The Reluctant Red Nose

Today was a day….not my finest hour….I won’t go into detail…but let’s just say I had a good cry and then sat in my church lobby for an hour and a half. At the ripe age of 47…Satan still knows how to push my buttons…and he does on a regular basis…somedays…he wins….hands down.

If you were to ask me to tell my story in a brief sixty seconds it would go like this: raised in an extremely legalistic background, where showing your shoulders or knees were prohibited. Dresses or skirts that showed your curves was also against the rules. Words like “cupping” were used regularly. Dress check was a real thing and pantyhose were our best friend. To this day my daughter will never own or wear a Jean skirt…I just can’t…they bring back the worst memories for me.

I was nervous constantly…I guess they now call that anxiety….depressed and suffered from an eating disorder…on zero medications.

I graduated and went to an even stricter university where I met my soon to be husband…because that’s why we all went to college. He was studying to be a youth pastor and then found out he was having several affairs…and involved in porn. I was told by the leaders of the churchy hat this was my fault and I should have been doing my “duties”’as a wife. Little crowded don’t ya think???

Fast forward 20 years….and I’m completely changed….and God was never in those places…He never wanted His name to be taught like it was.

Grace is a word that I still am grasping. Forgiveness is another that I have such angst in Sharing or giving. God is NOT a dictator. He wants to do amazing things in our lives…if only we will let Him.

I don’t sit around daily thinking of my background…but there are things that come about that make me feel like I have PTSD…

I have anxiety attacks around certain people, certain clothing can send me into an attack…my husband has seen it. Certain hymns I cannot stand…and certain recitations recording of the Bible make me have to get away from it. I can’t explain these issues…except for me…they take me back immediately to a very unhappy time…and even though I know I am now safe…I cannot be around it.

The yelling, the hair sprayed hair, the short sleeve dress shirt and tie….and the sound of an off key piano is more than I can bear. It takes me back to my childhood…and I just can’t.

It took me years to go to a movie, wear a dress that was above my knee and actually entertain short hair with color in it…and I’ve never looked back.

It has taken me years to get comfortable in my own skin…and somedays, like today…I just get off the path. I believe that my mistakes show my worth…or lack thereof. I believe I’m unworthy because of my failures…and that I’m a screw up…never accomplishing anything. I believe this because this is what I heard for 21 years of my life. Then at 23 I got married and at 25 realized I was rejected…not enough. Didn’t meet the criteria…rejected✅. Then at the age of 27….widow…no hope of fixing the broken door of opportunity 2…game over.

29….remarried….32 mother again….37….total screwup as stepmother….and here we go again.

I feel that the theme of my life is how many times do you get back up!? Some get back up and they are perfectly fine…and others….like me….need a moment.

I believe the race isn’t about who finished first…nor is it how fast you went. I believe it is about how much you involved others…how you cared for them, worked well for them.

For me…it’s hard to keep my mind set on the goal. I get distracted easily.

This week my heart has been seeing little blonde headed boys wherever I go…and I miss my little boy.

I miss how he would hold my hand, and how he would talk and talk and talk about all sorts of things with me. How he loved bedtime and naps, hated bubbles and needed gloves for dirt. Loved his paci and his “bluie”.

Everywhere I have gone there have been reminders for my little boy who is now a man…and tonight at Target…I just about lost it.

I had promised my 14 year old that she and her friend can go and pick out junk foods to eat tonight. As we stood in line there was a little boy in the cart in front of us with his Spider-Man…singing the Spider-Man song just like my son did…and I felt a million years old. I saw the Moms tired look…and the anxiousness of what was her little boy going to do next. She told him to be quiet…but I just loved his rendition of the Spider-Man song…and while I didn’t want to have to do all the things she has to do tonight before she can rest…I did wish that for just a moment…I could see his little chubby face.

I sware it wasn’t that long ago that we were doing bedtime and bath…reading books forever and praying for strength to get through it. Wondering if He would ever be able to go potty on his own…or go to bed without his pacifier. Hoping that we could go on a car ride without him throwing up.

Christmas was more fun…because I could buy toys and listen to him yell as he opened it. Now, it’s a coffee maker…or clothes…needs…not fun stuff.

He graduates from a top school in our state this year…and I’m grateful and I’m thankful…and I’m so happy to be on this journey with him…but I’m amazed at how fast it came and went. As soon as I blinked it was over…..

I have no reason to cry…only happy tears. My son is healthy and happy…and doing well. But today, I wish he was little. Just for a few moments. So I could kiss that blonde head of his and chunky hands. Squeeze those sweet cheeks and listen to him say “I love u Momma.” But those are on video tape and saved in pictures…those moments are capsuled forever.

Somedays the weight of reality almost crushes me…but I know that my job as a mother has always been to give him wings to fly…to soar. To send him on his way to make his way in the world…but it doesn’t stop me wishing for a moment to buy Spider-Man again…and wish for the days of rocks in his pockets and dirt on his hair.

I will enjoy the FaceTime calls as he’s excited about games again and in person classes. His schedule full and his calendar fuller…instead of being scared and uncertain…I’m glad life is finding some normalcy.

I’ve written posts like this before….I’m not trying to tell you to hold on to each day like it’s your last…I remember those days…they were hard.

I remember the pain and mean things that young boys say to their mother. I remember worrying and praying that we would just get through the day. Raising boys is hard…it isn’t for the weak. There have been so many times I have wanted to rescue him…but I know I can’t. I must teach him to be a man. I know that his friends are more important than we are right now in his life…and that’s ok. I guess it would be strange if my son was whining to come home every weekend instead of being at school.

I know that someday he will meet the girl of his dreams…I have prayed for her for so long…and when he does meet her perhaps I will finally relax. Perhaps I will feel content and happy that he has found another soul to help him in life.

This adult thing is hard…just like the teen years…there is no book that tells you all the things…and the manual doesn’t help because not all kids are the same.

Being a mother to a son means letting your heart walk around and let it do scary things…brave things…big things. It’s the most crushing terrifying thing I have ever done. It starts when they drive, gets worse when they go to college…and then it just continues.

Raising a son means saying goodbye over and over again….

Goodbye to cuddles, and smelly boy hair. Goodbye to cds that I played to lull him to sleep. Goodbye to his favorite blue blanket and his Pooh blanket. Goodbye to his Binkie, goodnight moon book, favorite blue star toy..so many things. What I thought would take forever…went by with lightening speed.

I love you forever.

I feel right now that so many of us feel so many things…yet we have no idea what it is exactly we feel.

I just got back from a business trip late last night. I have spent the day getting things like groceries, the dog groomed, daughter starting violin lessons, opening mail, and a list a mile long.

I have been on a business trip to Vegas. There are good and bad things about Vegas, the good and bad is that it’s very very loud…no matter what time it is. This week…I was kind of thankful for loud…I needed loud…loud to drown out the noise that’s heard all over the world. I wanted to shut out everything and everyone. I don’t want to hear about Covid and the people dying, sick, in denial, refuse to wear a mask, or refuse to get a vaccine either. I don’t want to feel the pain of the parents who lost their children in something I feel, could have been prevented if we had a commander in chief who actually had a plan. I don’t want to hear about the American left behind, the Afghan mothers handing their babies to soldiers…none of it. I don’t want to see the homeless lady who is skin and bones laying on the street sleeping in Vegas . The homeless man washing himself in the fountain, the homeless lady wearing the same dress for all the days we were there…completely filthy. I sometimes feel as if I’m going crazy because I find myself happy, terrified, bawling…overwhelmed…and I can feel all these emotions in a matter of minutes.

As I got on the plane and we took off….the song “Almost Home.” Started playing by Mercy Me. As I looked down over Vegas and felt so small in that airplane so high in the sky…I felt comfort.

Life does not promise to be easy. For many of us, we already know that…there are good days, and bad days ahead of all of us. However, I find that there is always hope…when you least expect it. There is always a way…there is still good. there are even things to laugh about…like funny ways to spell my name!

The longer I travel and the more people I see, the more people I’m comforted by…I saw every color, every race, lots of languages….and everyone…remembered to be kind. It was reassuring. I also appreciate restaurant owners with a sense of humor…

God is not finished with us…there is still so much to be done…and there is a fight to be had…good verses evil…but we already know who wins in the end don’t we!?

As for me, I will try to still the voices in my head of anxiousness and fear.

I will be the good, and look for the good, and I will help to raise the good., no matter the obstacles.

Like you, I want to hide under the covers…but then I find myself going to the gym and working out to my favorite song and then feeling guilty I’m happy. All the things….what am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to do?

Fight! Each day get up and fight. Fight for your health, fight for your family, your community, the underdog, the abused, the weak, the poor, the sick, the elderly…those that can’t defend themselves. Somedays your crusade may mean you make someone laugh. Provide excellent service, play a musical instrument, show up on time for an employer, bake a cake, teach a class, go to a class…but whatever it is…fight!

When we lay down, become overwhelmed and decide to give in…we will have lost the war. It’s not over…

Find the joy in the everyday…like tea and lemonade….it doesn’t have to be a big thing…something that makes you happy.

There will always be those personalities that bring you down…but continue to rise above it…and some days when you can’t…go have an awesome dessert….

And remember….choose a new hobby….that always is exciting…I finally decided I wanted to learn how to fish….and so I have begun!

Make new friends….get out from behind your screens….there is a life worth living!

For over a year I have kept my mouth shut. I have come to my own conclusions in this year and a half and am dumbfounded at those who completely refuse to admit they might be wrong.

From the very beginning of Covid…people decided, before there was ever a vaccine, they would refuse it. From the very beginning I was completely confused by that. I have heard the arguments from those who don’t agree with vaccinations for their children and some I understand your stance. The other 95 percent of you….I don’t agree with at all. However, I chose to let you live with your theories…until I started being attacked for mine. I’ve been told that allowing my children to receive vaccinations is like setting them on fire. Are you even kidding me right now.

I’ve been blown away at the sheer ignorance for people refusing to wear a mask…even though they’ve been proven to work when worn correctly….people still refuse. Even those who have been told what to expect when getting on an airplane, they still give the airline a hard time…every single time.

When did this become a political thing? When did it become something against your personal freedom to wear a mask? Again, I’m not speaking of the shutdown…nor the stores that were allowed to be open and those that could not. We clearly showed as a country that we completely have no idea how to do a pandemic correctly. We closed down to early…we remained closed too long and certain states learned quickly about their dictators for governors..this is NOT what I’m talking about.

Sadly, We have a huge group of people who refuse the vaccine and then refuse to wear a mask or stay away from large crowds. So you refuse to wear a mask, refuse a vaccine and then continue to spread this disease? I can’t think of anything more selfish. I continue to hear about people who had fevers and felt poorly but still went out with other people..no mask and no vaccine…

Now those of us who have done our research, and have decided to get a vaccine that’s working and helping against this disease and we are told by our fellow Christian friends how we are fools. How this is a government conspiracy. How we have been lied to. How we will explode..I was even quoted scripture stating that I was a fool. Told that they would pray for my attitude because I asked them to possibly think and look at the country of India, and how awful it has been there previously…but they don’t want to listen.

Instead they high five one another while they misquote scripture…state that they love Jesus and refuse to help their fellow man. I have to tell you, you are doing nothing but dividing. I have unfollowed and unblocked even more people than I did last year. I had to block an anti vaxxer who continually attacked me even when I kindly asked her to stop. Told her that we will agree to disagree…she would not stop. I blocked her and then found that she was still sneaking into my stories. She said she’s on a crusade…I’m sorry…what?

I believe Covid is real. I believe people are dying and they didn’t have to. I believe that vaccines help…and I don’t believe there is a government conspiracy. It is a medical situation. If you don’t agree …that’s perfectly fine…but when you come after me and my friends and call us fools because we actually did research…we are done. Stick a fork in me done.

By your attitude and disgusting display of stating Bible verses in ways they were never meant to be interpreted you have now crossed into a whole new level. Your testimony completely obliterated and any good that you have done completely overturned. I watched those of you who applauded the way I was treated…and I’m sad for you. Sad that you feel that this is Christ honoring behavior.

You are free Americans…you are entitled to your own opinion…but so am I. When you bring God into it…on a negative light…now you’ve made me mad twice. As Christ followers we are to be a light to the world. I know many who are uncomfortable with the shot. They wear masks and keep me safe by doing so. They don’t come around my family or my church family when they feel ill. They have never made me feel stupid or unwise for my decision. They have never quoted Bible verses to me in order to make themselves feel better.

As a Christ follower, if your mission is to preach hate against those who make medical decisions for themselves and the good of their fellow man…then where are you getting your instruction manual from? That’s not of God.

My pastor has taught our congregation that whatever we believe on the subject is ours to believe..but hate is not what we should ever do to each other. This, is where I want to be…

I wish I had all the answers. I wish I was a scientist that could explain everything better…I wish I was a theologian who could express it more clearly….I just know that I am me…and I’m tired of ugly attitudes

I pray that those of you with hate in your heart…can learn this one word….

I remember when I was five and kindergarten was all that mattered. I loved school…and it wasn’t because I learned how to write my name..it was the desk and the school supplies..but it was truly because of the social activities. It was because of the friends. It was always about the friends. Nap time was stupid…back then we laid on a towel…on a cement floor. You read that right…towel…cement floor. By the time my man cub came along. It was like he was bringing an extra bed from home…but the kids who grew up in the 80s…we got to lay on a towel. I can’t even imagine how they thought we would ever go to sleep…but they did…and I never did take a nap. Still, I absolutely loved school.

At that time, I had my friends….wore my Zip shoes and hated all boys. We played tag for recess and screamed as the boys chased us and tried not to get the skin burned off our legs while going down the tornado slide.

I was close to my sister…and my family was everything. My friends were many and my enemies few..as I became older…that list has changed…and no matter how much I dislike it…I think that’s how it will always be.

I have childhood friends I still talk to but we are spread apart and sometimes life seems to busy to take the time to just go and visit…that sounds so amazing right now. Sit with friends who you don’t have to explain anything to. Just start where you left off. No judgment.

I am so tired of explaining myself. I’m tired of how people are with success and failures. If you succeed they hate you…if you fail they love you..but they only pretend to love you. They in fact just want to gain knowledge to use against you as they tell others how you have failed. I can’t even begin to tell you how often I have fell for that.

Why are women such hateful people? We have the power to build up but instead many spend their lives spreading lies…making their groups bigger as they continue to spread lies…and people buy it. They buy every bit of it. I no longer sit around and listen to any of that…I’m not involved with those that gossip…I don’t have time for it.

If you want to talk bad about me…I cannot stop you. However, can I just say…what kind of person just sits around and listens to someone speak badly about another and never question it?

As a business owner, I have a reputation…and at this point in the game I could not tell you what it is. As a soapmaker and clown, keyboard player and homeschool Mom…but there is freedom in your 40’s….a little anyway.

I don’t sit around most nights and think about it the people who dislike me. But it does bother me. I hate for people not like me…but….

If I’m not anything worthwhile then I’m sure to find a flock of women not caring one bit about me. However, if I’m doing the right thing…I’m going to cause an uproar…and in the middle of that uproar…you will find your flock.

The flock that doesn’t sweet talk you. They give you a hard push. The flock that shows up at your store in lawn chairs to attract a crowd (it worked and it was awesome). The flock that bakes cookies, that brings you medicine when your so sick you think you are going to die. The flock that brings you popsicles, watches your kids like they are their own. That takes you to dinner that does life with you…that you share your darkest deepest secrets with and they still show up to fight for you….that’s your flock.

The ones that will tell you that dress does nothing for you. The one that will tell you that they can see muscles in your arms finally…your nail polish Rocks and that zit needs a bit more cover up…those…are…your people.

The massage therapist that gives you great advice, the hair stylist who cries with you…these are your flock.

Why do we give so much care and thought and worry to the ones not in our flock? Why does it matter so much to us the thoughts of a few…when we already know so many that never bought those lies…

I want to throw my life and all my activities into the circle of the “flock”. Those that when we sit together we talk about each other and not others. We come up with plans…not tearing down of others. Those that want to change the world not burn it down. Those that encourage me to be the absolute best I can be instead of telling me all the different ways I have failed.

There will always be “mean girls.” but perhaps one woman at a tome we can change that.

The theme for this year is push past it. Push past the pounds you gained during quarantine. Push past the stress that the world is putting on all of us right now…just keep pushing.

There are days…I’m done pushing. I can’t take one more negative feedback, one more person telling me where I failed…or one more wrinkle just daring me to give up.

There are days I feel like superwoman. I can manage my sales floor, help my husband manage our store, play every note perfect on the keyboard for church, and feel completely in the zone when I clown. I contribute eloquently during our weekly Bible Study, and then lead a successful meeting. Arrive to my appointments on time and remember to drop off all soap orders for my second business to all those asking. I can have all papers graded for homeschooling and get all checks out and matching invoices with no issues or mistakes whatsoever. I can go to meetings and listen and encourage instead of taking up all the time…and then…other weeks…

I feel as if I should just set a match to everything. I forget to drop my child at youth or get there thirty minutes later. Forget to clown at an event I promised I would be at…forget appointments and lessons and go weeks without working out and eating cupcakes.

I have yet to experience the super woman weeks..but I hear they are amazing.

I have to push past this week that is filled with busy but all good things…and be thankful for the past four days with my son….

My brain and heart and body hurts. It’s hard to listen to the voice of push past. Right now it hurts too much, I can’t see what’s on the other side of the mountain…and I want to stay here where it’s at least familiar.

I know happiness awaits if I can push past but I seem to be struggling to find the willpower to continue.

I can’t help it…I don’t like it when people don’t like me, or tell lies. I don’t like it when people have treated me horribly unfairly and still get to act like they are victims. what do you do with that?

It’s easy to say…forget them and leave them there in the past…but almost impossible to do so.

Whatever your burdens you carry…or weight you feel on you…you can’t carry alone. For me, I pick them up…lay at Jesus feet…then pick them up again…perhaps I can push past that? Soon!!?

I am the dreaded word…middle aged. I remember as a child going to funerals of people my age and hearing all the adults say “they were so young.” I remember as a child thinking, they are old! What are they talking about being young!? Now, here I am…that same age…as that “old person.”

As a young adult, I decided that I would not raise my children the way I was raised. I was raised in a negative household. I was wrong, more than right…and there was always something to be fixed. I was a horrible student, I day dreamed, always had something to say to make people laugh around me…and had an atrocious temper. To say I was dramatic was a understatement. I was a faithful friend though…to those brave enough to stand by me.

I will spare you the details of my strange upbringing…but will only say to you…that I believe that humor was the only thing that saved me..because there were a few things I knew about myself in high school. I was pretty awesome at piano…I was horrible at sports…but I made everyone around me laugh…and most of my teachers despised me.

College was a repeat…and I still stunk as a student…but I really did try. Nevertheless, I promised myself that my kids would grow up different…my house would be different. Three years after I was married…life certainly was different.

Pain comes in many sizes…betrayal seems to be the worst to bear. I have yet to tell you how long it takes to come back from that one.

As I have grown older…I am not at a place where I am just tired. I have made mistakes…I have asked forgiveness…but I have not been forgiven. I feel that somehow I am still in bondage from that. How do you ever do enough good to make up for mistakes of your past? The answer is…you cannot.

Sometimes there are toxic people in your life that no matter how much good you do…they will not ever let you be free. They won’t ever let you be forgiven. They will blame you for their lives…relationships…etc. I have relationships that will never be restored simply because they chose to believe lies that were told. They are happier believing the lie than the truth. The lie is easier, because without it..they would have to look at the truth about themselves and they refuse to do that.

Some days the burden weighs me down. I don’t like people mad at me. I don’t like people not liking me. Some of the people I can’t even remember why they are mad. I’ve tried to mend the relationships but they have no desire to speak to me.. What do you do then?

What do you do to the people who throw in your face your mistakes over and over again? How do you pick yourself up from that!? How do you keep going? When will it ever be enough?

The truth is…it never will be enough. I will never attain the goal of perfection…I won’t ever get there. Doesn’t mean I don’t try…doesn’t mean I quit learning….but this constant need for approval of man will never bring me happiness…because I will never make everyone happy. I will never be the greatest wife, mom, stepmom, joss, clown, soapmaker, piano player, cook, house cleaner, teacher (all those things are things I actually do). I will never be perfect…at any of it.

I feel this strange sense of urgency. I keep trying to slow time down and each day evaporates into my hands like a raccoon confused by cotton candy dissolving into the river (it’s the saddest and funniest video ever). I don’t even have time lately to dust.

Life has to be more than going to work everyday…having five minutes of an actual vacation and then back to work again…there has to be more to it than that.

I feel as if I’m on this very fast train going absolutely nowhere fun either. I feel that I keep climbing a hill that’s a broken escalator and I am getting nowhere. I feel my problems and frustrations are the same day after day…that nothing gets resolved..just a continual loop of same.

I am grateful for this one thing…the God of the universe forgives me. He loves me unconditionally. He doesn’t bring up my faults again and again. He doesn’t blame my mistakes on his outcome of circumstances. He doesn’t bring it up time and time again, and tell me how awful I am for making these mistakes. He gives me grace…

Grace makes me cry…because where and when I grew up grace wasn’t ever given out…grace wasn’t even talked about. Grace was something only the pretty girls got…the good girls…never me.

Three years ago, (I’ve told those who read this blog this already). I walked under the sign that led into my church…and I choked back a little bit of tears (because I hate to cry) the name of the church was Grace. That has never been lost on me. For the girl with dirty white knee socks and long blond hair they never stayed curled or in braids..grace. For the teen who could never hit a ball, make A honor roll…Grace. For the young woman told by her German college professor that she wasn’t smart enough to go to college …grace.

I was not a mistake…or an accident. I have made plenty of mistakes..but I don’t want to be remembered for them. I have forgiven those that have hurt me…and it’s taken me a long time to do so. I guess the same can be said for those to forgive me.

For now, I can choose to live under the bondage of others and their own turmoil…or choose to look forward..continue to grow and learn and quit living in defeat.

I am forgiven…no more bondage.

The older I become, the more I can laugh at myself. I am learning (ever so slowly) that life can be enjoyed more when I’m laughing. I used to think I was really good at handling the big things…but slow drivers make me lose my mind. I can handle a crisis but someone please tell me how you can’t use a blinker? I could get through the most difficult times, but if you don’t know how to merge on a highway…I may scream at the top of my lungs.

We all have burdens…some of us deal with daily health issues. Some of us deal with a stress that doesn’t seem to go away. It can be financial, or it can be a loved one who is sick. It can be a child who is going in a negative direction…it can be a all of the things I shared..and for many of us…there is only one way to deal with it.

Last night I was tired…I had had a depressing talk with my Dad, where he was having a difficult day. However, I was the clown and I was being sent in. As I got to my destination and began the process of becoming this crazy character…my phone continued to get text after text…and I for once ignored them…and became this character.

I’ve become so comfortable in my clown skin that sometimes I forget I’m in clown…as you can see here:

As I continue this journey of what is my life…I think there are more laughs than tears. More joy than heartache, and more love than hate.

I wish that every day could be a clown day, that every day could be a day where we laugh. That all the hurt could be covered by a red nose…and big clown shoes…but it can’t.

I keep hearing character development. That you can’t grow without pain…and I know that that is true…but boy…I wish there was another way.

So for now…I will don the red nose when possible and press on even when I don’t want to…and stand by for “Send in the clown.”

Today, I got the call…the call you dread when your parent has dementia. My Dad got out of the house, but thankfully his neighbor brought him back home.

My Dad has the strongest hands…I would always hold them and compare them to the size of mine. I would pinch his thumb that he had an accident with and can no longer feel it and ask him if he could feel the pinch. I was always amazed that he never could. Today, he kept passing objects only he could see from hand back to hand. I asked him what he was holding and he said just stuff…and I smiled at him. I called my daughter over to help him. Luckily, she gathered quickly the situation. I told her to get the stuff from my Dad’s hands and put it on the kitchen table and she did. She did it perfectly, just like when she was little and we would pretend.

As I left the room and Ellie went to check on our dog…I could hear my Dad talking….to no one…but he thought someone was there.

Today, I held onto the fact he knew my name. He said he loved me to…and he was finally wearing his good shoes. I’m grateful I got him his medic bracelet so that his neighbor saw it…and I’m grateful for the good days…today wasn’t one of them.

For now…I listen to stories about motorcycles and double houses. I listen to stories of adventures with people that afternoon that have been gone for awhile. I listen to him ask me if I see the people he does…and I fight back tears. I try my best not to argue with him…to add some humor and at least make my Mom laugh. My Mom looked tired today.

As I watched him tell me the story that has no end and no point I remembered how strong he was..what amazing things he could build. How he fixed everything…even my broken heart when I was left all alone with just me and my boy while my husband left us…it was Dad who fixed it.

Dad who taught me to work hard…drive smart…balance a checkbook to the penny and drive on KC traffic. taught me to cheer for the Royals and maybe the cardinals but only when we had to.

He taught me to be proud of my country and work hard…and get married once and love the same person forever…

Today, was not my favorite day…but he was here…and perhaps tomorrow he will be better and I will get another glimpse of my Dad. He’s still in there…and that’s the hardest part…finding it.

This 4th of July looks different than it ever had ever before. We went to visit family out of state…and it was lovely…

For the first time ever…we did not light sparklers…we didn’t have smoke bombs…we just completely chilled.

My sister n law is an amazing cook and she showed me how to make fried chicken…

It was pretty amazing….my brother n law made amazing ribs and my husband made two amazing desserts.

We took a gorgeous hike….with a coffee shop and a vending machine in the middle of the forest(i kid you not)

July 4th we went to the city fireworks show…and I for the first time in my adult life…sat there…there are no videos or pictures….of fireworks.

I didn’t buy new shirts this year…these are from year’s past….and you know what? No one noticed. I sat there and tears formed in my eyes as I watched fireworks and listened to music about my beautiful country. I’m sure everyone heard the song “Im proud to be an American…cause at least I know I’m free……and I won’t forget the men who died and gave that right to me…and I’ll proudly stand up…next to you and defend her to this day…cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land….God bless the USA”….and being surrounded by my fellow Americans cheering at the end…it was a beautiful memory…but I didn’t record it…because I wanted to enjoy every second of it.

Year’s ago, I saw a video of an elderly woman watching something like a parade or maybe even fireworks. She was surrounded by people with phones and cameras…they were all filming…but not her. She was enjoying the moment…and everything that moment offered. It was hers and hers alone. That was what I want to do more of…live those moments in the memory of my mind.

No matter what life throws at you…or how different it may look…dare to soak up those memories…those pockets of memories for all they are worth. We are only given one short trip…make it count!

Who is ready for more adventure? Less stuff…🙌🙌🙌