Grateful for:
1) The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, The Beautiful, and all the Lessons Learned.
2) This first image of us as married people.
3) The chance for another 20 years. There may be no such thing as "wedded bliss", but I'm grateful for my life with this wonderful man (who, as it turns out, left for work before 4:30am today). ♥ you Doc!
School started!
Here's the traditional "leaving for the first day of school" pictures of Bunch & Gator.
Technically, I should probably have written "Gator and Bunch", as the first picture is actually of Gator--who prefers riding bikes or being driven to school over The Bus. But the good news is NEW BUS DRIVER who has a lovely accent...I'm thinking South Africa but could be off by a few continents. We bribed her with gave her some of my amazing toffee and a friendly note so hopefully she'll be superniceallyear to my kid. Bunch is my lovely 8th grader this year. She couldn't wait for school to start, and was SO EXCITED to get rid of me when I took her to school that I was summarily dismissed and told to "go and do whatever it is that you do" when we got to school. (That "thing I do" would be the forest-worth of paperwork that it takes for a student to be completely registered and official these days.) I do believe it was the first time in my life that I didn't receive a hug and "I love you" upon saying goodbye. She made up for it after school.Gator and I rode bikes to his school which is a nice form of forced exercise as I have two round trips minimum on those days. He's had a fantastic attitude so far this year. I'm very impressed. I'm thinking 5th grade is going to be his year! More tomorrow.Grateful for:1) Happy kids in the morning2) Great school teachers. If they get more of my kid's time than I do, I want them to be nice!3) Tomorrow.
Staycation 2010 has officially ended. In eight hours, I'll be driving a car full of kids to another first day of school. It begins.In June we brainstormed a list of fun stuff to do this summer. Since it was a brainstorm, we didn't exclude any ideas the kids came up with., and we got about half of them in during the past 2 months. But we also had a lot of fun experiences that we didn't write down.
The majority of the summer was shared with cousins doing various activities together...which is about as close to heaven as my kids can imagine. I think it's a good sign that you've had a nice vacation when your 11 year old turns down a free trip to Disneyland for his birthday. (Yes, you read that right! His sister was having a hard time wrapping her head around this, but it was his call.)In addition to an abundance of extended-family time, I've had some fun experiences too. I went on my first cruise (will be getting a post of it's own soon), remodeled my bedroom (pictures to follow), started painting (pictures, not walls), read some great books, made some new friends, started writing a book, ate too much, didn't work out regularly, grew a big & happy basil plant, dreamed some dreams, baked goodies for people, set some goals, felt happy.I Love Summer! I love that I'm nearly 3/4 of the way through this year, and so far I'm doing pretty well with my 2010 slogan (see header above). Life is good. Grateful for:1) So many people who make my life, and lots of other people's lives, rich. Thank you. 2) Forced structure that school-time dictate. I'll be trying to make some good habits. 3) Happy moments with Doc. He's been amazing at juggling his life
PS: I have a confession: The junior high girls want to go to school a little early to set up their lockers etc., and I'm the driver tomorrow. But Gator hates waking up early...so I snuck in and set his clock 10 minutes ahead so he'll get up when I need him to.
Deception of the highest order, I know. Shoot me.
So yesterday I told you all about my Big Idea! of giving Stephanie Nielson an Anniversary Rock. (Note to self-should probably trademark these puppies lickedysplit before someone else does. Consider calling them Memorial Rocks, but that has a rather morbid connotation, no? Special Occasion Rocks? Gift Rocks? or "Because You Rock" rocks?)
But anyway, did you notice that I never mentioned exactly how I was going to accomplish the actual Giving of the Rock? That's right...I sneakily avoided that part because the problem is that I hadn't met the Nielsons before. So I was kind of hoping she'd announce another hike or anniversary meet up that I could go to. Failing that, I had this amorphous idea that I could drive down to her neighborhood and sort of, you know, cruise around...see if anyone could tell me where they lived. Maybe get lucky and see her kids playing outside. Perhaps ask some neighbors if they could direct me to her house, and bank on them not stereotyping me as a CRaZy StalKer WoMan.
Only problem is that's a little creepy, ya know?!
So my back-up plan was to take The Anniversary Rock to Megan's Sweet Tooth Fairy Gourmet Bake Shop. Stephanie is bffs with Megan. (I'd be Megan's bff too, if she was naming cupcakes after me and sourcing my sweet tooth needs.) I knew Megan's family as a kid, so I was planning to pull the "we grew up together" card to enlist her aid.
But then when Stephanie posted her 2nd anniversary blog this morning, she mentioned that they were going to visit the hospital burn unit here in Salt Lake City today. Not as a patient this time, but to visit the sick and comfort those who stand in need of comfort (Saint Stephanie strikes again!)
So huzzah! I had an even better Plan A! I'd just skip over to the hospital and hope to catch them during their visit. My new back-up plan was if they hadn't arrived yet, I'd leave it with a nurse to deliver (Note: nurses are seriously the BEST! This world wouldn't function without them. Doc says, so I know it's true.)
But then the sprinkler repair guys came, and Bunch had a long piano lesson, but when that was over, I skedaddled over to the hospital with my gift bag containing The Anniversary Rock(™).
I was so excited you'd think I was meeting with a major figure, like God himself or something! Imagine my surprise when the first person I spoke to in the burn unit didn't know who Stephanie is (?!?).
"She's not here", she told me. "We don't have anyone here by that name".
"No, she's not a patient right now", I explained. "She's visiting patients. No, I don't actually know her, but I'm stalking her so I can give her a rock, you see. It's a special rock. You could think of it as An Anniversary Rock(®)(™)......"
As I wasn't going away easily, she made a phone call and spoke with someone OBVIOUSLY more In The Know about these things, and I found out that yes, Nie and Christian were, in point of fact, by room 23 at that moment!
Queue exciting music!
I entered The Unit and the nurse (or doctor? Even married to one I can't tell the difference!) pointed me to the room they were in. I didn't want to interrupt, so I just waited in the hall till their visit with that patient was over, and then, There They Were! Right there in the hall. By me!
I honestly don't remember everything we talked about. I told them my name was Blue ("like the color?") and that I'd been with them last year on the hike to the Y, and that I'd wanted to give Stephanie a little gift I'd made for her.
Giving gifts is always a little scary, isn't it? I mean, there's kind of a knack to giving gifts people will actually like, and not just graciously pretend to like. DIGRESSION--Once when I was in 9th grade there was this really awesome senior boy that I was crushing on big time. Mainly because he hadn't been mean to me, and most boys were at that point in my life. But a little milk of human kindness, now that was enough to turn me into a complete nincompoop of infatuation.
So back to my crush. I wanted to do something extra special for him that Christmas, but naturally I had no money. So I thought "A Gift Basket!"
The finished product included a baggie of gummy bears, one unbroken candy cane, an orange, and--the best part--a slice of pudding-filled bundt cake from my 15th birthday wrapped in wax paper, all nestled in green Easter basket grass. Awesome!
After writing a heartfelt note telling him what a great guy he was, off on my bike I went to deliver it to him at his work.
On the way there, I stopped at the house of a little boy whose mom had recently died, and ended up giving him the candy cane and gummy bears. But that still left the cake and orange. (And the Heartfelt Card!)
By the time I got to the swanky exclusive golf course where he worked, I had started to feel a little self-conscious. Getting off my bike, I noticed that the orange had kind of mashed into the slice of cake during the ride, squishing some of the pudding filling out onto the bed of green plastic grass. That pretty much decided the matter and I was just about to get back on the bike and leave when suddenly I saw him with a group of guys on the edge of the course. Unfortunately he saw me, too, so there was no getting out of it.
Dreading every step of the walk over to him, I tried to figure out what I was actually going to say. He greeted me with his trademark friendly "hello" which I only realized later wasn't reserved-just-for-me, and I mumbled out something about wanting to give him "something special for Christmas", handed him the basket, and quickly excused myself.
Even though he'd been a perfectly gracious gentleman about it, a hot flush spread over my face as I avoided glancing towards him and the group of guys he was standing with. I had no idea what kinds of things guys in that position might say about a clearly crush-struck fifteen year old girl, nor what he thought of my "special gift". And I never found out because I don't think there's anything better for curing a crush than publicly embarrassing oneself. I avoided him the rest of the year till he graduated.
END DIGRESSION
Anyway, happily I'm not crushing on Stephanie. And The Anniversary Rock(©)(®)(™), while different, is probably more in the Good Different or Thoughtful Different, or even Artistically Different category, than the Weird Different. (right?!) I mean, at least I didn't walk away at the end wishing I could take back the previous fifteen minutes. Stephanie was every bit as gracious in real life as she is on her blog. And she's TALL! I don't often feel short, but somehow I never noticed that not only is she mighty in spirit, but stature as well!
I walked out, rounded the corner and felt just sheer happiness. Till I suddenly remembered that I had hoped we could take a picture! I'm always dragging my camera around and forgetting to use it! Quickly, before the secure doors shut, I raced back into the Burn Unit and rushed over to them. "Would it be okay to take a picture with you two?" I asked.
We smiled, the nurse snapped the photo, and off I sailed, leaving them to their saintly burn victim visits. Mr. & Mrs. Nielson--making the world a better place, one person at a time.
And that, my friends, is is the story of one of the best moments of this whole summer. And one of the most embarrassing moments of my youth!
Grateful for:
1) How things always work out in the end. God really is great!
2) That it seemed like they liked my little gift (©)(®)(™) (!!!!)
3) All the lovely comments you left me about yesterday's post.
4) BONUS! (Since I skimped yesterday) That even though I still vividly remember how embarrassed I was after giving that boy my strange little gift basket, time has turned it into something funny to reflect on. Life's like that.
Two years ago today, there was a terrible plane crash in Arizona. Three people were onboard the small aircraft; pilot, Doug Kinneard, co-pilot Christian Nielson, and Christian’s beautiful wife Stephanie Nielson, known also as NieNie. Tragically, Doug perished from the accident, and while Christian and Stephanie were both burned, Stephanie’s burns covered almost all of her body. I've never met any of these individuals, but I heard about the accident right away through a mutual friend who had commissioned some art work from Stephanie. Perhaps it's the flight attendant in me, but I've always had a kind of fascination with plane crashes...so it was that I started learning about the Nielsons.The Nielsons have four small children, and Stephanie had, at the time of the accident, been a popular blogger whose specialty, in my opinion, is finding and sharing the joy and beauty of being a mother and wife and homemaker. She captured the light and simple happiness of everyday living with words and images, and when reading her blog I could see why so many people had been drawn to it. She has a lovely way of being, and had created such a perfect world for her family. But when this tragedy struck, suddenly her perfect world was upended. Doctors kept Stephanie in a medically-induced coma for months while they worked to heal her body. Word of the crash spread. Her family was interviewed on a number of popular tv shows. Thousands of prayers, fasts, and donations and other types of support poured in from all over the earth for both the Kinneard and Nielson families. Stephanie’s burns were severe enough that it was touch-and-go for a while, but finally she turned a corner, and there was good reason to believe that she would live.Fall came, and Stephanie woke up to her new reality. I can only imagine how it would be to emerge from a coma to find yourself in a hospital, and realize that a few months have passed since your last conversation. That your children have been moved to another state to live with your siblings. That they've had birthdays, and started school--all while you were sleeping.
How painful to learn that your husband was also badly burned, and your dear friend Doug had perished in the crash. That your flawless skin was almost all melted, and your beautiful hair you worked so hard to grow out was burned off. That your body was deeply injured and would yet require multiple surgeries and hours of painful therapy. That your daughters are scared to look at you when they can finally visit you in the hospital. That your baby boy thinks your sister, who has been caring for him since the crash, is his mom. That you don’t look anything like the you you used to be. That your life isn’t the life you used to have.It was an awful lot to assimilate.Fall came for me too, that year. I’d actually been feeling really happy, vibrant, and alive, and was looking forward to the future. But right about the time Stephanie woke up to her new reality, a series of devastating things kind of broadsided me in quick succession and broke my heart.
I embarked on a good-old fashioned identity crisis accompanied by a deep depression. I felt empty and devoid of hope.I stopped blogging (among other things) for a few months, but right about that time, Stephanie started blogging again. As she regularly updated her readers about the journey she was on, I followed along silently. It may be a stretch, but in a strange way, I felt as though we had something in common. Stephanie had to reinvent herself, deal with pain, and reconstruct a life within the parameters of her new reality. I'm sure she struggled with depression, fear, loneliness, grief. She had to make peace with things as they are, mourn the loss of her former life, look at herself in the mirror and find her soul somewhere within the body that houses it. One thing that has remained untouched by the fire are Stephanie’s beautiful green eyes. I remember imagining her looking deep inside her eyes to find herself, find her purpose.
I tried to do the same. And as I watched her pick up and carry on, I tried to do the same. As I followed her progress, eventually being released from the hospital and returning--not to her beautiful home in Arizona, but to a new home in Provo, Utah where they would be near her family and have the support and help they would need --I worked hard to build a supportive network around me that would help me as I pressed forward.Little by little Stephanie’s body healed. Step-by-painful-step she healed. With her beloved family by her side, she moved forward, finding those moments of happiness and reasons to celebrate her life. (Just between you and me, I think she is better at it than I am, because of her earlier habit and ability to live joyfully…she’s got a talent for it.) But I watched from afar, and last year when the one year anniversary of that fateful crash approached, Stephanie invited anyone who wished to, to join her on a hike up to the Y on the mountain.
I was very depressed at the time, and that day in particular was a pretty hard one. Doc and the kids were away, and I was home alone. I had injured my knee -- which I toyed with using as an excuse to do nothing-- but at the last minute I mechanically got into my car, pointed it towards the freeway, and drove the hour down to Provo to hike that mountain. If Stephanie could do it, I could certainly climb it with her. But I did cry all the way there--felt so sad and bereft. Depression stinks that way. When I got to the parking lot at the base of the trail, there were lots of people. Stephanie has quite a huge following on her blog now (she’s even been a guest on Oprah, to give you a sense of how broad her reach has grown!), and lots of them had come out to support her in her quest to hike to the Y. Half-way up the trail, I encountered my dear friend Katie--the one who had first told me about the Nielsons a year before. What a happy surprise for me! It brightened my spirits a lot to see this sweet friend from our days in Chicago.
Shortly before we got to the top Stephanie and her family caught up to me, and we arrived at our destination about the same time. I had only been up to The Y one other time, twenty-two years ago, so it was fun to look out across the valley and remember the places where I first met and fell in love with My Doc. Pictures were taken, and balloons were released. Lots of people surrounded the Nielson family. I didn’t feel up to introducing myself, but they did sit down just beside me on the Y, so I was very close to them. I just tried to soak up some of their aura and feel the peace of the moment.Eventually we all started making our way down the mountain. Reaching the Y was a turning point for Stephanie--she had accomplished her goal of completing the hike by the one-year anniversary of the crash. And though I didn't realize it at the time, I think it was also a pivotal moment in my life. I had made an effort to get myself going, and I believe that when we try--even if it's a small effort, Heavenly Father blesses us in ways we can't expect.
On the way down the mountain, I noticed a nice, smooth rock, which I picked up. I didn't know what I was going to do with it, but as I carried it down the mountain I decided that I wanted to make something out of it for Stephanie and find a way to give it to her someday.
It took a while, but eventually I decided it would make a nice Anniversary Rock. What? You haven't heard of those? Well, neither have I, but but I thought I'd give it a go anyway, and if it was a bust I would just scrap the project and Stephanie would never know.
I got everything ready and put my idea to the test at last month’s Studio Night with wonderful artist Leslie Graff, who snapped this picture of me working on it. I actually really like the finished product and hope Stephanie does, too.
Today, on the 2nd anniversary of that fateful crash, a lot has changed for both Stephanie and me. Even not knowing her, it's clear she's grown in many ways, and I have continued to be inspired by her outlook and way of being in this world.I've had a good year too. Scratch that, I’ve had a great year! It feels almost like awakening from a long sleep for me as well. I've started to remember things that I had forgotten or blocked. I have felt happy and peaceful for months on end…which is really unheard of for me.
Like that critical moment when Stephanie’s body had healed enough that it looked like she was actually going to make it, I feel like in the past year I've somehow managed to heal enough from the past that my spirit is finally starting to thrive and live…without draining the amazing life-support team of loved ones that I’ve relied on so often to get by :-)
Part of this evolution has included beginning to have my own dreams and aspirations (More on that in future posts!). I've been slowly discovering myself and finding joy in the journey I'm on. Life really is beautiful! So here’s to endless chances to learn and grow! And to pressing on when times are stormy and difficult! And to following good examples! And making progress! And finding joy in this amazing life we all have! And to people with Deep Beauty…the only kind that actually matters! And to serving each other! And to learning to how to really live!Thank you Stephanie for your part in my path! Kisses, ~BlueGrateful for:1) Beauty from ashes ♥
Last week when Doc was slated to put in over a hundred hours at the hospital*, Gator came up to him late one night while he was lying on the floor, exhausted."I'm sorry, Daddy", Gator said."Sorry for what?" Doc asked."I'm sorry that I wanted us to stay here.""Why?"
"Because you have to work so hard."From the moment Doc mentioned that he was interested in the considerably more relaxed Transitional Year program near Boston as his first choice, Gator started praying that we wouldn't have to move. I mean, it was like a desperate mantra with him.
Worried about the fallout if we did end up matching elsewhere, I tried to steer his mind towards a more accepting attitude. "Sweetie, instead of praying that we won't have to 
move, why don't you pray that everything will work out how it is supposed to! That no matter what happens, we'll be happy and have the life experiences we need to have."But Gator wasn't having any of that. Month after month, his constant prayer was that we wouldn't have to move. Nothing short of staying put was acceptable in his mind.
When we finally found out we staying here, Gator viewed it as a direct answer to his heartfelt prayers. That was one very happy moment in this kid's life.
And now we find out he feels personally responsible for the insane hours his poor daddy has to put in.
Grateful for:
1) My sweet boy's faith that God will answer his prayers.2) My sweet Doc's way of handling the pressures he faces during difficult rotations. He's amazing.
3) My life here. I'd have been fine with an adventure somewhere else, but I really love living here.
* Note: Doc's resident called him and said they realized his hours were way over the legal limit, and told him to take the next day off. Major!!!
With summer in full-swing, it's that fantastic time of year my kids refer to as The Cousins Are Here!
Doc is the oldest of five kids who are all now married with kids, and we are the only ones with a mere two children. (Slackers!) The Cousins, as Bunch and Gator fondly refer to them, are some of definitely our kids favorite people in the world. They revel in Cousin-Time.
We've enjoyed visiting with them up at Doc's parent's home, and also had some stay with us in our home last week. It's been busy, crazy, fun, noisy, and fabulous.
Unfortunately I got sick and wasn't up for the trip north for more weekend fun, so my kids are there with aunties and uncles and cousins and grandparents, and needless-to-say, Doc is working. I'm feeling better today, but at this point I am just gearing up to head out for work.
So with my free morning, I finally had a 
chance to head back to Mack's salon for another hair appointment. It's been over three months since he first worked his magic on me, and it was time for a touch-up. Only this time there was no Gator at waiting at home to burst into tears upon my return. And this time I didn't have Mack dry and style it for me (he had a lot of clients waiting). Gotta learn to fly solo eventually! (Self portraits are so much fun!)
Grateful For:
1) Auntie Mish who has been such fun to have visit.
2) Stolen moments with Doc as he wrapped up his first rotation of the year. One down, twelve to go!
3) Possible IRL meet-up with a bloggy friend today...hope it happens!
I used to have a different blog. I had it long before anyone I knew had a blog, and I loved my blog. Then almost 4 years ago my childhood finally started to catch up to me, and as a matter of survival I sent a letter to my "upline" asking them to not contact me or my family any more, including reading my blog.
Perhaps it was because one of my siblings had stopped talking to them years before, without even a formal request for no contact, and they seemed to just let them peacefully go their own way, I assumed they'd oblige and respect my Official Request and I'd be off the hook, too.
That wasn't the first time I've been wrong. Won't be the last.
Where before he'd never followed my blog, suddenly my dad started leaving comments not only my blog, but Doc and Bunch's blogs, too. Before this time, he would maybe pick up the phone or write once a year (if that). He'd let my mom sign his name on just about every card I'd ever gotten for my birthday. I can only recall one gift that was specifically from him in my entire life...a set of white scriptures. He simply didn't bother with relationships.
Now suddenly he was doing anything he could (mail, email, phone) to contact me...all while never mentioning my letter.
(Which had been very clear, in as kind a way as I could put it, about why I needed to cut them off. If there is, in fact, a kind way to essentially divorce oneself from one's parents.).
His refusal to respect my request for no contact all while ignoring the matter entirely was maddening.
After a few weeks of this I reached breaking point and in vintage John Grisham style, I entered my own "blogger witness protection program". I abruptly abandoned my old blog, and any readers following it. I didn't write a final post, or offer any explanation. I simply "escaped", at a time when flight was really the only coping mechanism I could manage. I'd never been good at standing up for myself.
The next couple years were so free. This new blog became a haven for me. But like those in the witness protection program, I was a little paranoid of being discovered. I tried to be SO cautious, but one day, my biggest blog fear happened.
I was reading my site stats. Now, I know the habits of my readers. Most of you never click anything...and a two minute visit is impressive. But one night, someone had been on for hours and hours, reading every blasted page of my blog.
I felt gut-punched. I'm just not THAT interesting, and I know it. Then I looked at the location of this visitor. Strike two--my parents town. Looking up the ISP confirmed my worst fear: they'd found me. Or at least one of them had.
In a world with half a billion blogs at the time, I hadn't been too worried that they'd just stumble across it on their own. They're just not technically savvy. But (and you are welcome to laugh at me!) I naively trusted that even if they did somehow...as soon as they realized it was mine, they'd stop reading. You know, out of respect for my privacy, because, you know, I'd sent That Nice Letter.
I'm such an idiot at times!
I emailed them that night. It was my first contact with them in 2 years, but I confronted them and asked them to let me know if it wasn't them, because I was feeling kind of violated.
It took almost a month before I finally got a reply, and it was from my mother, who confirmed it was just her. She then apologized and said "I feel really sorry for that. Will you forgive me? I promise not to do it again without your permission."I wanted to know how she found out about it. I asked repeatedly, but that question was avoided. Eventually I found out that it was my own carelessness in leaving a comment on my sister's blog without changing my name to "anonymous" so it was linked to my profile that was my undoing. My older brother's wife saw it, told him, who immediately fed the information to the parents.
And that's the story.
Though I don't trust the older brother or his wife who never agreed not to read it, for some reason I trusted my parents would do as they promised and not read my blog. I know you are probably thinking I am being ridiculous. "It's out there where the whole world can see it", some have told me. "It's asking a lot for them to not look at it when everyone else is allowed."
Still, old habits die hard, and in many ways I'm still that small kid who wants to believe their parents are trustworthy.
When I was five, I was digging around in the dirt one day when I found an old, rusty, odd-shaped hammer buried in the dirt in our yard. I was elated with this fantastic treasure...it was the neatest thing mother earth could have offered up in to me!
I have no idea why, but my little tool just seemed to need me to scratch my name, complete with backward letters, on the front of my mom's wooden dresser.
I had to oblige.
When she discovered what I'd done, I was in H.O.T. water. That spanking still stands out in my mind 35+ years later. It was epic. But thankfully she didn't take my beloved little hammer away from me, so I was able to scratch my name into my dad's dresser too! So they'd match, you see.
When she discovered second signature, not only did I lose my precious hammer for good, but we had a serious talk about trust, and how when it's broken, it "takes a really long time to regain it". She explained that she had lost her trust in me, which was very painful for my five-year old soul.
I've known for a while that they didn't keep their promise.
Known it, but I don't have it in me to pull up stakes and run away again like the last time. So I'm here for good. I still don't want them to read my blog, and every time it happens I feel a little further away from ever mending the situation. If I started over, it would only be a matter of time before I messed up and they found my new patch of cyberspace.
It's a small world, after all.
Grateful for:
1) That two year reprieve I enjoyed. I was able to heal and grow a lot during that time.
2) My new bloggy followers. Even if you never comment...I see that you've visited and that gives me warm fuzzies.
3) Doc finished his first of his 13 Transitional Year rotations today. It was a grueling one, but the next month won't be bad at all in comparison.
Today I had a wonderful conversation with one of the angels in my life, who shared a story with me about a woman whose life had been ruined by some people. The woman was filled with hate for them, to the point that it was all-consuming and destroying her.
Recognizing the need to forgive them, the woman began to pray for help. For a long time, nothing changed, but then one day, as she put it, "I forgave them for one hour-but then I hated them for seven. Then another day I forgave them for three hours, and then hated them for two days. Eventually I forgave them for a whole day, but then hated them for a month. Sometimes that's how forgiveness works."
I cried as my angel told me this story.
Grateful for:
- Not really ever hating my "upline". I'm most often just sad about the "what might have been" aspect (or, more accurately, who I might have been. They ruined a lot of things.)
- Making peace with the fact that we don't have to keep caustic people close to us. Isn't that great?!
- Stories that bless me with a new insight. I won't necessarily have one of those "and suddenly, it was just lifted from my shoulders and I was free" kinds of forgiveness experiences you hear about sometimes...most likely it'll continue to be just like this woman. An hour here, a day there.
I'll take it!
♥
