Everybody Has an Acronym

Whatever happened to the good ol' Parent Teacher Conference? Hubby and I went to D4's S.E.O.P. today. Yah, that's right. S.E.O.P. Don't ask me. I have no idea what it stands for. I'm sure I could find out. I'm sure it's logical. But, is there something wrong with us just calling something by it's name. Do we have to shorten everything to an acronym these days? You go some places and they have so many acronyms it's like they are speaking a foreign language. Honestly--it just seems silly. By the way-D4 is doing great in the 8th grade and is headed for a Harvard Scholarship. OK--I'm exaggerating. But she is doing great and she's a terrific kid.

Here Comes the Bride . . .

I spent the day with the bride to be. D2 and I had a lovely day running around together picking out those "last on the list" items needed for the wedding and reception. We spent a lot of time talking and laughing today and it was just fun to be together. She took the day off work so we could get more accomplished and it worked out nicely. We took D5 with us, tried out the new stroller and enjoyed ourselves as everyone stopped to tell us how cute our new baby is. It was a good day. I love my girls.

You Don't Have to Tell Me I'm Crazy!

Having a new baby and planning a wedding in the same 30 day period is nuts! But then, it's not like we always get to choose exactly what and when things happen to us in our lives. I'd have had my babies earlier given my personal choice--but then I wouldn't have had this very special spirit in my life, right now. She is such a sweet baby. Things happen as they should--it's just not always the way we think they should at the time. It all works out in the end, though.

As for the wedding plans, they are coming along. Two weeks and a couple days to go. At least that much planning left to do. HEY--don't blame me. I would have had it all done by now. Young minds seem to have a harder time deciding exactly what they want to do. Like I said--you don't have to tell me I'm crazy. I've been driving there for a while, now.

Finally, I'm A Sleep-Deprived New Mommy . . .

Who would have thought you could find gratitude in things like sleep deprivation? Not me. I wouldn't have thought so anyway--but I have found it. I'm grateful for whatever it takes--whatever it costs to have this little lamb in my life. I've waited so long to have a newborn babe in my world--and I will take everything that comes with it and do my best not to whine or complain. (Well, I may whine a little--but then I promise to be grateful after. Will that work?)

An Act of Kindness

I went out with the baby for the first time alone today. I had to take her to the doctor and then stop and get formula and a few other things from Wally's World. As I was leaving the superstore a super storm blew in and rain was pelting the ground. I was just ready to take my cart and baby and dash into it when a sweet young boy with a Spanish accent came running up to me with a blanket and said "Miss, Miss -- for your baby!" I said--"Oh, it's O.K.", but he insisted and said, "You can keep it." Then he ran back into the store where he had come from. I can only assume I had passed him and his mother on their way into the store as I was heading out into the pouring rain. She must have sent him to rescue my sweet baby with her own baby's blanket. It happened so fast I'm not even sure I got out a "thank you."

I put the blanket over my baby's carrier and was so grateful for it as I searched the parking lot for my car. I'd forgotten where I parked and I was drenched by the time I found it--but my sweet child was not--thanks to this kind young child and his mother. I thought about this act of kindness all the way home and had no doubt it had come from the heart of a loving mother. I only wish I had looked back beyond the young boy to thank his mother whom I'm sure was watching for him to come back safely.

There is so much kindness in the world if we will just stop and recognize it. There can be so much more if we participate. I am so grateful someone took a moment to see my need today and fill it. I guess the best way I can say thank you now is to pass that kindness on. I challenge you to do the same.

I Only Thought I Was In Charge . . .

I had big ideas about changing this little one's schedule. I thought "no problem" that she's not sleeping through the night. Once I get her home and things normalize a bit, I'll just keep her awake most of the day and then she'll sleep most of the night. Ha, Ha, Ha! I'm so funny and so naive. I actually believed I was in charge. Silly me!

Apparently everyone who has ever had a baby in their home knows the baby is in charge. Have you ever tried to wake a deeply sleeping baby? Well, fyi, this one is having none of it, thank you very much. She's tired and she's going to sleep until she's done. Plus, funny thing--when you've been woken up several times in the night for feedings all of the sudden you don't mind the baby sleeping during the day so you can nap, too. It becomes this defeating cycle you can't seem to get out of and there seems no way to actually change the schedule in the end. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, I was thinking I was in charge . . . I've got to stop doing that!

p.s. Did I mention I love her to pieces?!

Things That Bug

1. Rude Drivers-I mean how much effort does it take to wave a thank you when someone lets you in just in time to get off at your exit.

2. Long Lines- There is very little I want that is worth standing in a line to get.

3. Teenagers (or adults) who can't count back change without the cash register giving them the exact amount.

4. Being lied to.

5. Someone who mispronounces names or words and refuses to learn to pronounce them correctly.

6. People who don't take care of their animals.

Well, this is just the short list--there is plenty more to come . . .

Sing, Sing, Sing, Something, Something . . .

Now where was I? Oh yeah-I'm home. Home Sweet Home. There's nothing else quite like it. I'll stop before this turns to dribble. It's true though. There's no place like Home.

Where Are Those Ruby Slippers When You Need Them?

Yea! Permission granted to take our baby home. Darn! Just short of enough time to make the flight. No more seats on any flights today. Unbelievable! Well, that is unless you want to pay a $1000 or more per ticket. We decided we weren't that desperate. Tomorrow will have to do.

Honestly, we feel absolutely blessed to have had everything go so smoothly this time. Plus, we had the wonderful addition of having G-Paw and Mimi join us, as they are lovingly called by their grandkids. (To me they are a favorite aunt and uncle!) We were so thrilled and grateful to have them here with us giving us support through some difficult and then wonderful hours. Thank you Mimi. Thank you G-Paw. Know that you are loved!

Home again, home again Jiggity jog!

Illness and Poverty Suck

Hubby and I did laundry in a laundromat today as we are still thousands of miles from home. We had D5 in tow (that's fun to say-D5-yeah!) and met a couple of lovely new people. One was a 42 year old woman we learned had Multiple Sclerosis. She had been having symptoms for a couple of years but was just diagnosed last year. Some of her symptoms are similar to Hubby's late wife's symptoms--and of course, this woman is near the same age.

When this woman told us she had M.S., it explained her difficulty in getting around. She went on to talk about several of her symptoms before Hubby mentioned that his first wife had had the disease. I flinched a little inside when he said it--because we had already told her enough about our life that I was worried she would make the connection and sure enough--she did--and quickly. She nearly jumped. It startled her so much she nearly jumped. She said, "Oh No--and she--she died from it!" I stammered out really fast--as fast as I could--"But hers was really, really bad." I didn't know what else to say. Hubby backtracked a little, too.

Many of this lady's symptoms were similar to Hubby's first wife's symptoms, too but I didn't want for us to be the ones to tell her that her prognosis may be serious if she didn't know that already. The worst part was she was not on any of the medications available for M.S. or any of its symptoms. She said there was no way they could afford them--it would be $1,500.00 per month. Staggering. It didn't sound like they had insurance at all. She didn't seem to even know much indepth information about the disease she has. I know the only way Hubby and his wife afforded them was he worked for the company that made many of them and had good insurance. Still some of the costs were beyond reach.

This sweet woman has already had to stop driving because she can't feel the pedals under her feet anymore, something that happened to Hubby's first wife much later in the progression of the disease. And yet, this woman still has children at home so she has to be dropped off at a laundromat to once a week to do laundry for the family even when she feels so sick. I wish she could at least get the medication she needs. It made me sad to see a situation like this. My heart and prayers go out to her.

There's No Place Like Home

Wow, can't wait to get home with this baby and see my other girls. So many hoops to jump through. Fax this, notarize that, transfer this, mail that--run here-take this there--it's amazing anyone survives this process. It has been long and arduous--and yet, everybit worth the prize.
Love this little babe to pieces. More later.

Miracles Are Alive and Well--Just in Case You Were Wondering

SHE SIGNED.

In case you weren't following me closely enough to catch my drifts, my husband and I have our long awaited little miracle-a beautiful newborn baby girl. The mother who gave her life allowed us to adopt her and we will always make sure our little girl knows how much her natural mother loved her. We will make sure she knows we prayed her and her mom into our lives. We feel so blessed to have the opportunity to raise this sweet child. We are simply over the moon. Our hearts are so full of thanks for all the prayers, love and support you have all given us. We know we are loved and blessed by your goodness. Thank you. We love you all.

We can't wait for you to see her and hold her. She is a sweet addition to our already estrogen laden family. Hubby is thrilled. :) No really.

Will She or Won't She

It's 10:00 p.m. where I am. I have been waiting for 65 hours. I have ten more hours to go. I should tell you right now I am not a patient person. I've known that about myself for quite some time. Life's lessons have not managed to make me much more patient--but they have given me a few souvenirs, i.e., migraines, an esophageal ulcer, a few wrinkles, a few more gray hairs (which I now gladly cover up with demi-permanent hair dye), sore aching neck and back muscles and a touch of irritable bowel syndrome-ibs for short. But patience, unfortunately, has eluded me.

So where were we--oh yes, nine hours, 51 minutes. Will she sign or won't she. Looks good at the moment. That's all I can tell you. I'm going to try to get some sleep now. I don't expect it to happen--the sleep that is. Everything else-I'm being positive about. I believe in angels and miracles--and I'm planning on one.

Please keep us in your prayers.

Gimmee A Break!

I read a story in the New York Times today about yet another prison inmate suing the prison systems. First of all, aren't most inmates in prison because they have committed a crime that caused them to lose their rights? Second, aren't all these lawsuits generated by frustrated prisoners clogging up our legal system and costing law-abiding tax payers more money? Aren't we the ones paying the bill? I'm pretty darn sure the answers to those all those questions are "YES!"

Okay, so here's the story from today's times.

IMPRISONED RABBI SUES OVER SPACE FOR PRAYER

"Let me splain. No, there is too much--let me sum-up." This lawsuit is brought by a man, in fact, a Rabbi, who asserts his religious beliefs are being violated. In 2003 he was sentenced to 27 years in prison for over $4 million dollars worth of fraud, (i.e. submitting false death claims to insurance companies, defrauding banks with counterfeit checks, soliciting money for fake lotteries) basically financial fraud to a lofty degree.

The Rabbi claims it is against his religion to pray in a room where there is a toilet (making his cell off limits.) According to the article, an expert on Jewish law has comfirmed that Observant Jews cannot pray in a bathroom.

So, what I get out of that is that this Rabbi is claiming through his lawsuit (with our money) that it is very important to him to follow the covenants of his religion. He is also blaming the prison system and society for taking those rights away from him. Following me so far? Okay--so here's where I get lost in his argument. I'll bet if we checked with the expert on Jewish Law or for that matter with an expert on any other religious law--say Catholic, Baptist, Pentecostal, Born Again, LDS, Methodist, Seventh Day Adventist--You name it--I'll bet that expert would tell you that Observant _______ are not allowed to defraud people, banks or insurance companies or any other entities of their money. I'll bet they would also tell you that Observant or Orthodox members of their faith are not allowed to be dishonest or disobey the law of the land. Hmmm.

Everyone still with me? You are using your religious nature to sue us for more freedom--and yet it is your lack of religious nature that lost you your freedom. I am honestly not trying to make light of anyone's religious beliefs or habits. It just seems to me if you are worried about whether or not you can pray in your prison cell because there is a toilet there and it is unclean--you also might want to be concerned that you stole money from people and businesses that didn't belong to you. Again you are in a place with less freedom because you created that situation. If you were really as religious as you profess to be-would you be in prison for stealing?

Gimmee A Break, Rabbi.

We're off to see the wizard

We're going to ask him for a baby. Say a prayer for us.

This should prove interesting

I promised D4 (my 14 year old) a mommy/daughter date and I thought of something pretty creative. Luckily she thinks it sounds like crazy fun. Better defined as crazy for me, fun for her! We are going to Deseret Industries-for those of you in the midwest, it's the equivalent of Goodwill.

Here are the rules of the game. We each pick out a church outfit of our choice for the other one-site unseen. It can be as unique or odd as we choose as long as it meets church standards which are modest and is appropriate for Sunday dress. Other than that--anything goes! We must both wear our outfits to church the next Sunday. Pictures will be taken.

I'm frightened-very frightened. But then--she should be too. Hee hee hee . . .

Gee, I wonder where hubby, aka daddy will sit that Sunday?

Wash Your Hands People, PLEASE!

Is nothing sacred? Must there be fecal matter on everything? Have you seen the new study on cut lemons for your drinks in restaurants. C'mon people please?! This is ridiculous. Wash your hands.

Honestly, someone needs to invent the Tattletale Alarm. It needs to be posted on restroom doors in restaurants and homes all over America--maybe all over the world. With all the technology out there it seems pretty simple to me. It could be a sensor on the door knob or up and down the door that detects fecal matter or other germs when you touch it; it could be a light sensor that goes off as you open the door checking your hands and skin for bacteria. Maybe its as simple as a computer registering that soap, water and hand towels were not used in the facility after the toilet flushed. It could be any number of new inventions. Go to it young minds. Save us from the filthy beasts.

Regardless of how these health infractions are detected--especially if it ends up being a restaurant employee, I say the Tattletale Alarm goes off. No Mercy. It's loud. It's embarrassing. It gives your name, your social security number, your mother's maiden name, and how old you were when you stopped wetting the bed. It sends your cell phone number to all of texting America, to the my space generation and your home address to every person who can no longer enjoy a lemon slice in their diet coke or iced tea.

Is this really what you want to have happen--or would it just be simpler to put your hands together with some antibacterial soap underneath some warm water for a minute or so? Gads. What is wrong with you?

Yes, I am honked off--in case you didn't catch it, because I know the liklihood of you changing is just no darn good. I have to either give up my lemon and lime slices or bring them from home. I guess my third option is to catch whatever you have and I just say "no thank you" to that.

Arrrgggghhh.

Feet in the Back

Sometimes we let the dogs sleep on our king-sized bed with us. Well, actually only one of them usually stays up on the bed after the lights are out. That would be Tashie (short for Natasha)-she's the black one. She loves her mommy. She follows me everywhere. I don't know why but there is something comforting about having her at my feet or along my side. There just is.

My husband and I both hate the dog hair, though--but then, that's a whole other blog. The other thing my husband can't stand is not having enough space. He's 6'5 with a bullet. In other words the bed is just barely long enough to accomodate his Guiness Book body. So, the other day he said to me-- and not as a question or even a discussion item mind you "Listen, the dogs can come up on the bed to say goodnight and get their treat but then they have to get off when we're ready to sleep for the night. Lately, when Tashie sleeps on your feet at night and you don't have enough room you've been putting your feet in my back and then I have to move over so far I almost fall off the bed." Fine. I can do that. And I have been doing that. It's just been the two of us in bed at night--me and hubby. Tashie and I have both been handling it very maturely.

But then today. Hubby and I laid down for a late afternoon nap. It was great. Tashie jumped up and laid at my feet and I was ready to slumber when all of the sudden hubby barked the command to Tashie to get down. I whimpered. Tashie obeyed. Hubby looked at me and said. "It's Tashie or me?" I was silent for several seconds. Hubby stared at me. "What?", I asked. "I'm thinking!"

I'm too Bloggity, blog tired tonight!

Darn and I've been saving up some good stuff for you, too. I'm running around like a crazed woman trying to make it to a wedding on time. The problem is I have everything left to do along the way. Gee, I hope I make it in time. That is if D2 doesn't kill me along the way--either intentionally for forcing her into a decision making roll in her own wedding or accidentally by whacking that nagging fly that keeps buzzing round her looking for anwers. Oh well, it's got to get done one way or the other. Wish me luck.

By the way--and not just as an aside. I met my gorgeous. loving husband three years ago tonight. Yep. I had been talking to him online for a few days and he suggested a date. I accepted -- and just had the funniest feeling this might be the guy. Seriously, I did. In the meantime, one of my older cousins had been very sick with a terminal illness and he passes away late the night before. I wanted to just hop on a plane the next morning so I could get home and comfort his brother and sisters. But something stopped me--I had a strong feeling I needed to keep my committment and go on this date--and then get on a plane the next morning. So, that's what I did. It was the best call I ever made. I think Cousin Bill would have been proud of me!

Well, Happy Anniversary to me and my gorgeous man. Sure took him long enough to find me! Love you babe!

To Blog . . .

Some have wondered where the word "blog" came from. I know it certainly wasn't a word that could be found in my high school dictionary. Anyway, my peeps tell me it started out being called a Web Log and is a personal online diary or for some a "pulpit" of sorts.

Well, you can see how that's just a mouthful to say. I mean, Web Log doesn't just tumble easily off your tongue. "Hey Joe, go check out my Web Log. It's really cool." I mean you can't say Web Log six time fast without it becoming a different word anyway. So, like every other difficult to pronounce name, i.e. Tzouanakis to TZ (my grade school principal) or phrase "blood-sucking-parasite" to "teenager" it got shortened to "BLOG." See example--Web log=(weblog). Make sense now? More history than you cared to know? Yah, I thought so. Sorry.

**(In fairness I do have to give my husband credit for the teenager comment--although he is trying to be humorous! I can't have all the fun by myself.)

Nervous Nelly

I had the best idea for a post today but here it is nearly midnight and I'm just getting started. My 27 year old mind wants to but my 47 year old body is just saying "NO". This is where the mind gets frustrated because you see the body has total control. It's true. It's not like the mind can just get up and walk off on its own and do whatever it wants. If the body gets in bed the mind has to lay there whether it wants to or not. (Don't pay too much attention to the whining-tonight it wants to just lay there and go into deep hibernation.) I spent all day with the Honeymooners. To you older folks - you'll know who I mean - yes, Ralph and Alice--and the funny thing is they aren't even married yet but they are acting just like the Kramdens. Wow.

We did make progress today. I had custody of the lovebirds from about noon until 7:30 p.m. and we got the cake ordered, arranged for the bride's dress to be ironed, got the bridal portraits arranged with our wonderful and brilliant photographer (how was that Lori? - good plug, eh?), arranged for D2's hair to be done for the bridal portraits, bought a beautiful tiara for her to wear with her veil, found and bought the pattern and material for the bridesmaid's skirts and ordered the wedding flowers--oh yeah, and took a couple of time outs for D2 and fiance boy (he's actually a really great guy-I just haven't thought of a good pseudo-name for him yet) to have a couple of tiffs --to which I played junior psychologist. It's all good though--that only cost us and extra hour or so. Ralph and Alice have now made up and I am exhausted! My brain loses - my body wins and I get to sleep.

It seems the closer you get to a wedding the shorter everyone's nerves get. There should be a nerve bank somewhere. That's a good idea don't you think? Someone could make good money loaning nerves to people when they are short on them. I know lots of people who could use more nerve.

Come to think of it, I've met quite a few people who have a lot of nerve. What if we just ran a nerve exchange. Then again--that might be difficult--you'd probably have to force the people with a lot of nerve to give to those without much nerve. Of course, doing that would take a lot of nerve. I'm going to have to think about that for awhile--it's all kind of nerve-racking!

By the way--what does this have to do with weddings anyway. . ?

Sick Rules

D4 (our 14 year old daughter) was throwing up when I woke up this morning. Her dad had gotten up to take her to school and instead of finding her waiting for him at the front door like usual he instead found her kneeling and somewhat unforgivingly genuflecting at the porcelain alter. He then did what apparently he considered his next responsibility. He came in and made sure I was awake and knew she was sick so he could go back to snoresville where he had come from. Is that like an automatic Dad thing or what? It's like they have this idea they are in a relay race and just made the all important hand-off?

Of course I felt horrible for D4. So, I got up, gave her a warm wash rag, a hug, told her I loved her and asked if she needed anything. She didn't--well, nothing beyond a new stomach and a better tasting mouth. So, I somewhat grudgingly--OK, that's not true. I mean I did feel bad--but I shamelessly climbed cozily back into my warm bed beside my cute snoring hubby and fell comfortably back into slumberland. Is that bad? I mean, I did leave the bedroom door open--which is right next to the bathroom and the throne and all so I could hear if there were any serious crashes or 911 needed to be called. Luckily no such medical emergencies arose.

When I got up later D4 had finished paying homage to the throne and managed to make it as far as the couch in the living room--but she looked like something the dog dragged in that the cat spat up. So, I sent her back to bed and she slept the entire day away. D4 joined us for dinner and is feeling much better. Does anyone know where that rule came from? You know, the one where the Dad can alert the mom the children are sick but he can't actually take care of them? Just wondering . . .

P.S. Okay, Okay in fairness to my cute hubby. He did give her some medicine to settle her stomach--it's just that she couldn't take it until she stopped throwing up.

WEDDING BRAIN

What is it about being engaged that disengages the brain? I watched it happen to my student employees for years and it drove me crazy. Only one out of sixty of them was able to keep it together and do her job while she was engaged. The rest turned into puddles of useless human tissue and cells that sometimes would and sometimes would not show up for their appointed shifts during the engagement/wedding period. And let’s not even talk about a hope of getting actual work out of them. That was simply beyond any realistic expectation. It seemed like the moment their intended put the ring on their finger their brain turned to mush. That’s all I’m saying. Well, actually that’s not all—theres’ more. These were smart, intelligent women—good employees—great employees—until someone said the magic words—no, not “please”, “Will you marry me?” In some of the cases, the melt down was bad enough I’m surprised their brain lasted long enough to say “Yes”.

As I said, it used to drive me crazy—that is until it happened to me. Yes, you heard me. Stop laughing. I even married late. I had no excuse. I had watched this over and over for twenty years and sworn it did not have to be this way. But then it happened. Ring on my finger—brain out the door. Yep. All I can say is I had a great assistant, good friends and wonderful family or my wedding would not have happened. I don’t know how I got it planned. Well, I do. It was with their help. But, I do know—I could not get to work on time. I could not focus on meetings or assignments until they were due. I could not even manage to make complete wedding decisions by myself. I was a mess. The only thing I could think of was HIM.

This brings me to today. Daughter #2 (hereafter referred to as D2) is getting married. She has wedding brain. Some days it drives me nuts, other days I am able to roll with the flow and laugh it off. Yesterday she went took her veil to a scheduled hair appointment with hair stylist who is also a friend from high school. They were going to play around with several styles until they came up with one D2 liked that she could use for her wedding and bridals. She left home about 4:30. Her Dad and I were waiting and waiting and waiting to see the finished result. It was getting to be later—about 7:00 p.m and no sign of her so we went and ran some errands. We figured they were still trying different styles. We get back by 7:45 p.m. but still no sign of D2. We keep waiting. 8:00 p.m., 9:00 p.m. We don’t want to interrupt the stylist’s work. 9:30 p.m. Finally, I pick up the phone and call D2’s cell phone.

Me: “So, are you still trying different styles?”
D2:“Um, no. I’m actually at fiancé boy’s house” (40 minutes away, mind you)
Me: Did you realize Dad and I were waiting to see your hair?
D2: Um, no, I guess I didn’t think you’d be waiting to see it.

Anyway, the conversation went on—but it was obvious she wasn’t coming home soon and we weren’t going to get to see her hair. Seems to me there was a way we ALL could have seen the hair but darned if that wedding brain didn’t have a good hold on her. We went to bed. Guess we’ll see it at the wedding.

Baby, Baby . . .

Wow, adoption is its own little circus. My husband and I have been going back and forth between the roller coaster and the ferris wheel for nearly a year now. We love children. We have children--mostly grown ones--but we want a baby or two together. You wouldn't think that would be much to ask. It's hard though. My body won't cooperate. We just had a horrendous experience that was supposed to be an adoption--in other words, it failed. I was there for her birth-she was beautiful. We named her-held her, took pictures, stayed with her--and then we lost her. Tragic.

Back on the treadmill, er, I mean ferris wheel. Around and round it goes.

It’s Super Tuesday America-Did you get your “I Voted” Sticker?

I’ve noticed the last couple of times I’ve gone to the polls it has taken a lot longer to actually reach the voting machine. The technology is great. The voting machine makes actually voting much quicker and easier. I noticed today, though, when you start in line where they check your name and precinct and have you sign they are doing it using a computer instead of reading from a handwritten precinct book. You would think this would be faster—but this is where technology, training and age have not caught up with each other. We have some wonderful volunteers in our community. I’m sure some of them have been helping with elections since I was young and it is a thankless job. God bless the election volunteers. I just don’t think they are all ready to work on computers. It was faster with the handwritten precinct books. Sometimes technology isn’t all that helpful.

So What If I Was Born In 1960, I'm Only 27!

I don’t know if everyone has, for lack of a better way to describe it, an eternal age, but I know I sure do. I mean—go ahead, keep counting if you want. Let every birthday add another year to your total--you’ve earned it. Even if you don’t keep counting--others will keep track for you—and keep reminding you of your real age.

I just can’t quite get past the feeling that I stopped getting older at age 27. No, I don’t mean physically. I have all the aches and pains you get when you are 20 years past that—plus, a few of the gray hairs to prove it. Okay, okay more than just a few-and wrinkles, too. But I also have the feeling that I have an eternal age –an age that I just am—it’s 27 and that’s honestly all the older I feel in my mind, my heart, my spirit. It’s just that little conflict I have when I look in the mirror—or when strangers ask me dumb questions that shock me into next week. For instance, I was holding my friend’s little baby and someone came up and said “Is that your grandchild? I was speechless. Would they ask someone else in their late twenties that question? How rude!
I probably take it a little harder just because my children are adopted from my husband’s first marriage and we’ve tried to have some but have had miscarriages. Plus, we recently tried to adopt and the adoption fell through. I’m not done trying to be a mother-so the GRANDMA question is hard for me. But really guys—C’mon. I’m only 27!

For those of us who believe in Resurrection and eternal life—and I am one of them. I don’t think we are going to be resurrected as a bunch of old folks (that is if we died when we were quite ag-ed. I think we will have an “age” that we will come back at. A vital age--one where we were full of life and ability. I’m pretty darn sure mine will be 27.

Finding Gratitude in Pain

Today I've been thinking. I do that sometimes. It was one of those infernal internal days when your mind won't let you do anything else but take a self examination. I've been through some pretty hefty things of late--difficult things, the kind that make it hard to stay on your feet. The kind that make your knees buckle and your heart weak. I've shed more tears in the last few weeks than I can ever remember shedding before. I've been telling myself that if it's true that pain is the teacher (Kahlil Gibran) then I must be getting very smart.

My pain came at the hands of others who did not know me at all and yet acted on mistaken beliefs. In doing so they caused someone very precious and irreplaceable to be taken from my life. Yet my challenge is not only to forgive--but to learn from this and to find gratitude for the lessons that have come.

It may not seem possible but I am truly grateful for what I have been through. This incident has made me have such a strong desire to be a good person--to always be honest and above all honorable. It has made me want to see the good in others and to always choose to do what is right. It really would be a better world if we, as individuals, decided to live better lives--and then just simply followed through on that decision.

What I found in my pain was a desire to never cause another human being that kind of suffering. I am grateful for the chance to see something like that is my choice and that it is completely within my control. I am the one who decides what my actions are in this life and how they affect others. I just need to realize that I can go about my life carelessly and without much thought and things will just happen--or I can give careful thought and consideration to the way I live my life and how I treat my fellow man. I am going to choose the latter.