The Battle

For the last year, I have been struggling with Why.  "Why weren't you there?  Why didn't you make the truck come one minute sooner?  Why did that 4-wheeler park there?  Why?  What is this all for?"

And then there's this doozey: "Where were you?" 

I felt a separation from God because, if I'm just honest for a minute, I was really angry.  Seeing Rich struggle to walk, the pain in his eyes....It killed me bit-by-bit.  For the first time in my life, I questioned God.  I mean REALLY questioned Him.  Why DO bad things happen to good people?  Really?  Are you there God? It's me, Autumn.... And on and on it went.

Then, thanks to a good friend, I read the book of Job.   

The fact of the matter is this: There's a battle going on right now that no one wants to talk about, but we all know it's there.  It's the battle for our souls.  God wanted His children to choose Him (versus making drone-like people that already love and worship him because, really, how flattering would that be?)  So, he gave Adam and Eve free-will.  Along with that beautiful thing, comes the flip side - The evil that happens when a human chooses to ignore God.  So, whether we like to acknowledge it or not, there IS a battle going on here between God and Satan.

After all, this isn't Heaven yet. 

So, why do bad things happen?  I believe it's because we are in the middle of a spiritual war.  Every single day, the Devil is trying to win us over to his side while God is trying to protect our souls.

So, here is a little bit of the conversation I imagine took place between God and Satan minutes before the accident:

S: Okay God, it's time.  Time for some pain.  I feel a really big one coming on.  Something that is really going to shake people to the core.  How about them? (Satan points to us)  I bet I can get them on my team.  There is no way they are going to make it through this still believing in your Goodness.  They will cave when the pain gets to be unbearable. 

G: (Shaking His head) If you must, then I will allow this to happen to them. They will not come over to you.  I can promise you that.

S: Wanna bet?  This is going to be bad, really bad!

G: (Knowing the pain that Satan is able to inflict)  I'm sure it will be, but I know them - they are my children and they are strong.  I know they will not falter.

S: Alright then (smiles, rubbing his hands together in a sinister way).

Then, I picture God with tears streaming down His face, watching as the truck pinned Rich onto the tailgate of Dan's truck.  Watching the blood stream out of him. Watching the chaos that happened on the road that night.

I picture God bringing His angels and the chariots fighting to keep Rich alive while the Devil smiles down at his masterpiece.  I picture God sending the helicopter, I picture him getting the E.R. ready - whispering a pep talk to the doctors and nurses.  I picture His hands guiding their hands.  I picture His hands on Rich's chest, keeping his heart beating.

I picture Him breathing life into my husband. 

So now, when I ask God, "Where were you?"  I know that He was there with His chariots and angels fighting and fighting and fighting.  And when I think, "But you must have lost the battle then?"

He says, "No, no I didn't.  We lost Rich's legs, yes, but I fought for your souls.  And I won." 

Friendships: Super Girls (and Guys)

It's a subject that's been popping up in my brain a lot lately.  I've had some "Friendship Seminars" for my third grade girls during lunch (I am pretty sure third grade is that magical time when the whole idea of "She's MY BFF" comes alive for many girls).  Sometimes, the need to be a part of a half can drive out rational thought if you're 9.  Or 99.  So between mediating third grade friendships and watching my daughter set her first excited footstep on  Friendship Road has got me reflecting on my own friendships.

The cool thing about my friendships is that we play different roles in one another's lives - all equally important, yet all uniquely different.  There are work friends, friends that go "way back", family members who are friends, new friendships, Rich's friends that have now become MY friends too, and on and on....

While all of these friendships may have started for different reasons (some out of choice, some out of situation), they all involve the same core value: a genuine concern for one another. 

I see that genuine concern for others in my 8 and 9 year olds, and I see it in my own friendships.

Thank God we are not meant to walk through this life alone.  Thank God we have friends that can walk alongside us in the hard times and skip alongside us in through the fun times.

Ironically, as I'm typing this, Annessa announced to me that she and her friend at school are "Super Girls" - "We save people when they are hurt.  We draw pictures for people in the hospital."

Yes, my dear, that is what friends do - save each other when one is hurting.  Offer your unique gifts to bring them happiness.

To all of my Super Girls (and Guys): Thank you for your friendship.  Thank you for giving yourself when it may not have been convenient because your plate was full with your own stuff.  Thank you for loving the good, the bad and the ugly and never, never judging.  May I be able to return the favor now and forever. 

Love,
Autumn

A Rich-Date

I was just rereading some of Caring Bridge the other day (what craziness that was...).  Anyway, I realized that on my "sign-off" I promised to give "Rich-Dates" frequently.  So here goes.....

Physically, Rich continues to improve with each week that goes by.  He will still need more surgery though.  He has a hernia from the stomach tube that was put in to feed him (which conveniently gives him an excuse now for not doing the sit-ups he always avoided...).  He also still has a screen that was put into an artery near his heart to catch possible clots.  This screen may or may not have to be removed (we are thinking it's probably safer to just keep it in than risk the artery collapsing). Nevertheless,  Rich is hoping for a big "No" on that one as they would have to go in through his jugular to remove it.  Creepy.

He also has developed this nice looking volcano-thing about the size of a pencil eraser on his lower left leg.  This nifty thing erupts with blood form time to time (which was just lovely when it erupted on his mom's carpet last weekend....).  The God's of Medicine are thinking it's a vein that was never tied off (cause there were so many!), and this vein started growing up until it reached the skin.  Nice, huh?  So,  for now Rich has been experimenting with the suggestions of the wound care nurses.  We are hoping that we can avoid surgery on this, but we are starting to see the writing on the wall.  The bummer part of the surgery would mean he would have to be off of his legs until it healed (right now, he wears his legs outside of the house and is in his chair at home). 

Aside from those little issues, Rich is doing okay.  He started to work-out again with a new sit-down-eliptical-thingy we got.  We laugh because technically, he is supposed to stay under 275 lbs in order to walk on his computerized leg.  If you know Rich, you know what a struggle that was back in the day when he could actually RUN.  As a result, I think sales of the "6-pack and a Pound" at Taco John's has dropped dramatically! 

Mentally, it's been interesting (insert joke here).  My mom and Rich had a long conversation one afternoon and Rich mentioned how pretty the leave in the back yard were.  We realized that he missed seeing the leaves change last year.  This brought on a whole bunch of feelings.  Rich would tell you that this month has been the hardest because he is realizing how long he was asleep.  To him, the coma felt like a day - not 42 - or whatever it was.  Every day that passes is another day he was asleep.  A year ago he was fighting for his life every day and now we are watching the Brewers.  Crazy. 

He's starting to think about what our retirment years will be like:  How many years he realistically has on his legs, where the best climate is for us to move when walking gets too tough (no snow, not too hot...).  Now is the mental healing I guess.  We are over the shock, over the denial, now we are thinking hard about what our life will be like.  Trying to be optimistic, yet realistic at the same time. 

                                             The three of us at my aunt's wedding a few weeks ago.

Anyway - there you have it folks.  That's the "Rich-Date."  He continues to amaze me with his strength and determination.  Complain? Rarely.  Get pissed off? At times, but not as much as I do.  He really is an inspiring man and I am proud to be his wife. 

Dear Annessa,

Now that you're four, and there are a lot of things you know - how to ride your bike, how to operate an ipad better than Mama (pure craziness), and how to snap your fingers (just to name a few).  But there are some things you don't know:


You don't know that a year ago today, all three of our lives were changed forever.  Uncle Dan called me right after I put you to bed to tell me that Daddy had been in a horrible accident. Kathy came a picked you up and took you back to a wedding see and her family were at.  You danced on the dance floor in you pjs as Daddy fought for his life.  He fought to come back to us. 

You don't know how just you being you got me through the worst moments of my life.  How I would watch you sleep and pray that you would come through this okay too.  You probably don't remember tap dancing in the ICU or  the time you wore your Minnie costume all over the hospital - making everyone smile.  You might not remember practicing your letters in the waiting room or all of the stuffed animals, treats, and toys people dropped off for you to help pass the time. 

But mostly, what you don't know, and that I hope someday you will comprehend, is that you are the reason Daddy and I kept going and continue to keep going.  We love you so much that there just are no words.

Sometimes I wonder what you'll remember.  Will you remember how when Daddy finally heard your voice after so long that he reached out to give you a hug with tears dripping off the corners of his eyes as he lay in the hospital bed?  Will you remember the tube with the "milk shake" in it that fed Daddy?  Will you hear the soft beeping of a hospital monitor and will it bring back memories of your childhood?
I want you to know that you are so loved, and all you have to do is be you.  Wonderful, curious, energetic, sweet you. 

There were so many people I wanted to write to today - Daddy's doctors, the flight nurses, our dear friends and family who supported us in so many ways.  And maybe one of these days I will sit down and write to each of them (Lord knows I have written to them in my mind a hundred times over), but today, I wanted to write to you.

I want you to know that just you being you has made all the difference.

Love you to the moon and back,
                 Mama

It's almost been a year...

The last few days, I have just had this uneasiness in my stomach.  I thought maybe it was back-to-school-jitters. But I've met the kids, their families, and even attempted to teach math.  So, nope, it's not that.  But tonight, as I watch Rich get ready to bow hunt again (with lots of help from family and friends), I am realizing that the anxiety I'm feeling is in preparation for the "big day." 

Just hours before the accident, Ness, Shannon and I were picking apples.  Bags, and bags of apples that were never made into pies.  Never dunked in caramel. That morning I had dropped Ness off at Megan's so I could pick out light fixtures for crying out loud.  Sometimes I look back at the girl that was walking through that day and think about how stupid she was.  She had no idea what was coming.  How could she Not Know?  Couldn't she sense that something Bad was about to happen?  Why did she give a shit about staying on budget for the lighting?  Why was she so ticked that all of the Honey Crisp apples were gone?  Will that girl be able to go apple picking this year without have a complete mental break-down?

When I really think about That Night, I can't believe any of us survived.  Looking back, I realize how little I really understood.  I remember feeling so frustrated with my mom in the early days when she mentioned the fact that our house would need modifications.  "Why?"  I thought.  The hospital will give him new legs and he will be walking before he leaves.  I know it." How little I really did know.  Was I protecting myself so that I could make it through the days and nights ahead - be the wife I needed to be and the mom I needed to be?  Make the decisions I needed to make?  Probably.  But, I'm not sure the denial makes it any easier now.

Now the tears come easily.  6 months ago - I couldn't make myself cry if I wanted to.  I was surviving.  Now, I am coping.  We all are coping.  I see it in Rich's eyes.  I even see it in Annessa's eyes at times when she remembers that Daddy can't walk down by the creek with her or that Daddy can't throw her in the air at the swimming pool.  Now she has to settle for mom's weak attempts.

Still, I watched the two of them dance today and my heart was happy.  It was a wobbly looking little dance, but it was my daughter dancing with the dad she almost lost.

I listen to her ask questions like, "Daddy, why can't boys be married to two people? I want you to be married to Mama and to me."

"We can't get married honey - someday you will find a boy you love and you'll marry him. Maybe in college like me and your mom.   But I'll be at your wedding to walk you down the aisle."

Yep.  You will.   Thank God you will be there. 

"What the??"

(Totally unrelated to this post, but a pic of her eating a sandwich - a remarkably huge battle won by me as she generally refuses to eat sandwiches.)

You guessed - that is Annessa's newest catch phrase.  "What the??" Nice. Classy.  Should be a great little set of words for her to use to impress her preschool teacher in a few weeks.

The first time Rich and I heard her say that, we were somewhere between stunned and amused.  After all, hearing an almost-four-year-old exclaim "What the??" when seeing a dead bug in the door jam is kinda funny.  You have to give us that. 

 Then, of course, the self-examination started.  "Do we actually say that?" (oh, by  the way - she doesn't actually finish that phrase, THANK GOD.) So, back to the part about where in the world she picked this up.  Bingo, You guessed it. Her rock star parents. 

But, the way I figure it, no harm done.  We still have 3ish weeks until school starts.  That's 21ish days to replace "What the???" with something more appropriate to show surprise - like "OMG!" That should work just fine, right?

**********************************************************************************
Part Two: Richdate (a word sandwich for Rich and update, get it?  Clever, I know...)

Rich continues to impress me every day.  The stuff that he endures just to do what you and I take for granted is simply amazing. 

Case in point: He came to my ribbon cutting event for the new charter school the other day.  Not only did he come, but he invited our families as a surprise to me.  Very thoughtful.  Determined to stand during the 20 minute ceremony rather than sit next to my grandma (and the other grandmas in the crowd), he paid the price.  He got home and took his right leg off and started to transfer from his chair to the bed when he noticed a pool of blood on our (thank God) hardwood floor.  Scrammbling to clean it up (I was still at school), he took off his tee-shirt and mopped up the blood.  The once yellow shirt turned completely red.  It's hard to believe that 11 months out, he still has a wound that will not heal.  Of course, while Rich wasn't looking, the dog siezed the day and hopped up on the bed with the bloody shirt.  Nice.  Blood all over our cream comforter.  Thanks Gus.  That's just fabulous. 

Anyway, that is an example of a good day gone bad.  But he does have good days that stay good too.  Days where the legs feel good and he is able to comfortably* make it through the day on two feet.

*Comfortably is relative here.  If you consider silicone liners and plastic socket around your legs in 90 degree weather the norm.  

I say all of these things because this is what Rich would never (or rarely) tell people. Not that he is ashamed or wants to hid it, it's just that when an aquintance bumps into you and asks "how's it going," most of the time they really don't want to hear about all the goary details.  So he gives them the short-hand version: "I have my good days and bad days.  Don't we all?" And that seems to sum up the healing process. 

He does his best to do whatever he can without complaint.  But when I really stop to think about his day-to-day life, I am amazed at his attitude.  God has really come through for us on this one.  That's for sure. 

Mama! Mama! Mama! AUTUMN!!!

So lately Annessa has been calling me "Autumn" instead of "Mama."  The first time she did it - I didn't even notice, Rich did.  "Did she just call you Autumn?"

"I don't know, did she?"

"AUTUMN!!!  Come here!"

Yep.  She did.

After further analisis of my new title, I figured out that she realized when we're out-and-about, people call me "Autumn" and I answer right away.  When she says "Mama," it's about a 50/50 shot.  Thus, her new strategy is simply calling me "Autumn" like the rest of 'em.

"But you're the only one in the world that can call me 'Mama'," I explained, "I love that."

"I know, but I'm gonna call you "Autumn" now.  Okay?"

Not okay - today we went to the pool with friends and this is how it went:

"Autumn!" No answer. 

"Autumn!"

"Just a minute!" I said.

"MRS. STEIF!!!"

Oh boy....wonder how long this will last?

Happy Birthday Rich!

 Dear Rich,

So I could be all sappy and lovey-dovey, but I'll save that for later.  For now, here is an "Ode to Rich" in honor of your 33rd birthday: 

 Ode to Rich

You are the man who shops more than any woman I know.

The guy who has racked up enough Cabela's points for them to send us one of those hard-covered books.

You are the man who insists that a Jack-on-the-Rocks only counts as one drink.  

(There is no second line to that one because, well, what else can I say about that rationale?)

You are the man that remembers EVERYTHING - especially the stuff I wish you would forget.

Yet, the guy who can't seem to remember that when a cereal box is EMPTY, it goes in the GARBAGE!

The guy who has designed a million pretend boats on the Ranger website - "it all depends on the the color of the truck.  If I got a black truck, this is what my boat would look like. If I stay with white, then the boat would have to be...."

You are the man who is now having a love affair with James Patterson's Alex Cross.

The guy that insists on renting an ENTIRE season (or TWO) of a show and watching in all in one sitting.   

The man who never leaves home without his calculator (thank GOD there's an ap for that!)

The guy who can find the best car deal, cell-phone plan, mortgage loan, or fishing pole for any family member or friend.  

You are the man that when you get on a roll, people shake their heads and say, "Where does he come up with this sh*#?!"

 The guy who's not afraid to say what he thinks and do what he wants.  

You are the man that every one wants at their parties.

The guy that everyone wants to be around.

 You are the man that I was lucky enough to marry.

The guy that is the perfect daddy in every way.  

You are you - and that is what I love. 

Last Fourth of July

This has been a tough weekend for me.  Last 4th of July (and the ones before that), we spend the weekend on my mom and dad's boat.  Swimming.  Jet-skiing.  That isn't happening this fourth of July. 

So....I've been keeping busy - the farmer's market, trips to the pool with Ness, gardening.  Stuff like that. 

I don't mean to be all "gloom and doom" - I do know that eventually, things will get easier for Rich to do.  Maybe someday he will get a spare set of legs that he can get wet.  Maybe someday he will feel confident in a crowd.  I'm sure these things will happen.  It's just until then.....

8 Years and Counting

The best day of our 8 years

This week marks 8 years of marriage.  8 solid years.  When I think back to 1:30 pm on June 14^th, 2003, I thought I loved him.  And I did.  I didn’t understand comments like, “Your love will grow over the years.”  How could I possibly love him more? 

But they were right.  My love for him has grown over the years.  We have certainly gone through our peaks and valleys, like any marriage.  But those peaks and valleys are ours.  They are what has defined us. 

Another piece of marriage advice people gave us was, “Marriage is work.”  What?  Work?  How could loving someone so entirely perfect be work?  But then we had our first married fight.  The realization that there was no “breaking up” if this wasn’t resolved was……interesting.  Ah-ha, this is what they meant by work. 

Eight years ago, our biggest worry was getting back from the bars in time to let the dog out.  Since then we have dealt with his job and the travel, my mom’s cancer, infertility, my depression, the deaths of grandparents, pre-term labor,  two heart attacks, the formation of a charter school, building two houses – can you say stress? a Master’s degree, and  a life-changing, near-death accident (not necessarily in that order…).   While some of these things aren’t all bad (the job stuff, the houses), they definitely brought about certain challenged we needed to overcome. 

I don’t think we are alone in our laundry list of crap.  I think each marriage has an itemized list of things that can either tear you apart, or refine your love. 

As I look at Annessa, I pray that she finds what I have found: A man who knows what God’s plan is for a marriage.  A man that makes her laugh.  A man that is worth the work. And a man that she will love more and more with each crappy situation that is bound to poke its way into their perfect life.

Everything

Everything in our lives revolves around That Day. Looking back at the time he was in the hospital, I knew that our lives would be different, but I never could have imagined to what extent.  How do you predict the unknown? Should you even waste your time straining to see into the future when God only knows what's in store for you?

I think about the little things that have changed - the landscaping rock instead of the more earthy, more maintenance-heavy mulch that Rich prefers.     Or that fact that me, an avid high-heel-wearer (I even got a high-heel Christmas ornament from my fifth graders one year), have not worn a pair since the accident.  It's hard to haul things in heels.   Which, by the way, means that my pants are hemmed shorter to accommodate my new footwear (thank God ballet flats are en vogue!).  Sometimes it's not even the big things that get to you - it's all the little things.

And yet, life is good.  I'm sitting in our screened-in porch, listening to the birds sing.  Rich and Annessa are snoring softly in the bedroom and I am about to get a cup of coffee.  I find myself waiting.  Waiting for everything to be normal.  Waiting to create new memories so that it doesn't hurt so much to look back at the old ones.  Take new pictures. Celebrate holidays. Get through all the seasons. 

The beautiful part is we have each other.  That is so much better than the other alternative.  We get to make new memories.  We get to take new pictures.  We get to celebrate holidays and watch the seasons pass. 

And that is everything I need.

The Little Things About You That I Love

There are so many things I love about you.  Everyday you do or say something, or I discover something new about you that I adore.  So, here's what I am loving about you at the moment:

* Our dance parties - we grab wooden spoons from the kitchen and prance around the house like nobody's business to our favorite songs: "Hey Soul Sista," "Stuck Like Glue," and "Lover Lover (you don't treat me no good no more!)."  Sometimes I even catch you singing the words (as best as you can) under your breath in your room or in the car. If anyone ever saw us they would think we've lost our minds!

*The way you say "mible" for pimple and "snunk" for skunk. I don't have the heart to correct you and daddy and I make you say it all the time - "Annessa, what's that on your face?" "It's a MIBLE!  I already told you - stop asking me that!"

*The time I overheard you looking out our bedroom window, thanking God for the flowers in our woods and asking Him for some more. So sweet. 

*You HAVE to make silly faces with daddy as we pull out of the garage in the morning otherwise it's a BBBAAADDDD ride to Tammy's or school.

*You are so friendly - you always say goodbye to all of your friends.

*You ask an OBNOXIOUS amount of questions lately, but secretly, I like it because: #1, it means you're learning, and #2, you still think moms have all the answers. Why?  Why?  Why? - the "whys" never stop until I say, "Because that's just the way God made it."

*The "balls" you have - you ask Paige's mom for a snack all the time!  As if we don't feed you....

*The way you crawl in next to me every night.  Did you know I crawled in Mummie and Papa's bed in the early morning hours the day Dad and I got married?


I love you so much that sometimes it's hard to tell where I end and you begin.  It's true what they say - having a child is like watching your heart walk around on the street (do people say that, or  did I just make that up? I'm pretty sure that's what people say....).

Life's Toughest Job:

Does a social hierarchy exist in preschoolers? After today, I'm thinking "yes." Annessa was in a funk tonight - mad about a girl at the sitter's who hit her with a toy school bus. "I don't like her. She's not my best friend," she explained.

"Really..." I said, curious to see what she would add.

"She really hurt my feelings. Mama, I will never hit you with my toys."

"Oh, good - and you shouldn't hit anyone else either - you might hurt their feelings too," I said, fully aware of the fact that there have been times when these roles were reversed, and it was my child committing the assault.

Anyway - the conversation went on and on. I realized that this "friendship" (I suppose that's what you call it) was really bothering her. She told me that sometimes she plays by herself and that sometimes she like to play by herself, but sometimes she feels sad when no one wants to play with her.

"Shoot" I thought, trying to search my brain for information on preschool friendships. Searching....Searching......Nada. Damn. Now what?

So, we rocked and rocked and I found myself longing for the "simpler" days when she was tiny. But then I quickly realized that toy assaults will be the least of my worries in 5 years.

I put her to bed (three times I might add...But that's another post), and did what any intelligent, 21st century mom does when they have an issue. I googled it. "What to tell your three year old about friendship problems" - I realize this is probably not the best key word search, but hey - it's been a long day....

I found out that research confirms what I have just now come to realize - the social hierarchy for girls starts at age 3 to 4! "You're not coming to my birthday party" or "Don't play with so-and-so." - stuff like that. There are Mean Girls in preschool for crying out loud! I couldn't help but wonder - is my daughter one of them? It probably depends on the day.

I realize that I can't shelter her from the Mean Girl mud-slinging. I can only teach her ways to cope, teach her to believe in herself, and let her know that she can always find rest at home.

I also realized that I can't stop her from slinging the mud either. But I can teach her compassion and respect.

Man - being a parent is a big job. It is so much more that providing food, shelter and the latest Barbie DVD. We parents are literally creating the next generation of people. Will they be better than we were? Can we help them see the good in people? Will we teach them well? I hope so.

Special Nights

It’s funny how special nights are different for everyone. The term “Special Night” in our house was coined by Rich. A special night is not a night of romance and wine – rather a night quite the opposite. It’s a night when Annessa can sleep in our bed. So every day now, we hear – “Daddy, is tonight a Special Night?” Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t.

The funny thing is – every night is becoming a Special Night around 3 am when I hear little bare feet padding along on the now-familiar path from her room to ours. “Mama. Mama. Mama. MAMA.” Her whisper gets louder each time she says my name. “Mama- moooovvvve over.”

So I scoot closer to Rich, the dog moves to the other side of the bed (because he wouldn’t dare sleep next to the unpredictable, ever-moving, sleeping Annessa), and Annessa crawls in with her blankie and her trusty teddy bear Katie.

I used to be a hard-ass about co-sleeping. Never, never, never will I share my bed – in the beginning, it was, what if I roll over on her? Then, as she grew and I realized how much she “roots around” (as my dad would say), and how much I needed my sleep, I renewed my commitment to the “everyone has a bed – you belong in yours” philosophy.

But, now, when I am smack dab in the middle of the two people I love most (and the dog), I realize that I have never slept better in my life.

Body Sprays, Hospitals, and Xeroform

Have you ever noticed that smells fill so much more than our nostrils? Yesterday I was rummaging around in my bathroom drawer and I came across some leftover body spray I used last summer. I sprayed a puff into the air and took a deep breath. After coughing from the fumes, my mind drifted back to the apartment we lived in while our house was being built.

I remembered lazy days at the pool (okay – I wish they were lazy, but I quickly remembered that I was entertaining an-almost-three-year-old, so lazy isn’t exactly the word for it…).

I remembered peaceful nights sipping wine. Wait, no I don’t. We were building a house and living out of boxes in a confined space!

I remembered summer days of no worries. Wait. We were going through fertility treatments. Worry is the only thing we did.

So, I can’t help but wonder – do our minds block out the bad stuff so at first glance (or wiff), we only remember the good? Is this a personality trait some of us are blessed with or is it a subconscious choice we make? Either way, I’m glad I remember the good and the bad comes back only if I let it.

So that brings me to present day. Will the smell of a hospital bring about pictures of Rich tied down in a bed, or will it remind me of the outpouring of love I felt during my lowest time? Will the scent of Xeroform pads remind me of late night dressing changes or Dr. Annessa assisting me? I have a feeling it might be a little of both. And that’s okay.

Serious Cuteness

I just have to publish this picture - her three-year-old preschool picture. She is snoring softly beside me (aside from the whole teeth-grinding-thing) and I can't help but wonder how I got so darn lucky to be this girl's mom?

Joy

Celebrating the New Year with dear friends

Joy. That is my "One Little Word" for the year. Okay, so it's been my O.L.W. for the past year, but hey - if it's not broke don't fix it, right? And besides. We could use a little joy around here anyway.

It's been awhile since I've written (on here - check out Caring Bridge and you will see a play-by-play of the last 3 months). In the book of James, God tells us to have JOY in the time of SUFFERING. Suffering develops character, perseverance and all that jazz. So, that is my motto for the year - Joy in suffering. Joy in the everyday mundane rituals. Joy in going to work. Joy in being home. Joy. After all, life is too short to wait to be joyful. Why should I only have joy on the weekends? Summer? Christmas break? No - nothing is too stressful to steal my joy.

Amen.