Strength

Sometimes people call me strong, and I don't always agree with that.
I don't perceive myself as strong.
In fact, I see myself as a weak person
Who was thrust into situations I didn't want.

To me, strength means being ready for hardships and being capable of dealing with them.
I am neither.
I fall down. Sometimes I stay down for days, weeks, months at a time.
To rise back up to normal takes an inane amount of will.
It's very difficult.
But, I do it.
I still do it.
And, it feels right.

I sometimes wish life were easier.
I wish I didn't have to fall and dig my way out of my dad's passing.
My son's disability.
My daughter's death.
And every unspoken loss we've faced.

It's taxing and it will take a toll on you.
I believe I am a much better person now.
More understanding.
More compassionate.
More loving,
But it's come at a cost.
And, for better or worse, I will never be the same person I was 4 years ago.
It's just not possible.

I just hope in being different, I'm better.
I don't think that's too much to ask.

The Pain of LIfe

I hate the bruises,
But I look at them.
I own them.
They are mine.

I watched the nurse
Take my blood.
I told her where it was best
To drain me of a little life.
I was trying to be helpful
Because I don't bleed easily.

I sat there
And answered the mundane questions of:
Why are you here?
My baby died.
Do you feel safe?
I suppose, but life scares the hell out of me.
Do you drink?
Well, I didn't. I was pregnant, but I might start now.
How many children do you have?
Three.

Three. Two sons and a daughter.
She had a name.
A beautiful, perfect name.
But, she's gone now.
Please give me something for the pain.
Can I have my husband now?
I need him. Desperately.

And then it was over.
The life drained from me.
And I don't even recall the pain.
Thank God.

And now, I  watch my children study my bruises,
And wonder why Mommy is hurting
But I can't explain why the physical
Will never hurt as much as the mental.  
So, I hold them close.
And at night, when the softness of dreams is the only sound,
I touch them.
Ever so gently
And I am so thankful I have my precious children here on earth
To heal my broken heart.

As She Mourned Herself to Sleep

As she mourned herself to sleep,
She allowed the memories, the hopes, the dreams, the promises, the defeat, the heartache, the death,
To tumble out of her eyes.
And create the ocean-
On which she rocked herself to sleep.
Comforted only by herself-
As even those close to her,
Could not enter this space.
This place of grief
Was hers alone.
Not to be shared with others, like she tries to do
During the hours the sun tries to blind her-
Because she's not quite ready for the brilliance and the hope that star represents.
Not just yet.
The darkness inside is just too deep.
And to let the light shine in too soon,
May ruin everything.
There are times you need to live in the depths of the hell that was thrust upon you-
To eventually rejoice in the heavens you know are waiting...
Someday.
Sadly, there's no timeline for grief.
For healing.
And she's been here enough.
Not this exact space-
Because this darkness belongs only to a mother who has lost her child-
To know that time is what she needs,
But time is what she dreads.
This territory is unfamiliar.
And scary.
And unfair-
To any who've suffered it
Her heart not only breaks for herself,
But for those she loves and for those she does not know.
The weight feels like it's crushing her from within,
And chokes her with grief.
It is horrible, and for now,
There's no escaping it.
Rest softly, sweet girl.
Let the angels of dreams take care of you for now-
Tomorrow will be upon you soon enough,
And I pray that you will grieve for one minute less than you did today.

How Could I Have Thought?

Aren't I arrogant enough to believe it couldn't happen to me.
Again.
Wasn't I foolish enough to think I could escape this heartbreak.
Again.
How could I believe I was immune to this hurt.
This devastation.
This death.
Again.

We played our cards,
And fate interceded.
We lost.
Our hearts broke.
How do we recover.
Again.

Again. Again. AGAIN!

I am tired. I am hurt. I am shocked.

But, I am also more compassionate.
More understanding.
More than I was earlier this day.

My angel is spending her Christmas in heaven,
Wrapped in my daddy's loving arms.
I will meet her-
Someday.

But now, I miss her tremendously.
The vision of her.
The thought of her.
The longing for her.

Sometimes, life is just too hard.
I miss her already...

The Journey to Her

She came to me in a dream, that world where the lines between fantasy and reality are blurred, and your deepest longings are right at your fingertips, and you truly believe that miracles can happen. I longed for her; she was one of my deepest desires, but in my waking world, I didn't think she would ever belong to me.

I have always wanted three children. I came from three, Doug came from three, and three just seemed to fit perfectly. But once fragile X showed its face, I tried to resolve myself to the fact that perhaps three did not belong to me.  And the realization of that broke my heart; not once, but a million times over.

In the past three years, some little part of me still lived in that dream world, and I prayed. A lot. I prayed that God would help her find us, however that may be. That was my prayer, as simple as that, "God, please help our little girl find us." I had no idea how it would look, but somewhere inside me I knew she would find us somehow. However, I never imagined it would be this way.

Last spring, almost out of nowhere, my heart was ready and together, Doug and I made that giant leap into the world of pursuing IVF. We'd tossed around the idea three years ago, less than a year post FX diagnosis, but we just weren't ready. But, last spring I was, and I believe that was God at work answering my prayers in a way I didn't think I'd even consider. Funny how that works.

No one tells you about the emotional toll fertility treatments can take on you. The constant worry coupled with cautious optimism is not for the faint of heart.

Last summer, as everything started falling into place, of course, so did the God Winks. Incredible, amazing, surreal reminders that we were not alone and if we ever slipped and thought we were, we were reminded very quickly that we were not.

The day we found out how many of our little babies made it was the third anniversary of my dad's passing. Three years before, my heart was breaking as I said goodbye, and now, the tears were flowing at the very real possibility of being able to say hello again.

A few weeks later, on the day we found out the date we were going to transfer our little girl, my monarch caterpillars showed up. The first ones I'd ever had at my house. Another thing I'd longed for since my dad had passed. Nothing more in nature reminds me of my dad than the monarch. I was over the moon and God's been winking at me long enough for me to realize this was not a coincidence.


One of my winks from God.

As the weeks passed, I not so patiently waited for the blood work that would confirm what I'd already suspected; the procedure had worked and I was pregnant.

During that time, I'd enjoyed watching my caterpillars grow and on the day the first one made its chrysalis, I jokingly said to Doug, "Watch, it'll eclose the day we find out if she stuck."

The morning of the blood draw, I woke up and checked on my babies and I was astonished at what I saw. Two black chrysalides. I knew what that meant; they were going to eclose that day...the very day I'd kiddingly predicted them to. I was awash with emotion. I bawled. I talked to God and my dad. I thanked them for being with me. I hugged Doug and I sobbed. The beauty of it all was overwhelming. I think part of what struck me as being so amazing is that based on what I know about how long it takes for a butterfly to form, there was really no explanation as to why they were eclosing that day. Quite simply, they hadn't been in their chrysalises long enough.




That night, as I drove home, God winked again. The entire drive, I was fortunate to see the most beautiful double rainbow. All I could think of was that God puts rainbows at the end of every storm. The peace I felt was indescribable.

The next day, I let my God Wink go. I set her free on four wings and a prayer. What was truly incredible was the fact that she stayed with me for at least ten minutes, which, from my experience is unusual. She just sat there with me and I enjoyed every single moment with that beautiful, heaven sent, amazing, miraculous little girl.

And now, I wait for our angel; and very few moments go by without me deeply understanding how incredibly blessed we are.

And, that, is my journey to her...

God Winks: An Incredible Story of Family, Time, Butterflies and Angel Trumpets

It's truly incredible to witness and understand exactly how specific God Winks fold out over time.  Once my eyes were opened and my spirit attuned to the beautiful synchronized world God has created for us, it is marvelous.  I believe that in life there are not coincidences, but rather, winks from God, coming at just the right moment; letting us know that we are never alone and his plan for us is a magnificent one.

Picture the scene: 1959, rural Iowa, a boy and his little sister in a flower patch at dusk.  But, not just an ordinary flower patch, this one was special, this one was the angel trumpet patch in their grandparents' yard.  The children you see here, are my father and his little sister.  The first two characters to come into play in this God Wink.  More will be added later, but without these two and this picture, the rest of the story may have gone unnoticed.

Pam and LeRoy in the angel trumpet patch, September 1959.

Fast forward to forty-two years to another September day in Iowa.  September 1, 2001, the day those children lost their father. On the night of my Papa Dale's visitation, an idea formed--an idea that soon flourished and added the next chapter in our decades long God Wink.  My aunt happened to live on a farm that was in the direct migration route of the monarch butterflies.  As we gathered up our grief, my aunt, cousins, brothers, and I tiptoed into the night and gently gathered up hundreds of those winged beauties.  We placed them in huge plastic containers and waited for the dusk to turn to dawn and the breath of a fall day to kiss our cheek, because that would be the time. 

As we neared the end of my grandpa's graveside service, the butterflies were let go and with a flourish, our prayers were sent up to heaven on the wings of those angels.  It was moving.  It was poignant.  It was a moment that changed our lives. From that moment on, I don't think any of us looked at a monarch butterfly the same way.  Each time we saw one, we always remarked that Papa Dale was coming for a visit.

 

 

And from there, life happened.  For a time, each of us was focused on our own lives and where we were headed: college. career, marriage, children. That is, until, it was time to send another one home. 

 

Fall again, not September this time, but close enough, August 6, 2012, the day my father got his wings. Having lost three grandparents and many friends, I thought I had a handle on grief.  I thought I understood the kind of emotions that were about to happen.  As that monarch butterfly that had been visiting my dad the day he passed, flew by one last time, I realized with a shock that I had absolutely no idea the kinds of emotions that were about to be thrust upon me.  To lose people you love is difficult; to lose a parent is devastating. 

 

Those two weeks spent in Iowa were healing.  I tried desperately to absorb every moment there; chronicling much of it on this blog.  As I released a little bit of the pain with every blog post, I had my eyes open for the slightest movement.  I was on the lookout; I needed a monarch.  

 

And, that last day there I got two.  The first flew right in front our my mother's windshield at the cemetery we buried my father in.  The other flew back and forth, back and forth, outside of the picture window my dad loved to look out.  I was comforted.  I felt an embrace of love from beyond.  I was rewarded a vision of what I desperately needed to see.



That's when things got interesting!  That fall, the butterfly winks began to rain down from heaven.  A welcome reprieve from the happiness drought I was in. I met my neighbor, Gail, and my life changed. I love our story, if you'd like, you can read it here.

And then more time passed.  A little over two years.  During that time, my family was grappling not only with the loss of my dad, but also with my son's diagnosis of Fragile X Syndrome.  Within four months of Trek's diagnosis, we lost my dad, and then just a few months later, we suddenly lost my aunt.  It was as if life decided to destroy everything that anchored us.  We were forced to rebuild and it was hell. We were thrust into the fires and there were many times I was certain it would consume me.

During this time, I had very little contact with Gail.  We would text once in a while and occasionally I would stop outside of her house and watch the butterflies flutter around.  The problem with being forced to rebuild your life is that it doesn't leave you much time for anything else.  I still am bewildered that we marched through those first few years, but we did, and, how cliché, we are stronger, better people now than we were then.

This past December, my son Tate and I went for a walk.  On a whim, I decided to walk past Gail's house.  We stopped outside and I was showing Tate her Monarch Butterfly Way Station post, when Gail's husband, Bob came over and started talking to us.  The next thing I knew, Gail was outside and was offering a monarch chrysalis for us to take care of.   Such a small gesture, but it literally left me in tears.  I was over the moon and so excited that she would trust me with such a treasure. 

I could not get enough of our chrysalis.  The metamorphosis of the butterfly is amazing.  I watched it every day.  I took pictures.  I posted pictures on Facebook.  To be in the presence of a miracle was almost too much excitement for me to contain!

Around this time, I received an unexpected package in the mail from my Aunt Pam.  She had sent me that picture of her and my dad in the angel trumpet patch and also seeds from that very same plant, so I could have my own flowers if I wanted to.  So often, it's the smallest gestures of kindness that take your breath away.  Immediately, the picture of her and my dad found a permanent home in my kitchen where I see it every day.  

Once our monarch eclosed, I took it back to Gail's house to set it free.  I have to admit, it broke my heart a little bit to let it go.  Once I got to her house, God Winked again; this time, fifty-five years from the moment he set it in place.  The miracle we were able to watch unfold, the miracle of the monarch butterfly, the biggest reminder my family has of  my grandfather and father, had found its home; fittingly on an angel's trumpet.

A piece of God's puzzle, put in place, December 2014.

 

Squire Rushnell: God Winks

 

Healing, Happiness and (Almost) Coming Full Circle

Doug and I spent today surrounded by our family.  Not our blood family, but our family of circumstance, our family of situation, our family of choice -- our lifeline, our hope, our brothers and sisters, sons and daughters -- we spent today surrounded by our Fragile X family. 

Over the years, there have been many gatherings with our FX family that we've been a part of.  It's incredibly healing to be with others who truly understand and "get" our journey. 

Today, I met a mom whose son had just been diagnosed.  She was scared, sad, overwhelmed, unsure, and feeling alone.  Although we had just met, I knew her well.  I was her two short years ago. 

Many parts of the day Trek was diagnosed are a blur.  I remember bits and pieces, but there are two things I'll never forget.  I will never, as long as I live, forget how I felt.  There are no words to explain my physical reaction to the news.  It was visceral.  I was numb.  I was scared.  It was so powerful it sent me to the toilet vomiting.  It was, for lack of a better word, awful.  Utterly awful.  I was hopeless. 

I will also never forget Doug's words to me as we lay in bed that night.  He told me that we needed to remember exactly how we were feeling because someday, another family would be diagnosed, and we could be there for them.  At the time, I couldn't imagine getting out of bed and dealing with my new life let alone helping someone else. 

Eventually, I did get out of bed and those days and nights of blurry sadness gave way to days of partly cloudy skies, weeks with no rain, and years of sunshine.  Eventually, I did learn to live again.  I genuinely smiled, laughed, and found joy. 

Today, I hugged that new member of our family and I cried with her.  I cried for her.  I grieved for her loss and I just wanted to scoop her up and fast forward her a few years down the road and place her in a spot of acceptance and peace. 

As much as I wanted to do that for her and take her pain away, that's not possible.  Like another FX mama said, "You've got to feel this."  She's right.  As excruciatingly painful as it is, you've got to live it and figure out your way through it; it's the only way to heal and to come out stronger on the other side. 

But, I could tell her it's going to be okay.  No, really it is.  I promise.  Things do get better.  You will figure this out.  You will find acceptance.  The pain never goes away, but it does dull, and as my friend said, you do get to a place where you can see typical children and not feel like you've been punched in the gut. 

Most importantly, I hope that she left all of us today feeling like she's no longer alone.  I hope that she left knowing that she's part of a bigger family than she could have ever realized.  I hope that she knows that she's loved.  Each of us know her well, in an essence, we are her.

The Peaceful River

This week we got the news that my son does not carry the genetic anomaly that resides in me.  This genetic shadow that's followed me around since my conception.  It's something that I cannot shake, no matter how hard I try.  It permeates my life and almost every thought I have.

This incredible news hit me hard and swift.  It brought me to my knees, made me cry, tilted my head towards the heavens, and had me utter thanks to God. 

The news of Tate's negative results came fast and quick, and interestedly, left me just the same.  All I was left with was thankfulness.  The news of Tate was so different than the news of Trek.  While Trek's news left me wallowing in darkness, sadness, and utter despair, Tate's news left me peaceful.

Trek was my ocean.  My unpredictable tide of grief.  My unsure footing.  My fall on my face. My tears without reason. My neon light of "what if".  My questions.  My unanswers.  My fault...

Tate was my river.  My predictableness.  My fleet of foot. My get up because it's okay.  My tears of a mother that knows that pregnancy isn't a guaranteed gift of "perfectness".  My flickering light of hope.  My questions.  My unanswers.  Not my fault...

My boys guide me through life.  At times, it's a rocky ride of which I hold on tightly for dear life.  And during those moments, I thank God for my life vests of those whom I hold so dear.  And, at times, it's a kick-back-throw-your-feet-up-and-enjoy-the-ride, kind of life. 

Right now, I'm smart enough to realize that life does throw you curves, but I'm also smart enough to know to enjoy the ride, because this is the only one you've got. 

So, join me in throwing up your glass, and saying "cheers"!  Let's sit back and love where this life takes us.

Here's to the river.

xoxo

The Things I Love

I am an Iowan girl living in an Arizona world, but the things I love still remain true.

I love family.  I adore a sense of belonging.  I cherish friendships; those that are near and those that remain far.

When I look out upon my horizon, I see magnificent backgrounds.  It may be the mighty Saguaro, or the simplicity of the oak.  The thorns of life and the comfort of leaves.  Each one has become my home.

The wind is the same; each one whispers a song that sings a verse of comfort and love.

Life knows no boundaries. Love doesn't have barriers.  It captures you and blankets you in a sweet embrace.  Through all of life's trials, the important things will never betray you.  They seem to wrap you up, sing their song, and send you off on the perfect wings of love.

In the Middle of an Ordinary Dream

My father came to visit me last night,
In the middle of an ordinary dream.
He picked me up in his beat-up truck
And parked in the backyard field
that overlooked my childhood stream.

He faced the truck towards the north,
And he quieted the restlessness in my heart.
I'd seen this field a thousand times--
But never quite like this.

The trees were lush.
The crops were green and full.
And the sky was a brilliant shade of blue,
The canvas to heaven's most perfect clouds.

And then he spoke,
But not with words.
His thoughts were impressed upon my soul.
A love so incredibly pure.
A love stronger than any emotion,
My earthly presence could understand.

And every instant a question formed in my heart,
He had answered it before my thought was done.
I don't recall every detail of his heavenly visit,
But the one thing I believe I was meant to remember--
The one message that was imprinted upon my soul,
Was simply this--
"I love you.  I have never left you. I will never leave you."
And even these words don't exactly fit.

I believe the day I will truly understand what it all means
Is the day I join him,
When I go--
Home.

And perhaps if I'm lucky,
He'll pick me up for one last ride in that dusty old pick-up truck.
And drive me over the horizon,
Past our fields of green.
Over the creek behind our home...
To the other side.

The God Winks: Nineteen Months Later

Incredible God Winks happen in life, sometimes you just have to close your eyes, trust your heart and believe.

It's been almost nineteen months to the day since my dad passed away.  Nineteen months of healing and nineteen months of learning how to live without him in this world.  It's been nineteen months of acceptance and understanding.  Nineteen months of unparalleled growth.  And, it's been nineteen months of sweet winks from God.

It's so interesting to me how the God Winks I've been blessed with have changed over time.  From the butterflies to the dreams, each one has brought me precisely what I've needed at that moment.  This week, I had two incredible, unbelievable, and amazing God Winks.  With the permission of my sweet friends, it's my honor to share them. 

Keep in mind, these experiences happened independently of one another.  Neither of my sweet friends personally knew my father and they both are very recent, beautiful, welcome additions to my life.  Here is our collective "story".

Tuesday morning, I woke up to find the following message from my friend, Valerie:

This may sound super weird but this morning I heard this song in my car and and image of you and your dad popped in my head. I know that I only "know" him through your pictures and stories but thought I would share what happened....

(This is the video she linked.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zV40NzkqJrw

 

What she didn't know is I just bought this CD, and the very reason I bought it was because of this song.  It reminds me of my dad.  I had just told Doug how much I loved the song and explained to him all of the reasons why.  My dad. His pickup. Moving to Arizona. 

I messaged my friend back and asked her what her vision consisted of.  I'm so happy I asked her...

It was kind of like the picture of him that you have where he is speaking at your wedding (I think) but it was closer up and more of a profile from the right side. Then in my head I heard "Sarah's Dad" then I saw an image of him driving a pickup and you as like a late teen/early 20's riding and then flashing to a little girl then back to you again... so weird... I just smiled and felt happiness and warmth in my heart. This seriously happened in a matter of seconds as I was turning on I-10 from Warner this morning. I have no doubt that was some kind of message to you. 



And this part made me laugh: Did he have a truck? What she didn't know was that my dad was a truck man. From the time I was a little girl (and possibly before that), my dad always drove a truck. 

When I told Valerie that my dad always had a truck and one in particular, an old rusty brown one that he drove for years during the eighties.  That dirty, dusty old pickup truck was as much a part of my father as we were.  A trusted old friend that weathered the storms of the heartland, but also the storms of the economy.  Although she didn't see that exact truck, what she wrote next melted my heart.

I am so glad that i was able to share that with you!! I cant quite see the color of the truck but he was adjusting the radio and seemed really happy...

And then, the next day...

So....this morning i went into school early with no children in the car so it was actually quiet. As i was backing out of my spot i said a quick prayer and just told your dad thanks for letting me be that messenger for you yesterday and i kid you not...in the next second that song came on the radio! I know it plays a lot right now but that was too much of a coincidence...lol!

And just now as I was asking permission to use her name, she sent this: P.s. your dad was laughing a hearty laugh while changing the radio in my vision!

And two days later, as I was still on the high from Valerie's message, I had another God Wink.  This time it was from my sweet friend, Sherece. 

I wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you all and praying for you all. You, your mother, and your dad were all in my dream last night...not sure why. They were both so sweet. When I woke up I felt a sense of urgency to pray for you all. I love you, and just wanted to let you know.

I read and reread this message over and over and over again.  I replayed it and digested it and felt such love from Sherece.  To know that my dear friend was praying for us was such a beautiful gift.  I think aside from having a visit from my dad, the part I love the most is the fact that she was praying for me, without my knowledge, and with such urgency and love, breaks my heart in the most loving of ways.

When I finally messaged her back and asked her what her dream was about, she sent me this:

The entire dream was bizarre from what I remember. We were at a hospital, your dad was being treated for something but it wasn't cancer. He and I were roommates in the hospital, but I wasn't sick. You, your mom and I were waiting outside the room talking and laughing. When I went in the room to get my things your dad was healthy and talking to me. He had on overalls and was kind of laying on his side. He told me some corny joke, it was beyond hilarious to him. Nothing really stood out in the dream...but when I woke up I felt so deeply in my spirit that I needed to pray for your family.

Check out the bold part; for those of you who know my dad, he was an overalls guy, and it would be COMPLETELY typical of him to tell some corny joke and find it HILARIOUS!  As soon as I read that, I'm sure he could hear me laughing in heaven!! 

Amazing, incredible, and wonderful things happen all of the time.  They happen around us, to us, and with us.  They happen because of and in spite of what we believe.  Simply put, miracles so still happen. 

We are all so loved; in this life and beyond.  I am so lucky to have a father who lets me know he's still with me and his new friends who pass on the messages of healing. 

God bless! xoxo

In the Darkness of Midnight

In the darkness of midnight,

In the time before dawn;

When the angels come whisper,

Their sweet goodnight song.

I meet you in heaven,

Between this life and yours.

To dance in the clouds

Of our most perfect song.

I hear your voice whisper,

You tell me hello.

Your arms wrap me tight,

We tango as two.

You kiss my head sweetly,

Your hands tangled with mine.

I step on your toes-

We keep perfect time.

In the darkness of midnight,

In the time before dawn.

The angels sing to us-

To you

I belong.

I WipeThe Grief Off My Hands

I wipe the grief off of my hands.
My hands that are stained with the tears of loss.
The fingers that tuck the hairs behind my ears,
Of the locks that carry the salt of the tears I've cried.

I wipe the grief off my hands.
I wash the palms that hold the face,
Of the parents that once comforted me,
In my times of need.

I wipe the grief off of my hands.
The hands that understand that,
There is never enough toughness
To make this ache go away.

I wipe the grief off of my hands.
And weep again with the ache,
As I hold them together.
Knowing that in this world,
They cannot entwine again with his.

As I wipe the grief off of my hands,
I look for the hands that offer to comfort me,
On this journey I'm still on.
To pick me up and help me stand;
As I struggle for a way to
Wipe this grief off of my hands.

My Children

The children that God had entrusted to me carry their unique burdens.  They bear the weight of a thousand generations placed upon them.  Some of whom, they have never met before, nor have I. 

My children are the descendants of the Viking warriors; in whom which their blood runs thick.  My children carry the fighter spirit of the Revolutionary soldier and the wonder of the California Gold Rush.  My children are the proud great-grandsons of a fighter on D-Day, and a grandfather who weathered the storms of the farmers in the 80's. 

My children face first-hand, the unexpected loss of Fragile X; both within themselves and outside of them.  My sons are resilient. 

I hope, as any mother does, that my sons find ways to adapt; that they find their place in this world.  I hope that this life isn't too harsh for them and that those that surround them understand what they are going through. 

Life is a journey, and at this point we're just beginning ours.  I pray that they find the strength of the goodness that runs through their blood and that they see the blessings in the mundane little things. 

I hope that one day, they can look back on our journey and hold their children tight and thank God for the hardships that they have faced.

If they can do that, with a heart filled with happiness, they will be okay.

One

I imagine us as one; intertwined, but uniquely distinct.  Holding hearts and hands, spread across a great and vast universe; weathering the storms of life together. 

We umbrella each other during the hurricanes, we shelter during the storms, we offer a drink during the drought, and a reprieve from the oppressive heat. 

We share something unique and special.  We mourn in our sadness and rejoice in our triumphs.  We carefully guard our hearts, while offering a glimpse into our collective soul. 

We are born and thrive with and in  and because of our warrior spirit.  Sometimes we are broken alone, but we become glued together, whole again, with our fragile pieces.

We breathe life into one another and because of that our spirits are lifted higher than they could have been if separated. 

We are the lucky ones.  Those of us who have been humbled.  Those of us who know weakness.  Those of us who have grieved.  Those of us who have lost.  Those of us who are resourceful, strong, and courageous. 

We fight this fight together.  We live this life with love.  We lay down at night with a tear of sadness on our left, but a thousand tears of happiness on our right. 

We love and are loved in return.

Love

<sup>Love is a very powerful thing.  It bridges the gaps between this world and that.  It heals all hurts and wraps you in a blanket of comfort and security.  Love is what makes life worth living. 

Love, in its most genuine form, is what will greet you on the other side.  Love guides you when you are a baby, wrapped in your parents' loving embrace.  Love guides you as a child, when you learn right from wrong.  Love is what we all seek as we grow older.  Someone who loves you and whom you love back; even if they don't have to.  Love embraces a mother's heart as she carries her unborn child and love is what gets you through the hard times. 

Love is a hug.  Love is a kiss.  Love can be wrapped in a kind word.  Love is sharing in something very, very special.  Love can even be found in the smile of a stranger.  Love, sweet love, is what it's all about. 

Love is gentle. 
Love is kind.
Love never ends.</sup>

In The Night

In the middle of the night,
I reach for you.
In the middle of the night,
You are my home.

In the middle of the night,
You anchor me.
You are my center.

In the middle of the night,
You hold my hand when
The world gets too harsh.
When the expectations
Passed us by.

You fight with me.
You love me.
You hold me.
You encompass my everything.

When it's too much, I look to you.
You make it okay.
You amaze me and I adore you.
My sweet Doug.
My husband.
My life.
My everything.

I am thankful.

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That smile, that smiled.
That laugh, that laughed.
Those eyes that twinkled.
Those words that healed.
That soul that lived.
Where is he now?

Those hands that held.
Those arms that hugged.
Those feet that walked.
That father who is mine.
Where is he now?

That soul that passed.
Those shoes left empty.
Those words left unsaid.
Does he hear me now?

The dreams I dream.
The wishes I wish.
The hopes I hope.
He hears them all.

The future I imagine.
The beauty of heaven.
He waits for me.
He is there now.

Once Upon My Life

Once upon my life, in a time not so long ago, lived a girl who believed in fairy tales.  A girl who thought "for ever after" was just a given, without any work involved.  A girl who had met her Prince Charming and believed her glass slipper was unbreakable. 

When that once upon a time turned into forever after, and the Big Bad Wolf came knocking on her door, she realized that she would need to place her glass slippers upon a shelf and find a pair of good running shoes.  She tried on many sizes and styles, until she found a pair that fit just right for the moment and the time she was in.

Her new shoes weren't as pretty and stylish as the ones of her yesteryear, but oddly enough, they fit.  They were practical in a way those pretty flawless shoes would never be.  Those new shoes kept her sturdy; they were strong, dependable, and just perfect to help her muddle through the trenches of the Deep Dark Woods. 

There were times when she missed those fairy tale shoes sitting pretty upon her shelf.  There were many moments when she gazed at them and imagined, "what if"; when she longed to wear them, and envied her friends who could.  But, not all princesses are meant to wear heels. 

Thankfully, this fairy tale has a happy ending.  Even if she had to help write it herself.  The day she understood that her idea of a fairy tale, was in essence, make-believe, she was able to yank that pen away from that "once upon her life" and start writing a new chapter; one that was built on reality.

And in that reality lived Fairy Godmothers in the form of friends whose magical spell of love cast a barrier between her and the Big Bad Wolf.  In that reality lived a Prince Charming who rides on a horse braver and truer than anything Cinderella could have imagined.  In that reality, everyone who loves her, dons the most wonderful pair of boots.  Some wear them all of the time and some place their slippers upon the shelf and for moments in time, join her in the trenches of life and get muddy and dirty and laugh and cry and try to understand; all because they love her. 

And, she thanks them, all of them, for helping her understand that life is what you make of it and a large part of that is who you surround yourself with.  She is thankful for her fairy tale.  This one was written for her and she couldn't do it without the supporting cast God has given her.

365

It's been 365 days since my father passed away.  365 days, 52 weeks, and 12 months.  It's been hundreds of tears, thousands of memories, and a million "I wishes".  It's been a year of heartache that has, at times, broken me to pieces and a year of heart-soaring-laugh-with-abundance-love-deeply times that bandaged me back together again. 

When my father first passed, I remember when it was an hour after his death, then two, a day, then three.  I remember when a week suddenly became the first month.  And then, something happened that caught me completely off-guard; I quit counting.  Suddenly, the calendar didn't matter and the only thing that did was the fact that my dad didn't belong to this earth anymore.  He was gone.  And I wasn't. 

What I didn't expect was that this past week, I would start counting the days again.  Reliving the days, the emotions, the terrible sadness and helplessness proved to be an unwelcome visitor.

It began with the days leading up to my dad's passing...My brother's wedding.  A trip to the hospital.  How sick he looked, but how amazing he was in spite of the weakness his body imposed upon him.  Finding out the news.  Flying home to Phoenix.  The gut-wrenching, how-do-I-know-when-to-leave-and-what-to-do mind game.  Knowing that his heart was broken as he lay there, barely strong enough to speak. The phone calls.  His last words of comfort and love to me; spoken from thousands of miles away.  Friends driving through the night to find me and my broken heart in a lonely airport to take me home for my last goodbye.  Holding his hand.  Whispering in his ear.  Being there the moment he died.  Telling him I loved him dozens of times as he went home to heaven. 

My friend told me this morning that I would manage to get through today because the love I have for my dad is greater than any sadness I might feel.  She was right.  She was also right that, just like her, I wouldn't trade a single lump-in-your-throat moment I was there with him. 

So, with a very heavy heart, I wish my dad a happy first anniversary in heaven.  For everything there is a season--a time to laugh, a time to cry.  I've managed to do a little bit of both today--very much like the day he went home.