Posted on by Julie Deziel · 2 Comments

A Job Well Done

My grandfather Lonny, was a farmer for many years of his life. They had many cows that they milked and tended. They put up hay, grew and combined corn and wheat. His wife cooked for her family and farmhands. His two children did the normal chores about the farm. He has seen a change from horse and 2 bottom plow to large combines in his years. When they sold the farm he become a salesman for numerous companies but his most coveted was as a Culligan Salesman having won numerous sales awards for the company. He was awarded “World’s Greatest Salesman” through them numerous times. Later in life he worked as a senior companion visiting those that were alone or needed time out of the house, he absolutely loved that job. He had to give that job up when he no longer could drive. It broke his heart to say goodbye to his clients who became his friends. He then became a receiver in the program and treasured two of his companions-Merle and Doug. He would tell anyone who he would visit to never complain about work because “one day you won’t be able to and you will wish you could.” He would say if he had his driver’s license he would still be taking the elderly out or simply enjoying a cup of coffee with them.

This man had a memory that was spot on. He was a historian of not only his life but so many other lives. It was always a treat to sit and listen to his stories. As he lay in his bed at the nursing home that became home for the last three months wondering if his days were dwindling he recounted so many aspects of his life. Four days before he died was laying in the hospital he was able to mouth all the words of the Gettysburg Address while I read it to him and then recite out loud a Longfellow poem “A Village Blacksmith” that he learned in 7th grade.

As he had a sudden illness on Tuesday he had to make a decision in his care. He spoke with his doctor and myself and being of sound, EXTREMELY sound mind he chose to do nothing and move towards comfort care knowing that he may only have hours. He had goals, plans, and recipes to cook in the very near future. He was hoping to move to assisted living from the nursing home in February. He had a new blanket he was saving for when he went home, be it his own home or assisted living. Simply, there were many things ahead for the soon-to-be 100-year-old man.

How does anyone take in the words that life will soon be over for them and move forward to acceptance? As the granddaughter to watch the struggle I must say was simply heartbreaking. I needed him to be at peace. I needed him to be comfortable. I needed him to feel loved. He set the pace, the tone, and the rules. He had total charge of his death as he did his whole life. What an incredible honor of be able to give him that. So in his time we reminisced and he put his affairs all in order. We planned how to carry out his wishes after death. We cried a lot about what was to come and most importantly we laughed. I heard stories I never heard before. I saw spark in his eyes when he talked about my grandmother and dancing with her. He was sorry he would not celebrate his 100th birthday on February 21st but looked forward to celebrating with his wife and friends but more than anything he was waiting for Mary, his daughter, to come get him. He knew she would come.

While I waited from Tuesday morning for him on his terms to leave this earth to join Mary to walk into eternity I stayed by his side. He asked to never be alone. He was always there for me in my life and I would honor him at the end of his by sitting and holding his hand, talking in his ear, playing country music in his ear, or rubbing his legs until he took his last quiet breath holding a can a beer the staff had placed for him just the way he wanted. I walked him outside with the funeral home at 0115 into the crisp air wishing I could wrap him in his coat where 6 days prior him and I walked out to the car to go on an outing and he pulled his coat a little tighter around him in the cold. I was sad for me, oh so sad, but I was so happy for him. He had completed his job and made it home with his new blanket and seeing all those that loved him immensely and the one person he truly was excited to see again was his mother who he had not seen for 95 years. He did it. He did it his way, in his time, his way and very peaceful. Job well done.

So, Boppy through all your hard work and losses you had in life, the times of loneliness, the times of joy and laughter and through the last 5 days of your most wonderful life and as I promised you “I am happy for you”, “I will not forget your memories” and “We will be okay” I will live your rule in life…just have to take it as it comes.

Alonzo Benbo 2/21/1920 – 2/8/2020 Until I see you again. Dolly

Posted on by Julie Deziel · 1 Comment

Wallflower

This picture was taken this fall on a peaceful walk around our yard and I took some time on the dock and this is what I was privy to see. The wind was not blowing and there were a few ducks making ripples nearby and a few seagulls finding summer. I did not need to be have someone with me to show me through the beauty or experience it with me. I did not have to share the beauty with another soul. It was a moment of silence in which I was simply regenerating my soul.

I grew up being “that” girl that was laughed at because she turned beet red when she was asked a question in school or had to give a presentation in front of a group. It would send me into an anxiety-ridden panic for days if I knew it was coming up. If I could silently fade into the walls i would have done it in a heartbeat. The thought of being a wallflower was welcomed by my psyche.

Push through to being a mother and grandmother and being in a job as a 911 dispatcher; needing a type A personality no doubt. The shyness within me is hidden behind a few masks or two. I have no choice but to talk at work. Often times I talk nearly 10 hours straight; 10 HOURS straight. Many times it is to people I do not even know but need my help. It is not normal talking. It is stressful talking. Then comes those few moments of silence and someone wants to speak. Many can understand. But the shy, quiet, introvert wants to live inside herself for awhile…to try to remain alive. Silence my ears.

Recently I was told that I appear to come off cold or chilly at times. I need to work on making eye contact with another. This person does not understand silence. They do not understand another’s need for live-sustaining quiet. At the drop of a hat we go from 0-100mph and the peace prepares the mind and soul for what is to come. When did it become a bad thing to just need a little down time with thoughts and quiet without it being that something is wrong? I am 56 years of age and now have to change who I am or do I? Is it so bad to be me in the end?

“Solitude is for me a fount of healing which makes my life worth living. Talking is often a torment for me, and I need many days of silence to recover from the futility of words.”

~Carl Jung

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Nothing New Around Here

“Nothing new around here” are the words I heard today with a stop at the nursing home. I stopped with a few things my grandfather enjoys and to hear how his weekend had been. “Pretty quiet” and “I napped a lot” were the most descriptive he could find for me. It was not the most upbeat visit we had since he entered the home a few weeks ago.

My grandfather will be 100 years old towards the end of February. He has been a widower since 1988 and until the beginning of November has lived on his own in his own home. There have been health scares and struggles through the years but he has always battled back. Through it all though his mind has remained sharp as a tack. As a friend recently reflected, “Don’t tell Lonny anything you don’t want anyone to know as he will remember it forever.” Well it is true. He remembers more than I do.

His goal in life has been to live to be 100. Four to six weeks ago though he became ill and in his mind gave up on that goal and simply wanted to go home and die. We as a family looked at options for him to fulfill his dream of being in his own home and seeing family and allowing him to feel peace whenever his wife and daughter who wait for him on the other side would take his hand home. There came a point when he had to take an ambulance to the hospital and more skilled care was needed as his weakening body was not allowing his sharp as a tack mind that option to be in the comfort of his home.

Aiding a loved one into a “home” other than their own is a tumultuous mental and emotional journey. Besides all the paperwork that needs to be done, the physical work of moving belongings, safeguarding their home, there is the sadness of watching them lose their independence right before your eyes. The opportunity to walk to the kitchen to have a slice of bread with butter is now replaced with asking and then waiting for it to be brought to you. The normal seasoning of your food becomes cafeteria-like but you are too kind to ask for sugar as there is a diabetic sitting at the table with you so you eat it bland. The smells of home are lost to a facility laundry room.

Today the diabetic table mate will no longer be eating with my grandfather. He now eats with his loved ones who have gone on before him. Maybe my grandfather will ask for sugar or kindly accept the food the way it is cooked and say “thank you.” But for today there was nothing new going on around there. He napped a few times and waited for me to visit. He will wait for me to come on Wednesday with his mail and for his friend Doug to come and visit.

I hear you Boppy. I see you and how sad you are that you are not in your home. I am sad for you. For now though “nothing new going on around here” is keeping you safe and allowing you to gain strength everyday. Enjoy supper and I will see you Wednesday.

Posted on by Julie Deziel

Jump For Joy

Oh the joy of summer. The warm breezes blowing across the green grass. The sounds of kids chasing the sun to stay above the horizon just a little longer. The excitement of heading to the lake and the screaming race down the hill to the dock throwing off the shorts and shirt and the unbridled jump into the shock of the cool water. This is what the kids have waited for all those long spring days behind the desk of math and English classes. Summer anticipation is within sight…all that excitement and joy is just a bell ring away.

I am currently reading a book I received for my birthday from my husband, “The Second Mountain” by David Brooks. This book basically has said, “Julie this is what you were trying to figure out in your life right at this moment.” True story. In my 56 years of life I “believed” if I fulfilled certain requirements I would find happiness. I also equated the words joy and happiness together. I had my four beautiful children and they have brought me great joy along with my grandchildren. I found happiness in EMS and 911 dispatching, in friendships and other relationships. Climbing this mountain with these “joys” were all I would need because in our society culture pushes the belief that I should be happy with what I have attained on my climb. Well, yes I am/was happy. I met my culture goal…happiness and happiness is great! Granted I slipped off the side of it a few times. I have tumbled all the way to the bottom and was lodged in crevices for periods of times but I found my way out and climbed that same mountain, my mountain. I have reached the top of my mountain. I sat at the top of mountain I look out at the view…my life and have come to realize that there is more. There is more joy. There is more life. There is another mountain…the “second mountain.”

On the second mountain that I did not even know I was climbing was myself finding a life more centered on meaning and purpose. It is not a life of comparison or one of expectation, or a life that expresses prestige. It is a view of personal fulfillment in my marriage and family, to my faith, and to my well-being with a mental border. As I climb this second mountain I am finding true joy. As David Brooks writes in his book, “Happiness tends to be individual; we measure it by asking, ‘Are you happy?’ Joy tends to be self-transcending. Happiness is something you pursue; joy is something that rises up unexpectedly and sweeps over you. Happiness comes from accomplishments; joy comes from offering gifts. Happiness fades; we get used to the things that used to make us happy. Joy doesn’t fade. To live with joy is to live with wonder, gratitude, and hope.”

The excited thirteen-year-old runs and jumps off the dock and at that point she is committed. She plugs her nose and screams at the top of her lungs and jumps for joy into lake. Just as she is committed to that jump I am committed to all the joy I have through the wonder, gratitude and hope found through my transformation on my mountain.

Are you happy or do you have joy?

Posted on by Julie Deziel

Hide and Seek

17, 18, 19, 20. Ready or not here I come. The childhood game of Hide and Seek. Who has not played it as a child, as a parent and even as a grandparent. The giggles of the hidden as the seeker gets so close and then being so very quiet, even holding breaths so the hunter cannot find that elusive hiding spot.

A few months ago I was standing in front of the mirror and I could not see myself. The sharp defining lines that ensured my hair was just right to the assurance that my clothes were matched or tucked just right not to show too many imperfections had completely disappeared. It seemed I even lost a mask or two I wore dependent upon the day.

Who I am seems to have been lost. Is it that I am too busy and rushed? Is it that I am simply stressed? Can it be that I cannot face the fact I have aged and do not recognize the face that shows wrinkles and trying to hide the fact that I am getting older? If I look I can find the blond hair that I spend much too much time and energy on so it looks just right. I see the blue eyes of an older person that are ringed by signs of her middle age. I see a smile that her husband puts on her face every day. I see a woman standing there who has so much on her shoulders and in her heart. I blink though and I cannot see her…the lines again are blurred.

I am lost in the anger and the frustration that I allowed something so evil to enter my life through actions of antagonism, belittlement, and intimidation. I allowed another to overpower my strengths and discount me to that of a small child that sends me running to a place of hiding; a place where I attempt to feel safe. He was able to creep through and crack the lines of who I am and blur the image of myself. He may not have the face of who I envisioned Satan to be but he is just as evil; a devil in sheep’s clothing. Just as Satan hid in pretty clothing, I have hid myself. I hush myself so no one hears me. I may peek out from the corner and look and see if it is safe to come out and try to smooth the lines of the reflection of myself. I may put on a stray mask I have laying around so my demeanor is not in question. One thing though is my hair will look good and will be sure I am watching, listening. This time though I am seeking. Shhh just know…”I know more than you think. I just don’t say anything.”

Posted on by Julie Deziel

In The Hood

It is chilly outside this morning. There still remains some of the snow even after a warmer day yesterday. It is still a little over a week until Thanksgiving so it is expected that more snow will fall this season and snowbanks will envelope the sides of the road. Any leaves that are hanging on will surely give up in the wind and roll across the snow filled yards where green grass was present just a week ago. How quickly this street changed. This is the street I grew up on and standing out there brought back many memories that brought a smile to my face. Was it just yesterday that:

My grandparents bought us new bikes for Christmas and mine had sissy bars and a white basket and I loved it.

We were only allowed to ride our bikes around one block. Did our parents truly think we would follow that rule?

We walked from our Carmen Addition home to the Woods Addition for piano lessons and never thought twice about being snatched up by a “bad” person.

We would go to the outdoor pool downtown almost every day and stay all day and swim. No parents, just us kids enjoying our summer weekdays with our friends.

We were playing “Annie, Annie Over” at our garage or “Kiss or Kill” with neighborhood kids.

Where we rushed everyday to the warming house to get our skates on and skating and hanging out long after the street lights came on.

Kids were running in and out of each other’s houses getting permission to go here or there.

We thought we were rich receiving an allowance of .25 each Saturday and rushing to Sadie’s grocery store a block and a half down to get a little brown bag full of candy.

The streets were full of kids on their bikes and the yards were just as full of kids playing football or hide and seek. A car passing by certainly had to look extra hard to ensure there was not a child running nearby. Street hockey players ruled over traffic. There was a constant sound of laughter and slamming back doors of kids running out of them.

The street is quiet today. I heard the wind blow and a car drove by at a good clip; no child to watch out for. No sleds or leftover bikes from the last ride. Sadie’s is gone and no warming house or ice rink. Just as I grew up and my life changed for me, it did the same in the old neighborhood. How I wish the nice warm weather could stay and the beauty of summer and the laughter of the children in the yards, swimming pools, ice rinks, and in the streets could be heard from morning to nightfall.

The house on 4th Avenue S has changed, I have grown older, the neighborhood is not the same, nor am I. In my mind though the memories remain clear and bring such joy to my heart.

Life in the hood…oh to be young again just for a day!

Posted on by Julie Deziel

Did That Really Happen?

Ten years ago at this time of year we had supported our mother’s decision to end treatment against ovarian cancer and enter hospice. We did not know a time frame that we would be blessed with her earthly presence and treasured every moment we had with her, every conversation, every touch, simply her presence. Ten years ago I was turning 45 years old and facing the actual reality that my mother was not going to be in my life much longer. I remember asking myself during those days “Is this really happening?”

I consider myself a nostalgic person. I am “that” kind of mom that has Christmas ornaments made from my young children saved in my Christmas stuff. I have birthday and anniversary cards tucked in my hope chest that my daughters would say, “Why did she save these?” if they have to go through my things one day. I am certainly not a hoarder (that would involve having a mess and chaos in my house and God forbid we have that haha) but there are those things I just cannot find within me to take to the garbage can just yet.

Besides holding onto those material things I tend to take and heap many occurrences in my life into my imaginary backpack and carry them along my journey in life. I would assume many have the same backpack; some lighter, some much heavier. I am very territorial about my burden I carry. I do not want to give it to anyone to carry for me and I certainly do not want to leave it behind for anyone to open up and see what I carry inside. The contents come from past and present relationships, normal day-to-day happenings, and the ever present voices and sounds from very difficult 911 calls from nearly 20 years of service in that line of work. As much as I and maybe yourself wish that rock labeled with the name of a past relationship or a difficult situation could simply be taken out of the backpack and thrown out and pretend it never happened. They are the most difficult. Struggles in our daily life may lay on the top of the pile that we can pull out and pitch. Those are the easy ones.

I trudge through life carrying my backpack just as every other person carries their own burdens through theirs. We each do it in our own unique way. I have through life looked through it and taken out heavier burdens and have been able to whittle them down so they are not so big. Some of them simply do not get easier and just like on the day of the original struggle looking at that rock; that burden it is a step back in time. I hear the pain. I hear the loss. Those voices of the 911 caller do not hang up. They fall within the backpack and take a permanent place within the empty spaces in the load upon my shoulders. Just as I said when I suffered a breakup and said, “I can’t believe this is happening” or taking a horrific 911 call whispering in my mind, “This cannot be happening,” and now looking to the 10-year anniversary of my mother’s death and the enormity of that and it truly seems just like yesterday, “Did that really happen?”

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In The Eye of The Beholder

Oh my what an incredibly ugly picture. A tree that sits out in the middle of nowhere all scraggly, crooked that does not even receive the blessing of green leaves in the summer. I have watched this trees for a few years now after it caught my eye. But…to my eye this is not an ugly tree. What? I actually find this tree quite intriguing. In my eyes this tree could be a person reclining back on a lawn chair holding a favorite book feeling a light breeze coming from the lake on a sunny day. Yes…in the eyes of the beholder. This tree stands as a facet in life. Although to any eye it could be questionable to its relevance in life. This tree has set its roots down, weathered many storms, lost a limb a two and still faces storms every season. It is simply no different than I am in life.

I like to believe that as I age that life will simply settle into a smooth, calm ride. My husband and I will sit quietly each evening and watch our favorite shows (and lots of sports) and welcome our children on a regular basis into our home for family gatherings. I imagine that retirement will come together and we will travel a little more beyond my “hundred-mile bubble” and life will be simple.

We have set our roots on our little home by the lake. We have weathered a few storms in our life. Yes one of us is blessed to be retired and choose a side job that fulfills his every desire. We travel any time we choose…even if it is beyond that bubble (I just do not look). Our life can take the shape of the tree above. Those weathered storms have shaken our tree immensely and at times it seems that outside sources want to ensure it continually shakes. Our tree though is extremely strong and to those powerful pulls they do not know they do not have the power to break the main trunk. Their branch that belongs on the tree may break away and that is certainly the choice personally made. The branch may even say it was pushed or blame but in reality it is their need to take on the responsibility of the break. The branch falls and blows away if it chooses. It is sad; extremely sad. No tree likes to see itself become bare and unprotected. Breaks are mendable…even in trees. New shoots come forth with nourishment, sun, even talking like grandma always did to her plants. The outside forces though are tough to battle. They blow through howling untruth, blame, judgment, hypocrisy…twisting and twirling until it seems as if the winds are hurricane strength that no tree or branch can begin to think about recovering from. The tree tires of all the wind and elements and simply wants to settle into its roots and quietly ponder its life and let those branches go as they have so much more joy in other aspects of life. There is the focus…the little shoots that come forth. The branches that are lost and broken will be missed for they are still a part of that tree. The remaining branches will continue to be strong for the trunk at any point of weather and vice versa. New shoots will come and be welcomed with open arms. Sadness will descend upon the tree but we know the branches that remain will be the saving grace to our tree. That is where truth lies…who sits upon the branches through the sunny times and the rough snowy periods.

So the tree may be ugly on the outside but this beholder sees the love of my husband in the deep roots we have lain over the past 16 years and incredible strength we give each other through the base of the trunk of the tree. The branches are the gifts of our children and grandchildren and extended family, a little worn, missing a branch or two and it is okay. We are a strong tree blowing in the wind listening to laughter and love coming from our branches.

So for now I close my eyes and imagine the tree in a lawn chair on a sunny summer day down by the lake with a light breeze reading a book and simply smiling…our roots are settled and strong and happy with our tree; whether ugly or not. It’s all in the eye of the beholder and well I think it is incredibly beautiful.

Love your tree!

Posted on by Julie Deziel

All You Need Is…Hope

This was the year. This was their time to finally take home the title “Super Bowl Champions.” I am a tried and true Vikings fan and anticipated this more and more as the season played out. I had hope. No, I truly believed they would be playing in the Super Bowl.

I have no idea what you believe the word hope means but to me it is with great anticipation that something will happen although there is no guarantee. It could be a wish, a dream. If you look in the Bible you will find that hope is translated from the Greek and Hebrew languages as an “indication of certainty.”

Hmmmm… so the Bible will take us to the certainty of one’s hoping. I read this and then think that what I am hoping for the odds are in my favor then, right? I can live with that then.

— I hope that my children will be happy every day of their lives.

— I hope that I will be rich.

— I hope that all my officers will go home safe and sound tonight.

— I hope I dance at all my grandchildren’s weddings.

— I hope my son has an awesome year racing.

–I hope…I hope…I hope… so I am expecting a high return on my hopes because the Bible says it is so through those words of certainty of one’s hoping. How awesome then if I spend my life hoping for nothing but good then for most aspects of it my life will roll along pretty smooth. Awesome!

Hold on now. My brain knows though that life does not roll this way. Those hopes do not always come true. That high school crush is not the one for my lifetime or that football game simply is not for the Vikings to win this year.

Do I or we simply stop hoping then? Not me. If I do not have hopes what do I have to look forward to? Where do I put my focus then towards in the future? I simply will continue to hope for all the good in the world for my children and grandchildren. I will always hope my guys go home safe to their families and most importantly I will hope with all my heart that I will dance at all of my grandchildren’s weddings and I will carry a little faith along with me that there is some certainty in my hope.

Posted on by Julie Deziel

Until Tomorrow…


How was your day?  When the sun peeked above the horizon did it bring moans and groans that another day had to be faced; possibly work or housecleaning?  Did it bring giggles of children through the house as there was no school?  A new day is upon us and another day marked off the calendar for this year.  It is hard to believe that it is nearing the end of September and the leaves are leaving carpets of gold and red on the ground.  As the sun sets the air is more crisp.  Summer has been crossed off and a new autumn is upon us.  Was is not just spring…yesterday?

Mike, my husband, turns sixty years old in a week.  I have kidded him for awhile now that I never imagined that I would “ever be married to a man who is sixty years old.” We laugh…of course me a little more loudly than him.  It is easier to do when it is not you that is looking at that age.  I am not that far behind though so I should not laugh so hardy.  In my mind though I do not believe I am anywhere near forty, let alone over fifty.  When did this happen? How could it be that my oldest child would be four years away from forty years of age…AND I would be married to a sixty-year-old man? 

Thirty-six years ago I was rocking my oldest child thinking I had life figured out.  I can still see the way the furniture was set up in the living room.  I can see the changing table in his bedroom and how I laid out a towel on the bathroom counter to give him his baths when he was so tiny (who needed the funky bathtubs in today’s baby world). It is all so vivid.  Nine years ago my mom died…NINE years.  It was yesterday I am sure of it, or at least that is how I feel.  The weeks and days before the morning she passed are engrained into my memory which is a blessing.  The talks are cherished and I pray they are never forgotten.  The death process was extremely difficult but I feel honored to have been present for something so moving.  I remember each moment, each slow breath, each hand hold, the tearful goodbye, everything as if it was just this morning.  In a week and a half we will make a second trek to Hays, KS for dirt track racing’s Fall Nationals.  It was a year ago we accompanied Adam and watched him drive for a bigger dance for the first time and we talk about those races as if they were the ones we just went to last weekend.  

I guess time went by a little faster than I thought it would.  I do not know about others but I often rush to get to the end of my work week or anticipate next race or vacation…heck even at times can hardly wait for the next payday.  It does not take a lot of science to figure out that time does not move any faster or slower no matter what.  We lose sunlight and may make a day seem long but goodness it does not change the length of the year.  I know as I am getting close to my middle fifties all I know is I want to slow life down.  I want to slow the years of my grandchildren and keep them little and cuddly forever.  Getting driver’s license and a car, becoming a ‘tween and wearing makeup, 3rd grader having already kissed a boy…whoa!  My children are still babies right?  

So as I look to having a spouse that is sixty in a week I have to turn and look at that sunset and realize that it will bring a new day in the exact same amount of time it took the day before.  Life is moving at the same pace it always will and it is certainly acceptable to allow my brain to think it is thirty even though my body feels like it is seventh most days.  My children will one day all be in their forties rather than their thirties and I will then be in my sixties and Mike will be a week away from seventy…God willing, which now pushes me to take a little more time to look at each sunset just a little closer and take in all that each one has brought to my life…good, bad, happy, and sad. 

Until tomorrow….

Posted on by Julie Deziel

What Does the Dash Say?


Oh my beautiful mother!  She was taken from us much to early and in a cruel way; ovarian cancer in 2008.  The day before she died I was blessed to give her a sponge bath in bed just as a new mother would give her newborn child one.  So slow and gentle and calming.  We had a special conversation that encompassed her never ending faith and the journey she was given in life.  I was still not able to accept her impending death.  She had.  She did not say, “Why me?” The Lord had walked beside her through the sickness and in every aspect of her life and knew she would be welcomed into Heaven by her Savior with open arms and her just reward would be received.  Mary Elizabeth Lunak 10/2/1943 – 6/29/2008.  She lived.  The dash says it all. 

I have paused to reflect many times over the last few months and thought about my own dash.  What will my dash look like on my stone?  Will it be somewhat curly assuming an up and down life leading to the date on the right side?  I realize the right hand date can come at any time.  Having a serious medical problem will do that to you.  I want to believe that the dash will say, “You have lived a good, prosperous life.” I though would beg to differ.  I have made a huge amount of mistakes over the years.  I would like to believe I would give up my right leg and arm to go back and change those mistakes.  But then again those mistakes are part of my journey and have been teaching moments and opportunities to grow from.  I like to think they aid in flattening out my dash and keep me on track from leaving that dash to appear like life was such a bumpy ride.  My dash shows me having survived 4 teenagers and a few moves.  It led me into emergency medical service jobs and an unfortunate car accident that left me unable to do the job thus pushing me into 911 dispatching.  After learning through some poor decisions in relationships I allowed myself to be truly loved by a man who stands true in his promises and loves me unconditionally.  My stone will hold two dashes to show our marriage dates.  That dash will have an exact date for one of us.  One of us will be alone to remember the other and all the memories we made and hold so close within our hearts. 

I have stood strong on my dash knowing who my Lord is just as my mother did and know when the right date comes I will also be greeted by my loving Father.  My dash may not tell my story to anyone walking by but those that know me may know parts of what my dash says.  I know my mother’s dash; her story.  What does your dash say?  Will your loved ones be able to tell your story one day and emulate with love that journey you took?  For me, I intend to live out my dash.  (By the end of year, Adair in the picture, who had a special relationship with her grandma, will add more love to my dash with the birth of her first child…how full of joy my mother would be holding Adair’s child).  

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.