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?