As a New Year Approaches

It has been awhile since I last posted in my journal. First, I became busy with preparations for our cruise to Hawaii. Then, before I knew it, Thanksgiving rolled around and I received the most incredible news from my daughter. She is pregnant! I never dreamed I would hear those words. She and Sam have been married nearly a year and a half. The baby is due July 24th. At last I can be part of this wonderful miracle. When she had her first child, who is now 12, she was in Germany where her first husband was stationed in Frankfurt and he was born there. Arno and I went there to be present for the birth but she wound up being late and we could not change our flight plans to return home. Consequently, he was born ten days after we left. But now I can be there before, during, and after the birth of our second grandchild. The doctor says she is doing well and the baby is showing all the signs of being a healthy fetus. So that was the best possible early Christmas present ever, not to mention the best possible Thanksgiving I could have! Now a new year approaches. It is hard to imagine the first four years of the millenium have already gone by. And what a year it has been. Sadly, too many young men and women have lost their lives in Iraq. Too many children have gone hungry in this wealthy nation. Too many seniors have had to choose medication over food. But through all that, there is also hope and joy and the dream of peace for all. Perhaps it is because of the imminent birth of a new grandchild, but I feel this year will be better for the people of this planet. Positivity will win out over negativity. People will come to realize all the good things life affords us...things we cannot buy or covet or take from another. These are the little things we so easily overlook. We need to improve our vision and see the things closest to us that we so easily forget. Friendship, family, companionship, God's love. These are the things that sustain us and keep us safe. Remember, as you muse about the past year, to count your blessings. They always far outweigh the bad that may have come your way. You just have to clear your vision to see them and appreciate them for the miraculous gifts they are.

River Pageant, Polynesian Cultural Center, Oahu. 

Aloha Tower, downtown Honolulu 

Grotto where Elvis was married on the island of Kaui 

Rainbow Falls on the island of Kaui, December 10, 2004 

Gary and in our playroom. You see the crib in back. We have matching coveralls. You can also see the rug of nursery rhymes I wrote about. 

Gary and were ready for bed. We were five years old in this picture. 

Memories of my Brother : Part 2

Gary and I had many adventures as twins. We were each other's entertainment. One memory which is particularly strong happened when we were around the age of ten. One bright summer morning, I decided it was time for us to explore the world beyond the boundary of our fence and field. So I packed a few goodies in a tablecloth, tied a knot in the ends to make a backpack of sorts and talked Gary into going along with me. Of course, he immediately agreed.

We walked for a very long time. I realized we were pretty much lost. When we came across a railroad track, I had the brilliant idea to walk on the railroad ties, knowing they would surely take us to new and exciting places. We had heard the moanful cry of a train whistle every morning and evening from our house for as long as we could both remember. It called us to the mysteries of the world, as far as I was concerned.

We walked on the track for quite a while before coming upon a trestle crossing over a large creek. We started across, carefully stepping on each tie. We could see the creek bed far below in the spaces between the ties. We had gotten about two thirds of the way across when we heard a train coming. Panic filled my heart with dread. I knew we were in big trouble. I shouted to Gary, who was ahead of me, to run as fast as he could to the end of the trestle. I could feel the trembling of the trestle but did not dare look back for fear I would freeze and be unable to run. We both reached the end of the trestle and rolled down the embankment just as the train rolled past. The engineer was leaning out of the cab shouting and waving his fist.

All we wanted at that point at that point was to go back home. But we did not know which way home was. So we started walking down a gravel road, hoping to see a house or that someone would come by to help us. We were exhausted, hot, hungry, and very thirsty. I had lost our stash of goodies when running across the trestle. We heard a car approaching and turned toward the sound, waving our arms frantically. Then our hearts sank as we realized it was the county sheriff.

The trooper seemed very angry and we knew we were in big trouble. He asked if we were Gary and Judy. We hung our heads and nodded weakly, tears running down both our faces. The trooper put us in his car and took us home. I felt ashamed and wondered what punishment we would receive when I saw our parents standing in the driveway. Mother was crying and my father was read faced and silent. They thought we had been kidnapped again, as we had been when we were babies before they had adopted us.

I explained it was all my idea and that I had practically forced Gary to go along with me. Wonder of wonders, we were not punished. That almost made me feel even worse. I vowed I would never do anything that crazy again. Of course, that promise did not last long.

Gary and I are wearing our first cowboy boots.We were six years old. 

Gary is on the counter and I am in the high chair. We were nearly three years old. 

Memories of my Brother

My niece from Ohio recently contacted me. She is one of two daughters of my twin brother, Gary. Now that she has lost her father, and more recently, her mother, she seeks a closer relationship with me. She tells me how much she sees of Gary when she looks at my picture.

I have written about the loss of my twin. It is a painful part of my memory, but an important one. I have decided to devote my journal to my memories of Gary and me as we grew up together and then, sadly, grew apart, in our adult life.

Gary and I were adopted together at the age of twenty-one months, following the death of our natural mother. We were told as soon an we could understand, the circumstances of our adoption and a few sketchy details about our natural family. In the forties, adoption was quite different from what it is today. If a couple had financial security and wanted a child, that was all that was required. No real background checks were made. Our adoptive parents would not have passed the scrutiny of today's world. They were both alcoholics. My mother was also mentally ill and drug dependent. I think they thought children would magically make all their problems go away.

But, as a child growing up in such a situation, neither of us realized anything was wrong. To us, our lives were normal.

We grew up in a home then out in the country near Omaha, Nebraska, and less than a mile from Father Flannigan's Boy's Town. Gary and I both had vivid imaginations and even developed a language of our own which sounded like nonsense to outsiders but made perfect sense to us. Gary had physical disabilities including being cross-eyed and mildly retarded. I think now his problems would have been diagnosed as learning disabilities.

As babies, he was the aggressive twin. He loved to grab handfuls of my hair and yank, often removing clumps at a time. But as we grew older, our relationship improved. We were each other's best friend and playmate. We were rarely apart.

My earliest memory of us is when we were still in cribs. We would stand up at the foot of the crib and rock back and forth to make the cribs move across the room. I also remember special linoleum in our playroom that had various childhood rhymes and pictures on it. We were rarely apart. We were each other's world in every way.

When we were five, our mother enrolled us in dancing lessons. We took ballet and tap. We went to lessons every week and even appeared in recitals. I remember how hurt I felt when I overheard the teacher telling my mother that I could never seriously pursue ballet because I had weak ankles and underdeveloped leg muscles. It made me angry to think that this person could determine what I could or could not do. Gary liked tap dancing more than ballet, probably because all the boy did in ballet was hold the girl's hand while she twirled.

We attended school in a rural one-room school house, much like Little House on the Prairie. My memories of that time, kindergarten through fifth grade, are among my favorites. Learning was magical for me and because it was a one-room school, I could advance to the level I belonged rather than be boxed in to one grade level of learning at a time. It was then that I first became aware that Gary and I differed. He had had an operation to correct his "lazy" eye, but that did not seem to improve his ability to read or learn. I quickly moved ahead of him academically and at once became his defender in the school yard. Gary was often teased unmercifully by the bigger boys. One time, he was running and not looking where he was going. He ran into a tree, broke his glasses, and cut himself. The other children gathered around, laughing and calling him names. I pushed through the crowd, punching and screaming, telling them to leave my brother alone. From those elementary years and on through high school, I kept my eye on him, protecting him from the bullies of the world.

I miss Gary more than words can say. It is not something I find easy to talk about. I cannot explain the loss I feel, as if something vital to my being were cut away. I don't think that missing part of me will ever be healed. But I prefer not to forget my special connection to Gary. We were twins. As long as I live, Gary also lives.

My brothers Terry and Pat (Pat has the dog) in my Terry's home in Arkansas this summer 

My daughter Monica and her husband Sam, the happy couple! 

My sister Shirley and I in Arkansas a year ago. She is the one who found those of us who had been adopted 

Arno and I in May 2004 on cruise to Alaska 

Parenting in the millennium

I have been giving thought to the difficulties parents of today face in raising their children. A young woman I know is facing the same dilemma as many young parents do today. She works full time, home schools her son, cares for a toddler, and feels she is not doing enough. I worked full time while being a parent, too, but times were different in the 70's and 80's when we were raising our daughter. There was less stress, less worry about someone harming our child when she was not in our sight, and a general feeling of security that does not exist today.

I would not want to be a parent today, the way things are now. But I do wish I could assure this young mother that she is doing a phenomenal job of parenting. I see how tired she is and how sometimes things just don't seem to be going as she would like. She worries that she is failing in some way. But I don't think she is failing at all.

I know others her age who are so self-involved that they don't really think about the things they need to be considering when it comes to their children. They let TV and video games be the teacher to their children. They don't talk to their children. They don't spend real time with their children in activities the child enjoys. Instead they drop their children off to sports or gymnastics or dance classes rather than stay and be a part of what their children are doing.

I am glad this young mother feels so strongly about her children and what is happening in their lives. That takes a great deal of effort in her busy, demanding life. I know when her children look back as adults, they will realize what an awesome parent she is.

It is said that children are our future. As a teacher, a parent, and a grandparent, I know that this is an irrefutable fact. If the adults of this world take time to invest in their children in a personal, meaningful way, the world of the future will change. Those children will take responsibility for their actions, care about others, and understand that what they say and do each day of their lives does effect the world around them. If our children are positive minded, self-reliant, and willing to take responsibility in a personal way for their actions, the world will be affected in a positive way both in their present and in the future to follow them.

Parenting is a huge responsibility and it is only natural (and healthy) for the parent to feel he or she is at times failing at this task. But effort will pay off. If it all seemed easy and effortless, then we would be failing as parents. So, to this young woman and all the other men and women like her who are struggling with parenthood, I congratulate you on your efforts and encourage you to continue what you are doing. Certainly, some mistakes will be made along the way, but the end result will be worth all the effort.

California Sunshine

We have been having quite a bit of liquid sunshine (what Californians call rain) in the last few days. In other parts of the country that could be cause for depression, but here it is reason for celebration. We see no rain along the northern California coast from mid-April until mid-October or early November. That is why California is called the Golden State. The grass covered hills turn a dusty gold and stay that way until the rains come. Then a miracle occurs and the hills turn the most incredible vibrant green you could imagine. When the rest of the country experiences a shut-down in nature, we experience new life and with it renewed hope for a better tomorrow.

I am hopeful our world and especially this nation will experience a similar phenomenon as we do in northern California this time of year. The election is over. The outcome does not matter as much to me as what we do from this point on. There has been a great deal of dialogue about a divided America: divided by religion, divided by demographics, divided by race, divided by political points of view. And while we are divided, young men and women are dieing in the streets of far off countries. Innocent civilian victims of war are losing their lives. Children are orphaned. These are not the things Christ would want. War is not fought by God. It never ceases to amaze me that each country claims God is on their side...whether Christian, Muslim, or any other form of human religion. However, I beg to differ with the point of view that God is on any side of war. The righteous war does not exist.

There is a song by the Beatles called "Imagine". Its lyrics are a mantra to me of what this world could be and should be if we did not allow politics or religion to muddy the waters of humanity.

Imagine there's no heaven

It's easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

Imagine all the people

Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries

It isn't hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

Imagine all the people

Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will live as one

Many undoubtedly will say these lyrics speak of an impossible scenerio. But without dreamers, such as myself, this world would give itself over to utter destruction. I do not believe the Creator would want that. That is why He gave us dreams in the first place. Let us hope as time goes by that we, the people of the world will take the words of this song to heart and the world will truly live as one.

Return to my Journal

I am back from my visit with my sister in Ohio and took some time to rest and repair my body from the trials of travel on a plane and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. The time I had with my sister was wonderful. Five years is too long to go between visits. We had a chance to talk and laugh and enjoy each other's company. She totally spoiled me, not allowing me to lift a finger no matter how much I protested. It is not easy for me to allow someone to dote on me but I must admit I enjoyed it thoroughly. My sister seemed happy and more fulfilled than I have known her to be since the death of her husband. She has finally moved beyond grief and found new life. She has even allowed someone new into her life. I am glad for her.

When I returned home, a letter came from one of my former students at the high school where I taught. Let me share with you part of that letter...

"...you have done a lot and touched a lot of people's hearts with your encouragements. It seems to me that you have done everything that you ever wanted. You are a great person, teacher, and role model. I want to thank you for everything that you taught me in the two years that I was in your class."

I share this letter because it touched me and I know it would do the same for any teacher you may have had in the past who touched you in some way. Teachers who truly love what they do need to know their efforts made a difference. It is more important than a raise or having one's name in the paper or being given some award.

I am familiar with the saying, "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach." How untrue that saying is. I have often wondered who coined that phrase and what the motivation was behind it. Teachers...true teachers...are a very special group of people who are given a calling to teach. It takes more than an education and training. It requires a special quality within that person. It has been a natural part of myself and a drive within me since I was a child to teach. So let that special teacher in your life...everyone has at least one such individual...know how you feel.

Visiting My Sister

I leave for Lancaster, Ohio on Monday to visit my sister, Marlene. We visit regularly on the phone but have not seen each other face to face for several years. In the past few months I have increasingly felt a strong need to spend some time with her. Our sisterly experience is somewhat unusual. As I have said in earlier journals, we were not raised together. My twin and I, the youngest of eight, were adopted when we were less than two years old. My next brother and sister were also adopted by a different set of parents. All of this happened because of the death of our natural mother a few months after my brother and I, the twins, were born.

My sister and I have only known each other for the past thirty years and have spent only a few times together, either when I visited her or she visited me. So in one way we know very little about each other, even though we are both in our sixties now. Even so, we feel close and have found a special bond. The past year or so there has been some kind of misunderstanding that has caused my sister to withdraw. I really don't know the cause but am determined to find out and heal the preceived wound she feels she has suffered. The last thing I want is for us to be less than sisters. I love her and I know she loves me. If I have done or said something that has truly hurt her, I want to heal that hurt. I want us to move beyond that hurt. I hope I can get her to hear me and put aside whatever it is that has put up a wall between us.

Family discord is such a sad thing. I have never really known what it is like to have family ties. I treasure the possibility. I hope anyone who reads my journal and has rifts in the family will do something to heal that rift. Don't wait for the other party to make a move. Love should be above the petty things of everyday life. Life is too short. I learned that the hard way when my twin died suddenly. I had let years pass by without keeping in contact. And there were no disagreements between us...just time and distance. If you can not love your brother or your sister, how can you love anyone else? How can you love yourself.

I will let you know how things go with my sister and me. I know just being together, face to face, will make a difference. I just want her to know I love her and nothing can come between us as sisters.

Poetry of Love

We are old friends now as the sun nears its setting
Looking back on days long passed
Looking forward to quiet time together
Where Passion's heat no longer drives our love

Time is a friend, teaching us deeper meanings
Though our bodies move more slowly
Though our minds seek past remembering
We are still and ever, loving partners in a dance

When we were young, filled with tomorrow's dreams
Little did we know we would find such bliss
In a smile, a shared joke, a silent togetherness
All these things and more we together have discovered

Let you who are beginning your life journey together
Discover in time the truer joys of loving
That only time and shared memories bring
A golden glow in the evening of time shared with one another

Love is more than pleasures shared in moonbeam's glow
More than building a life togather
More than memories and keepsakes
It is all that life encompases in the love of a lifetime

The Strength of Love

love is the tie that binds. It is not bondage, forcing one to comply to another's wishes. It is freely given and freely accepted. It binds by holding together no matter what may come. It does not question. It does not become easily provoked. It is above all forgiving and quick to forget the arrows of doubt which may attempt to attack those bound by love.

I have a wonderful son-in-law who loves my daughter with his whole being. He has brought her contentment and a safe place. He came into her life when she most needed him. His love binds her but does not hinder her. That is what is so remarkable about him. He works tirelessly to provide an environment which nurtures her artistic and spiritual growth. He holds her most dear and I know he would defend her against any enemy, whether physical or spiritual. Sam is a man of quiet ways and gentle persuasion. But within him is the heart of a giant. Now that he is part of our family, I know Monica will have the security and support she needs to keep her safe.

Sam is the son we would have loved to have. We are so glad our daughter met him, fell in love with him, and married him. There is no greater treasure parents can have than to know their child is being kept safe and is loved. We are growing old in years and know we cannot forever guard her from adversity. Now she has her champion and side by side they will fight the adversities life brings and grow old together. That is our wish for them.

Mothers and Daughters

My daughter called this morning from Houston. She is my only child and the love of my life. It is always good to hear her voice. I hear her voice and am flooded with memories of her as a little girl with bouncing red curls and an inquisitive mind who was forever asking why.

All mothers think their daughters are remarkable. But my daughter has proven herself to be so. There has been within her a creative, free spirited being much older than her physical years and exceptionally sensitive to life around her. I sadly admit there were times I tried to stifle her outspokeness and questioning of authority. I thought she needed to curb her remarks and be more respectful of those adults she would question. I was wrong. I can see that now. Thankfully, my efforts to rein her in were unsuccessful.

Now as an adult, those qualities which I once found troubling, are the ones that make her so remarkable. Anyone who comes to know her recognizes that she is enthusiastic about life and unaffraid to tell others what she thinks. She is a crusader for the downtrodden, offering help in a tangible way rather than just spouting words of indignation. She will go out of her way to bring food to the homeless person who stands daily at a freeway entrance ramp and then engage in conversation. She sees each person as an individual, not some invisible nameless person. She feels driven to do more than what is expected of her. She is remarkably artistic but wants to use this talent as a tool to bring others closer to the Creator. She can become righteously indignant when she sees wrong being done.

I say all these things about her with much pride. My daughter has a great gift to give in a world filled with meaness and incredible cruelty. She is a shining example of all that is good and worthy in mankind. I cannot attribute all her good qualities to anything her father or I have done. She is truly a gift from God. I am most thankful that we were given the opportunity to see her become the remarkable adult she has become.

Grandparents' Day

Today is National Grandparent's Day. We just got back from going out to dinner with our neighbor two houses down and her son who is eleven. We met last summer when we had a garage sale which they attended. Since then, Jordan, the little boy, has adopted us as his grandparents.

We have a grandson, Connor, who is a year older than Jordan. But Connor lives in Tennessee and we rarely spend time with him, usually a week at Christmas or Easter and a week or two in the summer when he is with his mom. Since their divorce, Connor's father allows us little or no communication with Connor for reasons beyond our comprehension. He had remarried and separated himself from us even though we had never spoken ill of him.

Jordan has two sets of grandparents but is not close with any of them. That is why he adopted us. He comes over frequently to eat candy, joke around with us, sometimes has me help him with homework, but most importantly to play Game Boy and Play Station II with my husband. We enjoy him tremendously. It makes the pain of seeing so little of our only grandchild less difficult.

There have been efforts in recent years to get the courts to intercede with divorced parents who deny visiting rights to grandparents. Recently the Supreme Court decision was made that grandparents do not have specific rights to visitation when one of the parents is not in agreement. There are efforts again being made to have the courts reconsider that decision. I perfectly understand if the grandparents are drug addicts or living a life style that would be harmful physically or emotionally to the grandchild. But if that is not the case, why should grandparents be denied seeing their grandchildren, spending reasonable periods of time with them?

It is a sad commentary on today's society that such things are happening. Grand parents serve an important function. They are a historical resource for family background. They are often a stabilizing influence in a chaotic world. They are a cushion of love and support for children going through difficult times. They are a source of comfort to parents as well when circumstances or situations arise in the rearing of a child and a reasonable voice of experience is needed. And just as important to the child is a realization of what grand parents need too. As one grows older, there is a greater need for interaction with the young. It is beneficial in both directions for there to be interaction between grand parents and grand children. It is my hope that this fact will be realized and the Supreme Court decision will be overturned.

In the meantime, I miss the time I could be spending with Connor. I know my husband feels just as strongly as I do. In fact, it angers him to be denied time with our only grandson without being given a reason or even an opportunity to talk about the situation with Connor's father. It feels as though a great chunk of our life has been surgically removed without cause. We hope with the passing of time that Connor's father will allow him to come spend time with us once he is older. That would make us very happy.

Early Morning Contemplation

I love the early morning. The house is quiet. A cool breeze gently brushes past me from an open window. I hear the birds in the back yard chirping. It is a time of hopefulness and new beginnings. Sweetie, our cat, is snuggled up in bed with my husband, Arno. So the house is mine entirely. There are no chores calling to me. It is my favorite time of the day.

I try to push away thoughts of tomorrow...the anniversary of 9-11. The images of planes crashing into the Twin Towers and the resulting burst of explosions and flame still shake me. It is hard to believe it has been three years and yet it seems so long ago at the same time. I am also troubled that the Republican Party has chosen that particular horrific memory to be their backdrop for the re-election of President Bush. To me that should be a moment to be kept separate from politics. I will forever remember standing in the kitchen at about 6:20 in the morning, watching a few minutes of news on the television before heading off to work, and seeing the Twin Towers billowing black smoke and then a second plane crashing into the buildings. It was a moment totally incomprehensible. The hours and days following the attack were filled with shock and an intense sadness. I could not stop crying. It still brings tears to my eyes. And I realized immediately, once I knew what had happened, that the lives of Americans were forever changed.

I do find immense comfort in my early morning quiet. It is reassuring to hear the birds and the muted sound of traffic from the freeway which no longer calls me to a day of teaching. I delight in the time I now have for myself. It is a time of contemplation too. I think of my daughter, far away in Texas. I whisper a prayer for my son-in-law, who works tirelessly to provide a good life for my daughter and himself. I send love to my only grandchild, far from me in Tennessee. I give thanks to Jehovah, the Creator, for giving me life and ask Him to forgive my short comings and give me ways to praise Him through the things I do and say. I also pray for the future of all the young people who struggle day to day in this difficult world we live in.

All in all, I have a good life, for which I am thankful. I have a good husband who loves me and keeps me safe. I have a wonderful family and good friends. Life is good. There is nothing I want or need to make me feel more complete. For that I count myself most fortunate.

Walking with Faith

Faith seems to be a hot topic these days. Religious fervor has grown tremendously in conjunction with the increasing violence of our world today. It does not seem to matter in what religion's "name" people display and nurture their faith. I reallly do not think that is what is important. A relationship with the creator is what is important. So many people seem to be searching for that relationship.

Demonstrating a personal faith is essential to that relationship. When I read the Bible's account of the activities of Christ when on the earth and of the mission he gave his followers, I realize that what was being taught was the need to have faith and to show that faith through a testimony to others. That testimony is more than words. Anyone can say they have faith and that others must have faith. Anyone can say do as I say because I am a good Christian, or Muslim, or Jew, or any of a mysriad of religious groups and institutions. But what seems to be the underlying key is the WAY YOU LIVE YOUR LIFE.

Many religious people feel they must promote one particular religion as the ONE WAY to reach the creator and to please Him. But if the Bible is any key, the way in which I live my life is the real key and the most difficult requirement. Many religious people point at the belief of another who appears to be different and condemn it as not being THE WAY. But didn't Jesus say, "Judge not that you be not judged."?

To me, true testimony is the way in which I live my life on a daily basis, always remembering my own imperfections rather than dwelling on my perceived imperfections of others. How can it be positive to tear down? Should we not not instead build up? How can it be positive to deride another's belief? Should we not show love on a personal one-on-one level in which we give without expectation of receiving?

Perhaps that is why I do not align myself with any one religious organization or group. I prefer to keep my relationship direct and personal. I do my utmost, given my imperfections, to live my life in a way that magnifies the goodness of the Creator. That is my testimony.

Circle of Love

There is a circle of love in each person's life. That is the love of family, friends, and most importantly the love of the Creator. Sometimes life hands us setbacks and disappointment and sadness. But the circle of love is always there to keep light in our lives, no matter how dark the times may be. The world and its woes push in on us from time to time, seeking to obliterate all light. But there is a light within each of us...a spirit of illumination...more powerful than all the darkness the world may contain.

I found myself weeping yesterday when I saw the pictures of dead children who had been killed in a small Russian town. Their lives had been snuffed out in the name of political activism. What adults choose to do to each other is one thing, but the taking of innocent lives is inexcusable no matter what the cause. The world seems so full of violence and the ugly side of humanity. At times it is very hard to keep the light of love alive. But we must. As long as there is love, there is hope.

Some people think there is nothing we can do about the state of the world today. I would agree if it were left up only to humanity to stop the violence. But I know the Creator will not allow total darkness and its resulting hopelessness. We can do something about the state of the world today. But it requires faith in a higher creation and a willingness to wait on the spirit of goodness. In order for the spirit of goodness to thrive, each of us must do our utmost to let His light shine by the way we live our daily lives and the good we do for others. Such a little thing can result in great changes. Instead of thinking "What can one person do?", believe in the power of one multiplied by myriads. It will far outweigh the dark side of humanity.

Keep the Circle of Love ever present in your life and in your daily activities. Not just for those you love. That is the easy path. Love your enemies, too. No matter how fowl or wicked a person may seem, love that person as the Creator loves us. It will shrivel the cancer of wickedness and allow the light to shine in that person, too. Think of the love Christ showed to every human he encountered. Love without question or expectation. Love freely given. That is what will keep our circle of love intact and healthy.

Falling Leaves

Now that September has begun, I consider it the beginning of a new year. That is probably because I had been a teacher for so long, and a student before that. I see students walking past my house in the morning, on the way to school. The air seems crisp with expectation. It is my favorite time of the year.

I look back on this first year of my retirement and realize that it was a time of rest and regathering for me. I have found this to be both refreshing and introspective. It has provided time for me to assess my life. I have found it to be a good life. Teaching brought me great satisfaction and a feeling that I had done some good in the lives of others. I just sent out a letter to students who have graduated from high school and were students of mine. It is a kind of tradition I started in 1998 when the first graduates of the high school where I taught left to go on to careers and college. Each August I send a letter of encouragement, telling them to keep following their dreams, no matter how long it may take to attain them.

Now I start a new year for myself, too. I want it to be a year of new things. I want to pursue my love of writing and art. I realize I need to follow the advice I so freely give my daughter: set aside time each day which is solely devoted to that pursuit. Now my time of rest is over. It is time I pursue my dreams, too.

This is also a symbolic time of falling leaves. It is not the end of things, but rather the beginning of things. Leaves fall from the tree in order to make way for new growth to come. This is true for humans as well. There is no end. Only new beginnings. The Creator uses each of us, no matter how small it may seem, as part of His grand scheme of things. We often cannot see this for ourselves. That is where faith comes into the picture. Nothing of the Creator is negative. Even our sometimes seeming failures have a reason for being. If nothing else, failings keep us humble and pliable. We only need to be available to be of use to the Creator. Humans tend to be impatient. Remember a thousand years is but a day in the grand scheme of things.

Falling leaves do not mean the end of a cycle. There are no endings. Only beginnings. If we can keep that in mind, we will be more patient with ourselves and with others. Slow down. Let things happen. Believe good comes from everything. Most importantly, to God give the glory.

At this time in my life, I recognize the changes in my body. I rise more slowly in the morning, tire easily, seek sleep more often. But it is not a sad time for me. I realize that these changes afford me the opportunity to take time for myself, appreciate the little things I used to not notice because of a too-busy life style, and see my frailties as badge of my years. There is too much about my life that is good to prevent me from feeling sorry for myself. My only regret is what I could have done that I did not do for others.

Olympics

Now that the Olympics have started, I probably won't log in to my journal.

School Daze

September is rapidly approaching as well as the beginning of my second year away from the classroom as a teacher. My husband teases me about getting ready to go set up my classroom, which I traditionally started on the closest Monday to the 15th of August. But, honestly, there is not the slightest urge on my part to return to the classroom.

On the other hand, there is a tradition which I do look forward to continuing. For the past seven years, every August I send a letter of encouragement to those students I have taught who have graduated from high school. Through the years I have lost a few who have moved and left no forwarding address. Each year I hear from many of them. Sometimes there are gaps of a few years between replies. Often there are letters thanking me for the encouragement and telling me how much they look forward to hearing from me in August and at Christmas when I send a greeting their way. These letters and cards are sent the old fashioned way, by snail mail.

Those who know about this tradition of mine are amazed, saying they never had a teacher who did that. Why do I do this? The answer is simple. Through the years of my teaching career I came to realize that many of my students had no one tell them, "I believe in you." I have always and will always believe that each human being is unique with talents and experiences no other human can exactly duplicate. Success is possible for every human being but the key ingredient must be present: knowing that someone besides themselves believes in them.

Sometimes in the hurry of our very busy lives we forget to verbalize to those we love how much we appreciate them for who they are and support them in whatever they choose to do. Say this simply to the one you love without conditions or spoken reservations. We all need to make a habit of not only making affirmations to ourselves...out loud...but also make these affirmations to our loved ones on a daily basis as well.

Trials and Tribulations

We all have bad days. Times when things seem to go wrong through no fault of our own. Thankfully it doesn't happen too often. My daughter and her husband have had more than their share lately, all having to do with their cars. It started back in late June. In preparation for driving to Tennessee to pick up her son for a summer visit, Monica took her car to be given a once over for the sixteen-hundred round trip and have the air conditioner serviced. The shop where she has been taking her car for quite awhile found several things needing attention which would cost over two thousand dollars...money they did not have. So she okayed the more important repairs to the radiator and had the airconditioner serviced. They picked up the car and drove home, a few miles from the garage. Later in the evening they were headed to the grocery store, but they didn't quite make it. Suddenly the car went dead. They pushed the Jeep Cherokee into a parking lot...no easy feat...and called for a tow back to the garage where the work had been done. They found out that the problem was the clamp connecting the radiator to the transmission had not been properly attached and they lost all the transmission fluid. The garage was able to correct the problem with no damage to the transmission and they were able to make the trip to Tennessee. Three weeks later, Monica and her husband were running some errands in his car when it would not start. So they had to have his car towed to the same garage where her car had been repaired. They thought it was the generator but were told it was the battery which was replaced. A few days after they had Sam's car back, they noticed a strong smell of gas and a puddle of gas from under Monica's car so they took her car in to the garage. She had noticed a few days before that her car made strange sounds when she turned on the airconditioner. The garage informed her that the compressor would have to be replaced. That alone would cost a thousand dollars. She decided she would have to live without airconditioning, not easily done in Houston, Texas, in August. The gas smell was coming from the fuel pump, which had to be replaced for nearly three-hundred dollars. Today she called on her cell phone, angry and frustrated. Her husband called to tell her his car would not start and asked her to come get him. That was an hour-and-a-half drive across town in heavy traffic. By the time she got to him, her husband discovered that the connections to the new battery were so loose he could hand-turn them without tools. Now they are wondering how this could be a coincidence in such a short time that these types of mistakes could happen in the same garage.

Nothing is more disconcerting than to think that people you trusted might now be taking advantage of a lack of mechanical knowledge and causing these incidents. They certainly don't want to think that is the case. For Monica's father and I, it is upsetting to see our kids struggle to make ends meet only to have these things happen. These days with the high cost of everything, it doesn't take much to push a young couple over the edge.

They are a resilient couple who put their trust in God and leave all things with them. I pray their days will get better and they will find the blessings hiding beyond these trials and tribulations.

For the Love of the Children

Tonight I admit I was channel surfing and came across Dr. Phil. His show was about families who are only able to communicate by shouting at each other and threatening to either do physical harm to each other or abandon the family. That brought a flood of memories from the past and also a feeling of thankful relief when I consider my life now.

My childhood was far from nurturing. My mother worked herself into a drunken fury by late afternoon every day. Her target was my father who sat silently drinking cold beer after beer while she screamed accusations and obscenities. As I grew older, I began to realize that her accusations were of unfaithfulness on his part. These delusions on her part intensified as I grew older. When the screaming grew too much for him, he would take my twin brother to a motel for the night, leaving me alone with my raging mother. She would keep me up all night, not allowing me to sleep, while she talked about her childhood and her innocence when she married my father at the age of nineteen. He was thirty nine. A year after they married, she said he was impotent and never made love to her again. She was always telling me over and over from my earliest memories as a child how babies were made by a boy putting his peepee inside a girl's peepee. I didn't know what she was talking about and it scared me. When my periods started, she began accusing my father of touching me. She even asked our family doctor to examine me to see if I had been molested. I was horrified! My father never even hugged me or gave me a kiss. He was always uncomfortable with closeness. The horrible fights went on nightly until my mother passed away in her sleep when I was sixteen. I was the one who realized she was dead. It was a hot summer night and I stayed up late watching a scary movie on TV. I suddenly became aware I could not hear her breathing. She was asleep on the couch as usual, after having drunk herself into a stupor. I reached out to touch her body. I will never forget the coldness of her skin. I knew she was dead. I woke my father and told him. He tried to wake her, then called an ambulance. I don't remember crying. I just went to bed. The funeral is a hazy memory. All I really remember is being led to her coffin by a family fiend who said I should say goodbye to my mother. I remember when I looked at her, I thought how beautiful and peaceful she looked, like an angel.

I am so thankful that my life has been so different from my childhood. My husband and I have never gotten into a verbal battle. He, too, came from a home in which screaming was the norm. We agreed to follow the Bible's admonition to never let the sun set in anger...Literally to never go to bed in anger, even if that meant staying up until we had talked out a disagreement rationally and calmly. My daughter never witnessed a verbal battle. Now, in her own marriage, she and her husband maintain the same Bible-based admonition.

It is so sad to see so many families in upheaval, even violence. Husband and wife raging endlessly in front of their children. Children verbally and sometimes even physically attacking their parents. Parents, for the love of the children, find ways to rationally talk out your differences and do so privately beyond earshot of the children. If nothing else, agree to disagree. And if after doing all you can to resolve your problems and being unable to do so, then move apart rather than subject the children to your endless battles. Children mimic adults and often began to mirror back to their parents the behavior of the parents. It can be a vicious, violent situation that results.

A Day of Rest

Sunday is one of my favorite days. Today proved that to be true. We got up and read the Sunday paper together, commenting back on forth on the interesting news items, laughing over the comics, sifting through the myriad of ads and enjoying how much money we were saving by NOT buying the latest and newest of whatever was being pitched to us. All these years married...it will be 41 years on August 24th...and I still enjoy the company of my husband. He makes coffee and brings it to me. That is, of course, after Sweetie has been fed. The sun filters through the living room window and dapples us in gold. Birds can be heard outside greeting a new day. Generally the neighborhood is quiet except for the occasional passing of a car.

There can be so much going on around us and in our lives but our Sundays are our own. That is what makes them so luscious. My husband always manages to make me laugh in the morning. His quick wit is a delight. I never know what he may say or do which immediately sends me into childlike giggles. Isn't it oddly wonderful that after all these years, my life with him is still filled with surprises and unexpected twists? I must be the most fortunate of humans to have him in my life.

It really does not seem like we have been together this long and yet it seems as if we have always been together. Oh, he can be cranky at times and even momentarily exasperating. We are such opposites. I am the calm one always thinking the best of things whether it be about people or how the events of the day will eventually resolve. He can be easily excited and often expects the worst case scenario even before anything has gone wrong. But somehow we end up in the middle and all comes out as it was meant to.

But through it all, there is always Sunday. A day of ease and total lack of planning. The day is what the day is without any manipulation on our part. And so my Sunday wends its way to its end without struggle or an attempt to mold it to my wishes. Perhaps that is why the Creator declared there should be a day of rest. After all, who better would know that humans need a day that is not muddled by life and the inevitability that humans will find a way to mess that day up as they do all days they deign to force into their particular pattern. So,if you haven't done so already, give yourself Sunday as a Day of Rest. Go to God's house or play in the world He has given to us to enjoy. Just let go and give it a rest.

Sweetie Napping with my husband 

Sleeping in Late

I slept in late this Saturday. That is not my usual habit. But habits go by the wayside now in retirement. Our cat, Sweetie, was at the bedroom window at 6:45, meowing loudly and plucking at the screen with his claws like a tone-deaf celloist. I tried to ignore him but his persistance grew in intensity. Grumbling aloud, I got out of bed stiff and blurry-eyed and stumbled to the kitchen and out to the screened-in patio, and opened the door to let him in. He rushed past me without acknowledgement or even a thank you, as if he were on a mission of immense importance, as all cats do. I noted sleepily that the door on the screened patio did not have the chain lock engaged. That was unusual but my husband may have let Sweetie out that way earlier. Sweetie likes to go out at 3:30 in the morning. It never ceases to amaze me how he knows what time it is. I also noticed that my husband was not in bed when Sweetie woke me so I walked through the living room to see if he had gotten up early and was playing solitaire on the computer in the back room. Instead I found him sleeping in the back bedroom. That means I must have been snoring. That usually happens when I am really tired. Good thing we have a guest bedroom.

I wandered back to bed, crawled under the down comforter, amd fell asleep. That's something I rarely do. I woke up at 9:30! A day in the life of a retired school teacher seems pretty sweet to me. I love having no dayplanner filled with must-do's. There are no back to school nights or English department meetings or district committees on language arts standards or homework to grade. But I do miss the interaction with young questioning students who engage me in the great debates of the day.

Friday Night Fights

A fond memory of mine centers arounf Friday Night Fights. It was one of the few opportunities I had to spend some one-on-one time with my adopted father. He really was more like a grandfather rather than a father because he was thirty years older than my adopted mother. I don't think he felt comfortable around girls. But I found a way to get closer to him by sharing a love for prize fighting. Now back in the late 50's TV was black and white, there were only two channels to watch, and the screen was small, often rolling horizontally, with little to add glitz and glamor.

Every Friday night, my father would watch Friday Night Fights. He would let me choose white pants or black pants (the "color" being worn by each fighter). It was our special time together. Sometimes the fights were brutal and blood flowed freely. There was rarely a stop called due to injury. The fight went on until somone could not get up or the scheduled number of rounds were completed. Sometimes the brutality got to me, but I never said a word because this time exclusively with my father was too important to me for me to bail out. I enjoyed everything about Friday Night Fights. The Pabst Blue Ribbon commercials, the ring girls who would circle inside the ring carrying a placard high above their heads to show what round it was, even the monotonous off-key sound of the bell calling the fighters back to another round.

I still watch the boxing matches on ESPN and HBO. But modern boxing is never as exciting as those days of my childhhood shared with my father. The point of this memory is to hopefully make fathers aware that their daughters need one-on-one time with their fathers. And it doesn't have to be doing things mothers might normally do with daughters. Quite the contrary, it is about doing things together that open communication and understanding between child and parent.

We live in such a busy world and are often stretched so thin that it seems as if all we can manage as an adult is making enough money to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. But somehow enough time must be found by each parent to spend one-on-one time with each child individually. That investment now will pay back richly when that child becomes a teen and young adult who needs you to be the one approachable adult who will be there to listen and advise.

Try to find a tradition that is solely unique between you and child. It can make all the difference when difficult times threaten to separate child from parent.

May 2004 My 60th Birthday Celebration 

A Day in the Life

Each day begins as a blank page. I woke this morning to the sound of birds greeting the rising of the sun. My first awareness of my physical body was stiffness as I turned to my side. As I pulled myself to a sitting position, I smiled at the thought of those long gone days of youth when I could jump out of bed and begin my day effortlessly. A poet's comments come to mind...Youth is wasted on the young. I am not sure if I agree with that statement. Call me crazy but I truly do believe that the stiffness of my body and the silver hairs I see at my temples are badges of honor...a way in which my body reminds me that with age comes added wisdom that can only be gained by growing old in years. I don't feel "old" inside. I greet each day with expectation of the unexpected. There is always something new in the folds of a rose bud or the soft flutter of a butterfly passing my way.

I have met people half my age who are old internally. Their bodies no longer respond to the external stimuli around them. They fixate on their 24/7 schedule, deaf to the song of a bird, blind to the folds of a rose bud. These same people look at me and think how sad it is that I limp a little and tire easily. But who has the better quality of life? Who greets the day as new and full of expectation?

No matter how bad the previous day may have been, each new day begins fresh and filled with positivity. Looking back is counter productive. It is not what the Creator intended to be our focus. We all have bad days and experiences from the past that were dark and perhaps even destructive. Why bring those days back into focus? Past experiences have already passed into the void. Instead of thinking, "Why did this happen?", start the day by thinking, "Today is a blank page open and ready to be written upon." Open your eyes to the possibilities around you...the smallest of possibilities begin with an awareness of the Creator and His perfect creation around you. Begin your day with expectation of the unexpected.

Life does not have to be nearly as complicated as we think. Simplicity is the key. So many people these days fixate on what they think they must have to be "happy"...
a high-paying career, prestige, an expensive behemoth of a vehicle, a large house in an upscale neighborhood, membership in a healthclub, children enrolled in a private school. Yet they feel empty and unfulfilled at the end of a ten-hour day. How much more enjoyable can be a career that you enjoy doing, the love of family, simple adequate transportation, a comfortable little home filled with love, a walk in the evening greeting your neighbors, doing homework with the kids after dinner. The Good Life is not something you can buy or finance or lease. The good life is a feeling of satisfaction for a job well done and the love of those you love. Simplify and your life will be richer than you ever dreamed it could be. Start with tomorrow morning. Begin by expecting the unexpected.

Finding Joy

The search for joy can be elusive. All around us we are inundated by media to find joy. But what is joy? It is not a commodity that can be purchased. It is not a precious jewel that can be discovered after a long exhaustive search. It cannot be taken from another. It cannot be inherited. It is within each of us from the first moment we draw breath. Yet, many of us are totally unaware that it is within us. We may spend our lives searching for that which will bring us joy, never realizing it was there within us all the time.

Remember as a child those magical moments when the shear wonder of life surrounded you as you watched a tiny ant struggling through the grass with what seemed an impossible load three times its size or a cloud above you took a magical shape that took you far away to a magical place?

As we become adults, we lose the ability to experience those magical moments. We stop dreaming and imagining and believing. We lose the joy of discovery. But we can find it again. One such moment of pure joy I experienced was when I stood in a jungle gazing at a Mayan ruin. I was completely alone. Unable to climb up into the ruins with my husband, brother, and sister-in-law and the rest of the tour group, I sat down on an ancient block of stone. It was so peaceful and beautiful. A pair of black butterflies tinged in scarlet circled over my head. I sensed being watched and turned my head to the left. Less than two feet away from me sat a large green Iguana. I experienced pure joy at that moment, as magical as any moment from my childhood.

Finding joy as an adult requires a willingness to be in the moment, open to the unexpected. You cannot plan for a moment of pure joy. It comes when you least expect it. It can be as simple as a cooling breeze on a hot, tiresome day or as overwhelming as the birth of a child. If we allow each day, no matter how difficult, to weigh us down, our spirit becomes dulled and we are unable to experience or even recognize joy. You can be rich materially and have no joy. You can be poor and maltreated and yet know joy in the smallest things because you are open to the experience.

How do you find joy in living after years devoid of any joy? Become a child again, opening your eyes to the minute wonders of life everyday. That requires slowing down. When is the last time you got up early enough to watch a sunrise? When is the last time you lay down in newly mowed grass and looked at clouds taking magical forms or watched insects moving in their own tiny universe?

The world as we know it today is hurried and demanding and dehumanizing. But we don't have to live our lives without joy. We can find our way back to the uncluttered, joyous life of a child. If we take time to be a child again in open wonder, then those dark days that come from time to time will not weigh so heavily upon us.

Sweet Smell of Success

Success....What does it mean? Well it depends on each individual's idea of what seems successful to them. I have not really let the need for success be an important part of my life. Some say I am a Pollyanna...always seeing the best in things and never expecting the worst of anything or anyone. I guess that is because I am a survivor at heart and gladly take each day as it comes without expectations and thus without disappointments. In today's world, so many people agonize over what could have been...what might have been...what should have been. What a waste of energy and precious time! What really matters is how you live your life. Live it in the NOW. Forget the past. It is already beyond change. Don't obsess over the future. None of us can control what will happen before it happens. Instead greet each day as new and full of surprises. Even when things go wrong...as they will from time to time....there is a lesson to learn.

How my daughter hated to hear me say that. She would let her frustrations boil up in her and feel like the whole world was coming down on her. My answer was and is always the same...learn from mistakes...that is the only way you can turn something negative into something positive. Wouldn't life be a bore if everything went smoothly just as we planned it? I think so.

Today I got email from one of my old students. It fills me with joy to hear from them. 'Teaching was more than just presenting lessons. It was a way to touch lives and let lives touch me. So often we go blithely through life having no idea what impact we may have on others, be it positive or negative. We so often think no one notices what we do or hears what we say. But that is not true. Every word ever spoken, every deed ever done, is forever inscribed in the universe of time...a spiritual web of eternity. It does not matter how we see our world...whether in the hands of a divine creator or the natural stream of things...what we say and what we do does matter.

I am happy I had an opportunity to be a teacher. Although retired from the classroom, I am still and always will be a teacher. It as natural to me as breathing. People interacting with people is what keeps us unique from other life forms. The worst thing we can do is waste our individual talents or hide them under a basket where no one else can see. Don't be afraid to touch others and don't touch only those you know. Be willing to put yourself out on a limb by sharing yourself with others. Random acts of kindness is the best way you can reach out to those you don't know. Look for ways to show your humanity.

I could let these difficult times keep me from reaching out. There are so many reasons why. But I know each individual can make the world better by showing kindness to others without expecting anything in return. What goes around, comes around. Negative returns to negative. Positive returns to positive.

That is true success. Worth more than money or fame or anything else material in nature. No one can take away the good you do for others. No one can diminish you as a person.

All in the Family

I have an unusual family. Why do I say that? Well, including my twin brother and I, there were eight brothers and sisters. While we were still infants, our mother died of cancer, leaving our father to raise us alone in 1944. He hired a housekeeper to care for all of the children. But she kidnapped us. The Nebraska state troupers caught her in Lincoln and returned us to our father. His relatives convinced him that he could not care for such a large family alone. For some reason, none of the relatives were able to step in, so it was decided that the four youngest should be put up for adoption. My twin brother and I were adopted by one couple and the next oldest brother and sister were adopted by another couple. At that time, Gary and I were 21 months old. Although Gary and I knew the circumstances of our adoption and that there were other brothers and sisters, we did not know our birth parent's name or any other specifics. It was not until I was 26 that my oldest sister contacted me and opened the door to my birth family. I learned that my birth father died two years before my sister found me. I have met all my brothers and sisters except for the second oldest brother who has chosen to separate himself from the family for reasons no one will reveal.

The circumstances of my adoption were not good. The four oldest brothers and sisters thought the babies who had been adopted lived rich, pampered lives while they lived barely making it with a hard working father in rural Arkansas who never recovered from the loss of his wife and babies. It was the sister who found me who told me this. In truth, my twin brother and I were adopted by a couple who had financial stability but gave little love. Their marriage was in turmoil, they were both alcoholics, and my adoptive mother was mentally ill. I grew up being told I was not wanted but in order to adopt my brother, they also had to take me. I don't ever remember hearing the words "I love you". But don't feel sorry for me. I grew strong and independant as a result. I loved school because it was a place where I could escape abuse and be happy. My father died when I was 16, nine months after my mother died. Family friends were appointed by my father to be our guardians when my father realized he was dieing. They were good to us and provided a home that was stable and welcoming. Then I met my husband right after graduatng from high school. He was and still is my Rock.

Yes, my family is unusual. Brothers and sisters who once were strangers are now close to me. It is as if we had never been separated. Only one is no longer with us. The first to pass into death was my twin brother. That happened in 1999. It has been hard for my brothers and sisters who never expected to lose the youngest one first. But my loss is even more painful. When one of a set of twins passes, a part of the other twin passes too. I am no longer a part of WE. Now it is only ME. This feeling of being halved is very hard to explain. I feel that he is still in me, a part of me. We had a shared language and an internal knowing of each others well being, both physically and spiritually. I recently visited three of my brothers in Arkansas. The oldest is 75, patriarch of the family and crusty as an old dog. How I love to hear his stories about the family and his many great adventures. My other two brothers are 63 and 71. My time with them is precious.

Keep close to your family. Don't let squables and misunderstandings and pride keep you from spending time with them. Nothing could be worse than to let time distance you and lose one of them to the unexpected call of death.

Trials of Separation

It is so hard to say goodbye. Each summer my daughter has her son for five weeks. Today, she and her husband are returning him to his father. She loves her son and each time she returns him, she is so sad. It breaks my heart to see her so despondent. Divorce, for children, makes little sense. Even when the adults involved are better off apart, the children do not understand and feel somehow it must be something they have done.

I see a lot of anger in my grandson. As he gets older...he is 12 now...he will continue to feel angry and resentful towards both his mother and his father because he feels torn apart as he moves between them and is forced to make adjustments depending on which household he is residing in. When my husband and I were visiting them in their home this summer, we saw our grandson's flareups of anger and questioning of adult authority. Nothing extreme, but there was an underlying resentment. When she asked me for advice about how to handle these outbursts, I told her not to take his emotional outbursts too seriously because he is naturally in a time of emotional ups and downs that come as a result of the changes in his body as he transitions from boy to pre-teen. That just adds fuel to an already angry child working through divorce.

My daughter is a newly wed of just over a year. The blessing is that she has married a remarkable young man! He is so loving towards her and her son. He does not try to assert the role of "step-father". Rather he makes his presence felt as a caring, nurturing adult. My daughter is so blessed to have met him, accepted his unquestioning love, and married him. I really do believe he is the key to creating a happy environment which will help my daughter find her own peace as well as provide a positive, supportive environment for her son. Time heals all things. As humans, each of us must learn patience and the belief that the Creator will do all things for all seasons that our lives may encounter. That truth is still being unfolded to my daughter.

I think time is the great regulator. I could not have known that when I was my daughter's age...35. I was just as impatient and myopic as she when I was her age. I look back at my life now and am thankful that I met just as remarkable a man as her husband when I was 18. A year later, we were married. Now 41 years have gone by and I still wake each morning, reach out to him to reassure myself he is still by my side, and thank Jehovah that we are still together all these years. Oh, don't think there were no dark moments. But those days simply made us stronger and closer because we faced our trials together and weathered the tempests that came our way down through the years.

My greatest fear no longer exists. My daughter was alone for nine years after her divorce. She had become resigned to a single life with far too few days she could be with her son. I saw her spirit wither as she grew skeptical of ever having a meaningful, honest relationship. Although strong and self-supporting as a woman, I knew she wanted someone with whom she could share her love, generosity, and unimaginable spirituality. Isn't it wonderful how you find what you truly need and want when you stop looking and just let things happen? That's how it was for her. Her trial of separation was to let go and let things happen. When she did, all the good and wonderful things she had dreamed of came to her and continue to be revealed to her.

So now on this singularly most sad of days for her...Returning her son to his father...I am assured and want to assure her that the Creator will continue to bring blessings as a balm for her pain just as He has always done for me.

Sharing a lifetime

At the age of 60 and retired from teaching after 36 years in the classroom, I find time to reflect on my life both refreshing and daunting. It has not been my habit to share my thoughts and feelings. I have always been introspective and hesitant to let my guard down. I am inspired by the internet journals of my daughter and my son-in-law. Teaching has been my great love all my life. In the classroom, working with teenagers, I felt energized and full of life. Never a dull moment. Never a day when I regretted choosing to be a teacher. I am most fortunate to have chosen a career that never felt like a job. I hope those just entering teaching wll experience what I have experienced. I have mentored many young teachers through the years and would like to continue doing so ow that I am retired.