Saris in the park on a journey to 10,000 steps

Saris in the park on a journey to 10,000 steps.

Color,

Motion,

Snapshots of another land,

strolling through ours.

Finding rest,

relaxing on an evening walk.

Curry in the air,

walking,

bringing my body and heart back in line.

Setting a gaugue,

measuring,

stepping.

Planning through age 112,

Adventures by the decade.

10,000 steps now brings strength,

laughter as I balance my way up the street.

So I can fly again.

The funnest part of my walk- the balancing

The funnest part of my walk- the balancing

For the love of a dentist…

Of all the people I expected to mourn in my lifetime, I never expected it to be our dentist.

Dr. Jeffrey Files was our dentist for almost 10 years. His office was where our family visited two or more times a year from when my youngest was 4 1/2 until when he was 15. For our younger son, it was the only dentist he knew. His office was always a happy, safe place to go, no matter why we were visiting.

The dentist I grew up with, I thought he was a vampire and so I was determined to find someone my boys would not fear, the universe delivered Dr. Files. Little did I know he would become like one of those amazing teachers- never to be rivaled again.

We are grieving, for a friend, for someone who cared for our family, intimately and with so much love for over 10 years. His care saw us through many seasons of our life, little did we know we would be part of the last season of his, but not completely.

Once Dr. Files stopped treating patients he deteriorated quickly and we did not see him during his last year. Lou Gehrig’s disease is one which normally takes its time, not with Dr. Files. It seemed such a cruel diagnosis for someone who had given so much for so long.

We still cannot believe he is gone and I regularly cry with my youngest because we did not get to say goodbye and we simply miss seeing him. He loved his patients like family. How could someone who poured SO much love into his patients and his life be taken? He deserved to stay! The thought of the his kids he loved so much, say nothing of his wonderful wife, continuing without him. I can only imagine the chasm they are left with if we still grieve like this.

The stories we tell ourselves.

We move through our worlds and all the while, tell ourselves our story. Have you ever had a moment where one of your stories changed?

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The other day one of my stories changed. It was a story, that I got to unpack it with the other person who had lived it. The events had held resentment and pain. Once unpacked, in safety, in the light of day so to speak, the pain seemed to simply dissipate, like fog in the sun. I feel so profoundly healed to have heard things I knew confirmed, and things I had wrong, cleared up.

I realize we all go through this life doing our best and when things happen we just keep going, adding to our story. Have you ever thought of your story and how it intertwines with all those around you?

My conversation today with an old friend, who unraveled some of a shared story with me today was amazing and healing on so many levels. Calling that person you know, who you care about but may have hurt, takes guts. Finding laughter and healing on the other end of a tough conversation is truly beautiful and such a gift.


The scent of fire


The scent of fire,

Beach fire, burning, hissing,

wet and hot all at the same time.

Water boils from the logs,      images-1

they heat up and burn all at once.

The scent of the ocean,

the sound of the dogs dragging rocks around the beach.

Airplane fuel, halting laugh,

the sting of the sand as the helicopter lands on the beach.

Watching the fire get doused by the incoming tide,

safe in a blanket on grandma’s deck.

Squirrels bombing us with green pinecones

as we played in the woods, on the way to John’s Beach, so far away.

Concrete tube on the beach, half hidden in the sand, coated on the inside with mussels, play ’til the tide comes back in.

Singing by the beach fire,

laughing and playing as the sun goes down,  it’s 1 a.m.

in July the sun doesn’t go down for long…

 

 

What do a Super Bowl Ring, Brain Cancer and a Dead Puppy have in common?

What do a Super Bowl ring, brain cancer, and a dead puppy have in common? They ALL landed in my week this week. It has been epic. Epic as in amazing and horrible all at the same time. I feel like I have been on the most intense dollar-coaster ride and am ready to get off, and throw up.

This week:

  • Spoke at a work event, shared where my passion for my work comes from and got to try on a Super Bowl Ring.
  • Found out a mom I have been volunteering all year with has inoperable brain tumors, plural. She has been sick all year.
  • Mended a year long rift in a 40-year-old relationship to see if I could get the mom with the brain tumors help…
  • Attended a dinner where I have been selected as a promising leader and will get guidance in how to in rise faster in my chosen career.
  • Helped coordinate a fundraising party with a martial arts instructor who is amazing.
  • Came home, ready to leave for my son’s state competition with my family, only to find in the 8 minutes we were home, our 3-month-old puppy got out, got hit by a car, and died in my nine-year-old son’s arms. We stayed, buried him in a special place on our property, collected ourselves, and left for his competition.
  • Our puppy, RIP.Our puppy, RIP.
  • Attended younger son’s state competition, which his team won, they are off to Globals, and my husband has to leave on a business trip.
  • Tonight we light a lantern for our lost puppy.

What do you take from a week like this? I am thankful when I open my eyes that I am still here, still able to love and care for my family, friends and others. Still here to serve. God isn’t done with me yet.

All I ask now, is to keep giving and serving, as my heart is broken and only time will heal it.

The moment you didn’t realize it would be the last time…

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How many moments in your life do you recognize as the last time you will get to do something? We all seem to assume we will get to do it again. Yet I realize, especially with my kids, that really, every day is the last time. Each day I watch them change and grow, see them become new every morning.

They are the moments when your kids used to need you, that until they don’t one day, you don’t realize, that last time they asked you- would be the last, until afterwards.  These moments are all poignant and beautiful, but so many, we miss.

We notice these most when someone dies, yes dies. I abhors the phrase “passed away,” we ignore death and avoid the topic so much it makes me angry. When someone dies we are forced to see these last moments all at once, because they are over. My goal is to take these moments as they come, recognize as many as I can, and celebrate them. I believe this is why I have fewer regrets than most people I know.

I encourage you to look at today with fresh eyes and recognize, in your own way, what will never pass your way again. Simply take the time to see it and recognize it for what it is.

P.S. My dog is sleeping by the fire…

Why Marilyn never had a muffin-top!

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Image from LIFE Magazine

Why Marilyn never had a muffin-top!

The real reason- LOOK- her pants hit at her waistline! This same figure would have had a “muffin-top” if she were forced to wear today’s pants!

Here goes- O.K. world, fashion pet peeve, the “muffin-top”, and not for the reason you are thinking! I have a small muffin-top, however mine is created more, note I said more, by fashion than fat.

Why do I have a muffin top?

I need to do more sit-ups?

(Uh, yes, but that is  beside the point)

Do I am blame it on having kids?       (While they are not the direct cause there is only so much you can do when skin gets stretched!)

FACT: I weigh exactly 4 pound more today than when I graduated from college 21 years ago!

I blame it on the fashion industry for lowering waistlines to a ridiculous place- our hips!

It is called a WAISTline not a HIPline for crying out loud! Almost any woman can create a “muffin-top” on her hips- I challenge any woman with a decent figure to create a “muffin-top” at her WAIST!

Now that the 3-inch zipper trend which created more plumber-butts than the world should ever have been forced to see, the trend seems to be becoming kinder. I am looking forward to having a choice in my waistline- I love hipster pants, but would love to get some which hit a little higher so I wouldn’t have to feel like I am fighting the look of a muffin-top just to keep my pants up!

Fashion industry challenge- just label them honestly- don’t call them “hipster” call them “muffin-top makers” and see how many you sell!