Standing On the Border of the New Year . . .

One foot in 2009, one nearly in 2010, ready to leap from the old to the new. Before looking ahead though, it's time to take a walk down memory lane, look at the past year, nod to the bad as well as the good, and move on to the clean slate awaiting me just 2 short hours from now.

It's been a year of extreme highs - we bought our brand new house! And extreme lows - my daughter moved away, and a dear friend moved on to heaven. And through it all were the ups and downs of daily living that we all go through along the way. There have been tears, there has been laughter, deep discussions, and lighthearted banter. It was a year of growth, and a time to figure out what my priorities are and which ones mean the most to focus on.

Now, with a smile and a wave behind me, I'm facing the new year with my shoulders back, my head held high, and with a determination to be appreciative for my wonderful husband and loving family, make healthy choices for my body, use wisdom in my daily life, show gratitude for the many friends have been blessed with and be thankful for my job. This is going to be a great year . . . because I said so!

Good-bye 2009 . . . Hello 2010!!!

We Have Been Blessed Just Knowing You . . .

I'm sitting here feeling tears stinging my eyes, a little numb. Last night the world lost a wonderful man, and a small group of buddies lost a dear friend. Our loss though, is heaven's gain, and I know the angels are rejoicing as they welcome D home, and knowing he is pain free and meeting Jesus face to face, makes the hurt just a little less, and puts a shaky smile on my face.

Never having had the pleasure of meeting D face to face, I nevertheless felt that I knew him as much as if I had actually met him. He put his beliefs out there without apology, leaving his thoughts and his views up for criticism from the negative and nasty ideology he was fighting against, and standing up for what he knew was right and good 24 hours a day, no matter what battles he was fighting in his personal life. D was a hero, and served this country he loved so much proudly and with a dedication that flowed as deeply as the blood that ran in his veins. He stood up for the rights of those who are unable to stand up for themselves - the unborn, the weak and the helpless. A patriot to the core, full of insight and wisdom, dedicated to the truth always.

I will never forget the first time I saw some of your online posts. I was too intimidated to post a response, but read your words out loud to my husband on Saturday mornings as we sipped our coffee and caught up on the news. We would laugh together as we read the vapid responses from the masses of uninformed nutballs, and eagerly await your verbal slapdown to each of them. One day I was brave and posted something, and you . . . along with the wonderful people who were regularly with you . . . welcomed me into your midst with open arms and hearts. Never will I forget the eagerness you awaited your beloved car to arrive, and the updates on her travels that you so lovingly gave to each of us. Your happiness when you were able to meet SP face to face, and your happiness at being able to cuddle her precious baby, was infectious and made everyone who knows you happy just to read about and made us all wish we could have seen it for ourselves! Heck, your patience with us all when we forgot to take you out of a loop of conversation that got rather personal on female subjects was enough to brand you as a saint on earth! I blush sometimes as I recall some of what you had to endure from us! Ah, now all of those will be sweet memories that we can all laugh about as the pain begins to diminish and our happiness at your healing and your homecoming grow.

You will be missed my friend, deeply and forever while we still walk this earth, but the knowledge that someday we will indeed meet face to face will sustain all of us who are feeling the void that you leave behind in our lives. My grief is not for you as you continue your journey with God, but for us who cannot feel the sunshine of your wisdom any longer. Your words, your friendship, your humor and your kindness will be remembered forever in our hearts. We have been blessed to have been counted as your friends.

Thank you . . . for being our friend . . .God Bless You Always.

Finding the Spirit of Christmas . . .

I have been having quite a struggle this year, finding anything even remotely resembling the Christmas spirit. We had fun on our annual Christmas tree hunt in the forest, laughing and tromping through the bushes and brush to find that perfect, wild Charlie Brown tree. If I do say so myself, I believe we outdid ourselves this year! It's beautiful, and reaches all the way to the ceiling, takes up a good portion of the living room and I love looking at it. But even with all the fun and the lights, the spirit just hasn't been there like it should be. We decorated the house with our Santa and Nutcracker collections, set out my Christmas teapots and cookie jars, hung wreaths both outside and in . . . just doesn't feel right. We have shopped and baked, made plans and gone to parties - fun and sweet, but in a bitter sort of way. We're down to the countdown of hours and minutes now, yet it just hasn't seemed like it should be Christmas already. The year went by so fast, we had so much go on, and it hasn't felt right.

I have been putting off thinking about the fact that it's my daughter's first Christmas away from home. Because she's missing, there's a piece of Christmas missing from my heart this year. The feeling is familiar to me, since it's the same hollow feeling that I had when my son was on deployment out of the country two Christmas's ago. No matter how hard I try, everywhere I look there is a reminder that a seat is empty where it should be filled, there are traditions being altered because she isn't here to enjoy them too, and there are treats I won't be baking simply because they are her favorites and truth be told nobody else would eat them without her. We talk every day, and she's feeling the same way I am, which doesn't make me feel better - no, it just makes it worse. She got her gifts from us today, UPS delivered them as promised, and true to form, she's begging to open at least one early - the pajamas she knows are there because she's gotten a pair of pajamas every Christmas in her memory, and she always opened them before she even emptied her stocking. She'd rip the paper off, squeal with glee and disappear into the other room to change into them so she was all snuggy and warm while she opened her gifts. She's munched on the cookies we baked for her, and has been shaking the gifts that are sitting under their tree. It's the best I could do from far away and I would do it again, but it's just not the same.

This afternoon though, something shifted a bit. I'm home from work today, as I always am on Wednesdays, and I've spent the day puttering around the house. The scent of ginger molasses cookies is in the air, fudge is piled on a decorated plate, coconut macaroons and peppermint biscotti are waiting for their coat of melted chocolate, and the meat sauce for tomorrow's Christmas Eve lasagne is simmering on the stove, the aroma of garlic drifing in and out of the other delicious smells that define preparation for this day for me. I found myself humming, and smiling to myself as I turned on the lights for the tree and half listen to Miracle on 34th Street in the background. Whether I was ready for it or not, Christmas is here, and it's not about things staying the same, or resisting change, or feeling sorry for myself . . .

I am feeling the spirit of Christmas as I ask God for peace in my heart about my daughter, and for the day to pass by with my family safe, sound and healthy, no matter where they may be spending Christmas morning, and no matter who they are spending it with. Our Lord was born on this day and it's His birthday we celebrate, not the modern traditions we impose on our schedules. My heart feels lighter, it feels happier, and I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas.

Silent Night . . . Holy Night . . .

For the past couple of weeks I have had an image in my head and heart that has stuck with me so strongly that I can close my eyes and see it. The temperature had been down in the teens and twenties for over a week, so crawling out from under the covers at 3 a.m. wasn't exactly something that filled my heart with glee, but when a nearly 100 lb dog wakes you up to say she needs to go out it doesn't matter if you're warm and cozy or not, you get up and you take her! The mess for ignoring her just isn't worth it. Anyway, grumbling to myself I pulled my bathrobe around me, slid my feet into slippers, and with Tibbi dancing and whining her way down the hall, I shuffled my way after her, grumbling out the ground rules about hurrying as I went. As I made my way down the hall I saw a glow of light from the living room and started to wonder if I'd left the outside light on when I went to bed earlier.

I pulled open the deck door, and the last shadows of sleep left my eyes and my head, for the glorious sight that was waiting for me chased it away. The full moon was shining overhead, so bright in the sky that the entire yard, usually masked in shadows and darkness, was daylight clear, the stars scattered across the velvet sky twinkling and dancing in the air that shimmered with expectation. The brilliant light glinted off of the frozen crystals of ice that turned the earth to a diamond crusted treasure, and in its numbing beauty took my breath away, even as it hung frozen in the air in front of me. Accompanying this heavenly work of art was a silence so profound, so total, that it was as if the earth was itself holding its breath out of reverence for perfection of the moment. I forgot to be cold, I forgot to breathe, I just wanted to stand there with my arms wrapped around myself absorbing the moment, for on the edge of my thoughts an insight was forming.

The memories of Silent Night hummed through my head and I realized that the author could very well have been singing of just such a sight and silence as this - the very reverence in the hush describing what could very well have been the emotional tidal wave that the shepherds must have felt on that holy night so long ago as the angels sang to them of the arrival of the King of Kings. My heart overflowed for what felt like a very long time, but what must have been only moments. Tibbi finished her business and hurried back up onto the deck, and with one last glance at the astonishing and soul feeding display provided by God to bless my heart and remind me of what was most important not just during Christmas, but all year long, I returned to bed, falling asleep with the sound of carols singing in my heart, secure in the knowledge that God was watching out for my family wherever they may have been in that moment, and that He, the painter of such beauty, was in control and loving each of us as we prepare to celebrate the birth of our Lord.

A Day for Thanks . . . A Day for Reflection . . . A Day to Prepare for Tomorrow . . .

I'm standing at the end of my kitchen counter, writing this while I take a bit of a break, with the trappings of tonights meal all around me. The turkey is happily roasting in one roast pan, the ham in another. The cranberry sauce is cooling in a bowl, and the rolls are rising. Pies are stacked on a dessert tower and the rest of the meal is on the way to being prepared. This is the time of year I roll into full kitchen mode; the planning, preparation and enjoyment of the food, family gathered around the table together enjoying conversation and going a little too far with seconds . . . but it's also a time to remember why we are here in the first place.

So many years ago the pilgrims boarded ships and headed out on the treacherous journey across the Atlantic, fleeing from religious persecution and oppression, determined to worship God as they saw fit and braving the unknown to be able to do so. Since that time wars have been fought and won for this freedom, and we have enjoyed it for a very long time. But sit up, look around, pay attention to what is going on around you. If you're wearing blinders, take them off! If you've stuffed the cotton of ignorant bliss into your ears, remove it! The very freedoms so many have fought so valiantly for are being stripped from us one by one. We are no longer able to say Merry Christmas in the workplace without recrimination, we can no longer speak God's name without being repressed. Our children cannot pray in school without punishment, and don't even THINK about carrying your Bible with you into a government building! The environmental do-gooders spread the lies of global warming and in so doing repress the freedoms to live on our own land the way we see fit, our own government has grown to nightmare proportions and never forget for a second that no matter where you go or what you do, Big Brother is watching. It's only going to get worse if God fearing, freedom loving Americans don't get to their feet and say NO MORE! NO MORE will we take the foot of tyranny on our throats, for we have lived in the land of the free as a God-fearing nation for all of these years and we are taking our country back! It's coming, don't deny it for a second or you'll get caught in the chaos unprepared.

For today though, I will put aside my fears for our country, the loss of our freedoms, and I will thank God in heaven for my family, my friends, my home and my job. I will thank God for the food He provided for our table and my wonderful husband who is helping me to prepare it, and for the family who will be gathered around our table today to share it with us. I will appreciate the smells of the food cooking, the sound of laughter and conversation, and the sight of my dog so pathetically eyeing the counter, hoping something will fall into her path. This is the day that the Lord has made and I will rejoice and be glad in it!

Eat, drink and enjoy your freedoms today, for tomorrow we know not what may be knocking at the door of our lives. Pass the cranberries please . . .

I Am So Very Grateful . . .

I have an amazing husband. He makes me feel loved and cherished each and every day of my life. His face is the first thing I see every morning,and the last thing I see before I go to sleep, my heart filled with the joy of being his wife. I am so very grateful. Thank you God for R.

I have two amazing and wonderful children who are my pride and joy. They make me laugh, they make me cry, they sometimes make me very angry, but they are mine and they are wonderful, and I am so very grateful. Thank you God for K & G.

I know that my children are in love with people who make them happy, make them angry, make them laugh and sometimes make them cry. I love them as if they were my own, and they make me proud to know them, and for my children's happiness I am so very grateful. Thank you God for C & A.

I am blessed with parents who are still married to each other even over all the years of ups and downs, and that they love my brother and I more than life. I know that they would do anything for me, no matter what, and the feelings and love are returned equally. For my wonderful parents, I am very grateful. Thank you God for Mom and Dad.

I have a brother, and his family, who I am reconnecting with after years of not being close. He makes me laugh, he has made me cry, but for my brother, I am grateful. Thank you God for J and his family.

I am blessed with friends, dear, wonderful, friends. You know who you are when you read this and know that for you, I am so grateful. Thank you God for my friends.

In the current economy I am blessed that R and I both have jobs that keep the bills paid, food on the table and fuel in the cars. We are able to splurge on some fun items and day trips, and indulge ourselves with things some aren't able to do. My husband and I see eye to eye on things of political and spiritual natures and can discuss them without argument and with total absorption in our discussions. For this I am very grateful as it contributes to wonderful communication with each other. In a world filled with such sadness, anger, hatred and discord, I am living such a blessed life in so very many ways. Makes the little set-backs seem very small and insignificant.

I am so very grateful Lord for all the blessings you have bestowed upon my family and myself. If I haven't said it lately, Thank You. Thank You for loving me enough to provide such a blessed life, such a wonderful family, and such amazing friends. Thank You.

Thank You Veterans . . .You Are Appreciated and Loved . . .

Today is Veteran's Day, and though for many people it has come to mean just a day off from work, this is a day that should be taken seriously and spent showing our appreciation for every single veteran who has ever put on a uniform for our country. Because of these men and women we are free, because of them we can speak for ourselves, choose where and how to worship - or not, and live our lives however we see fit.

The toll on our veterans is so high, but many are unaware of just how high it is. If you have been blessed by personally knowing someone who has served in a foreign war, then perhaps you have been told stories of some of their experiences, but I'm betting you don't know the inside story, for these are the things they don't want you to know, but which show them for the truly brave and wonderful people that they are. You may not know how often they lie awake at night wracked with pain from injuries they have suffered during battle. You may not be aware of the horrifying nightmares that wake them when they finally DO fall to sleep. What about their reaction to sudden loud noises? Or the stress they undergo when they are in crowded or loud places? Have you ever thought about the toll that their experiences, and the post-traumatic issues from them, have on their families? When the war is over, or when their time in it is, their battles continue on for the rest of their lives. Life is never "normal" for them again. They may put on a happy face, some can't no matter how hard they try, but inside they have changed. Some changes are for the better, many are not, but there's nothing they can do about it.

Do you know what though? And this is so important to remember . . . No matter the horror they have gone through, no matter the damage done to their bodies and their minds, they would do it all again. Let that sink in. They would do it all again for YOUR right to live free, for the rights of even those who speak out against them, they would go back to serve this country they love so much, no matter the toll it takes on their lives.

Appreciate a Veteran this day, and every day. They have been there for us, let's be there for them.

To all the Veterans in my life - my father, brother, uncles, son, friends and extended "adopted" family . . . Thank you. Thank you for loving our country and our freedoms so much that you sacrificed for us. Thank you seems inadequate, but its all I have to give. Thank you.

Being Joyful . . .

Joy comes in so many packages. Sometimes it can be found in the laughter of a child, two kittens playing, watching the sunlight kiss the morning sky, or even in the simple act of letting a small piece of truly great chocolate melt on your tongue. Yesterday though I witnessed joy that touched my heart, brought a smile to my face, and filled me with a happiness that was just as simple as the moment.

I had some time to waste between appointments yesterday, so I stopped at our market to get a few things for dinner, and with still more time to kill, I got myself a cup of soup and an iced tea and sat down to read my book for a few minutes while I ate my snack. At the table next to mine, facing me, was a very elderly man,dressed to the ear lobes in a navy blue puffy parka, one of those winter hats with the furry flaps that come down over the ears and forehead and tiny spectacles perched on the end of his nose, empty plate in front of him from the meal he'd eaten, book clasped in hands gnarled with age and decades of hard work. Perfectly ordinary in every way, except for the fact that his face, wrinkled and carrying the story of his life, captivated my attention and held it. He was completely engrossed in his book. Try as I might I couldn't see who the author was, but apparently it was one that this man liked an awful lot. Every few moments he would begin to chuckle, a deep, gut rolling chuckle that bubbled up from deep inside of him, as his imagination took hold of whatever it was that he was reading in his book. While he read a tiny little brown bird hopped into the store from outside, and flew up onto his table, inching ever closer to his empty plate, apparently as interested in this man's enjoyment of his book as I was. Ok, he was probably more interested in the plate, but my own imagination was involved by this point. Suddenly the man looked up at me, with eyes of deep, stormy grey, framed by lines etched by years of smiles and dancing with humor, grinned a partially toothless grin at me, said "GREAT BOOK!" and went back to his reading and chuckling.

My heart overflowed with the such happiness at that moment, my emotions deeply affected by the joy this man showed so openly. In this life of running back and forth, always hurrying, the stresses and frustration dragging us down, giving a downward turn to what used to be our smiles, our laughter silenced, or at least hushed, at all the responsibility driving us to our goals, we forget that we NEED the joy, we NEED to allow our imaginations to take flight, and we NEED to share that with others around us, even in such a seemingly small way as laughing out loud.

When was the last time you were completely joyful? If you can't remember, go find some happiness, create some joy, and immerse yourself in it. You'll live longer, and perhaps in your quest you'll make someone else happy too. Of everything I ever thought I knew, keeping joy in mind and heart is one of the most important.

Love Is A New Set of Tires . . . and a back rub . . .

I used to think that the ultimate in romance was having my hubby surprise me when he came home from work carrying a bouquet of flowers. But flowers die, and past experience with a previous husband showed me the harsh reality that sometimes flowers are merely an expression of guilt and a very shallow attempt to make the giver feel better about whatever sin has been committed. I still love flowers, but not perhaps often, or as the ultimate in romance. They are pretty, they smell nice and I love them, but I now know what the ultimate romantic gesture is!

Love is a new set of tires! My wonderful husband unexpectedly ordered me a new set of tires for the winter, because he wants me to be as safe as possible when the weather gets bad. I didn't ask for the tires, I didn't need to. He just knew they were necessary and took care of it. I'll be driving to work confident that I have the best and safest tires available on the market between the road and my car. Now how romantic is that? I am the luckiest woman alive, I'm sure of it.

Oh, and the occasional back rub when I have aches and pains doesn't hurt either. *sigh* I think he needs a hug . . . see ya later.

Being Blessed In A Special Way . . .

Have you ever woken up with a tingle of excitement, the feeling of being blessed beyond the norm filling your heart, mind and soul? I woke up with that feeling this morning, and know that this is what it feels like to LOVE something that you do. I always feel blessed to have my children in my life and know that we are close beyond my wildest dreams. I always feel blessed to be married to the amazing man that I am married to, and know that his strong arms are around me holding me close. This feeling though, this tingle of excitement that puts a smile on my face this morning is something different. This is because I am blessed to be a part of one of the most special days in anyone's life. I am blessed to be able to officiate at the weddings of couples starting their lives together, to witness the beauty of their happiness, the glow in their smiles, the softness of their tears of emotion.

I received a call last night from a young bride who was nearing panic. The minister she'd booked months before backed out on her two days ago. I can see where that would lead to something nearing meltdown! Same thing happened to R and I when we got married nearly three years ago. I gladly took the opportunity to share in her wedding day, but the icing on this beautiful wedding cake is WHERE the wedding will be held! The wedding is going to be at St. John's church in Port Gamble, WA. I have been wanting to perform a wedding at this church since the very first time I laid eyes on it, and the excitement I'm feeling at this ceremony has me nearly dancing in my chair as I write this! Let me describe this little jewel of a town to you so you can perhaps picture in your mind's eye the surreal beauty of this amazing place.

Imagine with me, if you will, stepping back in time just a little bit, to one of the oldest active mill towns on the west coast. Regal Victorian homes stand proudly around a sloping town green, the streets graced with the majestic towering branches of maple trees on fire with the glorious raiment of autumn, and demure white picket fences around each postage stamp yard in front of each home. As you take a stroll through the town admiring the beauty, the peace and the quiet you amble past the post office and the general store, to stand under a grandfather of a tree, with the sound of our nation's flag rustling in the wind overhead on a flagpole taller than any building or tree in town, and you gaze over the inlet, the dark blue water sparkling with diamond studded waves as the tides ebb and flow, the scent of fresh clean air filling your lungs. No matter where you look the incredible peace and beauty of this place fill your heart and make you feel like you've come home. Near the edge of town stands St. John's Episcopal Church, used now solely for beautiful wedding ceremonies, but whose sanctuary has seen generations of services, weddings, funerals and celebrations, the ghosts of worshipers from yesteryear grace the pews that have seen this church from its first day to the wedding ceremonies that will be held here for many more years.

Mere words cannot adequately describe the beauty of this little town, kept alive now through tourism rather than the mill activity that started it up so many years ago. However the natural beauty of this place, sitting like a sparkling jewel overlooking the water, remains simple, pure and fills the soul with calm.

God Bless this young couple beginning their lives together, and help me to be a blessing in their lives. And thank you for this opportunity to do something so wonderful in a place You created with a paintbrush straight from heaven. Amen.

Seeing Through the Red Mist of Fury . . .

Rage can be consuming, to the point that putting on a happy face to present to the world becomes nearly impossible. Rage is swirls of red, orange and black spinning out of control in your mind's eye. Rage is pinpoint focus, an arrow to a direction that must be taken, a fire in your heart that takes hold until it is extinguished by justice.

Warning to all who think they are above the rest of us, who think they are special and entitled . . .

DO NOT GO AFTER ONE OF MY KIDS! Got it? If you're reading this, and I think you may at some point . . . you've made one very, very poor choice . . . my rage is red, focused and absolutely on fire. . . . but you'll find out soon enough. Justice can really be a bitch sometimes and always seems to land on the right side of the fence, which in this case is the side on which I am standing. You'll see.

A Moment of Remembrance . . . We Will Never Forget

9/11. The mere mention of that date brings a hush and sense of overwhelming sadness to the soul of every red-blooded American. We can all recall the precise moment when we heard what had happened on that horrible day in New York, right here on our home soil, to hard working men and women, to a city, a nation, the world. It was the day when we were stripped of what innocence remained, naked and without the sense of being protected by the very strength of the borders within which we live. It was the day that we realized that we too are vulnerable to the evil that pervades the world and we are no longer insulated from that evil. We can no longer count on the safety that we have taken for granted for so long.

On that day we came together as a country, of one mind . . . one heart . . . one goal. We bonded together, across this nation, every walk of life, every religion, every ethnicity, every political affiliation . . . we united to rebuild, to heal, and to NEVER be victims of such senseless violence again. In the few short years since that day, though it seems as if it were just yesterday, we have deteriorated back to a nation of back biting, fighting, clashing and finger pointing. How quickly the memories of such devastation fade for those who have limited capacity to love our country for what She is, what She has been, and what She could potentially still be. How quickly the selfishness, hypocrisy, hatred and plotting one against another fall back into the old routine, as if the pain and horror of that fateful day never happened.

To those who would push our country down the path of destruction through stupid policies, through quest for power, through greed for more of what our neighbor may have, SHAME ON YOU! To those who walk on the graves of men, women and children who died that horrible day, remember that judgement day is pending for those who still walk this plane, and God is the ultimate judge. While you are busily pushing Him out of our schools, out of our public places, out of the government which was built in His name, and out of the holidays we celebrate in His honor - He is recording your actions, your thoughts, your words and the day is coming when you must relive them . . . through His eyes. At that point it will too late to wish He have mercy on your soul. None are free of sin, but some seem to perpetrate it on purpose and with glee and malice for the innocent, the honorable, the devout.

Please, take a moment to pray for the families and friends of those who perished on 9/11. Pray for the those who so valiantly worked to save as many as they could. Pray for the men and women who have served, and still serve, in our military, striving to protect our nation against such heinous violent acts from happening again. Pray for the families of those who serve. Pray for our country, for the preservation of the constitution on which we have built our very existence.

Where Do The Years Go?

It seems like just yesterday I was in the hospital giving birth to my son . . . but it was yesterday that marked 21 years of his life - 21 amazing years of being the mother to my wonderful boy. I look at him and wonder where the years went, and how did they go by so quickly?

This child created adventure from the moment he decided he was ready to come into this world. He's always been a spontaneous kid, and I knew he was going to be when labor hit suddenly with the breakage of water and sudden onset of continual labor pains. No gentle contractions leading up to it - oh no! Not for my kid! One moment I was sleeping soundly, next I was kneeling on the bathroom floor in a puddle with red hot pain shooting through my body. I never had contractions with my daughter either, so I should have expected something like this - but the doctors had assured me that all births are different. Boy do they lie or what??? After literally nagging my ex out of bed - who was insisting that I had HOURS so go back to sleep - and crawling down the hall dragging my hospital bag with me, grateful my little brother was there to babysit our daughter, I finally got him to take me somewhat seriously, and after ironing his shirt (WHAT THE HECK?) and carefully combing his hair (AGAIN, WHAT THE HECK???), he slowly began the 15 minute (felt like 15 hour) drive to the hospital, where he made me WALK into the emergency room. We'd had 2 false alarms, since I didn't know what to expect I had thought I was in labor before, so he was sure I was making it up. Um, yeah. The water ALWAYS breaks for a false alarm. The nurses recognized me and had the audacity to patronize me. "Are we SURE this time?" UM, YES BI---! WE'RE SURE!" I'm fairly certain my head spun around a couple times and green spew came out - but it all was happening so fast I can't swear it. After an agonizingly slow trip to my room, followed by a quick peek by the nurse on duty, which was followed by an "OMG - I SEE THE BABY'S HEAD - DON'T PUSH!!!" (told ya I wasn't making it up), and a flurry of activity as they got me immediately into delivery, my doctor raced in the room, shoved her hands into gloves and caught G after one mighty push by yours truly. From moment of water breaking - 1hour 47 minutes. When this child makes up his mind about something, he means it!!!

It's been that way since. He was a very strong willed toddler, grew into a strong willed child, moved on to strong willed adult. But he has an equally strong conscience, intelligence, sense of right vs wrong, dedication to family and country, and is a man I am proud to call my son. He's handsome, with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes, and a laugh that is as infectious as it is genuine. He calls life as he sees it, doesn't hide his feelings to spare someone elses, and lives by his own guidelines.

Welcome to 21 son - it seems like just a blink has gone by - but I know you're ready to face life as a full adult as you did your life as a child. With honor, integrity and a sense of fun thrown into the responsibilities of living. I'm proud of you.

More Memories of Kids and Chaos - Ah the Joy . . .

The memories of the grocery store antics of the kids got me to thinking of a couple other funny moments - but they didn't seem all that funny at the time. In retrospect though they were hysterical.

How about the time K, when she was about 6, had been told to go to bed . . . several times. It was getting late, I was getting frustrated, she was bouncing off the walls, and I finally had had enough. I raised my voice and shouted "Go to bed or you're getting a spanking!" I heard her scamper off to the other room with nary another whimper . . . and felt relief that she'd finally listened. Oh, she'd listened all right - the little snip - she came skipping back into the room, all wide-eyed innocence, handed me a wooden spoon and turned to present her backside to me. Confused I asked her what in the world she was doing. Her response? "You said go to bed or get a spanking. I'll take the spanking please." OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! GO TO BED NOW OR YOU'RE GETTING BOTH!!! That was apparently quite unfair because following my outrage came the mournful howls of despair "You saaaiiiiiiddd (sob-sniff-sniff) ORRRRRRR!" Oh brother.

Or when G decided at the ripe old age of 4 that I was cruel and horrible and he just didn't want live with us any more. Apparently I'd told him NO to something 1 too many times for he informed me that "I hate you! I am running away from home!" Without letting him see the blood pouring from the gaping wound he'd just stabbed through my heart, I quietly set about laying out a large bandanna. I made a PB&J sandwich, carefully wrapped it and laid it on the bandanna. I laid 2 juice boxes out there, 2 pairs of underwear and socks, a flashlight, some gloves and a paper with our telephone number and names. I tied it up into a bundle, attached it to the crooked end of his hockey stick, got his jacket, gloves and hat out (it was late October at this point - and dark/chilly out early), some warm boots, bundled the now very confused child up, handed him his stick, showing him how to prop it over his shoulder with the bundle of goodies behind him, and gave him a hug. I said, well, if you really don't want to live here I can't force you. Have a wonderful life. I'll miss you horribly. If you could please call me when you get where you're going so I know you're ok I would appreciate it. I shoved him out the door, gave him a little kiss (by now he was struggling not to cry) and closed and locked the door. At this point K was sobbing - MOOOMMMMY, don't let him leave! shhhh, he's fine. I snuck into a dark room where I could watch him out the window - it was about 6 pm at this point. He walked down the steps and sat down, staring at the house. He heaved a huge sigh. Pretty soon, maybe 5 minutes, he got up and walked across the driveway, watching the door as he went. He sat down on the curb, opened his bundle and ate his sandwich, drank a juice and eyeballed the other stuff inside. He made it to the neighbors driveway, sat back down, drank the 2nd juice (it was 6:30 by now), shoved the underwear/socks/flashlight and bandanna into his pocket, and eyeballed the door awhile longer. I could see him staring down the road toward the gas station a few blocks away, back down the other way to the dark school yard, and back at the house. He headed back to the porch and knocked on the door. "I've decided to wait and run away tomorrow when it's daytime." He never ran away again, and "No" became slightly less traumatic from that day forward. Sometimes you just have to let them grow up and go their own way. They'll usually knock on that door and come home again, sometimes not even 1/2 hr later than when they left.

Memories . . . of the traumas left behind . . .

I read a comment on Facebook by a cousin today, and it brought back so many memories. She had taken her children to the Farmer's Market. One didn't want the corn, one didn't want the blueberries and another wanted everything and had landed in time out for begging. Wow, did that take me back.

How many times did I take my kids to the store, with the strict instructions NOT to beg for anything because we were short on money and we were there to get just what we needed? I couldn't begin to count. The trip would start out as usual, my daughter sitting in the back seat, next to my son's car seat, touching him . . . looking at him . . . making faces at him . . . to which he would scream, cry, or physically lash out. By the time we had gotten to the store K was wearing the face of indignation that comes along with being accused of said touching/looking/making faces . . . and not having her tearful protestations of innocence believed, and G was wailing his head off because he had been touched/looked at/faces made at . . . and had been unsuccessful in his bids for freedom from the car seat and had ended up with his head stuck under a strap it wasn't intended to be stuck under, leaning 1/2 in and 1/2 out of the seat in what didn't look like the configuration a human spine should be able to get into. Ah, yes, the grocery shopping trip had begun.

The struggle to get the wriggling toddler into the cart seat and strapped in would begin, with him raising his legs ever higher away from the cart until he was nearly pulled upside down, in avoidance of putting them into the spaces intended for them. After a battle of strength and wills, tears streaming down his face, he'd be in his seat, sobbing as if I'd beaten the tar out of him, rather than just secured him safely into the cart. I was so mean, huh? During the struggle, with strict instructions to hold onto the cart with one hand and not stray, K would be dancing in place, needing to potty, whining to "huurrrrryyyy". Oh great, NOW she tells me. Thankfully after witnessing the drama of the cart seating, I'm allowed to take the cart into the restroom so we don't have to have a repeat performance. And the potty procedure begins. Dance dance dance while the seat cover is placed carefully onto the seat . . . it slips in. Get another cover . . . dancing gets frenzied . . . finally get onto the seat, business done . . . skip to the sink for washing of hands. No I want to turn on the water Mom . . . but she can't reach it. Lift to turn on water, soaking front of shirt with the water standing on the counter top, lift to get soap, hold in place while hands are lathered, lengthy rinse process begins (to the tune of hollering 2 year old of course), followed by very careful drying of hands, wrists, shirt front, face, counter top . . . I'm exhausted and we haven't even shopped yet.

We are finally shopping, K holding on to side of cart, not straying from my side (thankfully I'd instilled a healthy fear of strangers into her!), slowly wandering up and down each aisle putting things into the cart off the list. Five minutes of peace has passed by, I know it won't last long . . . the battle begins in the cereal section. "Mommy, can we have (insert sweetest, nastiest, least nutritional cereal name here)?" "No, we can't. We're getting X cereal because it's healthy and it's on the list. If it's not on the list we aren't getting it." "But Mooommmmyyyy, I've always wanted to try THAT one, and it looks so good!! Please???" "Not this trip Honey, maybe next time . . ." but at this point the argument is on. Big blue eyes fill up with tears, the sniffling begins, G is grabbing whatever he can reach while I console K, trying to avoid a scene. I'm grabbing and replacing whatever it is he's getting a hold of, he's getting frustrated (join the party kid!), and starting the banshee cry. We have about 1/4 of what was on the list, the window of good, pre-nap moods, is over. The tearful sniffles of K are now full blown crocodile tears, complete with loud, audible sobbing. She has the appearance of a severely neglected child, in her ruffled outfit with matching shoes, hair artfully coiffed as was the style in the late 80's (remember? BIG hair? Oh yeah, she had it going on!) who has just never been given ANYTHING her little heart desired (yeah, right!), and G? Oh he's reaching monumental tantrum proportions by now. I consider ripping his screaming butt out of the cart and giving him the spanking he should have coming, along with the spanking his sister now deserves - but Ms. If You Touch Either of Those Kids I'm Calling the Cops is glaring at me like I'm Ted Bundy in drag. So, I do what any frenzied mom of 2 does . . . I go ahead and rip the screaming, flailing child out of the cart, grab my purse and fling it over my shoulder, take the hand of Miss Drama NW in my free hand, and dragging her out behind me, leave my cart and would-be purchases where they stand, and with my own glare at the interfering looker-on, I take them to the car, spank them both before getting them seated in their belts, and crying my own tears of frustration, head home to throw them both in bed for a nap. I'll go back tonight and leave them at home with their father. Why didn't I think of that before? Geesh!

For Now My Thoughts Can Be Spoken Freely . . .

There are some moments in this life that you take a step back and just say "Wow!" at the absolute inability for some people to accept that you just don't agree with them. For the 8 years of the Bush administration all I heard was griping and gnashing of teeth from the left leaning contingent. Sure President Bush made mistakes - doesn't everyone? It comes with the territory of being human, and the last time I checked there was only One who was deemed to be perfect - and He died and rose again many years ago. Apparently that wasn't good enough for those who view the world as a place to paint with only their own ideas, feeeeelings (we all have to feeeeel good, right?) and opinions. If you differed with them you were slammed between the teeth with the virulent poison that passed as their idea of truth.

Apparently even those I deem to be nice people and liberal at the same time (they are not always easy to find, but they do exist) don't appreciate it when I exercise my right to put it out there that I think every single person who voted for the current regime had their heads up an orifice that was dark and stinky. They didn't use even two brain cells to THINK about what it would mean to elect a wannabe dictator who wishes to strip us of our every constitutional right - one by one. He wants to put us firmly into a socialist way of life - killing the freedoms that we have come to hold so dear. I took one of those polls on Facebook, one that asked me if I would vote to re-elect President O. Well, I stated something to the affect that at least 73.8% of those who voted were using their brains and would not vote to re-elect him. I offended someone - oh poor girl. She's a nice lady and I've had many fun conversations with her, but she's under the misunderstanding that her choice for President was a good one and she commented back to me that she found what I said to be insulting. Well so sorry. Um, no, I'm not.

I'm NOT sorry for exercising my right to say what I feel out loud, and with pride.
I'm NOT sorry that I am a free citizen of the greatest nation in the world, and for the time being it IS still the greatest nation in the world. I'm NOT sorry for insulting this lady - perhaps, just perhaps, there's the smallest chance that she'll think a little before the next go-round at the voting booth. I doubt it, but there's a chance. You see, some people can't admit it if they are wrong. I can. If I turn out to be wrong - which I sincerely doubt will happen - I will admit it. I won't like admitting it, but I'll admit it. But would the left do the same? I doubt it with all of my heart.

So, Let Freedom Ring - Let Your Voices Be Heard - while you can still let those thoughts be spoken freely.

My Country Tis of Thee . . .

Do you remember those old TV commercials with the Native American standing on a ridge, looking down over what used to be rolling hills filled with Buffalo, taking in a scene now filled with litter and careless destruction, while a single tear fell down his weather worn face? That's how I feel lately, every time I turn on the news, log onto my computer, open a newspaper . . . I see the destruction of everything our forefathers put their blood, sweat and tears into building - and it's not a careless destruction.

This is deliberate, done with hatred for the freedoms we hold so dear. It is done with selfishness, with a determination to control. It is done with disdain for those of us who love God, Family and Country with all of our hearts. It is done to ferociously attack and tear down, constitutional right by constitutional right, all that we are as a country, as a people, as a free thinking nation.

It is up to us, the free people, while we can still call ourselves free, to take a stand - no matter the risk - and say ENOUGH! Our forefathers did. They stood up and fought - and many died - for the rights that those in charge are systematically trashing. They stood up and said WE WILL NOT TAKE THIS LYING DOWN! And the didn't! They did what had to be done, took a stand, fought and won. When are we, as a people, as a cohesive voice for freedom, going to come together not in pockets of dissent here and there, but as ONE and fight for this country before she no longer exists?

The line forms here . . .

In Loving Memory of a Beloved Pet

On July 20th I received a call at work from my daughter, who recently moved to a new state, leaving behind her everything she knew and loved - except for her pet chinchilla Lola Rose. Lola became part of our family on my daughter's sweet 16 birthday, and has been beloved and adorable in the 9 years since that day. She went with K to her new home, a solid bit of childhood and security, always cute, always snugly, and always loved. The call from K was horrifying and painful. All I could hear was absolute horror and shock in her voice as she cried "HE KILLED MY BABY! HE KILLED MY BABY!" One of the dogs, a rescue from an abusive home, waited for an opportune moment, broke into the cage and . . . well . . . Lola Rose has gone over the Rainbow Bridge to where we hope and pray she doesn't remember what happened to her. Lola has been laid to rest under a tree in the Colorado mountains, which is sort of back to her roots - since chinchilla are native to the Peruvian mountains. Prayers have been said, flowers decorate her resting place, and her memory will always live on.

This post is in memory of that sweet little furry creature, who made all of us laugh when standing up on her rear legs so she could clutch a raisin in her front paws, little hands actually, and eat the cherished treat. She was so soft it was like holding a little cloud, and could get the most indignant expression on her face when she was woken up unexpectedly, or if she didn't have the treat she wanted - when she wanted it. Lola was a great camper. She even had her own little mini-tent! She'd laze in the shade of the tree under which her tent was set, and sleep the day away, content and snug in her little nest. This little critter could melt the heart of even the most critter hating person, with her comical antics as she took her "bath" in volcanic ash, leaving her with the light grey hue of a little ghost.

May God keep even the least among us safe and in His tender care, and may K see her little friend again someday. And may God grant K peace in her heart over her loss and healing from the pain and trauma of her death.

Happiness Is In the Unexpected Moments . . .

We're in the end stages of moving, so meals are on a catch as catch can basis lately. I've not been buying a lot of groceries at a time because I just don't want to move them again! Anyway, that's why I had to go to WalMart after work the other night, at the worst possible time of day to be there, right after work. Oh my goodness it was crazy busy! People were darting in and out, stopping in front of my cart, pulling in front of me so I'd barely miss hitting them - and I was losing patience pretty quickly. I could actually FEEL my blood pressure rising!

I finished shopping for the items that weren't cold, and headed for the freezer to get some ice cream for dessert - not paying the slightest bit of attention to WHO was around me, just trying not to run over someone's child, or into someone's abandoned cart. I hear this voice from far away . . . "HEY! LOOK WHO'S HERE!! MOM!!! HEY MOM!" and there at the other end of the ice cream freezers was my son and his girlfriend. He ran to me and picked me up in a bear hug, nearly cracking my spine, and lightening my heart. Suddenly all those people didn't mean anything to me, their rudeness faded away, and my world was peaceful. My boy, true to how he's been all of his life, STILL didn't mind hugging his mother in public, and knew exactly how to make all right with my world. Have you hugged your kid today?

Independence Day . . . Thank You For Your Service

This subject nearly overwhelms me to think about. The emotions that arise when I think of the men and women of our armed forces clog my throat, overflow my eyes with tears, and fill my heart with pride. You see I'm from a military family. I had Grandfathers in WWII and the Korean War, my father and uncles were in the Vietnam War, my brother in Desert Storm, my future son-in-law did 2 tours in Iraq - suffering a horrible injury in 2006, my son and future daughter-in-law are in the USCG and have been deployed for one 6 month time, and are looking at another deployment next year. Those are just a few. Many more of my family past and present have served our country. My life is surrounded and filled with these brave men and women who serve our nation, and keep us the independent nation that we are.

My future son-in-law was shot in the face in 2006, he lost his right eye, has had numerous surgeries to repair the shattered bone structure, now has a prosthetic eye, has permanent traumatic brain damage, suffers grand mal seizures, memory loss, etc. but you know what his fondest wish is? To go back, to serve his country again. He is a hero. He saved his men, even AFTER being shot, continuing to do what he was trained to do, even though he was so traumatically injured. God Bless Him. And to this wonderful young man, thank you. Thank you for being in our lives, for serving our country and for being the man you are. Thank you.

My son, my handsome wonderful son, serves our country in the US Coast Guard. He is prepared at any moment to serve both here, and abroad. Daily I pray for his safety, and that of his fiancee who also serves, and that any duty they undertake is done under the hand of God. Thank you son, thank you A. for your service. I love you both with all my heart.

Take some time to pray for our troops. Without them we would be under the rule of Britain to this day. Without them we would not have the freedoms, the choices, the voice to be heard, that we have. They are the backbone of this nation, may God allow them to continue to be in spite of those both within our government and outside of it, who would have it be otherwise.

Sometimes It's The Simplest Things That Make Us Smile

Today was a good day. I'm still tired, I'm still stressed over the pending move and I'm still missing my daughter, but in spite of all that I have to say that today was a good day. My boss's daughter is 9 years old. Since she was 4 we've had a couple days a year that we have a baking date - and today was one of them. My boss brought all the ingredients to work for a fresh peach crisp, and together SC and I baked the office a wonderful, summer scented treat. With the aroma of peaches and cinnamon filling the air, we measured, giggled, discussed the importance of fractions (she IS at that age) to baking, and nibbled at bits of peach with the ripe juice dripping on our fingers. When we shared the treat with the office staff, together we shared the glory of a job well done, and through it all I felt a sense of pride and satisfaction at sharing something I love doing with a little girl who so obviously loves learning to do it as well.

Grab a moment of summer as the days fly by, and enjoy the fruits of the season, both literally and figuratively. Steal a few moments with a child who views the world with joy and awe, and for just a moment become a child again. It makes for a truly good day.

Where'd All This Stuff Come From???

We're moving. For most people who may read this, that's about enough said to make them groan. I don't know anyone who LIKES the process of moving. The excitement of finding "THE" house that we wanted to buy was great, the thrill of mentally putting things in their proper new place, envisioning new furniture to fill all that extra space, getting rid of old furniture that has been following us around . . . all of that is great! But the reality of packing really doesn't generate any fuzzy feelings - unless you're counting the dust bunnies we're chasing out from under the bed. How in the world did we manage to accumulate all this stuff in the 3 years we've lived in this house? I don't get it! When we moved in here we'd gotten rid of a lot of extra junk, and the move before that, for both my husband and I, was a post divorce move - so we'd already unloaded lots of dead weight - in addition to the ex's. Each cupboard, drawer, closet and corner seems to be overflowing with stuff that we either don't need, forgot we had, or may use "someday". We have a mountain of boxes in the family room, some more in the dining/kitchen area, more yet in our separate offices - we haven't even touched the guest room yet - eeek! So far we don't know when the new house will close, but we have to be out of the old one by mid-July. There's this limbo-stuck between worlds feeling for both of us that we'd really like to shake and begin the final move into the first home we're purchasing together. And, as if this weren't bad enough, time seems to have slowed down to negative speeds in land of belonging nowhere. They say a watched pot doesn't boil - so what should the saying be for closing a home purchase?

For now, we'll finish the packing, work around the boxes, and try not to turn blue holding our breath waiting for things to happen, and make the promise to ourselves that THIS time I hope we keep - to not keep the clutter, always be organized, and free ourselves of the bondage of too much unnecessary junk. Please pass some packing paper Honey . . .

Missing Summer Vacations . . .

Ah summer. How I'd love to go back and be a kid again during these months. The anticipation of the end of the school year, staring out the window distracted by the sun, signing yearbooks, and the rush of freedom as crowds of stir-crazy kids made the last exodus of the school year out those doors and onto the buses and into cars to head out for fun in the sun.

I was one of those kids who always had a job, but that didn't distract from the fun. One of my jobs was at a Christian Campground where youth groups came for retreats. Break times were spent canoeing, lazing on the little island in the middle of the lake, horseback riding, or running the obstacle course. Even being on duty was fun, serving the food in the mess hall, working in the concession stand afterwards, living in the cabins at night, doing housekeeping duties in between times. Those days were filled to the brim with laughter, sunshine, hard work, and great memories.

It's funny how kids eagerly rush into adulthood, never realizing that with that growth comes responsibility and the forfeiture of lazy sleep-in days, jobs that inject summer fun into the duty roster, and the endless energy that made those days longer and fuller than any others for the rest of the year.

It is because of these memories that I encourage each of us to go camping, take a hike, roast hot dogs or marshmallows over a fire, skip rocks on the lake, take some time for a lazy sleep-in, or just lay in the middle of a meadow of flowers watching the clouds float by overhead. Re-live at least one childhood summer memory as you go about the business of being a grown-up. It'll make your summer feel like summer, and breathe fresh air into the monotony of yet another day. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to plan a picnic!

A Mother's Pride Knows No Bounds . . .

I've shared my joys, sorrows and angst about my daughter - I've been consumed by thoughts of her lately. But today she and her man hit the road for their new adventure and rather than crying I find myself content and happy for her. I have neglected to share my joy about my handsome, wonderful son though, so here it is . . .

G started out life quickly. His was a speedy labor and delivery - 1.5 hrs from the moment of the first pain/breaking of the water, to the moment the nurse held him up to me in delivery. He had this blond hair sticking up all over his head - almost like a real life little Bart Simpson. He was a headstrong child from the first moment he opened his eyes, and continued to show his independence with his first words - not the traditional Mommy or Daddy, but "I Don't Want To" Really? "I Don't Want to"? Oh man, I knew I was in for it. And sure enough, through age 4 I wasn't sure whether to just sit in the corner mumbling to myself and plugging my ears, run screaming from the house and never return, or just do what I did - spend a lot of time crying and praying for relief from this age. It passed, he learned to communicate his needs and we began to come to understand each other. And what a joy those following years were.

He has always been goal oriented, from his first words to the present, he's set his eyes on a goal and made sure he reached it. By the time he was 12 he decided he wanted to be in some form of law enforcement and researched how to get there and what to do to make a great resume before he even had a job. He joined our county's Emergency Search and Rescue team by the time he was 14, which is the youngest age they allow to join, was a team leader by 16, became a Sheriff's Cadet by 17, took special classes in the local tech school for Law Enforcement and Fire Safety, and 3 days after he turned 18 years old, just 2 short months after graduation from high school, he left for United States Coast Guard Basic Training, with the ultimate goal of drug interdiction as a career path. If you thought I cried over my daughter leaving, you can imagine what I went through when he walked out that door, uniforms and gear in hand, not to be heard from til not long before graduation. I've never been more proud than when I sat in the audience watching him walk across that floor to receive his graduation pin.

He came home and left almost immediately for advanced training, followed by a brief time at home, then he was deployed outside the U.S. for 6 months. Again, with the tears, the anguish - but oh the pride. My son is serving his country with pride and dedication. What more could a mother ask? Well, there are a few things, like . . .

Stop driving that blasted motorcycle so fast. Quit smoking - it'll kill you faster than the motorcyle will. I don't care what I say . . .it's always right because I'm the Mom (ok, that part is tongue in cheek - a little). And always be honest and treat other people with respect and integrity. I'm happy to say that the last one he does, always. My headstrong little boy turned out to be an amazing young man, and worth the bruises I got beating my head against the wall of his stubborn will.

Thoughts of My Daughter . . .

Where do the years go? I remember the day I found out I was pregnant with my daughter as clearly as if it happened yesterday . . . the day I went into labor with her. . . her first day of school . . . her first real date. . . the day she moved out on her own . . . bringing us to today, the day I bid her farewell as she leaves her home state to move away for the first time. There are snapshots of memories racing through my mind's eye, most of them wonderful, some not so wonderful but equally important, some serious, and many silly. Each one is a blessing as they mark events in the life of one of the three biggest blessings of my existence. My daughter is my first blessing, my son is my second, and the third is finding the man of my dreams at the onset of the second half of my life. But for this segment, this will be about my daughter.

She was the most beautiful baby girl ever born. It has to be true - all the nurses said so and we know they see an awful lot of babies! From day one she drew everyone to her side like moth to flame, her personality one that just attracted young and old. She stayed beautiful, and became irresistible over time. She is the brunette Marilyn Monroe of her lifetime, or would be if she were ever to grace the silver screen. Everyone thinks I exaggerate, until they lay eyes on her. It's pretty incredible. It is very common for me to shake my head in disbelief that someone so beautiful, with a personality so magnetic, could have come from me. But she did, and even though she does have faults, as do we all, I tend to see the good and the true, the beautiful and the dynamic. She is my little girl, but I am fortunate enough to include her as my friend.

She is moving away, but distance is relative in this world in which we live. She will be back, and I will visit her in her new home. We will talk every day, we will email, we will IM, we will text. The only change is geography. So, since this is true, why do I feel like I'm losing a piece of my heart? Why do I feel like I'm being ripped to shreds from the inside out? Why do I feel like the tears just will not stop? I don't have answers to those questions. Children don't come with a guidebook that teaches you how to deal with every situation as it arises. I've taken every life event as it comes along, and dealt with it flying by the seat of my pants. This isn't any different.

So, now I'm off, in typical Mom fashion, to bake cookies for her trip. Gotta have cookies on the road right? Hey! It's something I can DO til it's time to cry as I hug her goodbye. I'll know she has something of me to carry with her into her new life, since I can't be there myself. Now where did I put that cinnamon?

Once Upon A Time . . .

Once upon a time there was a young girl of 16 who became friends with a young boy of 17. She was innocent and naive and took words at face value - because why would anyone feel the need to lie about love, friendship and feelings? So they moved on from friendship to dating, from dating to early pending parenthood and subsequent marriage. A bride at 18, a mom at 19, she was in love and just knew that the rest of her life was a blessing in the making. She closed her ears to the words of those who would say negative things about her groom, and everyone seemed to be inclined to give an opinion that wasn't to her liking. She put her fingers in her ears and spent the next 22 years with the sounds of lalalalala in her head to tune out the truth that those who truly loved her were trying to get her to hear.

Things were wonderful in her sunshine world of blind and deaf adoration and ignorance. She loved her daughter and her son with all of her heart and knew that life was bliss. The signs were all around her that not all was as it should be, but rather than see it she focused on the things that were good - and there were many things that were. The family times with the four of them were wonderful. Playing with the children, holidays and the traditions they created, the little trips they took. They did create memories that were pleasing to all of them. But always on the edge of her world was the grey cloud that she pretended wasn't there, but that grew darker with time, and which inevitably would burst a storm onto her world.

Sure enough, their daughter grew up and moved on with her life, embarking on adventures on her own. Their son was getting near to that point as well. The woman, still blinded to what was going on in her own life, still heard the sound of happy thoughts drowning out the unhappy ones. She worked hard, commuting long hours to and from work, 5 per day in all! She made excuses for why her prince couldn't keep a job for any length of time, and why he just couldn't get along with others on the job - it was always someone else's fault. It had to be! He said it was so, so it must be. He kept her from questioning his whereabouts and who his friends were with harsh words and name calling, and she did her share of giving back as good as she got. They were experts at hurting each other by this point in their lives, but still she lalalala out the bad and just knew that once this stress, or that stress, went away that life would be perfect again. It didn't matter that by now her self-esteem had been beaten to a pulp, her confidence was crushed, and she depended completely on him for any positive affirmation - which was never forthcoming.

One day the grey clouds burst and the storm rained down. He was leaving her. He said he was unhappy, but it was him - not her. No, there wasn't anyone else. He'd been faithful, he had! And because he had said it, then it must be true. She looked to herself, blaming herself for not working hard enough, not being pretty enough, not being good enough . . . though the voices of her family said otherwise. Eventually the truth did come out. There was someone else. Had been for quite awhile. And she wasn't the only one. There were many, some of them friends of hers, some not. It had started not long after they had gotten married and continued through the entire 22 years. The lies and the secrets had compounded all while the chorus of lalalalala played in her head. The voices of the family had been speaking the truth all those years, while the verbal, mental and emotional abuse created layers of scars that would take years to peel away.

The woman, who set out on a new life now had her eyes opened to the truth that had been all around her for her entire grown-up life. And she set out on an adventure of her own. She met a real man with no pretense of being a prince. He had honor, integrity and wisdom. He had a quiet authority that radiated strength of spirit, mind and body. He fell in love with her, and she with him, and a world such as she'd never experienced before opened up her eyes to what a joy life could be. She learned that two people can speak the truth to each other and be happy without lies. She learned that it was wonderful not to be called hateful, vile names daily. She learned that it was true happiness when two people worked together as a team, rather than one person working and the other taking. Life wasn't perfect, life never is, there are disagreements, sometimes even arguments, but underneath it all is love, dedication and truth. Her adventure continues with the real man of her dreams, and she anticipates that life will be good and any bumps on the road will be traveled with balance and support from one to the other.

And they anticipate living happily ever after . . .

Oh, and a sidenote - evil continues to perpetuate evil, and bring sadness and mayhem into the lives of all to whom it is connected. Listen to the voices of truth and let not the lalalala of the fairy tale song drown them out.

We Always Hurt the Ones We Love . .. But Why?

It was a rough day. I suspect that the next few will be . . . and the few after that . . . and so on. As I've said before, my daughter is spreading her wings and she's flying into a new chapter of her life. It is taking her far from everything she's ever known, and everyone that she is leaving behind are grieving. Intellectually I know that she's under a great deal of stress and she's nearly to the emotional breaking point. But I'm also to that point and the forest is getting in the way of the trees.

My focus has been primarily on my loss, my feelings, my hurt, and how lonely I'm going to be for her presence in my daily life. Even though I don't see her every day, knowing she's nearby has been enough to feel her. She radiates this energy, a sort of glow, that is hard to describe to anyone who hasn't felt it. She's had this since the day she was born, actually before she was born but I was the only one to know it at that time. Since then she's been radiating it to everyone in her periphery - and even those who don't claim to love her as I do still feel it. Anyway, today the emotions hit a high point and we clashed. And that's the last thing we want to do! We love each other, yet here we are playing push me/pull you against each other instead of trying to be calm, take a breath, and help each other through this. I know our love hasn't faltered, and our relationship will be intact on the other side, but still . . . it hurts to know that in these last few days of being in the same state we have hurt each other. Forgiveness isn't in question, forgetfulness may be. I do not want my child leaving with harsh words between us, I want her to remember only how hard and close I hold her, and as she drives away I want her to know that my love for her is endless.

So for now, this moment, I'll set aside my own feelings and pain, I will pull her into my arms and I will send her into her new life with my blessing. I will be as unselfish as I am capable of being and I will force a smile to my lips and save as many of my tears as I can for after she can't see them any more. It isn't going to be easy . . . but it's what I need to do so I'm not hurting this child that I love so very much. Fly free my darling girl, have the most blessed life in your new home. This isn't going to be goodbye, it's "til I see you again".

Whew - let's just hope I can do that when the moment comes. I'll keep you posted.

My Favorite Memory of My Dad . . . To Date . . .

Father's Day - it means a lot to some Dads, not much to other Dads, and nothing at all to still others. I love my Dad. We aren't exceptionally close in the way of being in constant contact, but I know in my heart he'd do anything for me, and he knows I'd do anything for him. I envy the girls who had an especially wonderful relationship with their fathers, because mine is lacking in the BIG memory moments. He worked at night and missed a lot during those growing up years, so many of my formative years were mainly of him coming home to sleep. But he worked those hours to keep a roof over our heads, food in the fridge and provide the other things we needed. Now that I'm an adult I can see how special that is and acknowledge how much that shows the depths of his love for us.

My best memory though, hands down, was of piano practice after school. You can imagine how it was - hours of practice, hearing the same song and the same notes again and again. I got nervous in front of other people - still do even as an adult - but not in front of my Dad. He was never judgemental of mistakes, hesitations or forgotten notes. He would just sit silently in his chair, put his head back, close his eyes and listen with this peaceful expression on his face, quietly tapping one finger in time with the music and sometimes even humming along. Once in awhile he'd quietly tell me to repeat a section again, then sit there listening to it - sometimes more than just a few times. I miss those quiet days of piano practice with my dad. His acceptance and his pride in my playing always kept me going. When I feel like something is just too difficult to master and I want to give up I can hear him quietly telling me to try it again.

Happy Father's Day Daddy. I'm so proud to call you Dad.

KR

I Don't Know How To Do This . . .

My precious daughter, a young woman I am SO proud of, and love so incredibly much, informed me just 1 short week ago that she is moving 1161 miles away. Ok, she didn't tell me the exact miles, but in typical MOM style I looked it up. And then I fell apart. I have been crying on and off for the entire week and at some point I keep thinking that perhaps there's a bottom of the tear supply, but I haven't found it yet if there is. Flashes of her life keep running through my head and I know that she is a responsible adult, that I've raised her to be independent, that I did a good job - that knowledge is lost in the depths of the soul wracking grief that I am feeling. I don't know how to do this!!! I don't know how to hug her good-bye and watch her drive away, not knowing when I'll see her again. I don't know how to live my life with my precious child too far away to surprise for lunch, or to take to the latest girl movie, or just to have the knowledge that she's only a few towns over so we can disconnect from our busy lives and connect with each other for awhile.

She is making her life with the man she loves, and who we have come to love as well. She is choosing to go with him to the place where he was raised, to be with his family as he has been with hers up til now. She is trading in her stilettos and city job, for life in the country, on a farm (the mind still boggles at the thought)experiencing things she never imagined she'd be experiencing. I'm happy for her, I'm thrilled that she is strong enough to make this change and know that it will be an adventure for her. I guess I'm grieving for me, and for the loss that I'm feeling. I'm still her mom. She still needs me. Sometimes I wonder if it's my own need for her that I'm struggling with, and dealing with the distance is just a by-product of this need. You see, I thought my children would always be near-by, would always be around for me to mother. It's hard to see that I've done what I set out to do 25 years ago. I raised an amazing woman, a beautiful, vivacious, intelligent creation who the world is so lucky to have living in it. She is ready to spread her wings and fly . . . and I have to step back and allow it to happen without soaking those wings with my tears.

How do I do this? I don't know. I guess the same way I dealt with it when my baby was deployed to foreign soil to serve his country over a year ago . . . but that's a different story and a different set of tears. Next time perhaps.