Faithful

   

   
     In the past week we have had the privilege of spending time with a couple of old friends. The husband has been dying in hospital and his wife has been at his side, tirelessly, constantly, holding his hand. It has been a sad time but also a confirmation of all that marriage can be: steady, enduring, sharing and resilient.
     This couple have been together for over thirty years, have four amazing children and have made a wonderful life together in our small community. We met them at our church over fifteen years ago and although we have not spent a lot of time together recently, we both have thought of them often. They are a family of fine people--- caring, responsible and real.
     This husband and father knew that to be faithful in the little things is a big thing. He made huge breakfasts for his children, got them to church every Sunday, did mounds of laundry, often and cheerfully. He was a great dad. This family spent this last Christmas together and when he was seemingly no longer with them they told funny daddy stories. Lots of them. One of the outstanding things about spending this time with him and his wife in the hospital was hearing some of these stories: the funny daddy stories, the even funnier husband and wife stories, and the stories that made their family what it was: precious, rare and real.
     Our friend is gone but he will live on in the memories of his four wonderful children and his warm and loving wife. He will live on in the memories of all of us who valued him as a man and a friend. Happy fishing my friend.... 

Rejection

                                                                         

     One of the hardest experiences of parenting an extraordinary needs child is witnessing their rejection by other children. Social success as a young person seems centred on being like everyone else. When you are different, this type of success is scant at best. When not being able to understand social cues, body language and  facial expression are part of the reason that you are different then not only are you unsuccessful but you are not able to understand why. The mystery is unsolvable; the clues are hidden.
     Our daughter has been treated extraordinarily kindly at times. An elementary school friend recently included her in a birthday dinner even though they attend different high schools in different cities; she took the time and made the effort to include our daughter. There have also been occasions of ignorance and rudeness perpetrated by girls who should know better. You expect strangers to let you down---you don't expect it from family friends.
     As a mother it is intolerable to me that these incidents occur; I find it wretched and heart-breaking. That my daughter continues to be cheerful, polite and caring in the face of this proves that she is the better person --- better than me certainly and better definitely than the unthinking, unfeeling person who has shut her out. Our daughter continues to prove by word and example what a truly exceptional person she is in every way. In the face of negativity, although she is hurt, she moves forward with a smile. That is why she is and always will be my hero, bar none.

Eleven

     Children are always changing, learning and developing sometimes right in front of your eyes. If you don't see a child every day sometimes you can't believe how tall they are all of a sudden or how mature they have become. Our nephew is a good example. He was a cute round faced boy and then it seemed that the next time I saw him he was a much taller, handsome young person with the face of the man he is becoming. So different, so fast!
     In the case of our younger daughter, I have really noticed how different ten is from eleven and I have the sense that twelve will also be a big jump in maturity, knowledge and interests. Our ten year old daughter wanted Lego for Christmas; at eleven she wants an H&M gift card. At ten, she wanted photographic proof that Santa was real; at eleven, she has her own theories about that guy. At ten, she needed nothing with her when she went out the door; at eleven, she remembers to bring her purse with her iPod, wallet and lip gloss inside. I used to read to her at bedtime; now she reads to me.
     As an older mother, these changes in my child are bittersweet. That she is older is true and that also means that I am not only older but old, as well. Sometimes there is a sore knee, a new wrinkle--- this week I have ringing in my ears which will not go away, a sure sign that deafness is right around the corner, according to the Internet. We all want our children to be smart, strong and independent and when you also have a special needs child that goal is ever present in your mind. However, I sometimes long for those crazy, hazy, baby days when just getting yourself in the shower and your baby out of her sleeper and into some real clothes was enough of an objective for the day. Now there are places to drive to, youth groups and dance lessons, movies and sleepovers, pizzas to pay for or pick up. Sometimes, just sometimes I wouldn't mind looking for that soother one more time...now where did I see that again?

Eggs

     Every year about this time, my chickens stop laying eggs. The hens are molting and consequently, they are expending energy on making new feathers and not on making eggs. It is a frustrating time for me because of course, they're still eating just as much as before but their egg output is ridiculously small. (Their other "output" remains the same of course!?) And so I don't have eggs for my customers and they have to go elsewhere. If you have ever had to eat store bought eggs after you have eaten free-range eggs, there is no comparison. You are now spoiled and cannot go back. Fresh really is best.
     This is also the time of year when it becomes clear that those cute little balls of fluff that hatched out in the summer are either hens or roosters. Hens mean more eggs which is good; roosters mean more morning noise which is not so good. Unfortunately, out of the ten pullets we have, three are roosters.  That is too much cockle-doodle-doo for us and also I suspect, for our neighbours.  We already have 4 roosters: Little Jerry Seinfeld, Kermit, Phillip and Benedict. What to do, what to do with an extra rooster or two, or six. Contrary to urban mythology, they are not good eating; I doubt that the whole bunch of them would even make one decent pot of soup. Also I am not in the habit of eating things that I or someone I know has named. Pets do not equal food. Anyway, have you ever tried to kill and then pluck any type of poultry? It is not my idea of a good time.
    So if you need a good rooster or even a bad rooster, look no further. Have I got a bird for you! And if you are an egg customer of mine or someone else's, be patient. Spring is coming---not soon mind you, but it will be here one day, and so will all those bountiful, beautiful, fresh, free range eggs.
 

     

Karma

     I lost a friend today. He was the person in the world who made me laugh more than anyone else that I have ever known and I will miss that; I will miss him. He lived far away in a place that I have never travelled to, but over the years he had made sure to keep in touch. When he was in Canada we saw him, ate dinner with friends and we laughed. He had a dry, acerbic wit that was without match and the ability to make everyone laugh at themselves. He had superb taste in all things: food, wine, art and furnishings. He liked nice things.
     I met him first when he was a business owner in the town I live in still. He and his partner sold beautiful artifacts, jewellery and baskets from Indonesia. At the beginning I was a customer but over time we became friends. I still own many lovely and unusual things from that country. Every time I looked at them, I thought of him and his friend, now my friend too. And I still will, except now the possibility of ever seeing him again no longer exists.
     The saddest thing about losing my friend is that it seemed as though he did not want to live. Alcohol was the vehicle of his demise. We have been talking a lot about living and dying in our house lately. Someone we know had tried to take her life. I asked our younger daughter about it. She said in a wise eleven year old way that she could never do that; "Life is a gift." she said to me as we stood at the bus stop.
     As we get older we understand that that is true but we also come to understand that for some people, in certain circumstances, it's often not that simple. All I know is that I will miss the fun that happened when he was in the room, the fragrance of Vetiver that surrounded him, his generosity and his ability to make me laugh until I wept. The world is truly a sadder place today. Miss you Mark!

Nanny

     What can you say about a lady who gets her ears pierced for her 100th birthday? She's a bright spark; a woman who never lets you forget how much you mean to her; a lady, gracious, loving, and funny. We met when her husband was suffering with multiple myeloma and I was their hospice volunteer. Our arrangement was that I would come by for a few hours on Thursday afternoons and stay with him while she went out for a little while to shop, have tea with a friend or just have a little time to herself. Her husband had bone cancer which is very painful, terminal but also can be interminable. He was in need of palliative care for years, most of which was supplied by his wife, cheerfully, continually, faithfully. They were a lovely couple--- grateful for my time and attention, careful and caring for each other. He and I spent time together on "projects"; we fixed things around the house, drank tea and ate sandwiches and chatted about life. I truly enjoyed the time I spent with both of them.
     What can you say about a lady who gets an iPad for her 100th birthday? She's a great grandmother, a grandmother, a mother, an auntie, a friend for life. She is loyal and honest, faithful and feisty, a person who can talk to anyone, a woman of unflinching courage. Once in a while you meet someone who is loved universally, by everyone they meet, the life of the party, the quiet centre of a family.What can you say about a lady like that? She's our Nanny!

Lonely

     Do you know anyone who is lonely? Maybe someone who seems to know a lot of people, but who does not feel any deep connection to any one of them and so therefore feels alone in their life?
      Most of us have felt lonely at one point in their life; for many of us it was the teenage years that proved to be the most challenging. At a time when kids are trying so hard not to be different from one another, it seems impossible sometimes to feel connected to others.
     You probably know a lonely person--- someone who would love to connect on a deeper level with someone else but also just be able to call and suggest a movie or a walk. You might know someone who has tried over and over to make connections with others only to not have the effort reciprocated. It's soul-destroying, confidence-depleting, self-esteem-lowering, hellish and hard to watch.
     Loneliness is a brutal thing. It is a heaviness which can pull anyone of us under, if we let it. For someone whose sense of self is already fragile, it is a burden of unbearable weight. It cannot be thrown off easily--- it can only be pushed away gradually with the help of a friend....

Virtue

     When have you ever seen a young grizzly bear, a gorgeous acrobat twirling from the ceiling, a martial artist breaking boards and a movie stuntman catching fire all in the same afternoon? Well we have, plus we got a delicious lunch! Our daughters and I had the good fortune to be invited up to the Virtue Studio Ranch courtesy of The Virtue Foundation and The Center for Epilepsy and Seizure Education in B.C.for Family Day at the ranch.
     While there we heard personal testimonies about the incredible work that The Virtue Foundation is doing to help marginalized and at-risk girls and boys. But mostly we got to see stuntmen doing crazy-dangerous stuff on motorcycles, quads and cherry-pickers, beautiful and scary martial arts demonstrations and just how much fun families can have when someone opens their amazing ranch up to kids with extraordinary and medical needs.
     It was tremendously encouraging to witness the giving that was done by these unbelievable folks who gave up their time to show kids what they do. Children and their parents got to forget about needles, tests and doctors appointments and just concentrate on fun. Our girls are going to be talking about this for a long time. Thank you Danny! Your last name says it all.

Daisy

     It has been a short while since we had our beloved pony Daisy euthanized and about that same time since we discovered nine little day old chicks had hatched out on top of the egg fridge outside. Our oldest daughter noted the going out and coming in aspect of life; the revolving door from which all of us emerge  eventually, onto the other side.
     It was a sad day but Daisy was almost thirty years old and it was simply her time to go. I had dreaded this day not only for the loss of our daughter's first animal friend but for the hole it would create in the life of Sinbad, our young Arab gelding who has lived with Daisy most of his life. Horses can become quite herd bound and adjusting to change can be hard. Was it serendipity or something else that granted Sinbad a new pasture to graze with a sweet little pony named Candy in the adjoining meadow, just on the weekend that Daisy left us.... Thanks to some lovely neighbours our Sinbad has adjusted nicely.
     Meanwhile the nine tiny balls of fluff have become eight little birds with noticeable wing feathers. We have no idea what happened to the ninth; predators abound on the farm, especially for little ones like these. We are so blessed to have the opportunity to witness both the miracle of birth and the inevitability of death. The first is a gift, the second, a certainty. Knowledge of both helps us to grow wise and strong.

    

Camp

     Our daughter has been assisted in attending camp for a week at Zajac Ranch for Children. This was made possible by the nice people at The Center for Epilepsy and Seizure Education in British Columbia and we are thrilled. There is of course nervousness and some trepidation on our daughter's part; she has never been away for us for more than a night. The packing began some time ago but has begun in earnest now; who knew that you needed so much stuff for 4 nights away?
     I feel fairly calm about the whole situation as she is going with other kids with epilepsy as well as with kids with other health and learning challenges. She will be safe. If she has a seizure there, they can look after her. They have done this before. See how calm I am?
     The card I sent some weeks ago (at the camp's suggestion) will ensure that she is reminded of how much we love and miss her while she is away. The self addressed stamped postcards we send with her will hopefully be returned to remind us that it goes both ways.
     Summer camp, trying to sleep in sleeping bags, singing songs around the campfire and eating too many smoky marshmallows should be a rite of passage; every kid should get the opportunity to know their capabilities in a safe outdoor setting. It can be a first taste of independence in a place where fun (and safety) is the number one priority.
     We hope our daughter comes home from camp with some good stories, great memories and even a new friend or two. She has this wonderful opportunity placed before her and it couldn't have been given to a more deserving girl....happy trails sweetie...we will see you soon!

Wind

      As each of her recent seizures result in greater injury  to our daughter, I find myself panicky at times. While she is home, I must know where she is, what she is doing, checking in, always checking in. The monitor gives some relief from worry at night. When she is at school, I check my phone constantly; when it rings I have momentary dry mouth, bodily anxiety as if I had drunk way too much coffee.
     As I explained to someone the other day, all we can do is increase the medication dose, make sure she is taking it, and is getting enough sleep, drinking lots of water, eating the right foods when she needs them and that she is not overheated or stressed. And we pray. A lot. At least I do.
     The seizures are getting milder and shorter. And we have room to increase the dosage on this medication. Our daughter is ever cheerful in the face of this challenge and we will walk beside her and hold her hand when she wants us to. We will pull in our oars and put up the sail. The wind blows where it wishes....
John 3:8

     

Smile

     As it was Mother's Day weekend, I was looking for flowers early in the morning to make a couple of small arrangements. We had a couple of events to go to and I wanted to bring flowers. I called the local flower market around 8 a.m. to see if they were open and then I called a nearby grocery store that happens to be in the opposite direction. After talking to both places I headed off towards the grocery store knowing that they would have less of a selection, flowers that were not as fresh and possibly a slightly higher price. Had I lost my mind in a few short minutes? No, what happened was the way I was greeted on the phone coupled with my past experiences in both these places combined to make my decision for me.
     The flower market has a brilliant selection of beautiful flowers, priced to sell; unfortunately the folks that operate it are generally sullen, if not rude. On the other hand, the grocery store is owned and operated by a friendly man who hires young and mostly cheerful young men and woman, some of whom have worked at this store for many years. He is always willing to donate something for the school market or the Christmas hamper. The flowers there are inconsistent and I rarely buy them. I do however go out of my way to buy my chicken feed, bread, meat and milk there. When given a choice I would much rather shop where my business seems appreciated and that is true of many places that I shop at on a regular basis. Costco and Walmart cannot be avoided it seems but otherwise I like to shop where the people who work there smile at me and thank me for my business. That's just the way it is.

Gratitude 2

     Our daughter and I just came back from an action-packed, completely inspiring and tiring choir trip to New York City. The feeling that I had upon our return home was one of immense gratitude: gratitude for the trip and the opportunities it gave our daughter, thankfulness for the chance that I had to be with her and all the other choristers and chaperones, appreciation for all the kindnesses that so many people showed us in helping us financially and otherwise, to make the journey and finally, so grateful for our home and the peace and closeness to nature that it provides.
     New York is a crazy, wonderful place full of so much of everything, everywhere, every minute of every day that you never for a minute consider that there is anything to get in its way. It goes and goes a mile a minute without regard for time of day or time of year. It is relentless. Don't get me wrong--- we had a blast, saw all the sites, ate lots of good food and the kids sang all over the place. From the Vancouver airport to the water taxi on the Hudson River; from the  9/11 Memorial to Strawberry Fields in Central Park, they sang. And they sang in Carnegie Hall, beautifully, while we watched, amazed to be there. It was a heady, heart-filling experience to see our daughter up on stage with so many gifted children and such a wonderful conductor, one that I will never forget.
     Another piece that will always stay with me is how well our choir director and her husband looked after us; they were tireless in their pursuit of our every need and patient with our every question. Even once home when our daughter had a small seizure in the airport, they were right there, cradling her head, looking for a wheelchair, helping right until the end. They too were relentless in their caring and concern for us all. Their kindness was incredible.
     New York was a grand and glorious adventure; we were thankful to go there, even more grateful to come home. And that's how it should be isn't it?

Play

     I have been thinking about how my siblings and I played as children. Hours were spent outside in the fields behind our homes with neighbours and friends, pretending to be explorers, pirates or even mums, dads and kids. On weekends we would leave in the morning, clean and full of breakfast, come home for lunch and go out again until suppertime or sometimes pack some grub to take with us and come home when we were hungry again. We climbed trees, jumped over ditches, ran around and shouted to one another. Outside voices (although no one I knew used that term then).
     Now a play date (or whatever they call it for older kids, a hang out) can consist of jumping onto your iPad or iPod, or whatever you have and playing together in a virtual world where a ghosty creature is your creepy enemy and you work together to elude him or find him or I don't know what..... It might be raining outside and then I can understand it but when it is sunny outside and you'd rather be indoors, yelling " GRAB THE BUCKET!" or "HOW MUCH FOOD DO WE HAVE?" in an outside voice, inside, then I just don't know. The funny thing is that I thought that it was a building game which would be beneficial and that it would only be played when someone was so bored that they couldn't see straight. Wrong and wrong.
     I am not against computer games. I myself play "Words With Friends" although I usually lose especially if I am playing a childhood friend and neighbour from Beaconsfield that I haven't seen since the 70's. (That's a long time!) And I had a " Four Pics, One Word" thing for a while but I got over it after about a week. Okay, maybe two.
     Anyway, I now have this out of my system. Play is different now that it used to be. I know that I am showing my age, and that it is considerable. I only hope that kids don't forget how to play outside or grass stains, scratched knees and daring feats of bravery will become a thing of the past.

Life With Epilepsy

     When our daughter was born ten days before my forty-second birthday, I had every expectation that she would be just as she seemed: a perfect, round, beautiful baby girl with slate-coloured eyes and a swath of dark curly hair. And she was. In fact as she grew, she became even more than my husband and I could have wished for: bright, chatty, quick, smiley and loving. She was exceptional to us.
     At the age of eighteen months our daughter had her first seizure. We were just about to sit down for Christmas dinner at about five p.m. on Christmas Day. I had cooked a turkey for my side of the family so there were about a dozen of us. I picked her up to put her in her high chair when suddenly she just threw up and then slumped lifelessly in my arms. My brother-in-law and father both had first aid training and they took her from me and looked her over as I called for an ambulance. The fire department arrived first and checked her out as the ambulance arrived. We travelled to the hospital in the ambulance and spent several terrified hours in the emergency ward. They examined her, took blood and x-rayed her. To this day she is very afraid of needles.
     To date, our daughter has had over five dozen seizures, most of them tonic clonic. She started antiepileptic medication in September of 2012 with some side effects.
     This is what our daughter, now almost seventeen, has to say about living with epilepsy:
     It is very hard living with epilepsy because I have to take special medication to be sure that I don’t have a seizure at school. If I did have a seizure at school I could fall down the stairs. I could actually die. This makes me feel frightened at times. I have had a lot of seizures so I have an EA go with me to all my classes. I don’t miss out on anything though. My life is the way it should be.
     For Purple Day, I have spoken to my old elementary school as well as to my LSB class at high school. I tell people about seizures and it shows people that I am a strong person. I have a learning disorder on top of having epilepsy. I thought it would be nice to talk to my class because they have their own issues so they don’t judge me. They understand. 
     One thing that I would like people to know is that I’m me and I have epilepsy and I do a fantastic job of living my life with epilepsy. Epilepsy hasn’t changed who I am.
(From the Centre for Epilepsy AGM program)

Apology

 

 I haven't written many blog posts this past winter and I have not kept in touch with many people. Never mind that I struggle with this time of year at the best of times; I have been keeping to myself. You may know that I help my incredibly busy self-employed husband with his office paperwork, which is bountiful. I also have small hobby farm responsibilities---okay, 5 dozen chickens and their corresponding output (eggs and fertilizer, to put it daintily) and I have a couple of kids. No big deal, right?
     Except that when you have an exceptional needs child those needs can take over a parent's life. If your special needs child is doing well, you are doing well. If not, then not. If they are struggling socially, academically, physically or health-wise then you are like-wise struggling. Amongst other things, our daughter is still having seizures or not feeling well so I am struggling. That is why when a very nice lady at my gym asks me about her I dissolve into a pool of tears in my car later, where no one can see. The kindness of strangers has always been my undoing.
     I am not telling you this to make you uncomfortable. How would you know? By all appearances, I am fine; we are fine. I just wanted you to know that if you haven't heard from me, it's not personal. I know that there are so many people out there so much worse off than us, who have children with so many more challenges than our child and there are also folks whose child has died. We are blessed beyond measure!  But epilepsy takes a toll on families, on individuals. It's taking a toll on me. I will keep praying and be ever vigilant but sometimes I feel less than strong. Today is one of those days.

Purple Power

     We had another amazing Purple Day assembly at our local elementary school. Only about half of the kids wore purple but they all knew what it was about and why. (I have no purple in my closet except for my Purple Day tee shirt so I get it---it's not everyone's colour.) Before our daughter spoke, we watched the video "Epilepsy: A Definition of Courage" which is a powerful message about the stigma attached to epilepsy and the people who have it. The statements "I am normal, just like you." and "I deserve the same opportunities and I will fight to have them." speak strongly to the barriers that people with epilepsy experience as a result of their disorder. We applaud Caitlin Shaw and Dan Nixon for their accomplishment in making this video and are proud to be a part of it.
     Our daughter spoke briefly about her seizures and what Purple Day was all about. We fielded many great questions about seizures and epilepsy "What should you do if someone is having a seizure? Do seizures hurt? Are you born with epilepsy or do you get it?". Then our daughter was presented with flowers and very much thanked for her time. What was most charming about the afternoon was how sweet the little ones were, giving our daughter hugs and clamouring to stand next to her for photographs. I think she felt like a bit of a celebrity which in her sometimes difficult life is a real treat. She was touched by the children's caring for her and so was I.
     Our almost 15 year old daughter really has no idea what a role model she is; she takes this terrible circumstance and turns it into something wise and wonderful. She shares her story, her life and in doing so, shares herself. The information she imparts educates and enlightens others; it might even save a life. She truly is powerful.

Bailey

     Our rescued rabbit Bailey (aka Bentley) died last night. He was discovered in his hutch with his mate Oreo snuggled up beside him, much to our sadness. He came to us via a newspaper article written about an arrest which consequently left a dog and a rabbit abandoned at a house in White Rock. They both had car names: Bentley, the rabbit and Mustang, the dog. Mustang was quickly adopted. Bailey's photograph was so cute that we could not resist adopting him. It seemed we were the only ones that wanted him anyway. A neighbour Ruth had been feeding him through the chicken wire that provided him shelter under the stairs. He proved to be quite a challenge to catch but eventually I nabbed him and he came home to Creekside. He lived with us for several years and so it was sad to lose him.
      Childhood is fraught with pet deaths it seems. I know mine was marked by consecutive dog deaths; sometimes they got run over by a car, sometimes they died of old age. It was really how I learnt about death. On a small farm like ours there are many funerals; we have buried dogs, cats, rabbits, ducks, even baby chickens and song birds. Bailey's eulogy was very moving and read as follows: "Bailey was a good rabbit. He was happy, fuzzy, sweet, cute, hungry, loving, soft, brown, frisky and he loved apples, carrots and Oreo." It seems it was important to have ten good things to say about Bailey, very much like the little boy in The Tenth Good Thing About Barney, a wonderful children's book about loss by Judith Viorst.
     Oreo, Bailey's mate might surprise us with a few baby bunnies which would be a sweet thing. Life really is always changing with loss being the sad melody that plays through it, getting louder on days like today. It's up to us to sing along at times and recognize that tomorrow is and always has been, another day.
    

Epilepsy: A Definition of Courage

Safety

     Another seizure, this time outside the school on the unforgiving concrete sidewalk leading our daughter to her bus. No one we know saw it but I can only imagine that she crumpled down to the ground as people rushed to her aid. Blankets were found, emergency meds given, students backed away and gave her space. Miraculously she appears to be uninjured; a sore head, arm, jaw and neck but no blood, no cuts or scrapes. Unfortunately there was loss of bladder control which is something we have dreaded and vomiting. These details seem horrendous in hindsight but like the seizure cannot be helped and therefore are just details.
     So a long wait in the Emergency Room at the local hospital is tempered by the kindness and competence of everyone we meet there from the ambulance drivers who wheel my daughter in because I cannot find parking to the doctor and nurses who treat us both with respect and and even a little humour. We leave with a prescription; perhaps this infection contributed to this particular seizure.
     And now we deal with the aftermath. How do we keep our daughter safe at her high school while allowing her independence in her life? She cannot be accompanied everywhere it seems and yet these seizures strike with no warning, no aura. We will increase her antiepileptic medication in search of that elusive seizure-free state. There is no guarantee that at whatever level of meds, freedom from seizures will ever be achieved. How do we keep our daughter safe anywhere while encouraging independence in her life?
I don't know, do you?

Nevermind

     As I approach my 57th birthday this year I am aware of feeling really okay with it all. It's not a landmark birthday of course (that's three years away) but I am noticing that a kind of peace is filtering into my life. Sure there are still things that make me upset: the quality of my children's education, the squandering of our tax dollars by various governments, the myriad of injustices that pervade our planet; I could go on and on. ( Don't get me started on the "building materials" that are piling up on our property!)  I just don't feel at the mercy of my desires anymore. Chicken or fish, green gloves or blue, white wine or red, latte or mocha....I really don't mind one way or another. And that is not to say that I don't care; I care about many things: my family, my friends, other people, animals, the world, current issues. I'd like to paint more, read more, write more poetry. My thought though is that I am just getting older and as my husband says "Not smalling the sweat stuff."
     Maybe it's "old lady apathy" or maybe not. I think what is happening is that I am recognizing that there are so many things in our world that are not important. I would like to focus on those things that are: my children, the world that they are inheriting, the memories that they will carry with them into adulthood and independence. I can't change the many things that aren't right in our world. But I can smile at my children, listen to what they have to say and remind them by what I say and do that they are loved, truly loved.