Let's Talk About Love

I've not been able to write for a bit. Tons of garbage has recently visited the Deason home and I've been sad and sad and sad. No happy writings from this gal. No way. Nuh-uh. Ain't gonna happen.

On November 4th, I found myself with Tanna, Jerico and our beloved Rottweiler, Maui, at Alpine Animal Hospital. We were told that after 11 years, Maui would not be coming home. It was awful. Beyond awful.

11 days later we found ourselves at the same vet with our 12-year-old Pit. Locc didn't get to come home, either. Heartbreaking.

Man! I miss these dogs.

In September I was grabbing groceries when my phone rang. It was Mark. "Hey. When you get in your car give me a call."

Oh boy. This can't be good. This can't be good. This can't be good.

It wasn't.

"Rick just called me. Aunt Charlene is in the hospital and it doesn't look good. I don't think she'll go home."

He was right. She didn't.

Our beloved Aunt Charlene passed away.

We were spreading the word through the family, and Aunt Mel could not be reached. I don't know who it was. One of the boys? I think it was. However it came to be, SOMEBODY went to her house in Bakersfield, California to tell the horribly sad news about Aunt Charlene, and found our dear Aunt Mel had passed away on her couch.

Rick was gracious enough to drive all the way from Boise to grab me and take me to Bakersfield to attend Aunt Mel's funeral. It was beautiful.

Thanksgiving weekend found the family gathered again, in Boise, to celebrate the life of Aunt Charlene.

First, I have to say that I find funerals a bit joyous. I love to see family that I have neglected to touch base with throughout the year. Aren't we all guilty of this? "Tomorrow will come so I'll do it later." Tomorrow didn't come. I don't get to do it later. I hope against all hope that somehow they knew how much they meant to the entire family.

Tyson remembers Aunt Mel saying of Charlene, "She could have fun with a brown, paper bag."

That sums up Aunt Charlene. She would tell us stories of her shenanigans and we would howl with laughter. She would sheepishly grin and simply shrug her shoulders. That lady filled our hearts with love and laughter and joy BEYOND measure.

Aunt Mel was the youngest of the Deason-grown-up clan. EVERYONE loved Aunt Mel. Mel had a "presence" about her that you didn't even know you missed until she showed up to family events or gatherings and suddenly the family was made whole. She always made sure to personally greet each family member and have one-on-one conversations with each of us. Aunty M had a way of making each of us feel like we were loved the MOST.

Mark and I were talking about how each person in the world matters. We had recently read Andy Andrews philosophy of the "Butterfly Effect" and it rang true. We talked about how Charlene's humor carried this family and how something as simple as Mel's accent filled a room - and our hearts.

I'll miss them, you know. I'll miss the anticipation and excitement when I knew that I would get to see them. I will miss the laughter and joy I felt in their presence. I'll miss the hand-holding that each always offered me. I'll miss their voices. Their passion. Their love.

Most of all? I miss the era of my life when they were my age. My job was to run around chasing my little kids while they handled all the BIG stuff.

From the laughter of a child to the tears of a grown man
There's a thread that runs right through us all and helps us understand
As subtle as a breeze - that fans a flicker to a flame
From the very first sweet melody to the very last refrain...
Lets talk abut love
Let's talk about us
Lets talk about life
Lets talk about trust

Lets talk about love

Which Came First? The Chicken? The Egg?

Another Deason tied the knot. Sunday, October 1st, Dawn and Mike's youngest boy said "I do." Sean Paul Deason married Lindsey in (of course) a beautiful ceremony with a lovely bride coupled with an equally handsome groom. The magical moment was completed with their absolutely-adorable son, Micah.

Sean was always the "picky" one. He was picky about his clothes. He was picky about his food. He was picky about his hair, his toys, his smile, EVERYTHING. Having said all that, you must realize that Lindsey is absolutely wonderful for Sean to have "picked' her. Yep. She's a great mom, a beautiful human and has a heart to match her spirit. He is so lucky to have someone like her and (just so you know, Sean) if you mess this up we are keeping her and Micah and you'll be left on the curb.

For a short time, Dawn, Mike and family lived with us and I was given the take-care-of-all-eight-of-the-kids duty. Oh man. Did I earn my angel wings. My life consisted of feeding, laundry, housework and putting out fires with every corner turned. However, since Sean was the youngest and SO not what the other kids wanted tagging along in the imaginative soda shops or army-crawling-running-and-howling-with-laughter games, I enjoyed much one-on-one time with his creative imagination. To this day, it's such a bright spot when I can catch Sean alone and hear him talk of his hopes and dreams.

You probably are thinking "Man. Linnette sure relates Dawns kids to chickens." And that would be true. Sean was pretty dang young and at the table eating breakfast when Mark in all of his wisdom said "Sean! You're eating baby chickens." Oh boy. Sean howled and hollered and FORCEFULLY let us all know that without a shadow of a doubt he would NEVER eat eggs again. He wasn't kidding. To this day he isn't an egg fan. Thanks Mark.

Sean's cup overflows with talent. And smarts. And handsome-ness. And humor. And kindness. We are lucky to share the Deason name with this boy. Micah is lucky to call him "Daddy". Dawn and Mike are lucky to call him son and most important? Lindsey is lucky to call him "Honey".

Introducing the Deason family. Watch as they learn and grow and become.

My Desert Rose

This is the last birthday of the year. To be honest, I'm glad. I miss my little kids and every single STUPID birthday brings them further into adulthood with all the messiness that growing up brings. I hate that. I love seeing them grow and become. However, I absolutely despise disappointment that appears - whether it be brought on by bad choices or slung at them from someone else. I can fix hunger, tired kids, messes from falling, sibling fights. I absolutely cannot fix what others' have done to them out of selfishness.

So for now, my kids land on this year and (of course) will rock it brilliantly.

The final birthday of the year is my sweet Shelby. Today she turns 26.

Shelby was over last night. She lamented, "I'm closer to 30 than 20".

Shelby got that from me. (Sorry Shelb). When Shelby was little she always hated growing up. We used to constantly sing:

I don't want to grow up.
I'm a Toys"R"Us kid...

Shelby has always been my little social butterfly. When we would go grocery shopping I would put her in the cart and we would sing our "ABC's" while keeping our little fingers busy with signing as we sang. People had NO idea that I was saving them from "Hey! What's your name?" "Do you have a dog?" "What's your dogs name" What's your dads name" "What's your mom's name?" "I'm Shelbykardeason" "My dog is named Titleist." "He's part boxer and part golf ball."

"Shelby! Your name is Shelby KARELINE Deason. And Titleist is boxer and lab mix."

Then Shelby would look at me with her big blue eyes and little pixie face. "No Mommy. You're wrong."

I would sigh HEAVILY. "A B C D E F G..."

A few years back I made a movie for each of my kids as a Christmas gift. I found baby and family pictures to make each movie individual. I worked so hard to find the right music to make it all fit together. Taylor Swift had just released "The Best Day". Shelby and I shared that story. Shelby was in middle school and one day things were a bit rough for her. She came home in tears. We grabbed the keys and drove up to Midway, Utah. We window shopped, told stories and laughed. I don't remember exactly what happened at school. However, I DO remember spending the afternoon with my girl.

When the song was released, Shelby said "Listen to this song. It reminds me of you." That's the song I picked for her movie.

Mark knows his music. He understands theory and sound and how lyrics work. That guy was blessed with unmatched natural talent and then he coupled his talent with hard work and became a really, really, REALLY good musician.

Mark told me to listen to "Desert Rose" by Eric Johnson. I did. I thought to myself "I wish I had put this as Shelby's song.

Desert Rose dances, in heat of the sky
I must pattern my life about you;
You can make the most when the waters run dry.
Look into the well deep inside you. 

My Desert Rose
Born are the few,
Always with me,
A vision of you. 

Acrolith reflection, that floats through my dreams,
Arid is the dust underneath me;
Something far away, a mirage so it seems,
What I long to see, oh, could it be? 

My Desert Rose
Born are the few,
Always with me,
A vision of you. 

My Desert Rose
Born are the few,
Always with me,
Don't fade away.
Don't fade away.

That's my Shelby. Right there. She is a stunning beauty that blossoms in the heat and drought of Life. People look toward her light and imagine that they, too, can experience that kind of impassioned happiness.

I'm so stinking proud of her.

I have intimate knowledge of trials that have come her way. I have NEVER seen a child rise above bad adults coupled with bad adult behavior. Shelby did. Brilliantly. Life, death, pain, growth, loneliness, love. She captains it.

Happy birthday Shelby. You are my sunshine.

Begin Again

I love to read. I love paper and ink and the smell of printing. I love the creative thinking of authors and the graphic artists rendition behind the book jacket design. Most of all? I love starting a new book. It's tantamount to beginning a new adventure and I CAN'T WAIT to see how it all works out.

Mark and I took off on the motorcycle for our last big hoorah of the summer. There isn't much to do on the bike so I spend a ton of time lost in my own thoughts.

While enjoying the country-side, the wind and the sun my thoughts turned to me (surprise - yeah, it's ALL about me) and my disease. I try super hard not to give this "inconvenience" power, however, it keeps marching forward and I find myself focusing on icky thoughts more often.

Keira Knightley, Mark Ruffalo and Adam Levine star in a movie called "Begin Again". Google says:

"Gretta (Keira Knightley) and her songwriting partner/lover Dave (Adam Levine) head for New York when he lands a record deal with a major label. However, Gretta is suddenly left on her own when Dave gives in to the temptations that come with his newfound success. Things take a turn for the better for her when Dan (Mark Ruffalo), a disgraced record executive, discovers Gretta performing in a club. A mutually life-changing bond forms between the pair as they work together on Gretta's first album."

Shelby was visiting a while back and turned to this movie. I had not seen it before and since I'm a movie NUT, I sat and watched it with her. Oh man. I loved it.

A few years back, Mark asked me "If you could sing like anyone, who would it be?" Without skipping a beat I answered "Celine Dion".  At the time, I was REALLY into her and her music so the answer kinda came out like "duh".  Her voice is strong, vibrant and memorable. Yeah. I'd sing like her. Without a doubt.

I used to sing ALL THE TIME. I sang to the radio. I sang at my piano. I sang with music playing and without music. I sang to my babies, to my toddlers, to my kids. I sang in church, in my car, in my kitchen, in the shower, while I cooked or cleaned or mowed or slept. I sang. Albeit, I wasn't super good, but I so love music - so I sang.

I don't sing out loud any longer. My mouth muscles just don't work right. I can think the words, however, I can't get them out with the music. So I sing in silence.

I changed who I want to sing like. I'll take Keira. You'll have to watch the movie to understand. Her singing is soft, vulnerable, and simple -  no frills or fluff. Simple.

That's what new beginnings are about. Right? Simple. A thought becomes a step. A step becomes an action. An action leads to accomplishment. Simply begin.

According to Webster's Dictionary, the definition of beginning is:

1. the point in time and space at which something starts.

While riding the bike, this all went through my head. It might be a bit jumbled to you, however, it was clear to me. It's pretty simple. I can view what's ahead of me as an ending OR I can choose to embrace the new beginnings.

Maybe Meister Ekhart had it right when he said:

"And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings."

My Gift

In 2008 the movie Seven Pounds starring Will Smith (I love him) and Rosario Dawson (yeah, she's the bomb) was released.

According to IMDb

"A man with a fateful secret embarks on an extraordinary journey of redemption by forever changing the lives of seven strangers."

The movie stood out in my mind - not because it was so good (it was), not because the actors were so incredible (they were), not because the story was so wonderful (it was) - simply because I left the movie thinking "That's something Tyson would do."

Other friends/family saw the movie and time after time I heard "I thought about Tyson while watching that movie. That's something he would do." And he would. 

Tyson came into this world 2 months early and weighing in at 5 pounds 6 ounces. I think his heart made up 5 pounds of that weight. I've said it time and time again. Tyson is the most giving person I know. I know A LOT of people.

33 years ago, my life changed forever with the birth of my son. I thought I had it all handled and knew what to expect. Oh, the arrogance of being young. I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. A few years back I told Tyson "I made all my big mistakes with you." He simply nodded in affirmation. Then he grinned. That cute, dimpled smile that melts my heart and I knew all was forgiven.

Tyson does not live in the past. He has moved forward brilliantly with a catcher's mitt in one hand and his left hand free to toss back each curve ball that life has thrown his way. Things I have spent a lifetime learning - forgiveness, generosity, making a difference - come naturally to this kid.

As a young boy, Tyson took on the mentor role with each of his siblings. Time passed and he taught his friends that they could forever depend on him. To this day, if something is needed just ask Tyson. That's a legacy that many of us will not leave behind. Tyson will. With a vengeance.

In 2012 I wrote a blog called "Unsung Heroes". This post was about Tyson. Tagging along at the end of my writing is a copy of a poem by Rudyard Kipling "If". I have always related this poem to my boy.  The line "And never breathe a word about your loss" is how Tyson has chosen to live. Not too many people get the luxury of knowing the true man - the good, the bad and the ugly. It's all there, wrapped in a perfect package that I am lucky enough to call mine.

Happy Birthday, Tyson, may we all be a bit like you.

The Great Unknown

Today marks one year since Dad's passing. My relationship with Dad came late in life - not smeared with adolescence insolence or childhood insecurities. I have always vehemently stated that our relationship was perfect. We were uninterested in the hurt and pain that often accompanies family. He had NO idea of the stupid stuff I did when I was a kid and I held no grudges of the less than ideal moments he might have been guilty of as a parent. Our past, present and future was unsoiled and I was so lucky.

My heart broke when Dad died. The shatter brought me to my knees. Mark tried with all of his might to console me. I was comfortless and one year later I don't see myself recovering any time soon.

It's been a whole year of firsts. Dad's wife, Arlene, has struggled with these. It's been hard for her to be alone. She misses the bickering that comes with years of marriage. The anger, the pouting, the silent treatment, the slamming and the muttering all seem to fade when you lose someone you truly love. You find yourself remembering the camping trips, the long drives in the car, the conversations, the meals cooked and shared, date night at your favorite restaurant and the comfortable silence of their presence.

One day I was sitting at my counter eating Top Ramen - of all things. I looked out the window in time to see a couple get out of their car and head up the sidewalk to my house. "I know them, but who the crap are they?" It was Dad and Arlene. 

When I came to my senses and rushed to the door to greet them, I asked "OHMYGOSH! Why are you here?" They had heard that I had gotten a not-so-nice-letter from someone and it had rocked my small world a bit. Dad had driven 12 hours because I "might need a hug from your dad." And they hugged me. And we cried. And my cup runneth over.

Today EVERYTHING reminds me of my dad. I still smell the outdoors he wore as cologne. I remember the feel of his curly hair. The sensation of his warmth wrapped around me lingers on my shoulders. I hear his music and it commingles with the tinkling of his laughter. I miss the sound of his voice. 

Life without someone you love is like entering a great unknown. You don't know what's ahead. You can't have what is behind. So you wing it - never knowing when a touch, a smell, a song, a poem, a voice or a presence tickles your brain and tears begin to flow.

I have a frame above my desk with pictures of dad and myself on the first day we met. I look at it and remember him. I hope I honor him. Although our time together was short, I hope I made him proud.

I love you Dad. 

A Diamond in the Dust

Another year has circled around and landed smack dab on Tanna's birthday. Oh what to say? So many thoughts and worries and lectures and hopes and dreams and desires about this girl keep me up at night. However, a year ago there was not a moment that I didn't think I would lose my girl. Drugs. Stupid drugs. Tanna was embroiled in them and as a family, we were beyond helpless.

Tanna has been clean 7 months now. Let me repeat that. TANNA HAS BEEN CLEAN SEVEN MONTHS NOW. And I'm proud.

Yes, friends, we have a long way to go. A lifetime of change doesn't happen in months. I know that. However, the hours lead to days, days lead to months, months lead to years and years lead to lifetimes. The steps are becoming easier. As footsteps lighten, we weigh ourselves down on another item to place our focus. Someday, we will get back to who she was before her life hit a brick wall.

Today is to celebrate the birth and life of my daughter.

Have I ever told you that I like Tim McGraw? In case you were wondering, I do. I like his music ALOT.

Goose and his wife Daulton, dear Uncle Mike, nephew Mat, friend Cale and hubby Mark all went hiking and backpacking the Wind Rivers in Wyoming. No I didn't go. The conversations went something like:

"You should come with us. I can make a pack for you and carry you wherever you need to go"

"Are there hotels? Room service?"

He looked at me incredulously, "No."

"Then no...HECK NO... I'm not going."

Let's be honest, even if I could walk like a champ, I wouldn't go. Eating fish for nine days, sleeping on the ground, and finding a bush for toilet coverage is not my cup of tea. Go figure.

Instead, Tanna and I left to go see Arlene in Washington. Other than for the memorial, I haven't been back since dad passed. That's a blog for another time. The trip was tinged with sadness, but what a great visit! Spending time with family is always good for your soul, isn't it?

I haven't been on a trip with Tanna for many many MANY years and the open road was speaking to us. The journey was prepared, road snacks were purchased, car was cleaned and vacuumed and the song playlist was made.

We were just outside of Boise when Tim McGraw played.

I've pinned a lot of demons to the ground
I've got a few old habits left
But there's still one or two I might need you to help me get
Standing in the rain so long has left me with a little rust
But put some faith in me
And someday you'll see
There's a diamond under all this dust

And that, my friend, is my daughter. Getting better. A long way to go, but that diamond is beginning to show.

I admire Tanna for working so hard. She is not complacent with life and is working constantly to better herself.

Mark Twain penned:
In twenty years, you will be more disappointed by what you didn't do than by what you did.

Live to do. Not to want. My daughter taught me that. Tanna has nothing, yet wants for nothing. She is one of the most unworldly people I know. She wants the best for you and is learning to want the best for herself. Change is inevitable, so why not make change good?

The search can be far and wide, but you will NEVER find a more beautiful girl than my Tanna. Inside. Outside. This girl has it. Loyal. Honest. Kind. Giving. Tender. Emotional. Friendly. Caring. 28 years has given her the strength to finally fall on her knees and give herself permission to help herself.

She's a diamond alright. She sparkles with life and is strong beyond measure.

One thing about dust. It can be blown away, right?

I know how to hold a grudge
I can send a bridge up in smoke
And I can't count the people I've let down, the hearts I've broke
You ain't gotta dig too deep
If you wanna find some dirt on me
I'm learning who you've been
Ain't who you've got to be
It's gonna be an uphill climb
Aww honey I won't lie
I’ve pinned a lot of demons to the ground
I’ve got a few old habits left
But there’s still one or two I might need you to help me get
Standing in the rain so long has left me with a little rust
But put some faith in me
And someday you’ll see
There’s a diamond under all this dust
I ain't no angel
I still got a few more dances with the devil
I’m cleaning up my act little by little
I’m getting there
I can finally stand the man in the mirror I see
I ain’t as good as I’m gonna get
But I’m better than I used to be

Happy birthday, my sweet girl. I'm a lucky mom.

Ashes to Ashes

I've had this writing on my mind for over a year now. It's been hard to write my thoughts because I so desire to do a perfect job. Alas, it may not be perfect, however, I want to get these words down. Here goes:

Last summer I went to visit my cousin, Ronda, in St. George.  Aunt June and Uncle Roy were headed that way and asked if I wanted to tag along. I'm a sucker for a free ride with dear family-friends, so of course I said "Yes".

The summer of 2011 I got a phone call. "Cori passed away." What? Cori is Ronda and Sonny's youngest daughter. She was merely 22 years old and I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that she was gone.

My kids grew up playing with Lexi and Cori. For a time, I lived only 15 miles from Ronda and Sonny. Periodically we found our way to visit. And play they would. Every childhood game was enjoyed and argued and ruled and laughed at and shared.

Cori was a force to be reckoned with. She always had a strong will coupled with a great sense of humor. She was honorable, kind, strong and good - all wrapped in a dang pretty package.

While visiting Ronda, Aunt June pulled out her camera. June, Ronda and Ronda's mother-in-law had been on a vacation. If my memory serves me right, they went to Scotland, Ireland and other scenic places. They had a grand time and we all got to share in their adventures thanks to Facebook posts.

June, who is VERY detail oriented, went through the pics explaining each shot and the meaning behind the photo when she landed on a pic of Ronda digging in the dirt. "And Ronda put some of Cori's ashes here." Oh man. Melt my heart.

I know this is common with cremation. In fact, I'm sure many of you have done the same. However, this was MY cousin. A mother - who lost a child. And my heart went out to her.

If Cori were here, she would tell of all her adventures. She would fling her arms and smile her contagious smile. Her freckled nose would wrinkle with glee and she would talk your dang ear off telling long tales of the wondrous beauty of this world.

I have typed and erased. Typed and erased. I find it terribly difficult to get my thoughts to black and white. Maybe it's because Cori was so colorful. Maybe it's because I can't find the right words to express how absolutely-amazingly-beautiful I find in the fact that Ronda and Sonny have honored their girl by taking her with them - albeit separately - to share in their adventures.

Sonny and his wife, Sue, take Cori with them throughout Utah and she is placed in areas that she loved to visit. As well, Ronda takes Cori on her adventures and travels.

Cori is in the Hampton Court Gardens and Kensington Palace in England. When you see Stonehenge, take a moment and feel her presence. Cori will be at your feet when you kiss the Blarney Stone in Ireland. Loch Ness holds a monster no longer - for it now holds a sweet spirit of laughter and love. Harry Potter will forever fly with an angel over the gardens of Alnick Castle in Northumberland, England. The 7th Wonder of the World - Giants Causeway - now embodies a whole new wonder named Cori Jo Dyle.

I wonder where Cori will go next?

Snapshots

I have learned that I have got to speak up if I want what I want once in a while. When 2017 rolled around, I told Mark that I have always wanted to go to the races in Las Vegas. "By golly, we're going this year."

I researched track schedules and tried with all my might to line up two events in one vacation. I had seen that Elton John was performing in Vegas and wouldn't it be SO cool to see BOTH! Alas, luck was not on my side. Elton would be taking a break until October. No concert for me. 

Mark and I both love the motorcycle. Not too many things in our marriage bring such joy and togetherness than jumping on the bike and going. Anywhere. Around the block is as satisfying as around town, around the state, or (soon to be) around the nation. I love this time together and hope beyond all hopes that my motorcycle-riding-extravaganza lasts for many years.

Upon scouring the internet for racetrack events in Vegas, I ran across "The Night of Fire". They were doing races and fireworks would follow and complete the fun-filled evening. Mark said (in January when I bought the tickets and it was snowing and cold and felt like it would NEVER be warm again) "We'll take the bike." I agreed. It would be so wonderful, right?

OHMY GOSH it was so hot I thought I might die. No lie. You don't get away from the sun and heat on a motorcycle and 108˚ is pretty dang hot.

In 2005, Cameron Crowe directed Elizabethtown starring Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. IMDb states that  "After causing a loss of almost one billion dollars in his company, the shoe designer Drew Baylor decides to commit suicide. However, in the exact moment of his act of despair, he receives a phone call from his sister telling him that his beloved father had just died in Elizabethtown, and he should bring him back since his mother had problems with the relatives of his father. He travels in an empty red eye flight and meets the attendant Claire Colburn, who changes his view and perspective of life."

Kirsten Dunst is the stewardess. She is cute, quirky, super nice and fun to be around. Every time Claire wanted to memorialize a moment, she lifts her hands to hold an imaginary camera and "clicks". 

That's how this trip went for me. I've been fortunate enough to ride with Theresa and Jan. Let me tell you, those two sit on their bikes with the hubbies, see something cool, reach up and snap HUNDREDS of pictures in a day. It is so fun to go back through the pics and re-see our experiences. However, because I shake so dang bad, I don't take picture and have relied on others to rise to that task.

Sunday morning, Mark and I donned our riding gear. After riding to the Pepsi store to see Pam and get my Lifesavers for the road. We were off.

Neither of us enjoy freeway riding, so routes are mapped through small towns on highways with open fields and plenty of kids to direct our waves. When we stop for gas or food, we talk to the locals and hear stories that are intriguing and entertaining.

When I was diagnosed with this interrupt-your-life brain disease, dad and Arlene told me that I should apply with the government and get an Access Card to all of the National Parks. I did. I got a pass and have used it immensely! This trip we traveled through Zion National Park (yes, it's a must-see) and stopped in St. George for fuel and food. That's when we started heating up. Hot. So hot.

After 12 hours on the bike, we made it to Vegas. Cool showers followed by motel television and snacks. What a great night.

Morning began with Bagels at Einstein Bros. and off we went to check out the Hoover Dam and Lake Mead. We rode to the dam and headed for Lake Mead. I was beginning to heat up. We brought ice water along and our cup was running out of ice and the water was luke warm at best. I was so hot I thought I might melt. So what did we do? Trudged a few yards fully clothed out into the lake and sat down in the water. Click. Click. Click. My camera was going nuts. 

I clicked away as I visited with my I-love-her-so-very-much mother-in-law that isn't married to my father-in-law any longer. Time progressed forward and all-too-soon it was time to go, shower and head to the race track. The hotel was maybe 20 minutes away and in that short amount of time, we heated up beyond our maximum capacity.

No way was I sitting in the sun and heat to watch cars go around in circles. No amount of up-in-the-sky fireworks could entice me to leave the air conditioning of the hotel room. No way. Nuh-uh. Ain't gonna happen.

After cool showers and full bellies I was flipping through the channels when I landed on MTV in time to view Adelle in concert. She is so talented, isn't she? It was so fun to watch and I was kinda sad when it ended. I began to think that I wanted to brave the heat and head to the racetrack. After all, that was the whole reason I was there. Right?

The television was still on MTV when Elton John began to play. OHMYGOSH! I absolutely LOVE him. Heck with stupid fireworks. We watched him and loved every single minute of our up-close-and-personal air conditioned concert. More clicks from my camera.

The following day found us homeward bound. Nearly 9 hours into the adventure the sun was perfect. The sprinklers were watering the fields. The air was cool but not cold. Mark leans back to say "I love riding like this."

My camera is full. Full of pics and memories and plans to see Elton John and the races "for real". Aren't we fortunate to have memories? Click away. Don't forget to click on the simple things. Just click. And fill up the "memory" card. And, yeah, he's my favorite click....

The Power of Love

It was 1982 when I saw my first concert. It was Journey the Escape tour at the Salt Palace in Salt Lake City. Mark had gotten us tickets. I was not disappointed. My love affair with concerts began. I have seen groups from Aerosmith to ZZ Top and everything in-between. I love the crowd, the music, the bands, the t-shirts and the magic in the air as we hear our favorite songs come to life right before our eyes.

Imagine how extremely happy I was when I visited Washington and Sharon (my half-sister) invited me to go to Huey Lewis and the News at a winery in Washington.

"Heck yeah!"

We went and had a grand time. It is so very fun to see the artist that we loved as kids. They were older and less in tune, however, they sang all the songs that we knew plus more. We sat in the cool grass under the night stars and listened. What could be finer?

When Jaden was born, I was kid-you-not dying. I was bleeding out and the doctor was going in circles with different treatments trying to stabilize me. Mark had to intervene when they attempted to give me blood thinners in hopes that the blood clots would stop.

The doctor sat by my bed and I could see the fear in his eyes. "Are you LDS?" I asked. "Yes, I am." "Then you need to give me a blessing." "I can get someone in here to do it." "Nope. YOU need to."

The LDS religion gives blessings to the sick and the ailing. Priesthood holders gather round, hands are placed on your head and a prayer is given in your behalf.

I had asked my doctor to bless me. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if HE said I would be okay then HE would find the knowledge to make it so. The blessing wasn't for me. It was for him. He just didn't know it.

I was thrown into surgery and seven transfusions later, I'm here and still kicking HARD. All because my doctor found the strength, knowledge and power to make it so.

Last weekend the Adamson family gathered for food and fun. This is my mom's side of the family. How-oh-how do I find the words to express how much I love these people.

Tanna attended the shenanigans with me. We pulled into our parking spot and exited the car in time to  hear my Uncle Phil ringing a bell to gather all. "Yep. We're at the right place. Only the Adamson family would ring a bell to gather the group." Followed by giggles and laughter.

There's something about family reunions, don't you think? I get to see cousins that I knew so well as a child, but haven't seen in FOREVER. It's fun to see them as adults with their own kids running around causing chaos. I can tell who belongs to who because their kids look EXACTLY as I remember my cousins.

I chatted and joked with Aunts and Uncles and thoroughly enjoyed spending time with my dear Mom. Dad was at a meeting, so I got some much needed one-on-one time with Mom. My mom is the kindest, sweetest, most loving woman on this planet and I love her dearly. How lucky am I?

Talking (which I love to do) wears me out and after a couple hours of visiting, eating, laughter and games, it was time for me to leave.

I said a few good-byes, however, since my walking SUCKS I didn't make my way around the pavilion to each family member to express my love one more time.

Tanna and I were nearly to my car when my Aunt Jane came running toward me to say goodbye. "Would you like the men to give you a blessing?"

"Yes I would."

The men gathered and my beloved Uncles and cousins placed their hands on my head and gave me a blessing.

I am not saying that I was "healed". (Although, that would be pretty dang cool, wouldn't it?) However, there was power in that prayer. And then I heard loud and clear. "That's the power love."

Force of Spirit

Well. He did it. Jaden turned 17 today. I SWEAR to you I just barely hit "share" on my keyboard blogging a year ago about his cereal bowls. In case you're wondering, not much has changed in that department. In fact, Tanna and Tyson were sharing a good giggle at my expense the other day.

I had just got home from my it-was-so-wonderful-motorcycle vacation.
Tyson: You can sure tell when mom goes somewhere.
Tanna: Yeah. I know what you mean.
Tyson: The cereal cupboard is packed with cereal for Jaden.
They both giggle and laugh and guffaw.

Whatever. I like him best. So there.

Ah. Jaden. Sweet boy of mine. Who knew he would grow to be so tall and such a good-looking young man? Mark absolutely loves when Jaden brings a new girl here.

"Did you see her? Wow! She's a super model".
"Okay Mark, calm down, you're stuck with me"
"Oh yeah"

Thanks so much for the self-esteem boost. I needed it.

I, however, spend my time thinking "Are you a nice girl? Are you going to hurt my son? Don't do stupid I'm-a-16-year-old-imbecile things. Don't do it. Don't do it. DON'T DO IT."

Then they do something stupid and Jaden is left holding his heart. TOTALLY SUCKS.

Jaden has always been a force of spirit. I argued and argued and argued with the doctor that I wasn't pregnant. There is 9 years between Shelby and Jaden and HOW COULD THAT POSSIBLY HAPPEN? I went to the doc for heart problems and came home pregnant. I swear that poor doc does NOT get paid enough to put up with me.

I loved being a young mother. I fit right in with the other kids. I was able to hike and swim and run and fight with glee. This old mother stuff is a bit more difficult now-a-days. I can't run. I can't jump. (even if I could jump I'd pee my pants I'm sure of it - sorry Jaden.)  I rarely yell. Glee comes more often than not when I can get to bed before 10:00 pm.

However, I'm more calm and waaaaaaay more willing to listen and hear and feel and learn.

I am soooooooooooo very grateful that the doc was right. (Don't tell him though)

I just enrolled Jaden in boxing. I know. I know. He could get hurt. But he could rock this out, too. He needs to learn patience and discipline and I think a square arena just might be the answer. My son now boxes. With vigor.

Years ago I made shirts and shorts for the Easter-Bunny-came-to-town gifts. I ponder my projects at least 6 months before go-time. I want them to have meaning and be something each will wear. I watch my family. Take mental notes of successes and accomplishments and conversations. That year I decided that I wanted to "stamp" the article of clothing with an insignia that is unique to our family.  This is what I did:

That's where Jaden fits in. This kid is handsome (no doubt). However, that's not what makes him stand out in a crowd. The kid personifies confidence.  Jaden DOES NOT tolerate bullying of ANYONE. Pick on the smaller kid? You have Jaden to reckon with.

My kid is super smart and after graduation will be a force to reckon with in college or whatever field of work he decides to conquer. Knowing this kid, there will be many.

I remember when Tyson, Zach, Magnum and boys names I have since forgotten played soccer. Mitch (Zach's dad) was the coach. The soccer team took State with a vengeance. After the celebrations were concluded, Tyson hung up his cleats and never played again. "Why? It is SO fun to watch you play." His answer? "I've done everything I can do with it."

Jaden is that way. He studies and watches and becomes his passion. When he has done all he can do? No tears. No squalling. No stomping of feet or gnashing of teeth. He quietly moves on and places his intelligence and dedication in another area.

Jaden turned 17 today. There is so much time left. Time to learn and grow and become. He's got a lifetime left. Jaden's strength will carry him. It will carry his family. It will carry his friends. It will carry me.

Happy birthday, son.

A Woman's Work

Years ago I asked Mark to hang our Christmas lights. Wasn't the brightest thing I've ever done. (No pun intended). Oh my word! He had decided that it would be amazingly-awesome to take the lights and create an outline of the Wasatch Mountains on our rooftop. AND since there were leftover lights it would look "really cool" if he scattered the lights on top of the grass in front of our house. WHAT THE CRAP? Imagine my dismay when the lights were all "hung" and I hear "Come out and see how cool they look". The kids and I hurried outside to view the Christmas miracle. I about lost my lunch right there on the twinkling lights. Adding insult to injury? My beloved stood on the sidewalk and began to sing "Oh Christmas Tree". The kids and I were absolutely-without-a-shadow-of-a-doubt at a loss for words. Astounded. Yes. Yes. Yes, I was.

I never, ever, EVER asked him to hang lights again.

That's when it hit me. He must have done a horrible job so I wouldn't ask for his help again. OHMYGOSH! I'm right. Nobody in their right mind would do Christmas lights like that ON PURPOSE. Right?

The Steel Horse family took to the road again. Sunday found us donning our helmets, leather chaps and jackets and (for me) heated gear. What did I ever do without heated gear? Froze. That's what I did. That dang heated gear is absolutely the best thing EVER invented for I'm-going-to-head-out-on-the-motorcycle wear.

We rode through Castle Valley, Moab, Arches, Monument Valley, the North rim of the Grand Canyon, and Bryce Canyon before landing on my front stoop.

Last year the gang rode to Glacier National Park via the Tetons and Yellowstone. I blogged about the beauty of the parks and the wonders of God's creation.

This year as I sat on the back of the bike drinking in the views of the flat mountains smattered with boulders balanced on pristine pinnacles and complemented with visible layers of rock and sand, it hit me. God hadn't done this. It was ALL Mother Nature.

I can loosely imagine how that day went. Just as Glacier was God's FINAL creation, the flat-topped-red-rocked desert views had to be his FIRST creation and Mother Nature got left holding the clean-up bag.

"Hey! You need to get busy with that creation stuff."

"I will later"

"No. Now. Here are some materials"

I imagine the flinging of stone and seeds and dirt and sand followed with the words "There. I did it. You happy now?"

Then Mother Nature saw what happened. And it WAS NOT good.

How in the crap was she EVER going to make this mess okay?

She did. She added wind and rain and elements to wipe away the mess and begin formation. In the end? The most beautiful creation came.

Arches and hills and valleys and winding rivers are viewed with wonder. Pinnacles of rock leave you awestruck. Canyons and valleys and crevices as far as the eye can see will leave you speechless with delight. The views are breathtaking and will inevitably leave you marveling in reverence at the beauty of this versatile planet.

We were about half-way through our adventure when Theresa asked "What was your favorite?".  I thought for a minute and answered with a sight that astounded me. Theresa took her turn and the question landed with Jan. I loved her answer. "This. Right here. I love the people we are with." She was right.

We had to cut our trip a bit short. Rick "Rain Cloud" Deason had to be home to fly out for work. Let me embellish on the "Rain Cloud" name. Last year on the Glacier ride, we ran into some rain. Since Rick was in charge and Randy has stated that if Rick is involved it always rains, we hit rain.

We joked about it. We snorted and laughed and shucked and jived.

Randy wasn't kidding.

It rained on us again. Rick has been fired, so NEXT year should be dry. (Sorry, Rick.)

Anyhow, our trip was cut a bit short and it didn't look like we would make it to Bryce Canyon. I was understanding of Rick's dang work stuff, however, I'm a PRINCESS and was a bit disappointed. I've heard over and over again "Bryce is my favorite" and I was looking forward to forming my own opinion.

Oh well. Some other time.

We turned to head home and the turn-off to Bryce loomed ahead. Rain hit. We took cover and when we fired up the bikes and headed towards home? Rick headed towards Bryce. What? I was SOOOOOOOOOOOO EXCITED.

Rick, Theresa, Jan and Randy had decided to add more time and more miles on their own shoulders in order to give me Bryce. Let me tell you, I wasn't let down not ONE SINGLE BIT.

If you have vacation coming your way, plan a trip to the deserts of Utah and Arizona. View the artistic elegance of Mother Nature and see the world through Her eyes. You won't be disappointed.  I sure wasn't.

Food. Laughter. Stories. Sun. Wind. Wondrous beauty. Friends. Family.

I'm a lucky girl. Right?

You Will Leave Footprints On The World

Another year has passed and I find myself coming full circle and landing on Goose's birthday. My boy turns 30 today and BOTH Mark and I are having a bit of anxiety that our kids keep getting older. Which means - you know- that I am too. I don't want to talk about age. Ugh. Not one tiny bit. Let's talk about Goose.

I lived in Seattle when Mark and I got the news that - sure enough - my barfing and mood swings and tiredness and soreness was for a good cause. I was pregnant with our second baby.

We had a problem, though. Mark simply could not find the kind of work that he had trained for in the Navy. He ran boilers -  which were becoming obsolete.

Dawn and Mike lived in Ojai, California. We moved to Ojai, California.

My pregnancy went super-just-fine. I babysat to help with finances. And by saying I babysat, there was a time that I had 13 kids under the age of two ruling the house. Eventually it did even out, some left, and my regulars prevailed.

It was a Tuesday, Mark went to work, and I stayed on the couch. I just didn't feel good. I still had two weeks until my due date. Goose had a different plan. (Surprise) He was ready to greet Dad, admire Tyson, kiss his mom and familiarize himself with the surrounding world.

Mark came home at lunch and found me in the same spot. Ick. "Make your own dang lunch." I had phoned and sworn off tending that day and only Tyson was running around the house. He would check on me by grabbing my face with his fat toddler finger. "You okay mommy?" "Yes, Tyson, I'm fine." And off he'd run to avenge the world from the bad guys.

Around 2:00 I called Mark. "I can't stand it any longer. I'm having this baby."

I'd like to say that Mark was calm, cool, and collected. However, I'd be lying. He wasn't even close to calm.

Mark raced home, grabbed a grocery sack, threw some clothes in for Tyson, strapped him into the car, walked me down to the car, sped to the gals house that had agreed to keep Tyson while I was in the hospital, honked to let her know Tyson was there and - get this - LEFT HIM STANDING IN THE ROAD while we sped off. No, I'm not kidding. Gula (the gal watching Tyson) was running out of the door, so I assume that Mark saw her and thought all was fine. But HOLY HANNAH, Dude, CALM DOWN.

We made it to Ojai Valley Community Hospital with 7 hours to spare. The fun began.

Goose was BY FAR the worst labor of all five kids. OHMYGOSH! Awful doesn't describe it. However, labor does come to an end and at 9:46 pm, the doctor announced that we had a boy.

Mark has helped deliver each of our kids, witnessed their first breath and has been able to cut the umbilical cord - forcing them to live. I love that. I'm so very grateful that the first thing they feel is their father's love. And then? I found myself holding a beautiful, blue eyed, golden haired baby boy and had already forgotten how much it hurt to bring him here.

The other day, Mark and I were driving and we were talking about Goose turning thirty. Mark said, "I still remember him sitting on the bed, playing his guitar."

I think that's my memory of Goose, as well. Mark played guitar and his practice buddy would be right beside him. Goose had a red, plastic guitar. He would grab a rope and pretend to plug his guitar into the television (that was his amp) and he would sit for hours and "play". At the time, we used the VCR to record anything on television, and the only way I could get Goose to quiet down for nap time was to play his favorite videos from MTV (back when MTV played music videos).

I read to Tyson. Goose sang and watched videos.

You might be asking "What is the POINT?" and my answer is "I'm not sure." I can't wrap this all up in a pretty package with a bow on top.

How - oh how - does anyone put THIRTY years of success, failure, honor, kindness, absurdity, humor, integrity, stubbornness and LOVE - more love than a human has a right to receive - in a few short paragraphs?

I can't.

I was digging in my file trying to find Kadell's birth certificate. I found his "hospital" certificate and on the back were his teeny, tiny footprints.

I think about footprints. And this thought leads me to my Goose. Not his "man" footprints, but these prints made from the newly born, wonder-filled, boy with the world at his feet.

Ernest Ayemang Yeboah said:

"True success is not the end of the journey; true success is a journey without an end. So many people relax after achieving something and they forget the undone. They neglect their untapped destiny and they halt their journey of life not reaching their real and true destination. Whilst we have life, we must live life. Whilst we have life, we must give a true meaning to life. Whilst we have life, we must dare to do the undone; though the road is weary; though we may be having a sense of fulfillment, and though we might have done something! Let us awake and pursue with all zeal and tenacity until we get to the real end of our true purpose and destiny, such that long after we are gone, the voice of our footprints will speak to inspire, build and raise a generation of champions!"

Right Here. These are the footprints that will speak.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Saturday morning, I made Mark go with me to my Pepsi Store. I was in need of my morning pick-me-up (an ice cold Pepsi) and Mark was grabbing his coffee.

I won't allow Mark to have a coffee pot in the house. At times he gets WICKED mad at me, however, he only has himself to blame. While pregnant with Shelby I was grabbing cereal at the grocery store, and somebody recently had ground coffee beans. The smell was ohmygosh so strong. I began vomiting. I puked and groaned and left a HUGE mess from the cereal aisle all the way out the doors to my car. Therefore, Mark doesn't get a coffee pot. Too bad for him, right?

We drug ourselves out of bed, showered, brushed teeth and climbed in the car to get our guilty pleasure. Mark says EVERY SINGLE TIME, "Let's go see WamBamPam."

Pam works weekends at my store. As the years have passed, I have grown to love this lady. She is good and honest and kind and beautiful (inside and out) and kind and kind and kind. Did I mention she is kind? She is. I really really, REALLY like her and look forward to seeing her each Saturday and Sunday.

I wobbled into the store. Pam isn't there. Pam is ALWAYS there. This lady works SEVEN days a week. No lie. She works full-time at another place and then weekends at the Phillips 66 where I met her.

"Where's Pam?"

"Her daughter died last night and I am covering her shift."

Tears dripped from my chin as ice clunked and Pepsi streamed into my cup.

Oh, Pam. I am so very sorry. I am SO VERY SORRY. 

On the afternoon of March 14, my phone rang. It was Shelby.

"Mom, do you remember Katie?"

Duh. OF COURSE I remember Katie.

Katie danced Ballroom Dance with Shelby. She is such a beautiful girl with the most humble, sweet spirit. She soared through High School. She married a handsome, kind, pretty-dang-cool man and then Philip grabbed his beautiful bride and landed in Ireland for work. 

Katie and I are Facebook friends and periodically I see her posts that feature places seen, places been and then the OHMYGOSH post. Katie was pregnant. We found out she was having a boy and the due date was given. March 13.

"Mom. Katie's baby died."

"What? Oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. What happened?"

"They don't know. He was fine. She went into labor. His heart just stopped."

And together my daughter and I wept.

I spend a lot of time thinking about how bad things happen to good people. I don't know why it happens. I don't know what we need to learn. What are we to take from the heart wrenching, gut turning experiences?

I don't know.

What I do know is that hurt and pain and unfairness are a part of this thing we call "Life". It just is and always will be. Does that bring me comfort? No. Does that bring dear Pam and beautiful Katie a sense of purpose behind the hurt and the pain and the loss? Heck no. 

Strength and hope and love and faith in new beginnings will carry them.

So, my dear friends, cry and howl and mourn. Then begin. Heal and grow and believe.

May we all find peace. May we all find joy. May we ALL believe again. Until that time...

(Thank you for sharing this beautiful prayer, Katie, you are wise beyond your years.)

                                       

Tick Tock Tick Tock

I have been wanting to write for a while now. I got slammed with graphics. No. I'm not complaining. Not one bit. Me? No way.

Sigh.

I'm super busy. And super stressed.

Since blogging and (weirdly) cleaning is great therapy for me, I cleaned my house this morning. It looks good. It smells better. I went on the motorcycle with Mark for a bit. I felt the wind. I smelled the great outdoors. AND the sun landed on my shoulders. Now, I'm sitting down for part three of the therapy session. Tag. You're IT!

[insert evil laugh]

Anyone who knows a lick about me knows that I LOVE Tim McGraw. Not just a little. A whole lot.

When I found out that he was in the movie "The Shack", I counted the days to opening night at Cinemark. Tanna was my date. Extra large popcorn (Half kettle corn and half regular popcorn. No butter. Mark taught me no butter - you can eat more popcorn without butter weighing it down. Pat taught me to do half-and-half - because it's simply delicious.) Blankets. Water. Reclining chairs. Tim McGraw. Yep. I was set for a good time.

I won't go much into what the movie is about. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute. I found it humorous in unanticipated ways. I loved how the holy figure was represented unexpectedly.

Time is discussed. I can't find the exact quote from the movie. My memory SUCKS anymore, but the quote was something to the effect of "It's not about the destination, it's about the journey."

Something we hear ALL the time right?

I am a worry-er. I fret. I ponder. I stress. Tons. I live my life according to what the future might hold.  I'm so afraid of change that I freak out over what's ahead in the great unknown. I don't live in the now.

I so want to change that.

I've stated over and over again that I love being a mom. I was made for motherhood. I am strong because my kids are strong. I AM because my family expects absolutely nothing different. I am not allowed to be stagnate, so I wobble forward and learn and grow and become. In case you're wondering, it's why I swear so dang much. However, I do it. And for the most part, I'm grateful that I did.

I usually read every night. I slip on my jammies, climb into bed and after I let loose with a heavy sigh, I grab my book and begin living vicariously through the adventures of the main character.

Except when I'm too exhausted to read. At that time, Mark takes over and reads out loud to me. It's so lame, isn't it? Two old people reading in bed. However, I absolutely-without-a-shadow-of-doubt love this time with Mark and I adore when he reads to me.

Mark keeps the Book of Five Rings within easy grasp. Another book that the Sensei from his karate class gave him to read and we have never returned because Mark has yet to "be done" with it resides on the nightstand as well. We just ordered and received a book by Bruce Lee titled Striking Thoughts that now ornaments the table as well.

Yesterday was an I'm-so-tired-I-can't-stand-it day. Mark read to me. I'm finding the reoccurring theme from these larger-than-life Masters is time. Don't waste it. The past should stay there. The future is unknown. Why not live in today? Don't take preconceived thoughts with you on your daily journey. Be ready to learn and grow and become. No excuses. Just do it.

I was not the Mom that wanted "more" from my kids. I enjoyed baby-hood, terrible twos, toddler-hood, the elementary years, middle school time and alas, the dreaded high school years. I bawled and cried and howled and mourned as each journey came to an end and the door opened for a new adventure.

I worried so much about the changes that might come, that I (at times) forgot to relish the moment.

Then, this dang disease struck.

I find myself paralyzed with fear. I am so scared of what is ahead that I forget to be grateful for the NOW.

I begin my new journey today. At the risk of being lame (and I'm SO lame - trust me) I hereby vow to cherish moments. The things that matter are surrounded by time. Time to laugh. Time to share. Time to simply STOP and be still.

Time IS a gift. Isn't it?

Valentines Day

Yep. Today is Valentines Day. Admittedly, not my favorite day of the year. I don't do well with commercialized anything, and Valentines Day falls right in that category.

Mark and I don't make a big deal of this day. In fact, we never really have. Nope. No hearts. No flowers. We don't exchange you-have-to-buy-a-gift-to-express-your-love gifts. 

I awoke today with a simple text from Mark. "Happy Valentines Day babe I love you."

And my heart soared.

I met Mark the summer before my sophomore year. He moved into the neighborhood that I lived in. I was fascinated by this long haired, hippy boy who had no fear. 

1983 brought marriage. 1984 brought Tyson, 1987 Goose came, in 1989 Tanna entered and in 1991 Shelby made her appearance. Followed by divorce. Rotten words. Worse actions. Still in love, but HELL NO, wasn't about to show it to each other. Reunited. Remarried. And in 2000, our family came full circle when Jaden entered this world.

Mark has taught me the meaning of persistence. Never, ever, ever, EVER give up. No matter the obstacle. No matter what others say. Don't talk about it. Don't brag about it. Don't cry about it. Just do it. Use all the power within and simply "do".

Our family is strong and loyal and true because of Mark. Happy Valentines Day, Babe. I love you.

Possibility

In 2016 I shared a post on Facebook. You know how your history appears periodically on your current Facebook feed? This posting appeared on mine. I reposted. I watched the video again. I moved upstairs to my computer to do a quick design job that has been patiently waiting creation. I thought about the video. Watched again. Decided to blog and get my thoughts out of my mind and vomit them in black and white print.

The video is from aplus.com and is titled "What's Your Biggest Regret?"

"A blackboard stood in the middle of New York City asking passersby to write down their biggest regret."

I think about what I would write? Maybe I'd write that I regret getting in my own way. I wonder if I'd write that I didn't say "I love you" enough. Maybe I let anger and hurt and distrust rule my actions. Maybe I AM too emotional (I hear it all the time). 

As the short video progresses, you see the board contemplated. The question is viewed and observers begin to write on the board. I'm struck by the sadness on their faces as people begin to think about all the regrets that come with growing up. "Why didn't I...", "I wish...", "I should have...". 

Ah. Regret. Thinking about it is NOT fun at all. I flippantly say that don't regret. That my mistakes have made me who I am.

However, it is all a lie. OF COURSE I have regrets. And wishes. And possibilities not realized.

As the short movie progresses you hear people talk about fear and failing and regret and time. The common theme of the writings seems to begin with the word "Not". "Not getting...", "Not pursuing...", "Not having...".

It's hard isn't it? It's tough to rewind your life story and view it through muddied eyes. I don't want wasted time. I don't want regrets. I don't want my personal mirror looking back with the words "I wish" scrawled in red lipstick.

About 1.5 minutes into the 3.5 minute video, participants are handed an eraser. Faces light up as regrets are expunged with the swipe of a hand. The general aspect is smiling and hopeful and beautiful.

And filled with possibility.

The message:

EVERY DAY IS A CLEAN SLATE
DO THE THINGS YOU'LL REGRET NOT DOING

is viewed and the final screen is shown. A blackboard. THE BLACKBOARD. With two words written.

CLEAN SLATE

What does YOUR clean slate begin with? Only thoughts and dreams and hopes and possibilities are written on mine.

Please, Don't Take The Girl

For Christmas this year, Shelby and her friend gathered all my blog posts and put them in a book. It's so pretty! The book cover is cream linen, hardback and a simple wrap with "Just Words" jackets the outside. There is a pretty awesome dedicatory page and best of all? The book has all of my blogs and pics from 2011 - 2016. Yep. It's a beautiful treasure and I love it OH-SO-MUCH!

Christmas morning came around. Presents were opened and we were killing time until the movie at 12:45. The family was still gathered upstairs and the book was passed around as each person took a turn reading their favorite blog. I fought back tears as my loved ones read the words from my heart that had touched their own heart. Have I ever told you that I'm a lucky girl? I am, you know.

I have mentioned that I periodically read through my blogs. I find that I remember exactly how I felt while sitting down to type each one.

On January 30, 2012, I wrote a blog titled "Can I Borrow A Nail?" I talk about sharing information and knowledge and skills and lessons and successes and failures and hopes and dreams. Was I arrogantly writing? I don't think so. I usually share everything. I talk and pick at conversations to glean any information to help me and - truth be told - I'm not known to hold back on advice. It's not usually taken, but at least I feel better for sharing. After all, it's all about me, right?

EXCEPT I don't talk about the very thing that weighs on my heart right now. So I'm sharing. I have felt the need to "verbally vomit"  for a while now, so you get to hear my words. It's MY truth - as I know it. May not be truth as you know it, but I have said that I write what I know. Write, I will.

My daughter is a drug addict. Full blown, heroin shooting, pill popping, skin picking, bleary eyed drug addict. It's killing her and it's killing me. No lie.

I am so very thankful when she is picked up and put into jail. That's such a contradiction of how I should feel. I should be embarrassed, humiliated and frightened when she is put away for a bit. Instead, I am grateful beyond words. She'll remain alive and will be clean for a bit and I hope and pray and hope against all hope that this will be the time that she changes her ways.

I get such a stomach ache when the judge releases her. So far, I have been right. She doesn't stay clean. She ends up back with the same selfish human-beings that suck her dry and leave her dangling in the wind. She uses. We give her the boot, she goes back to people who do not want good for her, she lands in jail, she makes empty promises to the judge who then releases her and the cycle starts over again. And again. And yet again.

I've called the police more than once. We had her arrested. I watched her attempt suicide. I've written letters to judges. I've called government offices. I've talked and begged and pleaded and yelled and cried and hoped and fretted. I've answered the door to the police and knew without a doubt that they were there to tell me they had found her. Dead. I've investigated and studied and researched and always end up chasing my tail wondering "What the crap do I do to fix this?"

I think in the end, the "why's" don't matter. We can go on and on and on with the reasons that drove her to using the first time. However, I find the focus needing to be on quitting; on stopping the madness and the hurt and the bad decisions. How do I find the words that will light the fire of change in her very being?

Her siblings struggle with her decisions. Some don't talk about it at all. Some yell. Some cry. Some worry. Some stress. None of us forget. It's always there....waiting...to hurt and claw and gouge our hearts.

I was listening to my music the other day and "Fight Song" by Rachel Platten began playing. I sang along and when I got to the part where she sings:

"...My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me."

That's what it all comes down to, doesn't it? We get better, we grow, we become and we learn for ourselves. Others may want better for us, however, the real work, the final struggle and the complete glory lies within.

So, I will pray daily that I will see Tanna win this battle. I will hold my breath in hopes that she will see herself through my eyes, the eyes of her dad and siblings and friends and family. That she will see the beauty within that is hidden below the hurt and pain and damage that came with the path she chose to wander. That there will come a day that drug use is what "used to be". That the family forgets how it feels to long for better times. That we soon hear her contagious laughter. That her warm spirit will envelope us again. That the kids can all fight and holler and yell and love without the dominating hurt.

These things I hope for. I pray for. I long for.