The full moon was receding into its next phase, yet still bright enough to show up in the predawn sky. There, just a short distance visually from it, shone a star or perhaps a planet.   The star/planet and moon the only thing visible in the sky. The moon was shining filling the sky with its light, the star/planet twinkling less brilliant than the moon. I can relate to star/planet. My light shines but compared to others it doesn’t shine as brightly. Does that make my light less significant?

That evening the moon still stood out as the brightest object in the sky. With a billion stars in the night sky it was hard to discern the bright star/planet I’d seen that morning from all the other glimmering objects in the sky. And that was okay because the billion sparking orbs were a magnificent sight. Twinkling, not in unison, but randomly erratic. I realized that one single light shining alone is beautiful and it stands out.  But a billion lights glowing together are an awesome spectacle. 

Our lights might not shine as bright as our friends or neighbors. Some of our lights might twinkle more than others. If, however, we all shine our lights of love, positivity, encouragement, and hope at the same time the results are blinding and an awesome display.

As for the moon, I see God. God shines His light brighter than ours, but not so bright as to dull ours. God wants us to shine with Him. When we shine with His love,  no one’s light is better or more significant, just each a little different from the other.

This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine!

Written by my friend, Linda Francis, up-and-coming author

Last weekend, my good friend Geri met me for two days of fun.

We did this last year, a reunion of sorts after several years apart. She wanted to introduce me to the world of craft fairs on steroids, and it was such a success for the craft fair and such a fail for my bank account, we decided to do it again this year.

Before we ever got inside the massive first building with 800 booths, FIRST building mind you, with 800 booths, I told her we needed a code word for Rhonda, so that when I was SUCKED in to the sales pitch, Geri’s job was to Danger Danger Will Robinson! me with the code word.

Code word: LOLLIPOP

It started out as code word SUCKER, since I have it stamped on my forehead. But that didn’t sound code-wordy enough, so we thought it would be more apropos to say something like, “I wish I had a LOLLIPOP right now!”

Fast forward to the end of the day:

Craft Fair = winner winner chicken fried steak dinner

Rhonda’s bank about = loser loser glad she’s not a boozer

Geri’s code word success = whale of a fail. dead on arrival.

Among the salt scrubs and scarves that ended up in bags to carry out to the car, we also carried out surf boards for the mature ladies who do not go in the ocean. I KNOW.

We saw these surf boards LAST year at the craft fair on steroids, and we were strong. We resisted.  But something happened in a year’s time. We got soft. Well, softer. Literally.

So, we are accountability suckers. 15 pounds by August. That’s our goal. Well, that’s MY goal.  I have no clue what Geri’s goal is other than to make Rhonda feel a little less lonely loser-ish. She is going to twist in solidarity, or at least make me THINK she is, since she is 6+ hours away from revealing her true motives.

We both love to eat. We are NOT dieting. We love our food. So we decided to lose by moving more. This oughta do it.

I had seen this surfboard on Shark Tank and it’s a piece of cake! It’s fun! It’s so simple! Just step on the thing and stand still – all you gotta do is the Chubby Checkers twist! I’ve got Chubby down. Check ’er off. I didn’t need no DVD to watch how to do this thing. Nooooo, twisting is easy.

Geri sent me an email after she began her dance. Apparently, she wasn’t as limber and nimble as Rhonda:

Subject: I’m a klutz!

“…What have I gotten myself into?…”

So, Monday night, I unwrapped that board, closed the door so that my Dad wouldn’t accidentally have something to laugh about, and I got on.

Fast forward to the end of the 10 minutes. I KNOW, 10 minutes:

I was sweating.
My calves were a little sensitive.
I was embarrassed.
Natia the dog was appalled.
I had managed to twist myself all around the bedroom while attempting to watch an episode of “This is Us.”
But I didn’t fall off!
And I thought, “What have I gotten myself into? I NEED A LOLLIPOP RIGHT NOW.”

The next morning, I decided I oughta watch that instructional DVD just to make sure I’m not missing anything – besides, there are OTHER things you can do to exercise with this surfboard.

What I learned:

1. Reading the instruction manual is never a bad thing.
2. Our little surfboard, as it turns out, is supposed to stay in one spot. If you are surfing and twisting all around the bedroom while attempting to watch an episode of your favorite show, this is not a good thing. It means you’re doing it WRONG, SUCKER.
3. Deep-down Quakers were never meant to dance.
4. This is going to be a hard 15 pounds to lose, so I better lay off a few more potato chips and help my twister out.
5. I am grateful for closed doors and the best number in the world: 11. That 11^th minute is from heaven.
6. I NEED A LOLLIPOP RIGHT NOW.

My snacks for today. (I’m not taking a picture of the crackers and the chocolate.)

I am a CASA, a Court Appointed Special Advocate. For almost two years now, I have been on my first case. In training, we were instructed to keep our information about our “child” very private. We were not to put our child’s picture on our refrigerator or have their file open so that others might see. We were not to friend them on Facebook for the world to observe, we were not allowed to transport them. Our job was to be their voice in court, to become their friend and mentor, to represent them and their needs/desires in the process of foster care and state custody. We were to visit our child on a weekly basis, talk to their therapists and counselors and foster parents and teachers and physicians – you know, get to know their whole world. It was a commitment not to be taken lightly. It was a commitment not to be sporadic but consistent. These children need to know that there is at least ONE person who will be there no matter what, through the hell of trauma and back again.

As of Valentine’s Day 2017, I am a CASA, a Court Appointed Special Advocate…without a case.

With her mom’s permission and since I am officially off the case,

I would like to introduce you to my friend, my “adopted granddaughter,” my FORMER CASA child:

Mariah Gabrielli

Yesterday, she became a permanent member of the incredible Gabrielli family and found her way to her FOREVER HOME. It has been a very long journey of ups and downs, through the hell of trauma and back again. Before I ever met this beautiful young lady, with only her case description and three others in my inbox, I knew she was the case for me. God planted a tiny seed in my heart for this precious kid from the moment I read about her, and we have been on the journey together since June 2015.

Everyone in her support group, from her attorney to her therapists to her caseworkers to her new family and close friends of the family, EVERYONE LOVES THIS CHILD. She is a magnet. She is a sparkplug. She is something quite special, and as the judge expressed yesterday so eloquently for all of us,

“It is an honor and a privilege to have been invited to this Hearing of Adoption for Mariah into this beautiful family.”

Last summer, I took Mariah to see “Finding Dory.” I had received special permission from the Judge to be able to transport her since she was then living outside of the city. We went to see the movie in the middle of Mariah’s renaissance. She had struggled and had taken a detour in her journey, and she was at the beginning of her way back to being on the right road.

After the movie, I was to take her for her first overnight stay with the Gabrielli’s, to see if it might be a good “fit.” As we were driving, Mariah shared, “I feel like I am just like Dory. I am trying to find my way back to my parents, my way back home.”

If you haven’t seen the movie, Dory got lost because she had an issue with short-term memory loss and was trying to find her way back to her parents. Her parents were aware of her issue, and so they laid a path of seashells for her to always follow, all the way back home.

Mariah started following seashells last summer. She followed Dory’s advice:

Mariah kept swimming.

And she kept swimming.

The world/ocean is her playground in this life, and I will be on the shore watching her swim and flip and dive…and LIVE.

She followed the seashells.
And she found her family.  And what an amazing family…

She is finally HOME.

I notice you, Mr. Never-Tuck-In-My-Shirtsy-Because-I’m-Too-Cool-for-School, when you carry a newspaper into the men’s room at 1:37 pm and do not exit the men’s room until 2:03 pm.

I notice you, cute and very tiny office mates from down the hall, as you walk back and forth in the first floor hall, giggling and gossiping away your lunch hour. You both need to eat more, talk less.

I notice you, building complex maintenance crew member, as you saunter and meander without a care in the world, not in a hurry to get anything productive done.

I notice you, shiny shoes and three-piece suitster, when you exit the men’s room and THEN zip.

I notice you, more mature professional administrative assistant lady with gray hair who never washes your hands in the lady’s room, as you touch every door handle in the hallway, which is why I am always gripping a paper towel outside this office.

I notice you, window washer guys, plant waterer girl, cleaning crew people who are called during the day for emergency yuckiness outside of your evening schedule, as you work as hard if not harder than the rest of the building world but are treated as invisibles.

I notice you, parents and your issue-laden teenagers, as you try very hard to act civil with each other and put on a happy face on your way to counseling and therapy a few floors above.

I notice you, millennials and 50-something-silver-fox-who-should-know-better, as you bury your heads in your phones while you walk to the elevators, oblivious to the fact that you are being noticed and are completely unaware of the elderly couple who just struggled to open the heavy glass entry doors on their way to meet with their financial planner.

I notice you, elderly couple, scarf tied to protect her fixed hair and red ball-capped Chiefs fan, as you leave your financial planner’s office, holding hands.

I notice you, overweight man who should be a character straight outa’ The Office who cannot keep his white shirt tucked in which is just as bad as middle-aged Mr. Never-Tuck-In-My-Shirtsy across the hall who thinks he’s too cool for school,  as you take your break from your perch upstairs to come to the first floor to stand right outside MY perch to handle your personal phone calls and cellular arguments so that I don’t miss out on the entertainment otherwise known as your drama. I notice that you do NOT notice that glass does not mean soundproof.

I notice you, chain of smokers all going down the long hallway on your way out the door to take your afternoon smoke break, relegated to the chilly air outside in order to quell the inner itch of addiction.

I notice you, fancy restaurant caterer and Jimmy Johns racer and Chinese delivery employee and FedEx blue and UPS brown people, bearers of all things fun and eagerly awaited…okay, MOSTLY all things fun and eagerly awaited. I am not sure you realize how many times a day I secretly wish you were coming to THIS side of the glass with your surprises in those boxes and sacks.

I notice you, ear-budded-tennis-shoe-wearing professionals who are smart enough to go outside and walk the beautiful trails during your breaks. I notice you and feel guilty that I am not doing the very same thing. I notice you and I am jealous of your motivation. I just need some earbuds and a little instruction manual on how a 50+ year old woman can learn how to listen to podcasts on her fancy schmancy phone. Yeah, that would give me motivation to introduce myself to a trail and 20 minutes of This American Life.

*****

I notice you, 50+ year old woman sitting at a computer all the day long, observing everyone else, quaintly calling it observation while forgetting the lesson you had once mastered of being grateful and paying attention only to the log in your own eye. Remember that saying you once used quite often?

I notice you, Mr. Never-Tuck-In-My-Shirtsy, and how kind you are to everyone in the hallway.

 I notice you, cute and tiny office mates from down the hall. I am glad you have each other at work. Friends at work are a bonus.

I notice you, building complex maintenance crew member. I don’t know if you are slow because you hurt, so I will try harder to remember that I do not walk in your shoes.

I notice you, shiny shoes and three-piece suitster. I shouldn’t notice you. I should let you zip in the privacy of your space.

I notice you, more mature professional administrative assistant lady with gray hair who never washes your hands in the lady’s room. You have made me more aware of the need to wash my own hands and be vigilant about germ-spreading. Thank you.

I notice you, invisibles. I will try harder to notice you with much gratitude for making the windows sparkle, the plants grow, and the bathrooms a welcome space for those of us who “live” here each day.

I notice you, parents and your issue-laden teenagers. I understand the anxiety of pre-therapy moments, the fragile self-esteem, the uncertainty of dealing. May you find answers as you deal and heal.

I notice you, millennials and 50-something-silver-fox, buried in your phones and oblivious to your surroundings, and I hope that whatever captures your attention is good news and not bad.

I notice you, elderly couple, and I am grateful that you give the rest of us hope for love and devotion in the later years.

I notice you, overweight man with the partially tucked shirt who needed a private conference room to discuss personal issues. I am grateful for the opportunity and reminder to ignore and mind my own business.

I notice you, chain of smokers. I do not know the humiliation of being ostracized because of a habit/addiction, but I can only imagine if eating potato chips were banned in the building and I had to stand along the wall just outside the door in order to indulge with other potato chip eating addicts. It wouldn’t be pleasant, and I would feel judged. I am sorry. I’m being serious and funny at the same time. Potato chip eating is my struggle.

I notice you, delivery people. Sometimes I envy you for the fun job you have of giving gifts every day, but I also understand the pressure you are under and appreciate your urgency.

I notice you, ear-budded-tennis-shoe-wearing professionals who inspire me to bring my tennis shoes back to work and inspire me to ask a millennial how to download a podcast.

And finally, I notice you, 50+ year old woman sitting at a computer all the day long. Do better. Be better. Give grace. And remember your saying about miles and shoes.

He entered the building and looked lost. I watched him through the glass and we made eye contact, briefly. I went back to the computer screen, silently hoping he would find his way, but I could see him make his way to our door. Mr. Munson, as I would soon learn, was here for an appointment with his accountant to work on taxes. He spoke very quietly as he asked,

“Do you know Cathy?”

Our office is the first you see after entering the building. The entire front of our space is glass, and I sit at the desk that everyone can see from the hallway, quite often mistaken for the building receptionist and information booth question answerer.

After explaining to Mr. Munson that we were an executive search firm and no, I did not know Cathy, and seeing his frustration and confusion, I felt obliged to help this elderly man find his way. He sat down on the couch and I made my way to the hall to inquire in the other first floor offices if Cathy the CPA was known by any of them.

No such luck.

I came back into the office and took my place on my perch again, again explaining that I was unable to locate Cathy the CPA. At the same time, I was late for an appointment and needed to leave.

Mr. Munson sat.

He showed me his file. I quickly researched online to locate this CPA, called the number he had written down that went straight to an automated voicemail, called another possible number I stumbled upon that was disconnected, and told him how sorry I was that I could not help him reach his destination.

We both exited the office, me in a hurry, he, in an elderly hesitation and unsure of where to go.

My co-worker and I were driving down the street reflecting on this poor man who seemed so lost, when it dawned on us to call the corporate office of the complex. Maybe THEY would know Cathy the CPA. I called our office and enlisted help as other co-workers watched Mr. Munson shuffle slowly out to the parking lot.

Long story slightly shorter:

Another co-worker struck gold, ushered our new elderly friend back inside, and 25 minutes later when I returned, Mr. Munson was getting up from our couch one more time, this time to go meet Cathy the CPA, located in another building within our complex.

As he left, he remarked more than once, “I’ve never been treated so kind by strangers.”

*****

I should buy a lottery ticket.

Driving to work this morning, I passed eight stoplights. Seven were green.

*****

Pet peeve #468: People who yawn and talk at the same time.

Pet peeve #469: Stinky office refrigerators because people who yawn and talk at the same time also leave stinky food in the refrigerator. For days.

Pet peeve #470: Dirty microwaves left dirty because I am too tired to clean them when they get spattered, and then dirty microwaves are discovered the next morning…by me.

*****

My Bingo friends are dwindling.

I went to call Bingo last night for the group at the assisted living facility down the street. My group, which once was comprised of 16 residents in its heyday, had four players last night. Ken has fallen and is not getting around so easily these days. Helen was in her room and under the covers because she didn’t realize it was Bingo night.

Avis was her frisky self, anxious to share the latest gossip. Barb sat down and was as confused as ever but so happy to play, thrilled when I gave her TWO cards instead of one. Louene, my 101 year old brilliance, was eager and sharp as ever. Betty joined us just before we began game #1, and ever so sweet and gracious.

When I call numbers, I always call someone’s birthday number with their name:  Avis’ favorite, I-23. I-2-3. (Her birthday is on the 23rd.) Barb’s best, I-26. I-2-6.

Best number in the world, B-11. B-1-1! (That’s MY birthday number, and my daughter’s.)

I still call Katherine’s, and Ruth’s, and Jim’s. Even though they are no longer with us.

Last night, sweet and gracious Betty made me laugh out loud.

“It’s funny how you always call those numbers like that.”

(pause)

“But it’s kind of creepy when you call the ones who are dead.”

*****

I am grateful for Mr. Munson and the opportunity to smile at a stranger.

I am grateful for green lights on the way to work.

I am grateful that I have a little bit of patience to deal with my pet peeves.

I am grateful for a yoo hoo bird greeting as I walked in to the office this morning.

I am grateful for my Bingo friends and the opportunity to see them on Tuesday evenings.

I am grateful for Linda and her wisdom and her friendship and her writing.

What if we all took ten minutes and stopped what we were doing. What if we took down our protest signs, political posts, guns and tear gas? What if we took off our v**ina hats, our rainbow hats, our skull caps and our white pillowcases? What if we reached over and removed the chip off our shoulder and laid it on the ground. What if we took one giant step out of our comfort zone? What if we reached out to our enemy real and perceived? What if we hugged that person? Held that person tight. Felt their heart beating. Understood that they too were made of flesh and bone. Realized that person is human just like you and me. Recognized the person you consider an enemy also has fears, dreams, family, beliefs and pain. What if we all took that ten minutes and shut up, cleared our minds and just felt with our hearts? What if? – Linda Francis, future author of a really great book

I am grateful for my boss. She makes coming to work each day a joy. She is just one reason I love my job. This is what I found this morning on my keyboard:

I am grateful, in a weird kind of way, that my daughter’s heart hurts as she watches her own daughter sitting on the bench, not getting to play basketball when CLEARLY her little girl, who is only 7 years old, is so good at basketball but the coach is biased and makes stupid coaching decisions and leaves his best player on the bench. My daughter now understands her mom’s anguish. Welcome to my world, Karissa. It is a heart-hurting kind of mother’s world. I am not grateful that your heart hurts, but I am grateful that you now understand a little of my pain all the years of your growing up.

Mom vs. The Coach. Let the fun & games begin.

*****

Friday, June 13, 1980. Troy picked me up for our first date. Before we left, he read Psalm 46:1 to me. “The Lord is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” I’m sure he read more, but that was the verse I remembered. And then we headed to town, my first motorcycle ride and our first date. And my first and only major accident which led to multiple surgeries and life change. And through every surgery and hospital stay, I kept Psalm 46:1 near and dear.

So, finally, I have heard this message three times this week, and I want to listen again.  I do not want to be Henny Penny or Loosey Goosey or Turkey Lurkey. I do not want to listen to doomsdayers. I want to fill my mind with gratitude and joy and hope and peace and have open arms and a smile for every stranger.  I am so very grateful for Psalm 46 and for God’s hand on my life, throughout my life. And I am so grateful for this message and reminder that the sky is NOT falling.

http://cor.org/leawood/sermons#d/sermon/8958/cor_l

My boss, the tyrant that she is, walked out of her office today with a little piece of paper. On the paper, she had written down a website.

“Rhonda, go to this link!”

Mind you, SHE IS MY BOSS.

So I go to this link:

SWFLeaglecam.com

It has been the most unproductive last hour of the day for me in the history of work. I cannot quit watching the eagle baby and his/her parents. I try, and I have to keep clicking on the live feed to see what I don’t want to miss!

I am grateful that it is Friday and I do not work here at the office tomorrow, because I would not work here at the office tomorrow. I WOULD WATCH EAGLEMANIA ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY.

I am grateful that it is my boss who gave me the little piece of paper, because I can blame HER when nothing gets done. It’s outa my control.

I am grateful that I have the desire to write a book, but until the eagle flies the coop, I’ll just work on the title.

So, on this Friday evening,  I am grateful that I don’t have a deadline. Happy eagle-watching weekend.

You can’t lose heart during the bad parts.

You need to think about the whole story.

You need to think about how good wins in the end. And you need to do your part to make it so.

– Beth Woolsey, on the state of everything right now

I have a friend who is having a bad week. Not just a bad week, but a REALLY bad week. She is having this bad week and can’t do much about her circumstances except live in them.

I have been dwelling on Psalm 121 for about a week now. It’s one of my most favorite. I just love the story pictures that are created in my head when I read the verses. It seems that I am surrounded these days by good friends and a few family members who need Beth Woolsey’s advice, need to read and re-read Psalm 121, need to dwell on this, from Max Lucado:

C. S. Lewis wrote: “The moment you wake up each morning your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job of each morning consists in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, letting that other, stronger, larger, quieter life come flowing in.”

Here’s how the psalmist began his day: “Every morning, I tell you what I need, and I wait for your answer” (Psalm 5:3).

Spend time waiting on God. And, at the end of the day, thank God for the good parts. Question him about the hard parts. Seek his mercy.  Seek his strength. And as you close your eyes, take this assurance into your sleep: “He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121:4).  If you fall asleep as you pray, don’t worry. What better place to doze off than in the arms of your Father. – Max Lucado

I am grateful today that I am surrounded by seekers and people who feel and are bothered by turmoil and stress.

I am grateful that I choose to live my life mostly positive, not dwelling on the negatives that could swallow me into a black hole of despair.

I am grateful that I have chosen to eliminate political news, scary crime shows, pop culture tv, reality shows that have no value and are filled with drama and yelling, and negative radio – I know my emotional health, and none of that is productive or offers hope, comfort, joy, or good tidings, all of which I need in my soul.

I am grateful for fun text messages from Melissa.

I am grateful that I have a piece of paper now taped to my desk, with Beth’s words of wisdom posted. I will print another copy to keep in my wallet.

And I am grateful that He does not slumber or sleep, while I do. I love Max’s advice: At the end of the day, thank God for the good parts. Question Him about the hard parts. Seek His mercy for today and His strength to face tomorrow.  And then I’ll just imagine this picture as I drift off to sleep…

The Lord will protect you from all evil; He will keep your soul. The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever. Psalm 121:7-8

I like February. It’s a soft month. It is a month of quiet and of lovely and of blankets and books. It is a month of birthdays on my calendar. It is also a month that my CASA girl has been looking forward to for a very long time.

I’ve never liked SAYING February, because I want to say it like it’s spelled. FEB ROO AIR EE. And that just sounds weird.

It’s a comforting month, and I am looking forward to February. I have high hopes. I am needing comfort. and joy. and good tidings. whatever tidings means.

I am grateful for the wisdom of a friend who calls me and shares my parenting and political leaning. We have much to ditto about.

I am grateful for a mall that is warm and carpeted so that Dad and I can walk in comfort, relatively speaking. We bring the joy and good tidings ourselves – you can’t buy joy and good tidings. But you can buy a whole lot of other things at the mall. We just don’t.

I am grateful to be greeted each day by a happy dog.

I am grateful for my pillow. I love my pillow. It’s a My Pillow, remember? “For the best night’s sleep in the whole wide world, visit MyPillow.com”

I am grateful for my church that employs some really great people. One in particular helped me this morning by responding to my request via email, and then offered encouragement and suggestions and is sending in the cavalry to help.

I am grateful for free tortilla chips. It doesn’t take much to make my day.

I am grateful for a stack of books. I wish I could read fast. The stack just keeps getting stackier. Forgiveness and happiness and making fun lists and what to say when life is scary. Those are the topics I’m attempting to read about right now. Ain’t nobody got time for this. I wonder if I would get in trouble if I just locked myself into my room for two weeks or months so I could get it all read.

I am grateful for wildcats and bears. I am grateful they eat frogs and hawks. I hope they are hungry tonight. It will be hard to read while watching the natural order of nature.

I am grateful for pretty incredible sunsets that welcome me as I leave the building in late January and early February. Perfect picture for a silent 5 minute drive home…

And, that is it for today.

Except for this:

Ann Voskamp shared this today, so I am passing it along.

Time alone with God can help us grow,
but so can serving others.
Instead of feeling guilty about how little time alone I get,
I need to look at how I can connect with God in the midst of my chaos.
– Keri Wyatt Kent

It was a long drive home.

But to break up that drive home, I made an overnight stop in old stomping grounds. Years ago, in my former life, I had more than two daughters. I’ve had several daughters in my life, former students who became a part of our family and created a much larger heart for this teacher/mom inside of me. Recently, I reconnected through Facebook, yes Facebook, with two of the girls, and we arranged to meet in “the city” for an overnight slumber party.

So as I drove home this past weekend after a very late night of untold stories and laughter and tears, God gave me the quiet of the day to count even more blessings, naming them one by one.

1. Amanda, Melissa, Meghan, Erin, Nanette, Vangie, Carolyn, Brittney, Skyler, Alica, Desiree…
2. Oklahoma accents that crack me up and make me love all the more
3. Goofiness even at 52
4. Girls who can transition from calling me Mrs. G or Mama G to my name: Rhonda
5. Heartbreaking stories that could have devastated but instead made us stronger
6. A common bond, one of many, across the generational divide: our faith
7. “I have mostly good memories from high school.”  I cannot say that, but I am so grateful they can.
8. Swiss cake rolls
9. Long hugs
10. Freedom to be who we are
11. Sleep after a very late night
12. Happy endings
13. Wonderful husbands
14. Alfredos chips and salsa
15. Love that never fails
16. Understanding, kindness, and a whole lot a’ grrrace

I have been given so many blessings. Here are just two of them. And I am so grateful.

It was a long drive home.

I am grateful for long drives home that allow for the counting, one by one.

What we lack is not so much leisure to do,
as time to reflect and time to feel.
What we seldom “take”
is time to experience the things that have happened,
the things that are happening,
the things that are still ahead of us.
– Margaret Mead/Rhoda Metraux

It was a long drive home. There were no ballgames worth listening to on the radio, and I am not a fan of radio preachers, country music, or infomercials about the latest healthkick in a bottle or retirement/real estate/investment seminars.

Since it was a Sunday, the traffic was flowing nicely, and it was such a beautiful sunny day, I found myself enjoying the quiet and the Oklahoma and Kansas landscape without the noise of the radio. I found myself counting as many as I could, those blessings that seem to become blurs and blips if I neglect to count them one by one. The time alone allowed me to reflect on the week I had just experienced…

1. Returning from small town USA to find a stack of mail that included birthday cards from Linda and Geri and Jeremiah and Alex and two packages, from Delores and Katrina. What a fun welcome home.
2. Hearing that three of my granddaughters were very ill and headed to the ER in Texas.
3. Attending the morning session of the US Figure Skating Championships with my sister, her birthday gift to me, and SO. MUCH. FUN. What I enjoyed the most? Walking around the Sprint Center before the session began, just talking to my sister.
4. Dinner at Panera with Sam and Dad after driving to three other restaurants to find very long wait times.
5. A new baby boy who arrived on Saturday night to Paul and MJ.
6. Listening to my pastor once again and feeling so content to be back in my church.
7. Finding out that my youngest granddaughter, six weeks old, was in the hospital.
8. Once again having to tell Sam goodbye for the week as he headed back to small town USA and I stayed behind to work.
9. Dealing with instability and unknowns with my job status on a Monday morning.
10. Making the heartwrenching decision to drive to Texas to help care for my daughter’s family while she and her husband took turns staying at the hospital.
11. Having the privilege of talking to a few dear friends on the way to Texas, knowing they would pray for our little Aynjel and her family.
12. Rocking a very sick child in the quiet of the night.
13. Getting a running/leaping hug from happy littles when they woke up and discovered I had arrived.
14. Giggles, arguments, crying, coloring, singing, hugs, laughter, stories, handwashing 101, teeth brushing 202, playing Simon Says, Ama-style homeschool, tears, laundry, cleaning, baking, kissing boo boos, praying, bath time, reading, dancing, pancakes, pretend grocery store and restaurant, bedtime books,  scolding, time outs, candy math, medicine giving, wiping noses, lap time, and more rocking. Ahhhh, it’s so good to be an Ama.
15. Watching another granddaughter go to the hospital at the same time the youngest was released to come home.
16.  Experiencing SnapChat with my daughter for the first time ever.
17. Just being with my daughter, one of my most favorite things to do in the whole world since ever.
18. Standing by while my daughter and son-in-law had such burden on their shoulders as they took turns holding vigil at the hospital for not one child, but two. So proud this Mom was, watching co-parenting at its finest and most difficult of circumstances.
19. Dear friends’ text messages asking for updates and offering advice on keeping the sickness at bay.
20. Being trusted to care for my grandchildren in their parents’ absence.
21. An email from my friend Linda, who remembered my Mom’s passing date and knew it was an emotional day for me in the midst of busy childcare.
22. Seeing church friends step up to the plate and deliver meals for the family.
23. Wishing I could do more for my daughter, wishing I could hold her on my lap and rock her to sleep once again.
24. The whole family back home again, chaos intact, and all is well, within reason.
25. Singing our breakfast prayer on my last day, thanks to Curby’s family for teaching it many years ago: “Oh, the Lord is good to me, and so I thank the Lord, for giving me, the things I need, the sun and the rain, and the appleseed, the Lord is good to me – Amen, Amen Amen Amen, Ahhhhh-men.” And then finding an appleseed in the middle of the apple and Anissa insisting it must be planted. Right this very minute.
26. Having to say goodbye and trying to keep those little voices in my ears for as long as I possibly could…

Yes, it was a long drive home.

To be continued.