or is it the closeness I feel as I pray to God for protection? It reminds me of my moods that change on a regular basis as I face my daily storms.

There is another story that talks about a storm, a story that describes calmness and chaos, two words that are so opposite, it’s like night and day. The characters in the scene were men who were fishermen, people accustomed to the wind and waves. What was it like the day the men got into their boat? Was there sunshine or a sooty colored sky? Was the water a sea of glass or did the water sway with tiny swallows that hinted at all that a pending storm was on the way? The story indicates that the storm came without warning, so that the waves swept over the boat. Geography for that region tells us that it was common for weather of this nature to appear in a moment’s notice. The scriptures say that without warning a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. Imagine the image as if you were in the boat. One minute you’re enjoying the quiet rocking of the boat upon the water, when all of a sudden the waves become increasingly choppy and the temperature starts dropping bringing coldness in the whipping wind. The boat is violently pitching as it tries to remain balanced while the waves crash into the sides. Soon the water sweeps over the vessel, drenching you wet, its’ tendrils stretching across the floor, creating a river beneath your feet. You try everything within your knowledge and power to keep the boat from capsizing, feeling increasingly scared and weary as you struggle for strength. You wish you could see, but the wind and the water blind your vision and you wonder how you’ll survive, let alone reach the other side?

The story tells us that through all the climatic chaos, their Master incredulously slept. Regardless of the commotion, His mind and body were at complete rest. While heaven and earth were creating havoc, He slept through it all. I tend to be a light sleeper. If my ceiling fan rattles or I hear any kind of noise, I awaken and can immediately think clearly as soon as my eyes open. My husband, on the other hand, is a heavy sleeper. He can sleep through anything and has to have time to wake up thoroughly to clear his mind. Scriptures say, the disciples went and woke their Master up, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” Exclamation points were used, giving drama to the sentences. No gentle nudging and whispering in the ear to softly awaken their Leader. These fishermen were in a frenzy! The interesting part about this story is that even though they were filled with fear, he responded to them while still laying down, quietly talking to them like a father to a frightened child. Steady and sure it says “He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid? Then He got up and rebuked the winds and the waves…” ushering calmness as complete as the rest He was in. His disciples were amazed and wondered what kind of man could make the winds and the waves obey him.

The amazing thing is that the disciples were amazed. Just moments before, they frantically asked for their Master to save them. When I am afraid, I go to the person that can immediately help. I don’t waste time calling on someone that can’t come to my rescue. So, why were they amazed? What were they thinking if they didn’t believe their Master could save them? Perhaps they thought he had a plan, something they hadn’t thought of that was in their human way of logic? Simply rebuking the wind and waves was just too easy for a storm of this magnitude. There had to be another way. But there wasn’t. He showed them that their fear, their fatigue and their lack of faith was the true storm that needed conquering.

When I am afraid, I tend to act impulsively, than think about my actions later. I can become paralyzed by fear, causing me to be ineffective as I come face to face with my storm. But I am learning that the wind and waves of life are just lessons of faith. When I release my fear and replace it with faith, the strength of the storm lessens its’ hold and I am saved.

House of Mirrors

2008-04-23T19:19:00.000-07:00

The one month anniversary of losing my mom is fast approaching. The year has been hard going through the various stages of grief. The thing is, is that no one knows exactly the feelings you will encounter until you get there. It's like going into a house of mirrors. You see yourself in one mirror and you look normal, then you may go into another room and the image you see in that mirror is all distorted.

After reading several books on the subject of grief, researching the web on the meaning of loss and talking to countless friends that have carried me through my ordeal, I found myself clinically trying to categorize each stage (that's the organizational side of me) as if compartmentalizing it all would wrap it up nice and neat and I could put it away in the closet when I didn't want to deal with it. But it's not that easy.

I have found that some days I feel peace, especially when there is a particularly beautiful sunset or I take a walk with Daisy and feel the brush of cool wind against my cheek reminding me that God is there. Then other days I feel anger or sadness or even a fuzziness in my head that causes me to feel restless and wonder why I'm not back to normal. I say to myself, "What is WRONG with me? It's been almost a year, for cryin' out loud - get on with it!" But as soon as that thought crosses my mind, I have a friend or my saintly husband give me a break, telling me, "Marion - it's only been a few months. Give yourself a break. There's no timetable for grief." Then I'm ok for a few days, a month, until the cycle starts all over again.

I've noticed that I can't NOT have something to do or something to fill the void. Whether it's working at the office after everyone's gone home or working on my writing business or filling up my weekends with things to do, places to go, and people to see - I feel I must keep myself going because if I slow down, I'll have time to think (not that I don't think all the time anyway) but it's different. Quiet thinking is worse than busy thinking. I also desperately want to make a difference in this world. Perhaps it's my way of showing my mom that she can be proud of me or maybe it's my way of bringing her back by not letting one moment pass, every breathing moment not go to waste.

So I keep going. And while I figure this grief-thing out, I'll continue to give, to listen, to volunteer, to write, to laugh, to be a good daughter, sister, wife, mother and friend, to breathe in and out and let the grief flow.

Because that's where I am.

Supercenturian

2008-04-20T20:05:00.000-07:00

Edna Parker, recognized as the oldest person in the world, turned 115 today. She was born April 20, 1893 and celebrated her remarkable accomplishment in Shelbyville, Indiana with her 113 year old friend Bertha Fry, from Muncie, Illinois. Edna is a supercenturian, a person that has lived more than 100 years.

As a memoir writer, this is one person I would love to interview. What kinds of things would Edna tell me, what memories would capture her the most? Did you know that the song "Happy Birthday to You" was first made in 1893 and the ferris wheel was first introduced at the Chicago Fair? Juicy Fruit chewing gum got it's debut and breakfast cereals Cream of Wheat and Shredded Wheat were first invented.

Last night as I was searching the web, I stumbled across a life calculator that supposedly would figure your potential life span. Inquisitive, I began to take the series of questions and spent thirty minutes answering the survey, only to end up with "In order to see your final result, just sign up to become a member..." Being unsure of what I was "signing up" for, I decided to quit while I was ahead and thought to myself, "Who am I kidding? Why would I even WANT to know how long I'm going to live?" The interesting thing about Edna is that people around her say she never worries, is always positive, and perseveres. She sounds like a Proverbs 31 woman to me - living life to the fullest.

My grandma Wallace lived to be 99. She was a simple woman who was practical minded, taking each day as it came and not expecting anything more. I remember one time when Bob and I visited her, we quietly video-taped her while we together ate breakfast. As we asked her about her life, she matter of factly shared stories and tidbits while sitting in her favorite chair. While she talked she'd look out her patio window at the large oak tree I learned my grandfather had planted. She liked to be surrounded by the things she loved - her small kitchen with cast iron cookware, lots of flowering plants sitting on her balcony, and her small 19" black and white TV near the dining table so she could watch Jeopardy every night. When she turned 90, I got the opportunity to interview my grandma and create a lasting memory we could keep forever. My grandma felt the key to a good life was to learn endurance through trials. Rise above your obstacles. Never hold a grudge and always forgive. She felt children should respect their father and mother and she felt she was like her mother, in that she never wanted anything she couldn’t afford. She felt she had a good life and ended by saying when you get old you don’t remember the bad times.

What great lessons we can learn from those that have lived the longest. I don't need to know how long I'll live - Just enjoying life is enough - regardless of how long.

Happy Birthday, Edna

The Family Tree

2008-04-15T18:21:00.000-07:00

Bob's new interest is in researching his family tree. Going to Ancestry.com, he entered his name and family information and instantly was hooked when he discovered his ancestry goes back to the 1500's! In pursuing his heritage he found relatives he never knew he had, even famous people from yesteryear and today. Some of the names he found were among the following:

Thomas More, Laura Ingells Wilder, Judy Garland, Lyndon B Johnson, Marlon Brando, William Howard Taft, William & Oliver Winchester, Julia Child, Emily Dickenson, Mamie Eisenhower, Humphrey Bogart, Ralph Waldo Emerson, James "Wild Bill" Hickock, Clyde & Buck Barrow of Bonnie & Clyde, Jimmy Hoffa, and others.

One of his relatives wrote a poem in 1845, calling it Christ the Apple Tree which is shared below.

The tree of life my soul hath seen
Laden with fruit and allways green
The trees of nature fruitleys be
Compare with Christ the apple tree

This beauty doth all things excell
By faith i know but ne'er can tell
The glory which i now can see
In Jesus Christ the apple tree

For happiness i long have sought
And pleasure dearly have i bought
I missed of all but now i see
Tis found in Christ the apple tree

I'm wearied with my former toil
Here i will rest and sit awhile
Under the shadow i will be
Of Jesus Christ the apple tree

With great delight i'll make my stay
There's none shall fright my soul away
Amoung the sons of men i see
Theres none like Christ the apple tree

I'll sit and eat this fruit divine
It cheers my heart like precious wine
Oh how divinely sweet to me
Is Christ the lovely apple tree

This fruit doth my soul to thrive
It keeps my dying faith alive
Which makes my soul in haste to be
With Jesus Christ the apple tree

As written by JGK, 1845

Coupled with watching the mini series John Adams on TV and learning the history of how our constitution was made, it stirs a longing in both of us to know our heritage more. Our imaginations soar as we look at the names and wonder who these people were, what were they like, and what their lives were like back then.

Bob reminds me I'm living with someone special with all the people he's related to. I knew that already though, just because he's Bob.

Diamonds or Cubic Zirconias

2008-04-09T19:20:00.000-07:00

Recently I attended a banquet put on by the Women of Proverbs 31 organization, a mentoring program for young black women ages 18-25. The lady who founded the program I met several years ago. She aspired to help women such as herself to achieve all they could be as virtuous women living in today's society.

I was impressed with this young woman the moment we met because I saw in her wisdom beyond her years and a drive to succeed that I truly admired. I remember her telling me her dreams for her organization and when I got the opportunity to hear her speak, I knew she had reached the goal she had desired.

Proverbs 31:10 says, "Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies." My friend compared this verse to diamonds and cubic zirconias. Diamonds go through a natural heating process to become it's truest form. Just like the diamond, our character is formed by going through a development process designed by God. Once mature, the diamond's material polishes other diamonds, likewise, giving us an example that when we live as polished diamonds, only then can we help others to live for Christ.

A virtuous woman means living with excellence in every area of her life. Every time I don't walk in excellence, I affect my sense of self-worth. If I talk the talk, I must walk the walk and follow through to live as a Proverbs 31 woman.

The difference between a cubic zirconia and a diamond is the price. When God looks deep inside of me, does He see a virtuous woman? Do I radiate my light and live in such a way to affect the next generation?

There is no such thing as a fake virtuous woman.

The Wild Ride

2008-04-08T19:46:00.000-07:00

Taking my lunch and heading down to the cafeteria at work today, I decided to round the corner to visit a friend. I’d had an exhausting morning changing meetings, putting in work orders, making copies and sending off emails, and lunch with her seemed just the right medicine.

Instead of eating in the cafeteria, we chose to go out for lunch to enjoy the beautiful day. Just as I was coming back from putting my lunch back in the frig, I saw another colleague in the hall with her purse in hand, so we all piled into my friend's car and drove away.

As we chattered about our day, we sat and waited so we could ease into traffic. Cars were whizzing past as if they were in a race, faster and faster, zooming by. Looking to the right, we noticed a big SUV blocking our vision, its back end hiding the view of the road. My friend, as careful as can be, inched and inched, trying to get her chance to get her turn. Suddenly there was a gap and she decided it was safe. But what we didn’t expect was the huge SUV barreling towards us, coming on top of us like a locomotive. In one quick moment, all I could think was, “This is it – we’re going to die.” Deb gunned the motor as she heard the other car screech and quickly dove into the far right lane.

Being the expressive person that I am, I put my hands up to shield my eyes and screamed the scream of a banshee, as if screaming was going to help. My friend that was driving looked over at me sitting in my seat with my hand over my mouth suddenly mute for the moment and told me to breathe. And the poor friend in the back sat watching the whole ordeal unfold, wondered if her ears would ever be the same after listening to the blood curdling scream I had just made.

If you think we were chattering at the beginning, we REALLY started chattering now, realizing how close we’d gotten to death. Finally being able to laugh at ourselves, we soon arrived at our destination, teasing my friend the whole way. Soon our lunch was over and we headed back to work. I sat at my desk eating the rest of my Chinese chicken and rice and opened up the fortune cookie I had for dessert - the message typed in one simple sentence:

“You are going to go on a pleasant trip.”

Moral of the story – if you plan to take a trip, make sure it’s pleasant!

Me and JT

2008-04-05T21:18:00.000-07:00

When I first met JT, we'd both gotten hired at the same company on the same day. As I sat at the same table awaiting my orientation, I remember looking at the other employees and wondering who they were and where they’d be working, then discovered later in the day that JT and I were destined to be together, working for the same department and working for the same boss.

Neither of us knew the other, yet we crossed the bridge to friendship as we began to work that day. He was the quiet one – I was the talker. He was the analyzer – I was the organizer. His jovial nature made me laugh and I knew in an instant I liked him, this JT friend of mine.

Do you want to know what the true test of friendship is? It's when you can’t remember when it begins, sort of like picking up where you left off when you call someone you haven’t spoken to in months.

That’s me and JT.

A Walk in the Rain

2008-03-31T17:27:00.000-07:00

Stepping out of the office building where I worked, I fully expected the temperature to be cool and brisk however I was pleasantly surprised to feel warm air, even though the sky was overcast. The snow from last week's blizzard had melted away and the grass was saturated with wetness. Upon driving home, the fog settled in and by the time I had gotten home, changed my clothes and got Daisy ready for her walk, the skies looked like they were going to burst.

Taking my umbrella, Daisy and I started our walk, the same routine, walking towards the lake. Just as soon as we'd gone to the end of our street, the droplets began and I figured it would be a light rainfall, something fun - in honor of Spring. But the more we walked, the more the rain fell and soon Daisy and I were in the middle of a thunderstorm with lightening blanching the sky and me wondering if my umbrella was the conduit for the strikes. Taking a detour, Daisy and I hurried home, not knowing who was more anxious, me or her. Coming in through the door, I looked behind me to take a peek and breathed a prayer of thanks - thanks for my warm house, windows to watch the rain and dry clothes waiting for me to wear.

One of my favorite childhood memories was sitting on Grandmother's porch watching the rain. Nestled together on her squeaky glider, she and I would rock to the rythym of the rain, enjoying the view of nature getting a Spring bath. Walking in the rain brings back that memory - the sights, the smells, the quiet peace.

It's nighttime now and it's still raining - it's rythmic cadence chanting new life.

Orange Blossoms

2008-03-26T18:55:00.000-07:00

I remember when I lived in Phoenix, one of my favorite fragrances of Spring were the orange trees. As soon as Easter came, so would the orange blossoms, casting a sweet smell across the city.

Thousands of orange trees were planted in groves, then as housing increased, they'd re-plant the trees to line subdivision streets. Sometimes the fragrance was so strong, it was intoxicating, sending a soothing balm of citrus to soothe the senses.

During the day, the heat accented their perfume, then at night the waft would gently caress the air. Strolling down the street where I lived, I calmly breathed in the blossoms breath.

Then as soon as it came, Spring would leave and with it left the scent of the orange. But although gone, it's memory lingered until it's blossom bloomed again...

The Easter Basket

2008-03-25T19:21:00.000-07:00

“Is the Easter Bunny coming?” as a child I’d always say.
“Yes” my mom would answer - then I’d wonder while at play,
“I wonder what he’ll bring me, I hope the candy’s great!”
“I wonder where I’ll find it or how long I’ll have to wait?”

As a child I never knew the hours - my mother worked and toiled,
In making my Easter basket and keeping the prize unspoiled.
After I would go to sleep, my mother’s work began,
She’d stay up late into the night creating her master plan.

First, she laid out all her crafts to make the basket treat,
Then placed a bunch of plastic grass to hold the candy sweet.
Next she’d place the plastic eggs with jelly beans inside
And toss in chocolate M&Ms and other things besides.
Scattered in the folds of grass - the foil-wrapped candies were dropped,
A solid chocolate bunny to eat and Cadbury eggs were all plopped.
Then lastly she’d nestle a toy or a book and wrap it securely and neat,
With pink cellophane and ribbon cascades, the basket was big and complete.

Her love gift would take - all night long, though tired and oh so weary.
She’d spend the time in joyful glee, while her eyes would get all blurry.
Imagining the surprise, she never let on the hours she worked and yawned,
She only delighted in watching me seek and discover what Easter had dawned.
Soon the night would turn to day - and I would take a peek.
I’d play the game of hot and cold, with Mom, to help me seek.
With early morning laughter - the treasure soon was found.
I’d marvel at what the Easter Bunny brought never hearing Mom’s nightly sound.
A child at heart she loved the fun and always had a smile.
No matter how old, her youth came through, with energy all the while.

As a grown woman I’ll always hold dear the tradition my Mom always kept
Following her memory with a child of my own I tried to become as adept.
I’d give him a basket and bunny to eat regardless his age though now old.
He acts like it’s childish, yet down deep I know he likes for me to be bold.
If ever I chose not to have chocolate bunnies I fear a void would be felt,
So I keep the tradition, although in a freezer, so Andrew’s bunny won’t melt!

Of all the dear memories that Mom had for us, I lovingly hold this one close.
My childhood Easters are kept in my heart while her baskets are remembered most.
I remember how special each Easter would bring and honestly would like to say
My mother knew best how to make Easter baskets, a love gift I keep till today.

BLAST 6

2008-02-21T17:29:00.000-08:00

February 16, 2008 marked the sixth time I've seen the Broadway show, BLAST. Call me a groupie, obsessed, proud Mom, whatever, but this last time was by far the best I'd seen. By the time the day had arrived, Bob and I collectively had sixteen friends and family that decided to go.

I had anticipated the day, imagining what it would be like to see our friends and cousins see BLAST as I'd described it many times before. As the time approached for us to depart for Macomb, I was giddy with excitement. Having told our friends that they could expect a backstage tour if they arrived 1 1/2 hours before the show, one by one they arrived on time and soon we were all waiting together in the lobby. The security guards watched our gang, giving us looks like they'd throw us out any minute, but then Andrew came out, walking straight toward us, his smile big and welcoming.

Leading us into the theatre, he looked like the pied piper with all of trailing along, then divided us up into smaller groups to take us on an extended view of his world. Walking down the aisle each group disappeared through the side exit door, then minutes later appeared at the opposite door.
Even though Andrew was pressed for time, needed to rehearse and warm his instrument, he graciously showed our friends around, treating them like V.I.P.'s.

As the showtime drew near, we all sat close to the front, hearing the cadence of the drums echoing through the room. Looking at the faces of our friends all around us, I could sense their excitement as they sat expectantly waiting to be entertained. When the lights slowly darkened, my imagination turned to reality as I watched BLAST begin. Having seen the show five times before, I critiqued each movement, each sound, each step, each actor and felt the show magnified as I'd never seen it before. When Andrew hit the highest note possible on his Blues act and held it for what seemed like forever, my memory flashed back to Andrew as a young boy, dreaming of the day he'd play like Doc. Just when I thought I couldn't be prouder, I received a wink as Andrew and the brass players marched majestically forward, receiving a thunderous applause. Then at the end of the show, my son blew me a kiss - a kiss I'll remember forever.

Sweethearts and Friends

2008-02-15T17:05:00.000-08:00

In our hometown this past Valentine's Day there was an article in the paper about a local senior community center that hosted a renewal of marriage vows for those that lived in the development. Complete with a flowered arch, bouquets on the tables, cake, champagne and harpist, along with a chaplain conducting the ceremony, the picture on the front page of the paper showed the lovebirds sealing their vows with a forever kiss.

The article continued to interview each couple, asking them what their secret was for their longevity in wedded years. In honor of Valentine's Day, I decided to list some of the things they said as a reminder to me on what counts the most.

1. Through all of life's ups and downs, you commit to care.
2. Be romantic.
3. Learn to work things out.
4. Don't hold grudges.
5. Be able to forgive.
6. Stay true to one another.
7. Have a sense of humor.
8. Share one another's interests.
9. Commit to loving one another.

I always look forward to Valentine's Day. I suppose you would call me a hopeless romantic, but I've found out that Bob is too, so we have fun outdoing our love. This year was spent at Alfoccino's Italian restaurant with good food, good wine, a great strawberry dessert, then coming home to watch our favorite show - LOST. Last year we took a horse drawn carriage ride around quaint Metamora in 4 degree weather, so this year was a bit more tame, but regardless of how our Valentine's Day is spent...

We'll always be sweethearts and friends.

Whole-istic Healing

2008-02-12T08:52:00.000-08:00

For one whole month I suffered from a back injury that caused pain in my lower back and sciatica nerve. Not being able to walk or sit or stand or lay down without experiencing severe pain was an ordeal that made me realize the dependence I truly have on feeling well. Just as I began to get better in my joints, I was then stricken with an annoying cold that lingered for days.

Perhaps it is coincidental that during this time my devotion reading took me to the stories of Jesus healing the leper, healing the paralytic servant, healing the emotionally handicapped, and touching the hand of Peter’s mother-in-law to heal her of a fever. The captions above the chapters indicate the frailty of man’s condition, whether stricken with leprosy, paralysis, tormented minds or the feverish brow of a woman. What was it like for the leper to watch others go about their daily routine, taking for granted the gift of being together, holding their children, and not having to worry about being condemned to isolation? What was it like for the paralytic to lie on his bed, day after day, wishing he could just feel normal again - to be able to walk and run and carry out his duties for the master who loved him so much? And what about the mother-in-law sick with a fever? Did she think about all her tasks not done and the inability to serve a simple meal for the Savior of the world? Even the people that suffered from tormenting thoughts probably wondered if their minds would ever be free, wishing that someone would come along and drive away the hell they were in. Each person was unable to live their life to the fullest and needed a touch to make them whole again.

Right where they were, the reoccurring message in every story is that Jesus healed. Regardless of their circumstance, Jesus reached out and took hold of their sagging strength, replacing their fragileness with freshness and faith. The scriptures say that He drove out the spirits with a word. That word was “Go! It will be done just as you believed it would.”

I know that soon my cold will be gone and the ache in my back will lessen with time and exercise. However, the lesson I’m learning is that while sickness comes and sickness goes, the question still remains, “What do I do with it while I’m in that place?” Do I dwell on how bad I feel and allow my circumstance to swallow me up with isolation, paralyzed energy, depression or doubtful expressions of His care? Or, do I use the opportunity to slow down, to look at the gifts I already have, then quietly listen for His voice and wait for His timing to renew me again?

The choice is mine. My life depends on it.

Salty Lesson

2008-02-06T16:45:00.000-08:00

Did you know salt can be good for you? Yes, I'm talking about the kind that gives us hardening of the arteries. I love the taste of salt and know that if consumed in great quantities, it can physcially harm me, however, spiritually speaking, salt is what makes us who we are.

Jesus reminds us, "You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt has become tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled under foot by men."

My lesson in saltiness occurred to me this past couple of weeks in my constant search for significance and my quest for circumstantial contentment. Not realizing why I was feeling irritable and unfulfilled, I found fault with my life, wondering where these feelings were coming from. Was it because I still mourn the loss of my mother or was it because I'm in the proverbial fifties phase that makes me think my life is half over? I wanted answers and wanted peace, quickly and effortlessly, not even considering that I might be the cause.

At my wits end, I randomly opened up my Bible right to the above scripture and read it, thinking to myself that surely it's others that need to be salty and so rerouted my discontent, then called out to God to give me peace. Later in the day I emailed a friend and shared my story with her, hoping she would sympathize and affirm the solution I had already made. Without knowing what I'd read earlier in the day, she told me just the opposite of what I thought I'd hear and that was to go and be the salt, to examine my ways and see if I was salty or had I become tasteless.

Sure enough, I had the hardening of the "heart-a-ries" and needed to be willing to change inside, to reach out and serve in order to be filled. Rather than being trampled underfoot by men - I chose to give my salt as a seasoning for others to feed upon.

And you know what? It tastes good.

Kalamazoo BLAST

2008-02-03T14:41:00.000-08:00

Last year Bob and I ended up seeing the musical, BLAST, four times. No we're not crazy, but we're crazy about Andrew. Watching him perform and carry on is thrilling none the least. All those countless trumpet lessons and practice times finally paid off and he's fulfilling a dream that started when he was a little boy.

In case you have never heard of BLAST, it's a state-of-the-art musical extravaganza of brass, drums and flag dancers that bring a refreshing experience of what color is. Matching your mood to the primary color dancing across the stage is the totality of the show - getting you to feel - to touch - to hear what music can really do.

Can you tell the affect it's had on me already? If I could be a BLAST mom, I would be one in a heartbeat. In fact, I was a band mom during Andrew's highschool days and loved the beat of the drum. My job was pluming the players, standing by the door with the feather to stick in their hat as they marched out to the field to the applause of the crowd. I got the chance to spend the weekend with BLAST this past Christmas and absolutely loved the fact that the performers called me "Mom" by the time the weekend was over. So, wouldn't it be great if I could just tag along all the time?

This past weekend I got to see BLAST again - this time in Kalamazoo. We went with our friends, Rick and Julie,
and enjoyed seeing their faces when they experienced firsthand what we'd been talking about all along. Andrew took us backstage and gave us the million dollar tour, then sat us center stage to hear the brass tune themselves. The show was exhilerating (as usual) and especially when Andrew came up during the show to lift Bob up to his feet and shout to the audience, "Hey folks, this is my Dad! It's his birthday!" Even though it wasn't Bob's birthday, it was fun to see Andrew in his element and be able to give a wink to the kids performing, as if we were parents to the whole bunch.

Afterwards, as we watched him sign autographs along with the rest of the crew, he suddenly turned and walked towards me saying aloud, "Excuse me, folks, I'm going to go hug my mom." We hugged and walked out the door to take him to dinner and spent the evening laughing and joking and enjoying our time. And I thought to myself, "it doesn't get any better than this..."

Two Horses (Author Unknown)

2008-01-29T19:33:00.000-08:00

Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it

From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing....

Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him.

This alone is amazing.

If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell.
Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell. It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.

As you stand and watch these two friends, you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other horse is, trusting that he will not be led astray.

When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, it stops occasionally and looks back, making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.

Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way....

Good friends are like that ... you may not always see them, but you know they are always there. Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours. And remember...
Be kinder than necessary - everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly....
Leave the rest to God

Enduring Life

2008-01-23T15:57:00.000-08:00

This week my mind has been thinking alot about my cousin Cindy and the recent struggles she's had. Battling the complexities of cancer, she's earned the badge of endurance by surviving months of radiation and chemo. As she shared with me her experiences, her candid honesty of the whole ordeal was intimately detailed, connecting our vulnerability together as women that I'll never forget.

In our conversation, I heard her say, "I remember when I took for granted my ability to get so much done. I had the energy to work my job, drive to Walmart, run a few errands and visit the grandkids and now I just have energy to get up in the morning and take a bath. I used to have a healthy appetite and could enjoy a Sonic shake, but now I'm lucky if I can finish only half." It awakened in me a realization that it doesn't matter how small the victory is, you still win.

This week I counted my blessings just a little bit more. Even though I threw my back out doing housework this week, the pain I feel is a reminder it could be worse. At least I still have overall health and energy to live. When the washer and dryer and truck broke this week bringing in more than a fair share of bills to pay, I came home from work tonight to a warm house and food in the frig - all I really need.

I've encountered many friends and family who have weathered and are weathering all kinds of trials. For those who have quieted themselves enough to gain wisdom in the midst of their suffering, the lessons are the same - it's enough to take one day at a time and not expect more than what one day can give, recognize tiny achievements as big accomplishments and to know that contentment comes from not only living simply but simply living.