No Regrets

Do the next right thing.
Show up.
Listen.
Care.
Have no regrets.

These are the subconscious rules that guided me once before. These guidelines did not steer me wrong.

I'm walking this path again. This time I am not alone.

I have to guide my son down this path. Be by his side. Do the next right thing. Show him the way. I don't know much, but I do know one must make choices so one has as few regrets as possible.

Life teaches us what we must know to take the next step. I didn't want to know this much...

A Wireless Weekend

It was the right choice for me. Cancelling plans when you should be counting down the days until a much anticipated date is the right way to go.

I have not quite overcome the "dentist appointment" mentality when it comes to upcoming commitments written on the calendar. Even though it no longer takes a mammoth amount of strength to suggest and plan an extra-curricular activity, as the day looms I cannot wait for it to be behind me.

I tried to ignore it, but the feeling was oozing out my pores. If it was just my happiness at stake, I may have risked it. But there were others involved. Others, who WERE anxiously awaiting this upcoming retreat. Others, who I could have infected with this feeling.

So I cancelled. The weight of the world was released off my shoulders when I simply acted on my intuition. It was the right thing for me to do.

What I did instead, was to plan like I was going away and tend to all that needed to be tended before I hit the road bright and early this Friday morning.

The funny noise in my car has been fixed; the oil has been changed; gas tank is full; car is vacuumed and dusted; the lawn is mowed; my hair has been washed and tamed; the house is vacuumed. And the cats are as tended as they would be any day but as I cleaned their litter box this morning I sighed a happy sigh of relief, knowing I would be here tomorrow morning to do the same thing all over again.

You know you aren't living your best life when you look forward to cleaning the cat litter.

On a happier note, I plan to "unplug" myself from all things Internet and cell phone related. I have an "evite" I must respond to, but after I tend to that I plan to turn off my cell phone, computer and simply rely on the old fashioned means of communication.

I just wrote my "to-do" list for the weekend. It started as all lists do - write a list of chores you want to put behind you. It ended on a happier note:

Happy Friday to you! May you find what you to sustain you throughout this upcoming weekend. And if you want to reach me, please know that phone calls and drop by company is welcome. I'm not unplugging from "life". I am simply taking a break from technology. Television is not included. Not this time ...

Immersed

It was a beautiful, rainy day Sunday. I gazed outward and enjoyed a day that begged me to stay indoors where it was warm and dry. And that is exactly what I did ...

I let the day take me wherever it wanted to go. An email that I had received from my uncle steered me in the right direction and I was off.

Immediately upon receiving my uncle's email the day prior, some words came to me. I didn't exactly know what to do with them so I printed them off and eventually attached those words within a reply to my uncle. They eventually became yesterday's post.

Yesterday was Father's Day and as much as I abhor those Hallmark Holidays and try not to give them any more of my attention than any regular day, yesterday was different.

A good friend's father passed away the Friday before Father's Day this year. I could not help but think of her as the day neared and my focus was redirected. I thought of all of those who have lost their father. There are so many.

In my quest to find the picture of Dad that I was looking for, I came upon other pictures with dads and their children. I posted a few on my cousins' Facebook 'pages' and emailed others...

My cousins commented almost immediately and sporadically throughout the day. The entire time that this Facebook dialogue was happening, I was working on Dad's family's book project. I lost myself in it. I became 'as one' with the characters of our story.

I love the way I feel when I have the opportunity to completely immerse myself in this project. I feel so warm and full of ... 'love' isn't quite the word for what I feel. But it is close. It is an all-encompassing warmth. It is like I am embodied by those who I am writing about. There is such an overpowering feeling of 'telling their story' with compassion and trying to understand.

I was wrapped up in memories, stories and feelings. I could feel their energy even though their physical bodies left us so many years ago. I most especially felt a tug from my dad's oldest brother and I was in the most direct contact with his two youngest daughters yesterday.

I can feel an ache in their heart where their father used to be. He has been gone for 34 years, but he had unfinished business. I can feel it. It pulls at me and won't leave me alone.

Yesterday was a gift in every sense of the word. Far too many people I know are missing their dads. For some, the grief is so very new and raw. For others, it is an ache that never quite goes away.

Thanks, Dad. You filled my heart and left me whole. I had no idea how fortunate that I was but I am trying so very hard to share what I have.

If you could see me now, Dad what would you say? Sometimes, just sometimes, I think I hear you whisper. I'll keep listening...

Stranger. Danger?

I took my little daycare family out for a walk Monday morning.

It was supposed to be a walk to the post office and back which normally takes in and around an hour to make the full circle. But we kept running into road blocks that barred our way.

"Post office closed for repairs. Sorry for the inconvenience" was the first sign that rerouted our day.

It was a beautiful morning and we didn't have to be anywhere at any specific time so I asked my little 2-1/2 year old if she was up for a long walk. She agreed and off we went, in search of Post Office #2.

We jigged and jagged and made our way off of a busy street, down residential streets and cut through a school ground.

"Can I climb the mountain?" she asked (our school grounds have many man-made mounds of dirt covered with grass and she calls them 'mountains'). I didn't have the stamina to push the double stroller filled with one-year-olds through the grass so we took a half-block detour to make our way to a paved path so that my little mountain climber could run and pick the beautiful yellow flowers.

Our little 'detour' added some extra steps and time onto our little adventure but how could I deny the request of my adventurous little walker? 

Eventually (about an hour after we had left the house) we made our way to the next post office. We were met with a sign that said: "Closed until 12:00. Sorry for the inconvenience". It was 11:30. My little daycare family was getting hungry and thirsty. 

I was feeling a little defeated. I had turned a mundane little task into an 'adventure' and we were getting 'Closed' signs thrown in our faces at each turn. 

I had not packed a picnic lunch (though the thought had crossed my mind before we walked out the door) so we backtracked a little ways and went shopping at the grocery store within the same strip mall that housed our post office. Eventually I settled on a cheese, meat and cracker Lunchable, with apple juice on the side. Not half bad for a make-do meal.

We settled in to enjoy our picnic in between two stores that provided us shade, a window ledge for my weary 'world traveller' (she was not complaining about walking but I just knew that her little legs needed a rest) and we made the best of the situation.

The minute you walk out the door with two small children in a double stroller, you tend to attract attention. My two little one-year-olds are three months apart in age but people always ask if they are twins (twin stroller = twin children). I usually have one or two more little ones hanging onto the side of the stroller, so people do tend to smile and greet us on a regular basis.

(Side note: I walked past a school that I once worked at and I recognized one of the staff as she was outside on supervision. Granted, I only worked there two months and I would imagine that secretaries roll in and out of that location like erratically scheduled freight trains, so she probably didn't recognize me. But she beamed the smile that helped me through many-a-day at that particular school and said, "HI, KIDS!!", punctuating the fact that it is the kids that are the main attraction).

Back to my story:

People often make a little comment about my little daycare family and quickly move on. That particular day, a gentleman with a walker and a slur that made his English very hard to decipher hovered close to us. Eventually, I made out the words "... are sweet". 

We were in an area that attracts all kinds of people and I have to admit that I was leary of this man. When you are walking about with other people's children your defences run high but I really, really wanted this man to move on. And he did. I quietly nodded and smiled at his comment but I did not encourage conversation.

We ended up passing him once again enroute to our post office (which was now open and had a very long and slow moving line). Once again, I nodded my acknowledgement to him as we walked by.

I couldn't help but think of this man as a person. I assumed many things due to the area of the city we were in, his slur, the way he lingered and his nationality. As I waited in line to mail my parcel, I wondered "What would Glennon do?" (click on Glennon's name to read a post that further accentuates my point)

This man is a person. Possibly lonely. Maybe he has had a stroke (thus, the walker and the slur). He most definitely has 'a story'. 

I humanized this gentleman as time gave me the opportunity to take off his label and wonder. I am setting an example for the children in my care, so the way that I treat people makes more impact than I will ever really know. Yet, it is equally important to treat people-you-don't-know with a manner that does not encourage 'crossing a line' (we came home, turned on our music and Patty Shukla sang the song "Stranger Danger" to me).

As we passed this man the third time (when we were finally making our way home), he asked for a dollar. By this time, I had removed the label and simply saw 'the man inside'. Perhaps he was begging for money so that he could buy his next bottle of liquor. Maybe he needed lunch just as my young family did. Who knows where that dollar would go? It was not my place to judge. I gave him a dollar.

I got home and wondered if I did the right thing.

I took the label off of a man and humanized him in my mind. I was cordial but distant as he hovered in the company of the children I was tending. I was polite and courteous. But distant. And I gave him a dollar.

What message did I give my children (oh, those children are such big sponges)? Children naturally trust everyone. People do tend to notice, make eye contact and talk with children. I always act as a 'buffer' between the adults we meet along our way and my borrowed children. 

Outwardly, I treated this man no differently than I treat anyone else who acknowledges us. No prejudice. Inwardly, I cowered. He was scary to me. Kids are sensitive. They pick up on these things. 

Did I do the right thing? Courteous and treating everyone the same is good. A little bit of natural fear and apprehension towards strangers is instinctive and right. This man did absolutely nothing that I could construe as wrong. He passed by us as we stood still. Once. We passed by him as he stood still. Twice. Had he followed us, that would have been a whole different story.

If I was that man, would I be hurt by the way I treated him? No. Would I understand that women are protective of their children? Yes. How would I feel after our fleeting encounters? I would feel validated as a person. I would be relieved that I didn't get the cold shoulder. I would be okay.

I think I did what was right for me, for my children and even for this man. 

Miracles Do Exist

I find myself eternally hopeful and enjoy the place where that hope comes from. Perhaps I have retained just a little bit of my childlike naivety and with it, that piece of wistful hope that miracles happen.

I went to visit my aunt on Sunday. She had been in the hospital just over a week when I saw her. To the best of my understanding, she was admitted due to internal bleeding. They had been unable to find the source of her bleeding. Through the course of running a myriad of tests to find out what was happening, her health continued to decline. The day before I went to visit her, she had decided to cease and desist all testing. They unhooked all IV's and she was willing to let nature take its course.

Her family said that almost immediately after having made this decision she started to perk up. She could eat whatever and whenever she wanted to. She wasn't attached to tubes and wires. She was free to rest and relax without the doctors and nurses continually prodding and testing.

She was surrounded by her family. She tired easily. She rested when she needed to rest. Her husband, her children and her grandchildren were at her side whenever she woke up. She has a strong faith and that certainly could not have hurt her as she waited for her body to give up or else start healing itself.

I called Mom after I had visited with her sister. I told her "If that is what faith gives a person ... I want some of that". I told Mom what I had heard from her family, what I had seen with my eyes and what I felt with my heart. It was a very peaceful conversation. 

Her doctors had told her that it could be two hours or it could be two days from the time that they unhooked all of the IV's and moniters, until her body gave up. 

After I spoke with Mom, she said that she had a strong feeling that 'it wouldn't be Monday'. I called Mom again Monday morning (to let her know that my cousin had tried to call her after she went to sleep Sunday night) and relayed all that my cousin had told me. It was pretty much what I had come to understand after my visit so there wasn't much new news.

The funny thing is when Mom actually said the words, "Well, miracles happen..." and for some reason, Mom didn't hush that quiet voice that she heard. She said she had a funny feeling that her sister just may be one of those miracles. I told Mom that I had actually thought exactly the same thing. 

The phone remained quiet on Tuesday. No news is good news, so they say. But in this case I just assumed that 'no news was simply no news'.  

Wednesday morning came and went. The phone remained blissfully silent. So I called my mom.

The first words Mom said? "There has been a miracle..."

My aunt's internal bleeding has stopped. She was strong enough to go back to the hospital in her home town. She is most definitely not out of the woods yet but she has overcome the odds and improved, despite the doctor's grim prognosis.

She refused a blood transfusion due to her religious beliefs. Her body started to shut down and she was physically unable to proceed with the testing that the doctors had ordered. She was willing to "let go and let God" and (as of this moment) she is better than she has been in a long time.

Suddenly, I am reaffirming my naive belief that miracles happen. Sometimes you simply have to let go of all of the safety nets and allow yourself to fall. You end up exactly where you are meant to be...

Image from http://www.mesmerizingquotes.com/

An Anxious Heart

I woke up with an anxious heart this morning. I am going to follow wherever that ache takes me ...

I don't know what it is. If it is simply the need to plan and follow through on something? January (need I say more)? Or if it is something Bigger Than Me telling me to go where my heart takes me?

I have been tossing 'feelers' out into the world, asking The World "What do you think about (fill in the blank)?" And I have been getting rather lack lustre replies. Nothing to jump on and run with.

So I have decided I am going to 'jump' no matter who may or may not join me. I am simply going to do it. Do something. I am going to act instead of simply react.

As far as I know, I do not have to work this upcoming weekend. I am not going to stay home and fritter away another weekend. I am going to hop in the car and drive.

I feel like the lead in the fairy tale "The Travelling Musicians". I am going to head off towards the Great City, "For there ... I may turn musician!"

I am headed off on my own. Will anyone join me along the way? I guess I will find out as I go along ...

Dreams

My nightmare had taken me to the edge of where my imagination dared to go. It was at this point that my conscious mind told my subconscious mind that enough was enough. I knew I was in a dream so I was yelling at myself, "Wake up! Wake up!! Open your eyes!!"

My eyes wouldn't open. My conscious mind was so confused. I was certain that I was dreaming but I couldn't get myself out of the situation I was in. I was locked in my dream state for what felt like an eternity. It was probably ten seconds.

Finally, finally my eyes opened with a jolt. And what playing in the background of my nightmare? An episode of "Supernatural" (this is my best guess according to my fully conscious deducing abilities this morning). Eerie music was playing which was definitely the back drop to the nightmare that I just escaped.

I had fallen asleep to the music on the Much Music channel instead of my usual go-to-sleep channel (the Home & Garden Network). The Home & Garden network never ever gives me nightmares.

Once I was safe, back in the land of home and gardening adventures I fell back to sleep and drifted into a dream state that nestled me straight into the middle of Family.

I dreamt of my uncle and his family. I dreamt that it was a vision of my cousin's wife that I followed. She was without a voice but she walked in front of me and led me to where I most needed to be.

In my dream, everyone-that-mattered surrounded my uncle and his family. There was little that anyone could physically do for them. All that mattered is that they were there.

So many subconscious thoughts led me to that dream. There was a thread of a story within the dream. The story-of-my-uncle was intertwined within one object that was carried forward through the storyline of his life.

One of my cousins contacted me yesterday about gathering memories for yet another uncle. I have an uncommitted weekend in my forecast. My dream has guided me to reach out to an uncle's family. I think I know what I must do.

Do you know what the moral of this story is? "Supernatural" led me back to my own "Home & Garden" ... was it only a dream? Or is there a deeper meaning to all of this?

Change

Sometimes we see it coming. Other times we don't. There are times we think we know what to expect but life throws us a curve we weren't expecting. Usually? It is 'all of the above'.

Change.

Personally, I love my ruts. I have learned from experience that ruts aren't good for me in the long run. Even though I pretty much despise the concept of change, I've learned that change is good.

There for a while I got a little addicted to shaking up my world. When things began to feel to stagnant, I seemed to find some aspect of my life to change up a bit. It worked very well me for a while. Until it didn't. Then I went running for safety and I have been hanging out there ever since.

I love my little life. My life where my work comes to me each and every week day morning and leaves around supper time each and every week day evening. It is a relatively predictable life. Considering I run a daycare from my home, it has become unbelievably predictable. There have been few shake-ups in my daycare world since its re-inception last fall.

But times, they are a-changin'.

Everything has been running on schedule. People come (for the most part) when they tell me they are going to come. People leave (mostly) when I expect them to go. I am given notice (almost always) when schedules change. And (drum roll please) ... I get paid. The same amount each month. No matter what. It is a little bit awesome. Stability like this in the daycare world is rare. I cannot believe my good fortune.

I knew things were going to change. No surprise. I have a new one-year-old starting in November. One of my two-year-olds will be on maternity leave in December. Another new one-year-old to begin in January. I was going to transition from three children ... to four. Slow and easy.

Then the phone rang.

A dad was desperately seeking daycare. The family came to meet me Monday night. They started Tuesday morning. I am not located in a convenient location for them. But at the end of yesterday he said, "As long as she's happy, it doesn't matter".

This new little four-year-old girl is going to teach me many things. I can feel it.

Last night, at 9:59 p.m., I thought I knew what to expect of my day today. At 10:00 p.m., I received a text. My three-year-old who was not due to be back until Monday or Tuesday? He would be here bright and early this morning. When they arrived this morning, I received more news. They will be moving to Winnipeg December 1st. He will be done here at the end of November ...

How did our little four-year-old girl find us before I knew how much we needed her? She came into our home and it was like have been waiting for her all along. The toy room that was filled with a play kitchen and doll-tending area drew her into our world like I created this play space just for her.

I wasn't sure what I was doing when I said 'Yes' to this new family. I was afraid I had taken on too much. I cringed (just a little bit) wondering how I'd manage with all of the change in the air.

I didn't know how this would all work out in the end. But somehow I knew that it would. There wasn't a doubt in my mind.

Change. It isn't easy. But it is necessary. Go with the flow of changes within your world. Sit and wait. And you will see how well things manage to work out in the end.

"It all works out in the end. If it hasn't worked out ... it is not yet the end." ~ my favorite quote of the year from "The Exotic Marigold Hotel"

Hard Questions

 "I was just wondering if he (my 15 year old son) was ever left unsupervised with the children as I wouldn’t be comfortable with this..."  

These are the words that were a springboard for a day's worth of deep and soul searching thoughts. I could not stop the cycle once it began. 

First off, it was a shock to my system to look at my son the way others see him. He has grown up before my very eyes despite the fact that I still see (and hear) my young child within him. Reopening my daycare and bringing out various toys from his youth has sparked so many memories and conversations. It is interesting to hear your child talk about when they were young. I was shaken back into the reality that he has grown up to be a mini-man in front of my very eyes.

As soon as my new parent posed the question, our days flashed before my eyes. I have been open in telling my parents that My Son has been helping me throughout the summer holidays ... but have I told them how he helps? An extra set of eyes, ears and hands is so very much appreciated when dealing with a group of small children. His sense of calmness and way of reasoning with the kids is fresh and unbiased. His mere presence in my day gives me a sounding board (perhaps much more than he wishes). Plus ... he plays with the kids. I organize. I supervise. I hover. I enforce the rules. But I don't play.

Has my son ever been left unsupervised with the children? 

I have one parent who habitually 'forgets' to call when she is running late from work. I can understand when it is a half hour or less. But an hour or more? This habit became apparent early on in our daycare arrangements. I had other obligations a few nights of the week, as well as various appointments and commitments from time to time. So I asked her (in advance), in cases like this if she minded if My Son watched over her child until she arrived. He has taken a babysitting course. He babysat on a regular basis for one of my parents a few years ago. She agreed. I took advantage of the situation a few times, but always called her first. My Son always ensured that I took care of any 'bathrooming needs' before I walked out the door and the mom usually arrived within minutes. My son said the longest time may have been twenty minutes.

More often than not, I am in the same room at the same time as my son. But I have been in the kitchen. Or run downstairs. Or run outside. Or gone to the bathroom. But I have always either been within earshot or seconds away from reappearing. I can almost always hear exactly what is going on.

So the reason this parent's question resonated in my mind is because "Yes, my son has been with the children without me being present." I could not erase that reality from my mind. 

But the second part of that truth is what set me free (thank goodness for two quiet children as we strolled the city streets for an hour yesterday morning, as my thoughts finally had the chance to free fall through my mind and sift through the reason I could not quiet my thoughts). "But at no time, have I ever felt that I have put any one's children in jeopardy." 

I realized then, that I have subconsciously been very aware of My Son's presence when he is with the kids. There has been a continual internal dialogue going on within my  mind that I didn't even hear. "Would a parent be comfortable with this?" is a constant. And my answer is always, always "Yes". 

Lessons learned while growing up in a daycare have taught My Son so much more than I realized. We had a few instances of "child curiosity" that sparked discussions among my young daycare family (years ago) about respecting other's privacy and 'private parts'. I have been discreet and encourage a certain amount of privacy when I am changing diapers. I am not overly demonstrative when it comes to hugging, kissing, tickling or anything that involves 'personal space' ... and I have passed this trait along to my own children. So My Son 'accepts hugs' when offered, with a respectful board-like quality (that I must admit, in cases where other people's children are involved, I appreciate).

I ran into two instances over the course of my 12 years in daycare, where the interaction among older kids made me very uneasy (personal boundaries and privacy issues were being tested). I was vigilant in my supervision in these cases, talked with parents about what I saw and felt ... and in one case, I did ask one family to leave because something just felt 'off' when their boys were here (thankfully the other matter was taken out of my hands when the child-in-question stopped coming here).  So I can fully appreciate a parent's concerns and this is something that my mother bear instincts are tuned into.    

So after recognizing the reason this question set this flurry of anxiety through me I can say with absolute conviction that at no point have I ever felt that I have placed the children in my care in any jeopardy.

When I feel a truth inside of me that is trying to escape, I like to examine the reasons why it feels so uncomfortable. The damage is done in cover-ups and excuses. I am satisfied that I have come to the bottom of my discomfort and there is nothing that I have to be hide.

Getting to the bottom of the 'hard questions' have the potential to wreak havoc with a person's peace of mind. I know from experience that I don't 'squirm' without reason. I would never have made a good criminal. I just don't have the stomach for the queasiness that comes from hidden truths.

When the Wind Blows

I woke up to a weekend with no agenda Saturday morning. Honestly? I wanted to close the blinds and simply disappear from the world and regroup. Instead? I called my mom.

Mom and I have had some pretty good Saturday morning phone calls. This one felt a little different. First and foremost, she was quite disgusted to wake up to yet another freshly snow-covered morning. Secondly, her back was bothering her. Enough for her to put a voice to it (she isn't a complainer, so this was out of her norm). Most of all ... it was her voice. She simply didn't sound like herself.

We talked in and around the week's events. She mentioned mailing her income tax papers to me since she had been unable to make it out with them on the Easter weekend as we had originally hoped. There is something about 'mailing those income tax papers' that doesn't sit well with me ...

Dad always brought his income tax to his accountant in Our Fair City when I was growing up. As a rule (if memory serves me correctly), it was usually at Easter. It was a small little ritual that never varied too far from the norm.

After Dad died, Mom kept up the ritual and brought those tax papers back to the same tried and true accountant for some time before she started 'keeping it within the family' and I started doing her taxes. As it was with my childhood memories, bringing those tax papers back 'home' usually involved an Easter gathering ... and as time went on and weather conditions prevailed we would simply ensure that we got together some time before the end of April so that I could get her tax papers one way or another.

A few years ago, in a completely untypical move, Mom told me she was just going to mail her income tax stuff to me. Alarm bells rang and I knew something was not right. Mom doesn't like to trust the postal system with papers of such a confidential nature. I decided to simply make a visit of it and retrieve her papers in person. My sisters came along with me for the ride ...

There was a reason alarm bells were ringing. Mom wasn't doing too well and medical intervention was required. My sisters and I rotated our availability to go out and stay with Mom until everything stabilized and we felt ready to leave Mom on her own again (she would probably tell you that we over reacted). None-the-less ... we were there when we needed to be. And it was the threat of mailing out those tax papers that alerted me to something different in the air.

So when Mom was talking about mailing her income tax to me once again, I replied that I should see if my Middle Son felt like going for a road trip and we could run out there (a five hour drive) and pick them up. She didn't decline. My son was (unbeknownst to me) standing in the kitchen and overheard my comment. He peeked his head around the corner and nodded to me in agreement.

A few minutes later I was off the phone with Mom and within the hour, we were Westward bound. And off to see Mom.

My Son and I talked about little things, big things and things-that-matter along the way. Mom greeted us enthusiastically upon our arrival, six hours after we hung up the phone Saturday morning (she was faking it a little bit but her back was still bothering her so that didn't help).

We all went and visited my brother's family after supper. They have been plagued with their own set of worries and it simply felt good to 'be there' in some capacity. The visit was light but there were serious undertones. I know Mom is concerned about them...

We were back home 28 hours after we left, with eight waking hours left in the weekend. At this point I have no real firm idea if our spur-of-the-moment visit was really necessary or not.

I don't really feel like it made a huge difference in the whole scheme of things. Did I give Mom more things to worry about in my mindless chatter (about dealing with small children on a daily basis) or did I divert her thoughts? Her back ache shifted locations by the time we left. Is this anything to be concerned about? I don't know ...

My son gave my mom a tentative 'spring getaway plan' as we were walking out the door. He invited her to come and bear witness to moving the house onto their farm in May. Nine days after the move, they are headed back her way and could provide her a 'ride back home'.

The snow should be gone by May. Spring should be out in full force. A whole new life will become a reality as My Son & His Girlfriend move a modest little home onto the piece of land that they have been laboring over. It is my hope that Mom is looking forward and seeing 'a month from now' as a time of renewal and coming home to be a part of something that is close to her heart.

I just know that the wind was blowing Saturday morning. And we went with it. I have never been steered wrong when I simply follow where ever the wind blows me. It felt right. It was easy. There was absolutely no resistance or cross-wind to make me feel like we were doing anything but the right thing.

I know this past weekend mattered. I know that I will look back on it and know that it was the right thing to do. I don't know why ... but I know that when the wind blows, I will do my very best to relax and just go with it.

Listen to the Radio ...

"Oowatanite" by April Wine was the song that sang out to me this afternoon and I followed where those thoughts took me ...

1977 was the year. I spent hours listening to the album "Forever for Now" with my high school best friend in the basement of her parent's home. We confided our innermost thoughts, swooned to the music and dreamed of life outside of that which we knew.

Our lives took us in separate directions after high school, but we reconnected as the years went on. We never ever completely lost touch, but we definitely connected on a different level when her marriage started to end.

When that song from our connected past played on the radio this afternoon, I made myself promise to call her as soon as I got home and settled in for the night. And I did ...

The moment she heard my voice and I asked the question, "And how are you?? ..." she started talking. And talking.

"Oh, you caught me at a bad moment ..." was her immediate reaction to the words that fell off her tongue. And that was just the beginning.

She had so very, very much to say. And because of my own life experiences that are vividly fresh in my mind, I could relate to her on absolutely every level that she was explaining to me. Because I had just lived through what she was talking about.

When she started talking about the good stuff going on in her world, it made me smile. She had just spent the afternoon listening to music that spoke to her soul. All these years later, she is still very much that teenage girl who is moved to the core by music and all that it makes her feel.

When I mentioned that it was a song by April Wine that played on the radio today and spurred on my call, she said that she had recently purchased that exact same CD because she 'lost it in the divorce'. She simply had to replace it. So she did. She could see it from where she sat at that very moment.

We bonded over music a few lifetimes ago. A song brought the memory of the friendship that we shared to mind today. So I called. I am glad that I did.

If you are thinking of someone, tell them. Reach out in some fashion. I think that you will be glad that you did.

It Doesn't Hurt to Ask

I have found myself going out on a limb and simply asking for things that (once upon a time) I only dared to hope for.

How many times have I actively asked for what I want and hope for? I'm not talking about the 'big stuff' ... I'm talking about little things.

Things like asking to see I if I could book a bonus dance lesson. Impromptu get-togethers with friends that start with asking about the possibility of making it work. Things like wishing that we could fast track the waiting time for an appointment or test.

There are some big wishes that I have also fulfilled.

I asked about the possibilities when I chose parenthood over career. I asked for the impossible when I made an application for home repairs to a government program that was assisting low income earners. I asked for my job ... I asked questions that led to furthering my education. I stated my dream aloud when I said that I would love to attend a dance competition and doors were opened. I wished for a friend to join me on an Alaskan Cruise. And the list goes on ...

There have been so many doors that have opened for me ... simply because I asked.

My most recent miracles have occurred because I picked up the phone, dialed it and stated my most heartfelt desire aloud to someone who had the ability to help me. I asked if there was any possibility ... and we have have miraculously been granted three separate wishes.

Yesterday morning, I awoke in a state of helplessness. I felt that I was powerless. Circumstances were slipping out of our control and I didn't know what to do.

My instinct was to pick up the phone and call someone who could lead me down the right path. I just about allowed myself to be talked out of it, but I thought "What do I have to lose? I will ask and see what happens."

A small miracle happened. We are still powerless over the results of this 'miracle' ... but we are months ahead of where we would have been, had we simply accepted our fate and waited.

It never hurts to ask. Sometimes the answer is "No ... not yet." But there are times when the answer is, "Yes! We just had a cancellation ..."

Dad's life was saved too late. He stopped breathing. Help was on its way ... but it was too late.

Mom's life is precious and viable. We are working hard to preserve her health. One little miracle after another is helping us make that come true. Doors are opening and we are walking through them with her.

It's almost as if my quiet plea to my dad is coming true. I do not feel alone, as we walk through the unknown. I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear that is telling me, "Just ask ..."

Life Goes On

04 Jan 2008

I'm taking control of my destiny ... my life ...

I did it! I have booked my dance lesson. And I plan to give this my all, once again. I am going to walk back in those doors full of optimism and a driving desire to do the best I can with what I've got. Again.

I had planned on trying to return to the dance world in November but with Christmas and all the costs and distractions, I put it off. As one month led to the next I wondered if I was ever going to take the plunge again. But as this month dawned and I knew I needed something to motivate and excite me again ... the time was right.

I phoned the studio and left a message first thing yesterday morning so that I got the ball rolling. And as I awaited their return call, I knew more and more that this was the right thing to do and the right time. A friend called before the studio did and I mentioned I was going back to dancing and he was so supportive and assured me that I was a great dancer (he's never seen me dance but he said ''I've seen how you look when you talk about it'' and that my Second Son talks about my dancing without any embarrassment ''... so you have to be good at it...''). Saying this out loud to someone and feeling their encouragement fueled my desire and excitement about this.

Following my instincts. I've been following through on those little whims for several months now, and it has served me very well. Every time (almost every time anyway) I get the notion to pick up the phone and call or email or do something ... I've been doing it. And I dare say that I am running close to a 100% success rate.

When your heart is telling you to do something ... do it!!!!