Archive | November, 2013

The season of thanks

28 Nov


The season of thanks and of giving is so much fun. Having a month that revolves around expressing gratitude is right up my alley. To top it off, it is followed by a month of giving to those I love. I simply couldn’t ask for a better combo.

As I prepare to sit around our table, stuffing my belly, I want to say thank you.

I’m thankful to be an American. I can’t imagine living any where else. I’m thankful for the opportunities that come simply from being born here, rather than in a third world country. I’m tremendously thankful for all those fighting for this country and standing up for freedom. You are my hero.

I’m thankful for my husband, aka bacon maker. I attempted to make my own bacon this morning and burned it. I guess I need to keep him around another 16 years! All kidding aside, he is actually so much more than my bacon maker. He is my biggest supporter, best friend, confidant. I would be lost without him.

I’m thankful for my boys. They have taught me every thing I know…they are in fact, geniuses. (wink, wink) They remind me that I’m not in control as much as I think I am…and yet everything still works out okay… I mean, they still have of their limbs and all… They make me smile from the pit of being. It fills my heart until it spills around my face. I’m a proud momma and I love them more than words.

I’m thankful for family, mine and my husband’s. Where would we be without family? It is where we first learned to love and to be loved. They love us through it ALL!

I’m thankful for my friends. Each unique, you hold a special place in my heart. You make me laugh until my belly hurts, pick me up when I fall, and are honest even when it hurts. Thank you for loving me and for allowing me to be a part of your life.

I’m thankful for my co-workers. I truly work with amazingly smart, talented, people. They make it easy to come to work every day….and enjoy it!

I’m thankful for the unconditional love I receive from my puppies (all 3 of them). I am the pied piper in this house. They follow me from room to room. They make me feel special and loveable, even on my worst days.

Thank you for reading my blog. I know, I know….I’m not a REAL writer but, I love the process… I muddle my way through. Thank you for your notes of encouragement, your ‘likes’, and for your support. It honestly means the world to me. I savor each one.

Above all else, thank you for being you.

It is my prayer that you are blessed and blessed abundantly. That in turn, you are able to be a blessing to others.

Wishing you all a wonderful season of thankfulness and of giving.

thank you

Santa ?

24 Nov


  • “You DO believe in Santa, don’t you?”
  •  “Uhhh, yeah.” – says the 9 year old, with a quick glance to the adult in the room – me.

This is the interaction between my 11 year old, T ,and his friend down the street. T proceeds to explain that he received a dog a few years ago from Santa. (The world’s worst dog ever, by the way. But that is another story.) His mom (me) did not want him to have one and there is no way…NO WAY…she would have allowed it. Santa MUST have brought him his beloved pet.

He is eleven…and he wholeheartedly believes in the old man in the red suit. No, he doesn’t trust the mall Santas. They lost power over him some years ago. But he does believe he can ask Santa for the most expensive item on his list, and he will deliver. My husband and I are starting to get concerned…I mean he is in middle school for Pete’s sake…

Well meaning friends, with their heads tilted in kindness, and a slightly higher pitched voice, will say to us “maybe he really doesn’t believe and is just making you think he does.”   It is as if they are telling us something we have neglected to think about..not wanting to let us down, or break our heart…….

No…he believes…wholeheartedly….REALLY…

Last year T came home and said, “Some kids at school are saying that Santa isn’t real.”   Thinking it was time to have the big discussion, I responded,  “Oh yeah? What did you think about that?”    T, very matter of factly said, “I told them, there is NO WAY my mom would get up in the middle of the night to shop. Santa is real!”

  • Well he’s right about the getting up in the middle of the night thing…once I’m in bed, I’m in…unless someone is vomiting or the house is on fire. I refuse to get up for any other reason. Have a bad dream? I’ll squish over so you can crawl in too..We will chat about it in the morning….

Trust me, we are not in a rush to lose the magic of Christmas in our house. He is our last believer and while we held tight for a while, we wonder if we are doing him any favors by allowing it to continue. Will he still believe in Santa when he goes into high school ?? oyyy -veeyyy!

Yet the other part of us knows the reality of what it means when he does stop believing.  Christmas eve and morning will change forever. The wind will be out of his sails. The excitement gone….

So, from now until Christmas morning , my husband and I  will move like spies hiding the secrets of the universe. It is in fact, the only secret we allow in our home… and we eagerly participate in it. We will talk in whispers behind closed doors, sneaking around,  hiding gifts in undisclosed locations, and going to extremes to keep the innocence alive one more year.

I’ll let you know if he still believes next year….

santa don't stop

Walking in the darkness

17 Nov


I contemplated writing about my experience last week….not wanting to go there, but desperately wanting to let it out…I created this blog with the intention of quieting the voices in my head. To get the hamster off the wheel….In the end, I decided to go with what my spirit was craving. A release of emotion…so here it goes.

Last week was the absolute hardest week I’ve had to endure to date.  It started Sunday night. My cell rings, I glance down to see it is my best friend, aka sister, H.  I smile, and say “Well hello!”….what I hear back leaves me spinning.

H’s sister, happens to have the same name as I do.  Hope.  She says, “Hope, it’s Hope.”…I feel confusion rush to my face, my eyebrows squish down around my nose…Did I just hear that right?  I glance back at my caller ID….It clearly says, H.  What the hell is going on, I think…Oh please God…please……Don’t let anything happened to H.  My heart races, it is now in my throat as I wait for an answer.  I can feel my throat pulsing…She pauses.  By now I’m sure something is wrong…..I want to scream…tell me damn it!…tell me what is wrong!….Then through her tears I hear her words.

I want to vomit….I want to un-hear….I cry out…”Oh my God….Oh my God….I don’t understand…Oh my God”….My husband overhears my cries. He bounds down the stairs two at time, rushing into the kitchen.  I’m bent over, hand to my head, tears in my eyes…I see him searching my face for answers…I cover the phone  barely able to whisper what I’ve just heard.  He sinks…Slumps against the counter….

My H has lost the love of her life….Her husband, the father of her 4 children, has passed…and the world has stopped.

Every second of what follows is heart wrenching.  I fly to Indiana to be by H’s side; to help fill in the gaps where I can. Yet I’m lost. I don’t know where to start, what to do, what to say….


Nothing I say, nothing I can do, will turn back the clock to happier days….I glance around to the family and friends rallied to support H and the children.  She has a full house.  We are strangers, connected only by the love we share for the family….We all have the same look…With tears and mourning in our eyes, we nod with the acceptance that we are all here for the same reason…We tread lightly around each other, carefully acknowledging that we are ill equipped to navigate this bleak road of heartbreak and loss. When our eyes meet, there is unspoken realization that it will take all of us… ALL of our love, to pull them through.

By mid-week, I realized my vocabulary, the English language in general, simply does not have words that can express the sorrow in this house.  H’s sobs are from the pit of her being. They are heavy, deep, uncontrolled. I listen sympathetically. We hug gently. Patting her knee…knowing that we are helpless and hating that we are.  We can only be present…chest deep, wading through the muddy anguish with her and the children.

I want to medicate H and put her in a box for 10 years…only taking her out when the pain has stopped and the coast is clear.  But I know this pain will be part of the healing process….

I know she has to walk through this…and so I offer to hold her hand.

Please keep H’s family in your prayers.


**Rest in peace Mark. You were a good husband, awesome daddy and a hard working provider. A genuine man with a broad smile, and a chuckle when you least expected it. I hope when you look down from heaven you see all of the love.  May your angel wings be big, bright and beautiful.  **

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