Posted on by Julie Deziel

Stand Tall Dad


I gaze out from the living room window and see the cold January wind blow the fresh snow across the field.  The fresh snow that had fallen so silently the night before and settled upon the ground and left a carpet of white is now on the move into the brush along the lake shore and into the trees along the edge of our property.  The beauty of that snow did not last long as now it is drifting across the driveway and roadways and creating challenges in life.  Peeking from the snow I am able to see an occasional left over stalk from a plant fighting that wind to ensure they are not victim to its strength and become lost from its home throughout its growing season. 

The stalk standing strong against the wind reminds me of my dad.  He married my mother in 1968 and adopted my brother and I in 1974.  There was never any doubt that he was our dad.  He loved us as he loved our sisters born during their marriage.  He worked hard to give us everything we needed and have the fun stuff also.  We snowmobiled, went camping, and even had a little motorcycle that I unfortunately could never master.  I had my own car that he taught me to drive and worried about me when I was out late.  He rarely yelled and he often laughed.  He loved my mother with all his heart.  He was a strong man and could battle most any storm that life blew his way.  He was always able to take them in stride.  He was able to find a way to fix many things; most often with duct tape.  He is a good man.  I remember him like that.  My siblings remember him like that.  Some of his grandchildren even remember him like that also.  Sadly he does not remember who he is any longer.  He is the face of Alzheimer’s. 

He is the stalk left standing in the snow and lost as to what is happening around him.  Things change around him but he does not know why.  Things pass by him and he does not know what they are but he still stands tall.  Just as the wind and snow try to blow the stalk over, Alzheimer’s tries to do the same to him and in a way it has but we who love him so do not let the storms overtake him as we still know him from the inside.  We know his laughter from his silly jokes and his love of black licorice and Snickers.  We know his passion for golf.  We know his heart.  

So stand tall Dad.  You may not remember you but we could never forget you and we love you so.

Posted on by Julie Deziel

An Empty Chair


The kitchen has bright yellow walls and pristine white curtains.  In the center of the room sits a large table with cushioned seats on enough chairs to sit many guests for coffee.  There is a plate of molasses cookies with thick white frosting that were just retrieved from the freezer where they were stored for just this day.  The sun shines through the west windows and creates a room filled with much warmth.  The true rays of sunshine though come from those that sit around the table; a mother, a daughter, a grandmother and a great-granddaughter along with chatter from the living room where the men have taken their respective spots and are sitting and talking about their workweek with the smell of a pipe wafting into the kitchen.

That kitchen is one of my most early memories of family gathering around a table.  I could not help but feel so big and special sitting there with my loved ones as I listened to the women’s stories while eating the best cookie ever.  I was twelve years old when my great-mother Julia passed away and joined my great-grandpa Oscar in heaven.  This ended the time in that warm yellow kitchen even though it had been some time prior since she had entered the nursing home.  This solidified the fact I would not sit with her eating molasses cookies again or around a big table with them and the rest of the family on a Thanksgiving day.  There was an empty chair for a simple morning brunch forever.  Over time more of the chairs around the table very sadly became empty.  The family gatherings went on and the chairs were filled by a young child who had grown up to an age to sit at the big table but the presence of each of those special people that are so loved were and are missed immensely and the emptiness was felt through the memory of a special laugh, luscious pie or thoughtful gift that is cherished and holds a place of honor in the china hutch.  

Along with the clock life moves on.  As I built my own family new traditions and chairs around my table were filled as was my heart with much joy and love.  It was an extra bonus to bring in extended family where we would need additional chairs which was so heartwarming.  I anticipated that one day  my children as adults would gather around it at times when my movements were somewhat slower and some additional wrinkles in my face.  I love the picture in which it would is myself, my daughter, her daughter, and God-willing a great-granddaughter. There may not be molasses cookies but I can provide them with much laughter, freezies, and an occasional caramel roll.  

As my children have aged and have their own families it is not so easy to fill the chairs.  Often times a chair or two is empty now due to the children being too small to sit in them.  Now as they build their own memories with their families and significant other’s families or grandchildren visitation schedules, I am now watching more and more of the chairs becoming empty.  I can only believe that my Grandmother Julia felt that way at a point in life during holiday gatherings as they slowly became a little more lonely each year.  So in my wanting to watch my chldren embrace their new traditions which feels good, it has brought up those feelings I believe each of my grandmother’s and mother felt.  That is what I have always wanted for my children; to build their traditions and I am extremely warmed to that fact.  

One day I will watch from afar cherishing and laughing along with them and wondering when each of the grandchildren grew up so fast.  That day I will be the empty chair.

Posted on by Julie Deziel

A Life That Is


On the days following my mother’s death I remember hearing the classic phrases such as, “She’s in a better place,” “What a blessing that she is no longer in pain,” and “She was such as wonderful person.”  Yes it was a blessing that she was no longer suffering from the cancer that overtook her body and who could deny the fact that she was in a better place; heaven.  She so looked forward to her eternal gift of being a faithful servant and being with her loved ones, especially her mother.  So it was not so difficult to hear those words from those who tried their very best to comfort her loved ones who felt so lost and alone in those days following her death.  The phrase, “She was such a wonderful person” though would strike something deep inside me.

From October 1943-June 2008 my mother lived a life.  She was alive.  She raised 4 children, loved her husband, and worked in nursing for many years.  She  was able to take a different path in her work life by taking a job as a church secretary.  She welcomed 12 grandchildren into the fold and was able to extend her love even more to two great-grandchildren who meant the world to her.  She lived a life where she gave much love and was loved immensely.  On a sunny Sunday June morning at approximately 7:05 a.m. she gracefully slipped into eternal slumber.  On June 28th she was living and on Jun 29th she was dead.  We would never hear her sweet voice, never feel her mom hugs again, and never see that most precious smile again.  Yes that wonderful person was no longer living on this earth.  We then started to hear others talking about her in the past tense and the classic phrases of comfort; more often than not using the word “was.”  Did it have to start that day where she became  “was?”

As that faithful servant she was she knew the reward of eternal life with our Maker.  She knew that her life would continue serving Him in heaven.  We know that our life does not stop once our physical life here on earth ends if we have faith and believe.  Due to the fact that we no longer can see them and their hearts no longer beat it is easy to say, “She was a beautiful person.”  We revel though in the fact that each of their lives are still alive even in death.  What a fantastic concept that are reflected with the words of “they are not a life that was, but a life that is.”

Posted on by Julie Deziel · 1 Comment

Hold On and Hold Fast

I took a look at my hands the other day and realized the age in them.  They look similar to what I remember my moms looked like.  The suppleness is starting to disappear. Elasticity has waned.  Fine lines have settled in.  I have been blessed not to have arthritis within the joints but after a long shift within the 911 dispatch center they are tired.  My hands have loved 4 beautiful children and welcomed 11 grandchildren into the world and held them so close and whispered into their ears how very much they are loved.  I have played many years of piano and led many worship services on the organ.  I have played beautiful songs on the flute and am slowly teaching myself violin.  I have stirred, whipped, beat, rolled out many dinners and desserts for my cherished Christmas gatherings.  My hands held my mother’s hand as prepared for her quiet and graceful journey to heaven. I have wiped many tears away in times of sadness but also in times of pure joy.  My hands have served me well. 

It is not uncommon as a mother to take hold of their youngster at a crosswalk and say, “Hold my hand.  We are crossing the road.”  The little one reaches up and takes hold of their mother’s hand and begin their walk to the other side of the road.  The little one felt safe entering the crosswalk and mom certainly wanted to enstill that concept. That is our job as a parent  from the moment of their birth until our death ensuring their safety or lessening their fears.  This is simply accomplished through the holding of them close as a baby, taking their hand as they walk into the elementary school for their first day of kindergarten or sitting beside them as they learn to drive.  As they grow we slowly let go of our tight hold and watch as they start grasping the hand of their friends and we see them skipping and running into life with a smile on our face knowing that we still hold them close within our heart.  We watch with trepidation as they embark on their first love with hands held tight with a teenage crush that will lead to that ever special first kiss and onto that first love.  

Then we as a young couple stands at the altar facing that one very special person we plan on spending the rest of our lives with we reach for each other’s hand and look lovingly into each other’s eyes and say our vows.  We place a ring on their hand that symbolizes our undying love that has no beginning and end.  The pastor raises his hand above us as a married couple and blesses us and the congregation claps their hands. As a young married couple we walk down the aisle out into the future hand in hand.  Through this ceremony alone the hands symbolize a significant amount of dedication and love.

So much is gained from a hand that is held and we can feel that nothing bad can happen but that would be living life with rose-colored glasses on.  Life lays much within our hands that must be dealt with; good and bad.  As Mercy Me sings through their song “Hold Fast”, the words resonate melodically how taking hold of our Lord’s hand and His word will aid us during those most difficult times.  They sing, “Hold fast help is on the way. Hold fast He’s come to save the day. What I’ve learned in my life, one thing greater than my strife in His grasp so hold fast.” It is difficult to turn to our loved ones when we struggle and hold on tight.  It can be during those times that we seem to let go, almost easier to let go than simply hold on tighter. 

We all need a hand to hold onto no matter what point of life we are in; a new mom bringing a new life into the world, a little child learning to skate on the new ice on a sunny winter’s day, an elderly woman facing an ovarian cancer diagnosis.  A hand offers so much to one person; friendship, peace, safety, strength and unwavering love.  Simply close your eyes as your loved one interlaces their fingers with yours or simply lays their hand on yours. Simply hold on and hold fast to the hand that may be needing the exact feeling you are receiving. 

Posted on by Julie Deziel

Looks Are Deceiving

Autumn is nearing its end.  Most leaves have left their perch on the tree and blown across the yard.  The sun has moved across the horizon along with an earlier setting time each day leading to long shadows across the lawn.  The fields have given up their crop and now lay wide open awaiting the first freeze of season.  The wind brings an ominous howl warning us to be prepared that winter is just around the corner.  Through the ugliness of the end of autumn will bring the beauty of winter through the snow coming down against the moonlight and the crisp sound of the boots on the fresh fallen snow.  

I am a shy person.  There are many people that would look at me, laugh and say, “Yah, right!” I hid in the shadows throughout my school years and was not noticed by many.  Social situations throughout my life created significant anxiety that at times have left me trembling or caused me to say no to many invitations.  I blush fiercely and many have found much humor in it and I joked my way around it by saying, “It’s my intelligence shining through.” My insides at times can feel the same ugliness that the end autumn can bring but there is so much more to me than my shyness, my social anxiety and my blushing. 

As I aged I have learned to work through some of the tougher aspects of those ugly points.  There is much beauty within my life through my children and grandchildren.  I am at a point in my life that I no longer want to allow drama in life to consume me.  I have a handful of close friends and a few work friends.  My husband is my best friend.  I am a very simple person.  I am not one to feel the need for 1,000 friends on Facebook nor do I want to be sitting in the bar every weekend or socializing with the neighbors or co-workers every weekend. I excel at my job and am proud of what I have accomplished in my line of work.  I, as most, have my weaknesses.  A few of those include being passionate when it involves my job, extremely self-critical, and emotional. This past week I had a reality check of how cruel our world can be that shook me to my core. Who I am and how I present myself seems to be an issue with some people.  Me, who I am.  

My mother taught us to always be kind and I have always tried my hardest to live up to her expectations.  I will show my kindness with a simple hello or a smile but with my shyness it at times is difficult to move beyond those things.  That can cause others to see me as unwelcoming.  I am uncomfortable with new people and do not know how to start conversations very well so that leads me to being quiet and leaves others not knowing how to take me.  I am now presented with the dilemma of facing the challenge of having to move into a realm of changing how I present who I am.  The mask I may have worn in the past now has to be dusted off and placed back on.  The comfort behind the mask may be familiar but feels like how the cold, barren tree looks; ugly.

The tree stands there looking ghastly with its barren branches; cold, worn and old which it is.  You could imagine that the tree would lay dark, long shadows.  It certainly does not look as if you would want to put up a tree swing and hear the giggle of children enjoying a beautiful summer day.  The day this picture was taken though the sun was shining with a temperature of 65 degrees.  The lake behind the tree was showing its blue colors as a light breeze caught a few remaining leaves on nearby trees.  The sun was beginning to come down in the western skies and left a gold glow along the top of the trees and let the green grass shine like a blanket waiting for a family to put out their picnic basket.  We live in a world where when you are not known you are judged on your appearance.  Just as the picture of the tree has a mask applied, many of us including me now live behind a mask showing a false presentation to give a more positive appearance for those around us so they feel comfortable.  First appearance would show me as simple and quiet and maybe not so welcoming as I shy away from someone I do not know.  Once you know me though I am funny (at least I think I am), intelligent, caring and kind.  Each of us is who we are and no one person has the right to make us feel that who we are is not acceptable unless it is harmful to another.  We should not have to hide in the shadows to fit into any environment or have another say that you are not accepted just as you are.  Right?  “Was I not a good person before?”  “How do I now change to fit into your world?” 

Had you not known the beauty of the true picture you would have most likely judged it on its appearance as the color was taken away.  I purposely deceived you.  I hid the beauty from you.  As for those of us that wear a mask, our true beauty lies beneath the mask; behind the shadows.  The right people will look and find our true colors and be most accepting.  The others…well does it matter?

Posted on by Julie Deziel

The River’s Journey 


A river takes a journey, quite a journey.  It is a journey of rises and falls, twists and turns, with little streams feeding it and through smalls channels feeding it into a much larger and stronger river. There are bends that come up where the unknown lies beyond.  Much life lies within that river but also much can lost within it.  To me a river can mimic a friendship.

I have been blessed to experience the joy and wonder of many friendships throughout my life.  As an elementary student they consisted of small neighborhood kids feeding and molding what friendship looks like.  For the most part those friendships were a simple game of tag. riding our bikes together, carefree and at times wild but never stretching our wings too far from home.  High school brought me into different channels with a new school and new friends that I hold dear to my heart to this day. We had fun; a lot of fun.  I at times hid my vulnerabilities behind their confidences and I want to believe that is what made us the friends that we are.  We had the same likes and dislikes be it boys, music, and really what else is there in high school to dwell on?  As life moved on and more adult relationships evolved and children came into my life there were not as many opportunities to explore those adult relationships as deep as I would have liked.  Those children’s needs, work, and housework all called my name.  Days (and nights) were chaotic and the currents of the friendships or lack of at times seemed to pull me under.  It seemed that many days I thought the only friend I had was in the form of a little blonde child who never left my side.  I was starved at times for adult conversation and was richly blessed to be able to call my mother and grandmother both my friend and they were actively in my life to which I could lean on them for friendship and find some calm.  As the children grew older and more independent I was able to once again look to build relationships with some special people that remain so very close to my heart to this day and found my head above water and floating peacefully along with the current.

As a river at times have rapids, friendships gothrough tumultuous times.  There unfortunately have been friendships in my life that simply have run their course and I miss those people immensely.  They served a purpose and I am thankful for the time I had them in my life.  I am a firm believer that the Lord brings everyone into our lives for a reason, most often for those lessons learned.  As I have gotten older though I have learned that I do not need to have an immense amount of friends or 1,000 Facebook friends.  The ones that hold me as close to their heart as I them and the few that I can travel along the river of life peacefully and know they have my hand when I need to be assisted through the rough waters of the river of life is what is most important now.  So as I look at this picture of the river I see the friendships that have flowed along just as they have in my life.  There are some that did not get in the water but remained on the banks and cheered me on.  The paths of the rivers were not always straight and we entered some unknowns with winding curves and hit some big rocks that rocked us to our cores. Often we had to adapt to the ever-changing current and bends along the way which simply brought strength and at times a new chapter in my life and the life of my friend.

What is your goal in any friendship that you may have? Are your friendships genuine and important enough that you open your heart to them willingly?  The river has one goal and that is to make it to the sea.  If you look at any river’s path to the sea you see it’s not straight; it has quite a journey to get there.  Any relationship each of us takes on in life is just as tough and certainly full of strong currents pulling you in every direction and a bend that leads to an unknown.  I know that in any of my friendships it would be my aspiration to have made a strong impact that when I was to leave this earth my friends would still look to me as a friend, one that they hold close for a lifetime.  I would have reached my goal; such as the river having made it to the sea.

Posted on by Julie Deziel

A Chance Meeting


October 12, 1995 was a sunny fall morning.  It started as any other morning.  The children headed off to school on the bus and Paul and I hopped in the car for school; “Seatbelts, Norman, seatbelts.” Who could imagine that a mile and a half down the road there would be a chance meeting between three people?  How would I know that in just a few minutes life as I know it would change in a chance meeting of a Honda Accord and a farm truck?  A chance meeting that would bring me to so many different realms within myself and beyond in my life.

How many times in life have we each forgotten something and had to run back into the house or took a wrong turn?  It could simply be that life is just so busy that we cannot get it together or maybe just maybe, if we are one to believe in it, it could be “divine intervention.” When that meeting of those two vehicles occurred, those three people met, what happened that morning bringing them to meet at that exact moment.  As the driver went around the truck and checked it out, if he would have went around one more time our car would have been through the intersection and would have moved through the day as any other day.  The truck driver would have continued on with his day and would not have had to live with memories of the accident from that day forward.  What are the chances that we were to meet that day?  Did God lay it out specifically the way it happened so I could have a chance to see what lies ahead?

I was blessed to not remember the accident.  What I do remember is driving down the road with my son and talking and singing with him and then waking up laying up across the seats of the car with him patting me on the head saying, “Mommy, Mommy.” Between that time I experienced another realm of life.  I was given an opportunity to know what’s beyond the stars; what is beyond the end of our lives.  I was not given the 90 minutes in heaven or given a chance to have all the unknowns answered.  As I now sit next to my fireplace and feel the warmth from it, it cannot even begin to warm me as much as that moment did.  The warmth I felt can only be described as being hugged from the inside out.  I did not see a light at the end of a tunnel.  I did observe a color though; a magnificent yellow.  There is only one word for it…indescribable. I have spent 21 years searching for that color in paint palettes, magazines, pictures, and in the sky.  I have simply come to the conclusion that it will not be found until I reach heaven.  I did not speak or see anyone but felt the presence of another; a loved one.  I felt them touching my shoulder in such a the manner to lead me back to my life.  What I felt though was a feeling of no regret.  I had no desire to return to my life on earth; that that present was where I wanted to stay.  The overwhelming sense of calm and peace is continually sought still today and so anticipated.

Our chance meeting was not by chance.  Even though the accident brought significant amounts of pain, many surgeries, a scarred body and having to give up a job I loved it enabled to enter a branch in my career path that still allows me to aid others just not in the way I was doing it.  I lost my independence for a period of time but in a roundabout way I gained strength and self-worth.  Most importantly the question of “is there life after death?” was answered that strengthened my faith more intensely that allows me to reach for it when it feigns at low points in my life.

A chance meeting?  I think not but more of a gift; a gift from above.

Posted on by Julie Deziel

The Race Is On

It is Friday night; race night.  The line of pickups pulling open trailers and enclosed trailers, the envied high-dollar pullers are coming from all directions to the track.  The drivers are wearing their lucky t-shirt, Oakley sunglasses, and their favorite jam is blaring from the speakers as they unload in their spot in the pits.  They feel good.  Tonight is THEIR night!  “It’s race time boys.” As the cars round turn 3 coming into turn 4 the flagman drops the green flag and the race cars pick up speed racing for the front of the pack with the goal of taking the checkered flag…being #1.  For many though it is to just finish the race with an intact race car.  The race can be grueling and intense but it does bring an element of fun and for many they carry a deep love of racing onto that track and feel immense pride as they maneuver for the top spot.  After the race they all pull back into the pits and overlook the car hoping to see that little will need to be done to it for the next race, maybe complain about the rookie driver or how bad the track was and then load up and head home reflecting on how the night went.

My life seems to be synonymous with a race track. Many hours have been spent at the track but many facets fit into that of a race.  As any other child I did not have a choice when it came to how I was raised in relation to finances.  My parents had good jobs and provided well for us.  We did not though have a lot of money and I certainly did not have the best car in my class but I had a car.  I didn’t have the  best clothes but I had clothes.  I was able to do most of what I wanted as my parents trusted me and my friends.  The speed of life increased tenfold when I had children just like a green flag was dropped and there was no turning back.  No yellow flag to slow it down and take a breather; it wasfull speed ahead and I had no choice but to take the steering wheel of my life and tried my very best to hang on and not spin out.  It was intense and at times it was so incredibly grueling  and I was sure that I would simply fall off the pace but with a few pit stops I was able to stay in the race.  I may have not done my life the way others would have and certainly at times envied the neighbors and wanted to keep up with the Jones’ but found immense joy living it the way I did.

Life moves so fast and as we age it seems to move even faster.  I do not think there is a single person who hits middle age that does not say, “Where did time go?” We spend half our life racing to get to a particular age, rush to payday, anticipate our vacations, and race to our children’s games or to the grocery store.  Race, race, race.  Personally, it appears now that the fast laps of my race are over.  I have raised my children to be the best that they can be and set myself into a job that I will retire from one day.  I am now getting things ready for the next part of my life; a simpler, slower state.  I spend more quiet time with my friends and family talking about life and maybe complain about this or that and know that life is too short to be holding anger and hurt and if someone does not want me in their life I do not need to force them.  Age does so much good for a person, of that I am certain.  How comforting it has become to get to the point to realize that life is no longer a race and I can now sit down and take a place in the stands and enjoy those I love.

So for tonight I’ve loaded my car up and I’m leaving the pits and heading out and reflecting on all the fun and joy I found in my race and look forward to what’s ahead.  There may be a race or two left in me but I might just stick to watching from the stands as there is much to see in the calm from there.  I reflect now and realize that in my race my checkered flag came with pride, joy, happiness, and love; pride in fighting my way to where I am today, an incredible amount of joy through the years with my children, happiness with my husband, and such love for my grandchildren.

 

Posted on by Julie Deziel

A Red Geranium

A RED GERANIUMimage

The simple red geranium. The simple red geranium petals can invoke a sense of childlike anticipation; such as going to the lake where I will spend time with my grandparents. Oh the excitement makes me simply giddy and brings about a smile on my face from ear to ear. I can just about feel the freshly cut grass as I run across it and feel the dock give way as I run even faster to ensure a perfect dive from the end of it into the cool lake water. Ah!! It is so cool!  I am instantly feeling devoid of sweat from the long 30 mile drive with my parents and siblings in the full station wagon with the windows rolled down attempting to cool everyone off in the 85 degree heat. I see my mother and grandmother sit in the shade and begin their non-stop chatting (or is it gossip). Their eyes are not far from the shore ensuring each of the children are in sight. We splash and dive and rock each other off the big tractor tubes. My grandpa has cracked a beer and laughs at each of us and waits for us to tire so he can start the grill and we can have our weekly hotdogs and barbecued chicken. We each shiver out of the water and eat and do as our mother tells us, “You must wait an hour after eating before you swim.” So we find an adventure to bide our time waiting for that clock to tick down. Soon those 60 minutes has gone by and off we go into the water and at dusk the after seems warmer.

Those simple geranium petals bring back the laughter of the grandmother who held my hand and my attention as a teen and my ears as a young mother. She had a way with a geranium in the summer season and could get them to bloom in the coldest of winters. She talked to them as if they were her children, so loving and kind. I would believe the plants looked forward to coming in to tend to them just as I looked forward to visiting her or her coming to spend time with me. Be it the lake or sitting on the couch she brought out her bright, loving personality that was hard to turn away from. Her love was genuine. Even though as a child I rushed to the lake to take in the fun and excitement of the lake, it was at my grandmother’s lake home with her red geraniums wrapping around it.

So as I gaze upon a red geranium or hold the petals within my hand I hold so very close to me one very special lady, my grandmother.

 

Posted on by Julie Deziel · 1 Comment

Take A Seat

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“Please take your seat.  The show is about to begin.” Oh how I have waited with much anticipation to hear those words many times over the years.  So off I have gone to find that numbered seat and sat down and waited for the curtain to rise or the band to start with a favorite tune.  I can say for most of those performances it was worth the wait.  As I have aged I find that I should have taken the same perception in my life all these years and simply taken a seat.

If you look at this swing you will note that it is sturdy and appears strong.  It is certainly weathered but the look still is unique.  It has undeniably stood the test of time.  It has withstood extremely strong winds, pelting rains, sweltering heat and has been hidden by snowdrifts.  The seat of the swing it still graciously accepts a person or two.  Even though it looks rough it is welcoming in the shade under the arms of the big old tree it has sat beside all these years.  Sitting there in the early fall evening I can feel the warm sun rays as they were peeking through the woods on my back.  Across the way I see the autumn colors reflected back on the peaceful lake.  The corn field alongside the tree row gives off a red glow along the top as if carpet had been laid.  I can just feel the anticipation of the raccoons waiting for sunset so they can bring home supper from that field of corn.  Quietly the doe brings her two little ones on their nightly walk from the north end of the yard to the lake.  My seat tonight has been front row to immense peace and utter beauty.
In the peace it is easy to look back at the seats I have taken during my life…daughter, mom, sister, wife, and friend.  Each of those seats that I sat in were not always easy and I did not always have shining moments but during those more unpolished times is when I learned the most.  I quietly reflect and find immense joy through my children and now my grandchildren and realize that changing seats is not something I no longer would want to do.  Those seats brought me to where I am and to who I am today.  I am sturdy and most of the time I am strong, but I allow myself the gift of grace to feel weak when I simply cannot be that tough soul.   I am a “little” weathered, definitely unique, and I have stood the test of time.  

At this point in my life I am now going to “take my seat.” The show has begun and I am now enjoying it immensely from the front row.