It didn’t matter, not to me or anyone else, how long I stayed in bed. It’s the first day of a brand new year and going to work wasn’t on the radar. I really just wanted to lay beneath the covers and watch Christmas movies.  And it wasn’t as if I hadn’t gotten to see PLENTY of them, as I’d made sure of that. There is a feeling that is reborn every time I cozy-in, intent to stay in one spot and enjoy it…every musical, joyous, beautiful minute of it. I love the way that my heart feels as the beginning music starts…and I’ve never been disappointed by deciding to spend a couple hours watching it all come to life before my very eyes. It’s an investment, in me. Filling as many moments in my every day with as much AWESOME as is humanly possible.

You see, I had decided, this year, to just slow down a notch. If I wanted to watch a movie, just lying there, like a slug, then I was going to do it. I really had to almost say it aloud. It’s not like me to stay in bed. I wasn’t sick. There’s really no reason to not start my day, except for the fact that I wanted to just stay there. I was warm, comfy, and no one needed fed. Yet I had this internal dialog happening. My old self vs my new self…and it wouldn’t shup up long enough for me to watch my movie. “I need to get up!” “I can watch this in the kitchen…it needs to be cleaned!”  “Why just lay here when I can get things done???”  Before I knew it, my foot starting tapping and I threw in the towel… I got up.  I got started with my day…but not before hitting the record option.

I’m so glad that I left that movie behind. I can always watch it later. We had a great day. We went to Menards, where masks are mandatory (yay!!!) I guess I like it in there because everyone has to wear a mask and it feels just a little safer in there. Oh, I know….the debate continues…. But if I feel safer, maybe I am. We were searching for Christmas lights that were marked off so cheap that we’d be unable to resist. Mark wants to light the house next year. I’m excited by that!!! It’s so beautiful!!! Our search was futile, but I did pick up some treasures that I didn’t even know that I needed until I saw them on the shelf….I’m weak. 

We got back home and closed up shop. What was for dinner, you ask? Left over lasagna!  And it was even better than the first night. What a great day we had and it’d have never happened if I’d have stayed in bed.  We left laughs and discoveries all over the place on this first day of the New Year. We made lots of fun memories, had many conversations, and shared stories of our lives. I’m glad that my old me was louder (obnoxious, really) than my new me, that was so intent to stay still. I guess staying still just isn’t in the cards…not yet.   Staying still leads to being asleep and that just seems like such a waste of time.  Someone a lot wiser than I said, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”  I don’t know about that…I know that rest is important. I’ve lived lots of years without much of that. So, yes, I’ll get my rest to stay healthy…but lying in bed all day?  Nope!  I want to live! I want to feel alive! I want to grab it all with both hands! I’m ready!

Are you?

I opened the blinds this morning and it’s still so dark outside. I like it this way. When the sun begins its rise I will be witness to it all. I did notice, even in the dark, that it snowed hard at some point, because there’s enough of it to make my walk to the studio a bit treacherous. I laugh to myself…remembering the joy of waking to see this much snow stuck to the ground giving possibility to a snow day. School could be cancelled and we’d be able to stay home and play in it.  I remember my mom turning on the news and we would sit there staring at the news anchors…just willing them, with all of the hope that we could hold, to say the name of our school…come ON!!! Say Elkhart schools!!!! Say Elkhart Schools are CLOSED!!! And when they would finally say it we would scream, jumping up and down and run to change out of our school clothes.  Snowmen and sleds…boots and mismatched gloves…gulping breakfast and running out the door…Having played the Mom part of this whole scenario, I completely understand, now, the sound that my mom would make when she heard our screams of victory. Gone were any plans she may have had. 

Today is the very last day of 2020. It’s bittersweet to close the door on another year. Though this year has been challenging, many wonderful moments have been shared and so many lessons have been learned.

Today is the day when it’s customary to think back over the year and commit to resolutions for the positive changes we intend to make. I do want to eat better and move more. I want to control the things that I stress about. I want to see my family more. I want to sing more. I want to make time for myself…playing my guitar or writing my book. I want to get rid of things that I don’t need. I want to be present in my every day. I want to help more. I want to remember those that I’ve lost and miss and keep them alive in my memories of them. I want to continue to grow my business. And I also want to take some time away from work to see something new and beautiful. I want to walk in the water and see palm trees in the distance. I want to eat crab legs until I am tired.  I want to discover new artists and hear the lyrics that I’ve never heard before.  I want to walk in the woods and this year I want to find my first morel mushroom!

Yes, I look forward to 2021, like most of us…but I give thanks for the lessons of 2020. Everyone will look at this year through the eyes of their experiences…me, included. I’ve lost friends to the virus, I haven’t seen my mom and it hurts. I can’t be with Courtney, Carsten and Cora until it’s safe. I can’t teach classes for a bit. I know that I’m not alone in these things. And I could focus on the lack of it or focus on the possibilities of it all.

I’m hoping that 2021 grants us peace and hope and health.  I hope that we can all find something in the memory of 2020 that made us glad that we lived it. How will we tell the story of 2020?  This year will make the history books...you can count on that.  I may tell the story through the eyes of what was lost…but I hope not. I think I’ll tell it by the kindness that I saw in gentle ways.   I saw an outpouring of love when people got sick with the virus, by bringing food or sharing what we had and others needed.  I saw the front line workers that we know treated with the respect and care that they deserve.  I can’t imagine what they’re going through. Thank-you will never be enough.  I may tell the story of 2020 in gratitude for Facetime. I got to see my loved ones anytime and every time that I wanted to. I’m so thankful for that.

I guess I’ll decide how I’ll tell the story of 2020 a bit later when I take the time to really look at it. I’ll probably just take a moment or two in the first moments of 2021 and thank goodness that we made it.  Then we will raise our glasses to friendship and possibilities and get on with it. Happy New Year everyone!!!

It’s been this way since the day they were born. They were placed in my arms, at the perfect time. These, the greatest loves that I’d ever know. They were both born on a Wednesday...and the milestones crossed….so quickly,  one by one….one week, one month, one year, first day of school, graduation….one graduated from boot camp and became an Airman in the US Airforce, married and now lives in Virginia. One graduated from Ball State University and moved to LA with her fiancé to follow their dreams in the film industry.

 I used to hold them as they slept, just dreaming about the lives they would live…all of the opportunities they’d have and the choices they’d make.   I wanted the world to be kind to them. I wanted them to have a fair chance. I wanted to hold them up if they fell…encourage them when a big one got away.  I never wanted to see them hurting.  When there were dues to pay for their actions or inactions, I wanted, so badly to just pay it…anything to not allow growing pains to overtake them.  I wanted to celebrate their victories and be there for them always. I remember being at their marching band rehearsals on Saturday mornings, my face pressed against the chain fence, listening and watching, and being so proud of them that I was holding back tears.  There were prom pictures and wedding pictures and now baby pictures as they both have their own sweet darlins to hold and dream with.

I think that a big part of the allure of being someone’s mom is that there is a feeling of being needed. I’ve always felt keenly aware of what was going on in their lives. And sometimes it’s been a juggling act…just when I want to jump in with both feet, I remember that I am there to listen…not always to offer my advice. Sometimes my advice is not really wanted…or needed…but that has to be okay. I’ve raised them to be strong on their own.  I know that sometimes all that they really need is to know that I’m there…I’m someone that will always love them, no matter what.   I’m a familiar ear on the phone that will always have their back.

So strange, isn’t it? Strange and surprising…this life. All of those years, as they were growing up I’d always pictured them being somewhere near me. I wonder if that is the dream of every mother…to get to enjoy the grown-up that they’d raised from a child.  I guess I’d fashioned their futures based on my past….oh yeah, that works…only, not so much. But we make it work as best we can. I stay busy, and Thank Goodness for Facetime!!! And when I’m missing them most, I blow a kiss to the wind and pray that it feels like a hug from their mom. Tomorrow is a day away… And who knows what it will bring.

Before Mark and I were married, I never even dared to imagine my life as it is today.  Looking back, that was the problem!!! I wasn’t dreaming BIG ENOUGH!  I wasn’t claiming my true desires LOUDLY ENOUGH! Somewhere, deep inside, I doubted that I would ever see it. I was blocking my own dreams!  Conceptually, I knew that all things were possible and that from NO WAY…a way would be made. Frustrated and impatient, I knew that I had nothing to lose. I got out of my own way.  I decided to create my life with intention. So as miracles began to manifest in my life and as I began to run out of time before I ran out of blessings to count…I became a true believer.

Today, we live in my dream staycation. My life is so full of magic. Who would have ever guessed that I’d have yet another daughter, Brittany?  Thanks to Mark and Paula, Brittany’s mom, I get to share her with them.  I love her so much. She is the perfect addition to our family.  How could I have known that she would give us our very first grandson, Brayden, and that he could hold my heart in his hands?  And with them came so many people that I would have never met and grown to adore. Love wins again.  The world, it seems, is turning for me and for everyone that I love. I can’t predict the future. But I do know that it’s working at warp speed to turn my every thought and dream into my life’s experience. Thoughts become things… So sad or glad??? That’s easy…I’m glow-in-the-dark GLAD!!!! Have a great day. I’m gonna.

I had been working so hard…bent over the work bench all day, cutting glass into brilliantly colored shapes…like a charmed jigsaw puzzle, they all had to fit just right. Sometimes, on days like those, feeling the tug of exhaustion, I tried bending and stretching to get more cuts out of my day. And as I tried to ignore it and push on…my back had other ideas. Finally, I gave in. I climbed into my warmed-up car and drove a few miles…my seat heaters cranked to “skin melt” and I leaned back into the therapy. Listening to the radio and enjoying the stretching of my muscles, I drove.

I hadn’t really looked around here…where am I?  I can always find my way back home…GPS. So, it’s fun to just drive. I find new neighborhoods, new buildings, new schools….new shops and vacant fields in different phases of maintenance. I like the vacant fields best. They remind me of the vacant field next to Murray’s tree. All of the kids in our neighborhood would meet there for kickball. And we would play there until it was dark or until we ignored our mother’s calls to come in…for the last time. There’s a sound mothers make when they’re done yelling and the next step would be physical removal from the game…or we would find an empty plate when we got home. NOT GOOD! Kickball was always my favorite.

Murray’s tree was right there, next to the field. Anyone that wanted to could climb that tree and watch the game from the best seat in the house. It was the only tree that I ever climbed. And it was perfect for novice tree climbers. Low, strong branches that provided just enough limb to pull ourselves up and offer a place to sit and strategize the next steps upward.  I drove past that tree last year…I can’t believe that was the tree I sat in as a little girl.  Mr. Murray was a painter. He always had work clothes on that were covered in paint. He would let us help him to rake his leaves and then he would burn the leaves and let us roast marshmallows over the fire. What wonderful memories he helped me to weave. He was a lovely man, with no wife or kids….that I ever saw. He allowed us to be part of his neighborhood family. His house seems so small now….in fact, most of the houses in my little girl memories, were so much bigger then…

As I drove past field after field I knew that I was nearing the end of a neighborhood, so I slowed to stop at the last stop sign. Looking up to move forward I stepped on the brake and put my car into park. I was mesmerized. There, at the corner of someone’s yard, was a sight that I couldn’t ignore. I wasn’t going to move until I could take a picture of this. I’m sure they must have wondered who I was and why I was crouched in their yard, taking the perfect picture of the perfect sun through the tall ornamental grass on the perfect winter day. It was just so beautiful….and I’d have never seen it if I wouldn’t have looked away from my work. If I’d have stayed there and just popped a few Advil’s…I’d have missed it all.

I don’t know if it was a nudge or a push that moved me to my car and out of my neighborhood that day…but I’m just so glad that I went. Wondering how I found that….why I turned left instead of right…I guess it really doesn’t matter. I just turned…and not expecting to find anything that would leave me breathless…I found it just the same.

It was timeless in its beauty. The breeze was blowing so gently that the grass barely moved. The sun outlined every wisp of it all and it just took me in. There is magic all around us. When the world seems frantic and unyielding, let’s be ever aware of the little nudges that want to lead us another way. Let’s focus on what may lie just beyond our comfort zone…let’s look up so that we may see all of the wonderful little corners just beyond our reach.  There is little reward in staying at work when my heart isn’t in it…Physical fatigue is proof of that. Let us all at least try to squeeze some joy from each and every day. I’m so glad that I went for that little drive. My back was very thankful…but my heart…my heart is still in awe and very grateful for the reminder…

Life is short, Darlin’. Go for a ride.

I awoke this morning and jumped out of bed. My first thought was COFFEE! Sitting here, in my writing chair, enjoying the fragrance of my freshly brewed cup, the thought occurred to me that I hadn’t even noticed that I am awake, alert, healthy and happy. I didn’t even stop long enough to jump into my Santa slippers. I rushed past the Christmas tree, turned on the fire place and came in here to write my Love Letter. And I wonder, were the lights on?  Were they blinking and twinkling and lighting up the room?  Was the fire in the fireplace as beautiful as it was effective?  I mean, I feel so good this morning….and I hardly even noticed. How is it that all of these miraculous things have happened in perfect sequence and I was oblivious to them all?

I, usually, stay beneath the covers for just a moment…and think of things for which I am grateful.  The fact that I’d be awake and stringing thoughts together would always be a great place to start. It only takes but a moment to gather the things for which I am so very grateful.  There are so many! They float around the room and wait for me to gather them in.  Warmth, the feeling of being loved, my friends and family, our beautiful home, our pets, my glass studio and all of the people that I’ve met and taught to create stained glass art. I’m thankful for this strong and resilient body that has been so dependable and so willing to carry me around…without much thanks or notice.  The list creates itself.

I remember days in 2010, when my efforts to string together things for which I was thankful seemed an arduous task. It was all that I could do to complete the exercise. It started with, “I am thankful that I have a comfortable bed and I am warm.”  “I’m thankful I have a shower and clean towel.” And as I walked, I remember saying “Thank-you” through tears of sadness and despair. I knew that being grateful would be the best tool that I could use to attract what I wanted and needed in my life. So, no, it’s hasn’t always been a cake walk. I’ve had to guard and guide my thoughts and wishes. It’d have been far easier for this human to wish bad things upon another. But that’d have been a fool’s errand. Sending revenged thoughts will always come back to the sender. And I felt bad enough as it was. So the only thing to be done was to notice any and everything good to be thankful for. In the darkest days of my life…what began as a strained effort became an endless list of miracles.  What I feared would be an empty and loveless life has become a shining love-filled creation of light.  It’s the soul that lives in me that celebrates another day.

So, I begin this day again. I went back to look at the lights.  They’re so beautiful! Thank-you!!!  I am alive and awake and it took zero effort to walk back to my chair, climb on and begin this letter. Thank-you!!!

This coffee, in my cup, filling every one of my senses…Thank-you!!!!  My kitchen is clean, the house is clean---enough. Everyone is fed here and I have lots of work/play to do in my studio today. I am so thankful!!! 

Wow, what a great way to start this day. Retracing my footsteps, but doing it right.  I decided to create the day that I want to enjoy. And it’s so simple. Repeat after me, “Thank-you, Thank-you!!! THANK-YOU!!!”  When I begin the day with feelings, so steeped in love and possibility, what could possibly be wrong???

I have cold milk and homemade Christmas cookies to keep me company while I sit here, in my writing chair, just waiting for all of the amazing and wonderful moments of this 2020 Christmas season to stop spinning round and settle down….just slow down….maybe just have a seat and rest for a spell. I want to have a look. And I want to thank you.

The colors and the sounds….the taste and the smells…the reds, greens and golds of it all have me feeling giddy…like a child who’s every wish has come true.  There’s a warm glow in our home this morning. It’s still filled with the magic that has been created before my very eyes. It’s beautiful and hopeful and it feels like love. My most sincere wish for the entire human race is that we pause to look for that after-Christmas glow.  If we notice it, maybe it’ll stay around for a while. It will feel like peace and will look like smiles on most every face…Maybe you won’t see it, because they hide beneath the mask…but you can see it in the twinkle of their eyes. We can hurry to open a door for someone coming behind us. We can still buy a coffee for a stranger. We can say something nice to someone that we don’t even know. We can be grateful for what is going right in our lives. We can keep negative thoughts and words to ourselves. So that we don’t taint someone else’s wonderful day. Just because we have a thought, doesn’t mean we are destined to put those negative thoughts into words and speak them.  Bad thoughts become bad things…we don’t need that.  None of us need that. We can stop sharing rumors and we can be kind. We can begin each day with intention and that can make all of the difference.

As much as I tried to slow down enough to enjoy each and every blessing, it so difficult to choose even one to examine…It’s as though every kindness, every gift, every hug, every call, every Facetime, every Christmas song and movie, every meal and beverage, every single amazing and miraculous thing has been made into a great picture book. I just sit here and turn the pages, one by one.  Oh, how to thank you. Thank you, for everything, my kids, their kids, our friends and our neighbors, thank you to every stranger that held the door for me. Thank you, every one that sent us a card or gave us a call. I’m so grateful that you shared Christmas with us, whether here, with us…or staying safely home during this scary time.  I feel like I’ve unburied a sparkling treasure…and Christmas just turned the lights on for us all to share it.

I hate to see it go, as Christmas gives way to the hopes and dreams of a new year. Yes, I know that’s a good thing…but Christmas??? The magic of Christmas…?  It’s real and it’s warm and it makes me so glad that I’m alive.  We have much to look forward to…and I will do that. I’ll be looking ahead.  But not before I tuck all of this, this Christmas 2020, into my heart for safe keeping.  And when I feel the tug of missing my grands, missing my kids, I’ll just open my heart and look inside.  There!  There they are!!!  They’re still with me. That always feels better.

Yes, the spectacle of it all is slowing down just enough for me to grab it…look it over…give it a kiss for luck and get on with my day. Christmas day is over…but the magic lives on.  This December 26, 2020, it’s going to be a good one. I can feel it. Stay safe.

All of the promise, neatly wrapped in shiny green and gold, springs to life the very moment that the twinkling lights of our Christmas tree claim dominion over the darkness of early Christmas morning.  I wait for this all year long.  What is it about this morning that feels like magic? Oh, I do feel the difference…Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a Christmas morning where I will hear the little feet of my babies or theirs skipping steps to get up here to see what Santa has brought. That’s being done in their homes this morning. And that’s wonderful too.

Today, I will focus on what is amazing and wonderful in our home. This morning I am sitting here in my writing chair and I am appreciating the time and the quiet, giving me room to write. And I love the smell of this morning’s offering, Green Mountain morning brew. The lights, switched to on, are blinking and ready to entertain. I’m just taking my sweet time going in there. As much as the silence is a place to think and be grateful, it’s also a void, which has been filled, over the years, with children’s delighted voices of happiness and joy. Barking dogs, playing with their new toys, pans banging in the kitchen and the Christmas parade on every television in the house. As much as my heart is limping just a bit, it’s also strong and will be just fine. Next year’s Christmas will look a bit different and incredibly wonderful ways.

There’s really nothing like the absence of something to make one realize the many blessings of having it. People all over the world are grieving this morning. Only yesterday, one of our dear friends lost his mother to cancer.  Just this morning I read the obituary of Capt. Steve Kreighbaum, Captain of the Crorkindill of Michigan City. He takes with him a big chunk of my heart and many shared memories of Salmon fishing on Lake Michigan. He made such a glorious difference in my life. He shared joy and love, just dishing it out and spreading it around, like glitter!!! I am weeping for the loss of him this morning. I kept searching for this obituary all day yesterday….praying it was a cruel rumor that he had passed away Nope. It’s here and my heart aches for just one more trip with him, out to the big water to catch our limit…to see his smile and hear him call to me!!!  “Kid” FISH ON!!!! You’re up!!!! Oh this lump in my throat…will subside…it has to.  I wish that you all could have known him. What a gift. He was here on this earth for one purpose…to love everyone, every day. He sure accomplished that. And I just know that Dad was there to meet him, shake his hand with his amazing smile and together, they lamented the big ones that got away.  I don’t think he is resting in heaven, I think he’s fishing and drinking a cold one and being free and fine with kindred spirits. And he sure as hell wouldn’t want me sitting here crying into my coffee cup. Nope…he sure wouldn’t.

So, I know what to do. I’m going to go into the living room and turn on some Christmas music and get ready for the phone call from Courtney, Carsten and Cora. I’m going to be Facetiming and watch her open her gifts from Mimi. It’s the next best thing to being there, right?  Jackson and Brayden opened theirs early this month right here and I have the video to remind me, in case it begins to slip into yesteryear.  I got to spend time with Jackson on Facetime last night, I just love him!!!  It’s been amazing, here in my heart. It’s full to the very brink. Birthday wishes, Christmas greetings, virtual hugs and happy birf  day sang to me by my grands. I received the most amazing card from Mark…so good that I’m keeping it forever. He took me shopping yesterday and ended the evening with dinner and I watched him eat a huge hunk of cheese cake….AFTER he said he was too full!!!! Where does he put it????  I got to hear from my siblings yesterday and facetimed with my mom. That was a gift, for sure. After all, we share the birthday.

Today begins when I finish my love letter and share it. It feels like the official start to my every day. Thank-you, to those of you that read them. They’re from my heart to yours. And my prayer is that you’ll find something between the lines that help you, make you stronger, and give you the love that you need for the day.  And as I write the words that come from somewhere unknown, but cherished, I remind myself that there is magic here, and there is something tangible in the mysterious. There is joy where we look for it, and even in the absence of something or someone that we love and cherish, there are the memories that will grow stronger and sweeter, with time. And the love that our loved ones shared with us were investments in their legacies. Because I know like I know that Chris, and Joe and Peg, and Capt. Steve, and Dad and Grandmas and Grandpas and every other soul that loves us and waits to hugs us again are right there…just beyond the curtain. They tap us on the shoulder as we remember something about them that enriched us in so many ways.  And it’s Christmas morning…our memories of them are gifts beneath our tree…wrapped and shiny and ready to dazzle us, once more, when we open them up with a memory or two.  Bless you all on this and every other day. Merry Christmas.

Today is the day that I turn my age up one click. I’m 64 years old.  

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64?!

As a young girl, these lyrics didn’t mean much to me. I would wonder why a grown adult would ask to be fed…guess I was too young to understand the question. Thankfully, in this precious, love-packed life of mine, the answer to the question screams YES!  And being “fed” has nothing to do with food. It has everything to do with what we do to show love to one another. Support, physically and spiritually…that’s being fed. Understanding my need to be a free flying soul…that’s being fed. Warmth when it is cold, in the form of a warm embrace when the world just gets too frantic, that’s being fed. Feeling the love flowing from me and to me like a symbiotic symphony. Nope the question answers itself. I am so blessed.

I’m 63 years old. I’m 63 years old.  My daughter and I have a tradition. Every year, on the day before the other’s birthday, we ask the question of one other, “How old are you?” We do that because that is the last day we would ever be that age. So, today, I fully expect to hear the question. And for the very last time, on this day I can say that I am 63 years old. And I’m going to enjoy it! Every little bit of it.

I remember, before I began studying the teachings of the sages and mentors that somehow found me, I expected my 60s to be tired and sedentary. Why? Because I’d heard it all of my life. I’d hear older people talking and it was usually about what doctor they’d seen, what medications they were on, about what parts of their bodies hurt and why…I must say that I was afraid to get old. It looked like hell and sounded even worse. Even people my age talked about “back in my day”   And they’d say things, intended to be funny, but they are were making a statement, even to themselves.  Statements that began “At our age” and then they’d finish with something about weakness or the good old days. I’m not buying those thoughts. I’m not thinking them and I’m definitely not sharing any of that with others. Today, as I got out of bed, I found that this body of a 63 year old feels pretty darn good. The first thing I did was go outside, barefooted (sorry mom) and look for that darn star…just in case I could see it. I couldn’t.  I saw lots of stars but none that looked unusually large or like the pictures I’ve seen. Guess I’ll just have to look at the pictures.  No biggie. You know what I don’t like?  Cold feet. Where are my new fuzzy red socks? I love those!

 I just had my morning brew and I can’t deny the intent of my love letter today.  I thought about it as I opened my eyes this morning. It’s about getting another year older. It’s about our words, about others and about ourselves that change everything. I’m living proof. That’s why I want to share what I’ve learned.

The first time I heard the words, “Thoughts Become Things” I thought it was crazy talk. How can thoughts become things?  Yet, after studying everything about it that I could get my hands on, I gave it a try. I mean, things weren’t going very well, and well, maybe I was the cause. So…. No more self-deprecating comments. No “jokes” about being fat, or slow, or old, or any other self-diminishing things that I’d previously said. And while I was at it…because Karma is only a bitch when I am….no more comments about others, either.  My goal from the birth of my understanding about such things is to guard my thoughts and my words, to create a better day and life, not only for me, but for everyone that I meet.  Each and every time I begin a statement with the words “I am” I know that I have to be very careful by how I finish that sentence.  I can be thinking “I am so tired”…but if I were to say those words….my mind and subconscious mind hears them and creates it. So, I stop in mid-sentence and I change course….and I finish the statement with “so excited and happy…I have all of the energy that I need” Then, I may skip to the studio…or run a few steps. Why not! It works!  Or “I am so”….and I’d been thinking that I was angry…but in order to change my day for the better, I’ll finish it with “much better now that I’m over being angry.” Because, being angry never served me in my desire to have a great day.   The amazing thing is that it works for me. Every “I am” is a creation. Finish that statement with something that you want to be experiencing. Change the course of negative thoughts. How your day goes is up to you. How you act and react are choices that you make. The words that you say are first thoughts that you think. Chase bad thoughts away and fill your senses with things that make you better. You live your day and life one second at a time. I want to continue creating a life that feels like mine does. And when I have bad thoughts about me, I stop them. Bad thoughts become bad things. And if I don’t like something about me, then I should change it. We all can do that. But my god, stop putting yourselves down….not even in your thoughts.  Our bodies are what carry our souls around…let’s be nice.

It’s been a challenge for me not to react negatively to current world events. I mean, REALLY challenging…and some days, for a while there, I’d forgotten that the taste in my mouth, as I spoke, was hatred. It solved nothing. I thought things that I’m not proud of…and I know why my heart was hurting. When I thought those things, it helped absolutely no one. Especially, not me. When I write these love letters I do it for myself, too. They are a reminder of what I know for sure. And I do know that hatred doesn’t change our world for the better. Only love can do that. These letters help me to create loving feelings of hope and understanding. They’re meant to create a soft place where forgiveness happens, even as I forgive myself. It’s meant to be a place where old feuds are left on the battlefield and where we all become ever cognizant of the brevity of our lives. It’s great to be 63 for the last time today. It truly does.  Bring on 64!!!

It’s not just the smell of hot coffee in the morning, it’s the promise. And I use a very large cup so that this experience lasts an extraordinarily long time. In my writing chair, as even the bird (Mambo) is still asleep, I look to the events that are already planned for the day. There is much to do. But since it’s quiet and no harm to be done, I can close my eyes and be in Florida with mom, sitting in the lanai, sipping hot coffee, watching the little lizards climb the walls of the bird house. I loved those mornings. The smell of the pool water, so familiar and enticing, making it hard to wait till sunrise to jump on in. Her Florida house was always so beautifully decorated at Christmas time. Even in Fla, she’d baked the world famous Monschein Christmas cookies. It’s just not Christmas without those.

We all went to the beach that Christmas Eve and had cocktails for our Birthday. Since mom and I share that birthdate, it was so wonderful to be together to celebrate the passing of another year. That Christmas, in Florida, was a bit strange for me. Oh it was warm and lovely, for sure. I’d take warm over cold every time. Joe had long passed by then and there was always a big quiet void of a   space    there, especially when someone would quote him or when something was just too funny to hold it together.   He was such a part of that place that it seemed like he’d been there the whole time, and we just missed him. I kept watching for him to turn the corner and come into the room, laughing and whistling Jingle Bells. I’ve really never gotten used to festivity without him and mom missed him with every beat of her heart. She felt lost there and way too lonely.  We were all so happy when she decided to sell that place and come back home to Elkhart.    She would never again be alone or lonely on Christmas day or any other day, for that matter. One things for sure, home is where she is. And so is Christmas.

As is usually the case, my coffee that was so yummy and hot has turned tepid, at best, and it brings me back to the right here of it all.  I’ll dress in cozy warmth and make the walk across the deck, through the yard and into my very own Stained Glass studio.  It’s below freezing this morning. I’ll hear the crack of the grass with each step, like breaking glass.  Its sound, like a shot on the snare, in rapid beats, until I enter the warm room that is my sanctuary.  

First, the smell of lavender and old glass,  then switch life to ON, hearing the sound of speakers coming to life I know that Carrie Newcomer will be singing my favorite songs and making sense of it all….and I’m home.  I have much to do today.  I need to get going on the many projects that I have on my table. Christmas is fast approaching and I don’t plan to disappoint anyone by not completing their commission pieces.

Today I feel that everything is possible and I’ll do my part to prove it that it is true. So much promise in my every morning. I’m so thankful for my good health, the strength of my own two hands and the wanting and willingness of my heart to keep my world, my family and my friends close…maybe not logistically, but in the ways that truly count…keeping you close enough to touch, in ways that surpass the findings of our senses. I’m sending love and light to every one of you. I’m sending you the peace that comes from knowing that someone, somewhere, is thinking of you and loving you and wishing for you all of the things that bring you joy. 

Last night, high in the sky, people near and far saw what they’re calling the Bethlehem star. It was so beautifully visible …in some places. We had clouds here so there were no visible stars. But I saw the pictures, shared by some who saw it. What an amazing gift and just in time for Christmas. And now, right now, the sun is painting the sky to give light to begin my day. That’s my cue. It’s game ON!!! Have a great day. It’s the only December 22, 2020 you’ll ever have. Let’s make it epic!

 At 2:30 this morning Chico, beloved fat Chihuahua, was barking as if someone was trying to steal his dinner. For God’s Sake, BE QUIET!!!  But my innermost wish wasn’t enough to even lower the volume, let alone stop him. So, begrudgingly, I disarmed the house and made my way to where Chico was sleeping, last I looked. Yes, he was still there, buried beneath his blanket, sticking his nose out just enough for us to lock eyes. I wasn’t happy and he knew it. He looked away from me like he had no idea what I was doing up at this hour of the morning. Like I had disturbed HIM.  Oh well, there was nothing to be done here. He was quiet now…gee, thanks. 

I don’t know about you, but once I’m awake, I tend to stay that way. I truly didn’t want to stay awake at 2:30 in the morning. I’ve made that choice before and it makes for a less than epic day as my energy would begin to wane somewhere around 4:00pm…WAY too early for bedtime. Anyway, the whole point to this story is how it was that I found my way back to sleep. I have tried the counting sheep version of getting to sleep, but that never works for me.   I armed the house and, in the dark, found my bed. In my quiet desperation to sleep, I made my own version of counting sheep, and it’s because of its effectiveness that I share it with you.

Getting comfy, beneath my warm blankets I closed my eyes and made my way to the hill that was but a short walk away. The grass was so thick and plush that it made not a sound as each step got me closer to my destination. Arrived, I laid down on that soft blanket of green grass and gazed up through the boughs, seeing the fluffy, white clouds, perfectly hung in that beautiful blue sky. The breeze was blowing gently, and I could hear it. The sound that the leaves made as they swayed in the wind was so calming to me. It’s like they were holding on for dear life while they danced together on every limb. Once in a while a leaf would let go, and as it was caught in the breeze it turned and twirled and danced it’s last and I watched as it touched the ground, ready, now, to catch any rain that may come its way. As one landed another would  begin its journey to the ground. In my dream, the leaves were all a part of a beautiful, synchronized dance and they would all let go, when it’s was their time.  Watching them fall so softly to the ground to the symphony of sound, made possible by the trees in the breeze is what took me back to the dreams that I’d left just a few moments ago.

I woke, for the second time, this morning at 7:00am. Feeling rested and relaxed, I’m ready for everything that this day will hold. I have fun things planned and I can’t wait to get started. Chico just caught me staring at him and even though I know that he can’t speak the language (or can he???) I told him that he’s one lucky dog that my counting falling leaves worked this morning.  Mark said he hadn’t heard a thing.  I’m glad. No use both us up at 2:30. I just had a thought… it wasn’t all that long ago, I would just be going to bed at that hour….My God, how did I do that? And then I’d go to work by 6:00am.  Ahhhh, youth. I’m glad that I lived through that part. Just look what I’d have missed. Have a great Monday. Mine is well on the way to Great-status, already.

I love surprises. I love them, large and small! To me, it’s what keeps life so interesting. It could be anything, really. It can be a green new shoot on my Dieffenbachia, a new flower on my spider plant, or our way too fat Chihuahua jumping up on the couch without any assistance. It can be finally finding the mate to my favorite purple socks. I love it when I’m thinking of my son and the phone rings…and yes! It’s him!!! I love it when Mark feeds the fish and I don’t have to! I love getting cards from my friends because they’ve remembered my birthday. I love it when someone buys me a beer!   I love it when the ball goes into the pocket, like I knew what I was doing, when we’re downstairs playing pool.  I love the sound of a slot machine when I win quarters!!!  I love talking to my daughter every single day. It’s like a warm hug.

I love it when I turn on the radio and they’re playing an Eagles song. I love Sunday mornings and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I love it when people are nice and I love being one of those people. I love pictures drawn by my grandkids. I am always surprised when I actually get the remotes to do what I wanted them to do, without asking Mark. I love it when I have a whole day with nothing on the calendar. I love the surprise of a friend asking me to join her for lunch. I just love that!!!

I love the feel of my old, worn out fuzzy blue robe, right out of the dryer. I love sharing my birthday with my mom and the surprise of it all….that being another year older feels like a blessing to me. I don’t mind getting older…one glorious day at a time. And it’s a good thing, too, because it’s going to happen, whether I mind it or whether I don’t.  I love picking up my guitar and remembering the chords to my favorite old songs. And I’m always surprised by just how good it feels to play it again.  I love grabbing a book and getting cozy on the couch. I love to hear the sound of the fireplace as the flames come to life. I’m always surprised and amazed by the birth of each new day and how the sky turns the colors of fire across the horizon. The sky is so big here…it’s like I have a ringside seat to the beauty of it all. 

I’m surprised when our bird says a new word…that’s always good for a laugh or two. I love playing with stained glass and am always surprised by just how beautiful it is when it hangs, polished to diamonds, dancing in the sun. I love Christmas time, the songs, the sounds, the tastes of it. I love the hope that lives in it. I love the kindness of strangers as they wish everyone a Merry Christmas as they walk out of a store. I love it that we get to share Christmas with Brittany, Brayden, Paula and Kurt.

I love every single one of our neighbors. We are a family here. We help one another, we care about one another. We love everyone’s kids and dogs.  We celebrate our collective successes. It’s a magical place, here in our little corner of the world. I never want to leave.  Yes, I love surprises…an ever growing list of things that I love and that fill my heart.

One of the advantages of being “older” is that hindsight is so very clear. The would’ves, the should’ves, and even the could’ves jump up and down, vying for my observation.  To say that, as a young mother, I tried my very best to be the best mommy of all time, is just a really big fabrication. I was going along, every day, doing what I did to get it all done. I wasn’t trying to be inspired. I wasn’t trying to make memories that would shine for as long as they lived. Yes, I did do some of that “making memories” stuff and I had fun doing it, but it wasn’t because I was being insightful. I think I did those things when the thought of it occurred to me. I’m so thankful that, at least, those thoughts did seek me out.

From my childhood there were moments and days in time that have cemented themselves into my memory. Those memories hang around with me and take me back with them, whenever I choose to go.  Yes, it’s true that some of my memories are bad ones. They try, at times, to get my attention and time.  They have beckoned to me to come and play. The answer is always no, thanks. I have much better things to do with my time. Then I politely turn my back, if there is such a thing. But that’s what it feels like. Politely turning my back to focus on the times in my life that have thrilled me. I focus on the memories that make me feel warm and glad that I still remember.

One memory is reoccurring. As a young girl, our whole family would pack up the station wagon and sitting in the very back, looking out of the rear window, we’d wave at the driver of the cars behind us. That was always fun and kept us entertained until we got to the lake, Aunt Kay’s house!!!! Once there, it was my full-time job to jump off the pier into the water, play under the dock (before I noticed that spiders live there…and the very big ones were there the whole time but I’d never noticed!!!) We’d eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and salted watermelon. We drank Cherry Kool aid and cold lemonade, played hide-n-seek, caught lightening bugs, learned to ski and just ran and played until way after dark. What great memories.  Christmas, at the lake, was magical. There was always snow up there. After we’d exhausted ourselves climbing snowy hills and going back down them on sleds or on those round, metal, saucer-looking down-hill suicide “toys” (since one of the handles had snapped off)  we’d be called in to sip hot chocolate and ready ourselves for some quiet time.  Aunt Kay got out boxes of old, costume jewelry, and sequins. She’d gotten us all Styrofoam balls and straight pins. Hearing the Christmas music in the background, all of us were seated at the big table. She showed us how to put the pins through the holes of the pearls and sequins and then stick them into the balls. We kept doing it over and over until our Christmas tree ornament was full of beautiful colored sequins and jewels. Now that is making memories, no doubt. I love Aunt Kay. I will always keep her in my heart. She isn’t really my aunt, but in my heart she will always be.

I spend a lot of time, I know, thinking about and talking about my memories. And that’s the point. I’m made of memories…in the making or already made. Living in the “now” is a lofty challenge since each second slides into the past with just a click. The whole point of this letter is that our memories are being made with or without our consent or input. We can mindlessly let the time pass without our participation or we can dive in and make it count.

I must have mentioned this three times, just yesterday. I wish I would have been more of an intentional participant of my kid’s memories. Oh, I’m sure they have some and I’m sure most of them were good…If I can measure their childhood that way? I guess their childhood is not mine to measure. What I’m trying to say, is that I wish that I would have made them sit with me and decorate Christmas cookies, instead of thinking that it’d be much easier to just do it myself. I wish I’d have read Twas the Night before Christmas to them each year on Christmas Eve until they could read, then I’d hand the honor down to them…and then let that be part of our family tradition. I should have made hot cocoa and watched Rudolph together and made the big deal of it that it should have been. I should have gotten a Christmas pickle for the tree. I just now have even heard about it. What other fun, tradition-honored, things are hiding just beyond our keyboards, if we just look?  I wish I’d have created family tradition beyond cookies and gifts beneath the tree. Something that years from now, my kids’ kids would do, instinctively, just because it’s part of who and what they are.

Now that I have grandkids, all of these thoughts occur to me. I’m sharing them with you so that maybe you’ll write a story about your lives, complete with all of the magic that was created while you were on watch. Don’t get me wrong, our Christmases were just full of magic and joy. I just wish that I’d known how much power lived in my fingertips. That’d I’d have given them storybook memories steeped in family tradition. After all, we’re the ones that make tradition. If we don’t have any, we must create it for ourselves. Let it begin now, today. Let it begin with you and with me.  Blessings.

It’s so cold out there. The snow is still there…Id expected it to be gone by now. Bella’s paw prints are still discernable across the deck and the stars are so beautifully bright…clear, crispy early mornings are good for that. The cookies are ready for frosting and for decoration as I rolled them and cut them out last night. Now they rest, cooled and ready for the last step. Soon they will be famous Monschein family Christmas cookies. It’s in that moment, when I sit by the fire, looking at the tree, dipping that cookie in ice cold milk…it’ll officially be Christmas!

There is just something about the whole experience…I’m a little girl again. The kitchen was small, with very little counter space. We had a small table in that room that served as our dining room table. THAT is where cookie magic was made.  Mom would roll out the dough and cut out Christmas cookie shapes with old metal cookie cutters. Those cutters looked just like my grandma’s. In the oven they’d go as she cut more and more trees, and bells, and stars, angels and gingerbread men. My sisters and I would be there with her, in the kitchen. As she’d pull those baked beauties out and placed them on huge pieces of foil, to cool, we would remain diligent, standing guard over the foil, just hoping that a gingerbread man would have lost his leg in the process and we would eat the injured cookie. Just let one of the stars crack in half and we would be at the ready…”Can we eat that one, PLEASEEEE?” As time is a concept that is lost when we are young, it took FOREVER for those cookies to cool. Mom brought the last batch from the oven and transferred them to the cooling area without incident or injury to any of those last cookies. DARN! Why did she have to be so careful!? And, now that I’m airing my grievances, why did she scrape that bowl and beaters so well before she presented them to us for the fun that followed as we spooned and licked up every visible trace of cookie batter? Hmmmm, probably the very same reason that I did and do.  Some things live on through the generations.

Now is when it got serious in the dining room. This is where the production line was set up and we all had our positions and our job to do…and it’d better be good.  Mom would have the bowl of famous Monschein Family Cookie Frosting before her, with a wide knife. We all had our cookie sheets in front of us and bowls of different colored sugar and other decorations.  She’d apply a thin layer of frosting and then place it in the center of the table for us to grab, decorate, adorn with at least one red hot and then move it to the corner of our cookie sheet.  And we’d better hurry, too. That frosting dried so fast, and no decorations would stick, after that. Not even the RED HOT!  God Forbid!!! We would continue this exercise until there was not room for one more cookie. We’d then carefully move to the kitchen table with our full sheet and transfer them to the wax paper that had been made ready to hold all of our works of art. I always knew which cookies I’d decorated. I made them special because I’d be dreaming of eating them once we were done, and I wanted them to be the most delicious. 

Mom kept on frosting and somehow, always kept up with us.  I mean HOW???  I really don’t know. We had a 3-1 advantage over her. And not only could she keep up, but she had time for quality control. She’d go out to the kitchen to inspect our work. Lord knows, if you didn’t put at least one red hot on your cookies….shed bring it back to the table to re-work.  Those memories are treasures that feel so warm where I keep them, deep down in my heart and they live again every Christmas at the first dunk.  The very taste of them is so much more than the sum of the ingredients. It’s the taste of generations of us around the table, doing things in a way that would make our German ancestors, the creators of the original Famous Monschein Christmas Cookie recipe, proud. At least, that what’s been repeated over the years.  My mom and her 4 siblings, at the table, decorating these cookies…..Me and my sisters….my kids….and hopefully their kids…and so on.  Some folks would say that they don’t know why I love these cookies so much. Even my kids would choose a Keebler Elf cookie over our family cookies.  My husband says, “Maybe if you added more sugar?” This makes me laugh because nothing, absolutely nothing, could make me change one, single thing about these cookies. My recipe is written in my mother’s hand and it has butter stains.  The recipe card is torn and the edges have been loved off.

This year, because each Christmas can be different, I’m frosting and decorating by myself. Where this could be viewed as a sad story, when, before, it held so much laughter and love…I’m kept company by the memories of it all.  I say, that a hot cup of coffee and a Christmas movie will be just the right backdrop to cookie decorations, 2020. Maybe Elf, again. “Hello, Buddy the Elf, What’s your favorite color?”  Just the anticipation of the first ready-for-dunking cookie, in my hand will get these cookies done in good time.   To the tree I will go.  Cookies in one hand, milk in the other and I’ll think of my grandmother.  I’ll think of my mother who delights in us making our family cookies in our own homes. And I’ll send love to them through the universe. So much happy in one little cookie! Thank-you for my memories.

“When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.”

 Have you ever been reading a book and something shared by the author hits you like a ton of bricks?  I mean, it’s so compelling and true to your soul that you have to read that passage again?  And again?  I, sometimes, use a highlighter to save it so that it doesn’t get lost within the pages. When this happens for me it usually initiates great change in the way that I choose to live my life.  One of the greatest gifts is what my teachers have given and what I’ve taken as my own way to tell my story.

I used to view my life as a collection of stories where I would play the victim’s part. Bad things would happen to me and around me and I’d say things, like, “Well, that’s just my luck.” And when I said that, my subconscious mind heard every word. And I’d believed me.  I’d tell the story of my childhood, complete with every unfair, and nasty little detail. For a while, I even went to talk to a professional so that I could dig even further down into the rabbit hole of misery and feel it all over again. I walked through my days feeling bad about myself. And what’s worse, every chance that I had, I’d shared the details with all who would listen.   

Then one day I found the book that changed it all. It kept popping up and I’d see it everywhere I looked. Finally, I grabbed it to keep me company on a long road trip. It was an audio book called the Secret, by Rhonda Bryne. I listened to it over and over and grabbed treasure from it with both hands. That book led to another and another by different authors. And the reason I kept digging in, is because the written or spoken words became the roadmap that I needed. Instead of blaming events in my childhood on others, I realized that that was my childhood and I’m no longer that child. Jack Canfield taught me that everyone has a past. Everyone has a bad memory of their childhood…whether they choose to live their lives through the eyes of that child or not is their choice. What do we want to accomplish in our lives? What will be our focus?  Will we lament the loss of a perfect childhood and blame our inadequacies on our mothers or fathers, or will we wipe our feet and walk on? It’s been years since I’ve thought of these things. I’ve filed it under “Oh, well, so what.”

These days when I speak of my childhood, I have glowing memories of neighborhood play and lots of friends. I have wonderful memories of family dinners in our modest little kitchen and the smell of fried chicken. I have holiday memories of our big happy family parties and actually knowing all of my cousins and aunts and uncles, because they were there to share my life.  When I talk about my childhood, it’s joyous and full of wind in my hair and dirt on my knees. It’s cookies in both hands and a milk moustache. And it’s not because I’m burying anything, as has been suggested, but because bad memories live in yesterday and that is where they belong. They can only play a part in any today, if I invite them back in. I Don’t. It’s that simple.   Regrets waste precious time and I don’t dwell of them. My teachers taught me to replace what makes me feel sad with what makes me feel happy. Music, glass, writing, singing, baking, reading, talking to family and friends, laughing, watching Christmas movies…all make me feel happy. I fill my life with these things.  When a bad thought floats in, I see it, recognize it for what it is, don’t give it any attention, and wave goodbye as it just floats right back out.

No, it’s not always sunshine and rainbows, but damn near.  I can’t control my every thought, but I’ve honed the skills that I need to create an incredibly happy life. And I do that by filling it with joy. People ask me why I’m always smiling, and am I really this happy…I am!  And still I pinch myself…How can this be…coming from where I’ve been???  There are just more and more things to be grateful for. And it all started by knowing that it’s all in how you tell your story. Your subconscious will believe your every word. Choose them wisely. You have the pen, what’s your story? One bad thought brings the next just as one good thought brings the next good thought. And doesn’t that feel so much better? I sure think that it does. Have a great day. Decide it now.

I just stayed beneath the covers, wide awake, in the dark…thinking about Christmas. It was soon to arrive. Usually I’d be jumping around, excited. I’d be making my 3rd batch of world famous Monschein family Christmas cookies by now. The tree would be lit and the garland twinkling down the banister. So why, this year, am I just laying here, in the dark?  If I were to listen to my heart, I would think that Christmas is already over.

You see, usually, every year, there is so much to look forward to, I am usually just antsy with excitement. It’s all a list of things to accomplish, complete with rum and eggnog. Its Christmas music and tinsel and candy canes on the tree. It’s getting the rooms ready for whoever wants to stay. Its card games to play and wrapping paper and presents under the tree. It’s spending time with neighbors and friends and knowing in the deepest place in your heart that all is well, here in my corner of the world.

This year is a bit different. Noah, Beth, Jackson, Brittany and Brayden were here with us and we celebrated together on December 6, as everyone had to go back home, back to work the next day. Courtney, Carsten and Cora weren’t able to come home this Christmas. COVID19. My mom and my sisters are hours away, safe and COVID-free. I’m going to do my part to keep it that way.  This year, the birthday that my mom and I share will have to be shared by zoom or facetime. I’m missing home. And it has my heart just a little sad. I’ve come to realize that I don’t do SAD very well.  It just soaks up my day, leaving nothing to smile about. The only person to change this is me. So I began my list of things for which I am grateful and my heart began to fill up, once more. I asked to be the light, not sulk in the dark. Let this season begin anew.

It felt like answered prayer and the light came on…not in the room (Mark would have been non-plus) but in my mind and in my heart. And the greatest part is that there is still lots of time before Christmas morning. I get it. Christmas isn’t magical unless and until I do my part. I am the one to put in a Christmas movie, and I am the one who will make the cookies. It’s me that will wrap the gifts and feel the thrill of it all, just knowing that special gift will let that person know how much I love them. I will wear my Christmas sweaters and warm red socks and feel the joy of it all. I wait for Christmas all year long. It’s a time of year that feels like family. And though I’m miles away from my kids and theirs, Christmas is a feeling of joy that I want to share with them near or far.

I miss those that I love that have gone before us. They gather round the tree with us, each and every year. They sit at our dinner table and hold our hands when we bow our heads in gratitude for the love that we all share with one another. I’m so thankful for the wisdom, shared with me this morning.   Christmas season is as joyous as we, ourselves, make it. Happiness and joy and the sharing of these things are choices that we can make. It’s the giving of joy and laughter and love that shines brighter than any Christmas tree. Indeed, the greatest of gifts. I’m so grateful that I get another chance to help make this Christmas as special as it deserves to be. Merry Christmas to you, every one of you.

Last night, after dinner, her memory came to visit me. I could sense that she was here with me. It was quiet and soft and I whispered, “Hi, Angie” I wasn’t thinking about her yet here she was. She didn’t stay for long…but it was just long enough. I got to “see” her again.

I have been working away in my studio and I smell my dad. I smell the leather of the coat he wore. And I know that he is visiting. I always stop what I’m doing so that I can fully absorb everything. Using all of my senses, I let him in. And I am warm and full of gratitude that I got to sense him near.

I have been driving along and suddenly I know that Joe is there, with me. How do I know? I just do. And it’s always a surprise. I don’t seek them out…they just come to say hello, I guess?

I wonder, when this happens, are they tapping me on the shoulder? Are they here to remind me of something? Is there something that I need to notice or learn? I guess I’ll never know the answer, but their visits always makes me smile.  

For as long as I can remember, I have felt that little nudge from somewhere, unknown, that has directed me to turn right or left…reminded me of something that I needed to do…and has scolded me when it’s been far too long since I’d called to tell someone that I was thinking of them and that I love them. It’s focused my attention on flowers that I would buy and give to someone to brighten their day. It’s that same nudge that finds me paying for some stranger’s coffee or gas for their travels when they’re struggling to find enough change to pay the clerk at the station.

I believe there are angels all around us.  I also believe that they visit us and guide our steps. Sometimes, as a whisper or a nudge…and at other times it’s like a fire that moves us urgently toward something that’s meant for us. As I have gotten older, I guess I just listen for the little voice that lives within all of us. Often it is silenced by how we fill our lives with so much chaos and noise. And sometimes it’s just so loud that we couldn’t hear it if we tried.

I seek to hear the wisdom of my guardian angels.  I ask the questions that challenge my heart. And I wait for the answers. No, it’s not a vocal response. It’s more of a nod, a prompt, to move toward my next steps. It’s been working pretty well for me…for quite a while now. The quieter I am, the more I “hear”.  I love being in my writing chair each morning. It’s quiet and feels like the world is open and inviting me in.  What an amazing life. I’m so thankful that I can share it with all of you.

White knuckles wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, I pulled over to the side of the road. The rain was coming down so hard that I couldn’t see the lines.  The lights from the oncoming traffic were blurred halos and I just knew I had to stop or face the consequences. I was late for work and I knew that I wouldn’t make it before the buzzer. Late again…my heart sank. Sitting there in the dark I allowed my head to just bow in defeated surrender. There was nothing to stop my tears from falling…I felt so alone.

I was working two jobs back then and my mom was watching my kids while I worked to save the money to get a place of my own. My work at the RV plant started before sunrise.  It was physically challenging but that’s where I made the bulk of the money. After getting off work, I’d go to Pizza Hut where I’d worked my way from waitress to Assistant Manager. My hours were 4-11pm.  I never got to see my kids. I was physically exhausted, but what was even worse…I was close to breaking.  

I just couldn’t see a way out of the life that I’d created for myself. The choices that I’d made had me sitting in my junky car, in the dark, crying and begging the question, “What else can I do!!!”   I couldn’t work any harder. There weren’t any more hours in the day. It was a dead end life. How could I be this damn tired! Then, I felt it...crying time was over…I had to get to work.

I’m never really sure where it comes from, divine intervention? The rain began to slow, I pulled back into traffic and I made it to work before the buzzer. Score!!! That morning remains frozen in my memory.  The reason for that is that a few days later my Dad told me that he had gotten me an opportunity to work where he worked. He made it clear that he couldn’t keep the job for me, but at least I could come to work at Vincent Bach and try my hand at soldering saxophone keys. This was a union shop!  That meant good wages and benefits!!! I didn’t even have health insurance!!! I dreamt of working there! I was determined to be the best silver solder-er in that place. I still kept my pizza hut job at night, just in case.  So, I was still working all of the hours, but at least I saw the light at the end of the tunnel…and it wasn’t a train.

A few months later Pizza Hut was in my rearview mirror and we had a place of our own.  I’ll never forget what my mom did for us. We had a place to stay, food to eat, and she took care of my kids for 3 months!  Who does that!!! She said that her mom did that for her, too. Sometimes life throws a curve ball you just can’t catch.

I ended up working at Vincent Bach for 18 years. My dad was there, with me. If I wouldn’t have dug in, worked hard and earned my spot there, I wouldn’t have gotten to know my dad. My memories of my life with my dad are always with me. Always just a thought away. Sitting in that car, wondering if there was more for me in this life…I truly wondered if I was doomed to a life with no light and no joy, no time to click my heels. How did I not give up?  How did I not give in? And instead, choose to try.  The angel that sits on my shoulder must have been working overtime.

I look for lessons, looking back. How did I end up here, happy and warm, with two grown children leading happy lives of their own?  I guess, if there is a lesson anywhere, it’s that I just kept working, taking one step at a time, reaching for something better. Doing the best that I could from where I was and with what I had.  And when that little voice whispered, I listened.  

“There is a method to my madness,” she would say. As a child, Saturday morning was worth the wait. We would get out of bed, run down those stairs, fill a bowl with cereal and milk and plant ourselves in front of our TV. CARTOONS!!! There were 3 channels back then and our remote control were our two legs, getting up to turn the dial. We had an antenna that had two “arms” that we could rotate around when the picture got snowy. Someone said that if we wrapped the arms with foil it would be even better.

At Christmas time the cartoons were great, but the commercials were the BEST! That’s how we saw the new toys and decided what we simply could not live without. Well, that, and the Sears Christmas catalog. We’d circle the things we’d chosen for our lists.  Mom would be working around the house, letting us just soak up being a kid on a Saturday morning. But when the roadrunner was over, so was her leniency.  We’d put our bowls in the sink and learn what had to get done. I remember just hating that part of Saturday. My friends went from cartoons to playing for the rest of the day. We, on the other hand, learned about washing woodwork, cleaning bathrooms, doing dishes, and picking up our rooms. I thought that was the most UNFAIR my mother ever got. I mean…come ON!!! It’s Saturday. That day is supposed to be Sacred!!! I mean, CARTOONS!!!

At Thanksgiving dinners, at my grandma’s house, I’d watched my grandma, mom and aunts create a spectacular dinner for us and how I’d enjoyed every delicious mouth full. Imagine my surprise, as I excused myself from the dinner table, turned toward the living room, when I heard my mother ask me to please come and help them to clear the table. And THEN to start doing the dishes?!!? So, let me get this right!!! While some folks retired from the dinner table to the living room to watch football, I was part of the cleanup crew. MAN!!! I thought that was so unfair.

As time has a way of doing, it came and went and I’d left my childhood in a giftwrapped box. I can open it anytime I want to sort through all of the memories I left in there. I had children of my own now. Thanks to my mom, I could cook and I could clean and I worked hard in order to respect and keep the things that I needed.  I have always known how to take care of myself.

I’ve worked hard my entire life and that is just the way that I was wired. My sisters are the same way. There is just no way that I can sit and watch someone clear the dinner table or clean the kitchen without lending a hand. I thank my mother for that.  I can’t watch someone struggle with a heavy load without grabbing an end. I thank my mother for that. I won’t just watch when I can help. My God, I want to thank my mother for this.

Looking back, the looks of horror when I told my kids, on Saturday mornings, to turn off the TV, it’s was time to pick up their rooms…still makes me laugh. I had a method to my madness. It was time for grownup training.

 I woke up this morning and my first thoughts were of Joe Kinneman. He was my step-father and was married to our mother for over 30 years. Just the thought of him whistling Jingle Bells and smiling that “cat that ate the canary” smile of his turned me into a kid again, just like it did when he was here. He was the master of Christmas surprise and merriment. I miss him always, but it’s at Christmas that I still mourn his passing. I don’t really regret it for him, but for us. I notice that the lights don’t sparkle quite as brightly. This happens every year, only for a moment. Just long enough to feel him near and let him know that I wish that he could be here with us again.  Anyone that knew him would agree, Christmas isn’t the same without him. I close my eyes and can still see him and when the wind blows just softly enough, I can still hear his laughter. It was the love of one man that changed my Christmases for as long as I live. 

I think I must have been around 4 years old. We were all there, at my grandma’s, for Christmas morning. All of the excitement that could live in a little girl’s heart was there, in mine. I can still smell the cinnamon rolls from grandma’s kitchen but it was the brightly wrapped packages that held my attention. My mom and grandma had been sewing for months to create the perfect Christmas surprises for two little girls, born 18 months apart. I remember opening that box to find a pink tutu, sparkly pink and I couldn’t stand the wait to put it on. I stood before grandma’s full length mirror and was instantly transformed into a beautiful ballerina. Up on my toes I went and turn and turn and turn. That was Christmas magic. And that magic was created by two women that loved us so much. I’m 63 years old and I remember every bit of that.

I had two children, was a single mom, and was spending every penny that I made on bills and food. We had an old beater of a car, in fact, it had holes in the floor board and it’d get my shoes wet as I drove to work in the rain.  One year, Christmas was looming and the light of the season was dimming. How was I going to create a Christmas morning for my babies when I didn’t have any money? That year I dreaded Christmas and everything about it. I felt weak and powerless. I went to get the mail one day just a week before Christmas and there was a letter from my Aunt Mim and a check for $500. That was the first time that I saw answered prayer appear in daylight and in real time. She had saved Christmas for my little family of three. The love of one woman changed everything.

Today, yesterday’s Christmases opened their doors and beckoned me to come in for a visit. I’m so glad that I did. It just reminded me that all it takes is love to change someone’s life for the better. Just someone to care enough to try can change everything. I’ve been blessed in my life. I’ve been surrounded by love since the day I was born. I wonder if they knew what a difference they made in my life. I want to do that for the people that I love. I want them to remember me when the lights twinkle on their trees…years and years from now and think, My God how she loved us.   Remember how she used to walk around singing Jingle Bells……….?????