Hello.
I wish I could write tonight, a happy cheery note, but I can't.
This time of the year is always difficult for me. Tomorrow, September 10th is the true anniversary of the beginning of a difficult, but not entirely awful journey, my son and I took together.
The next few days, September 10th, 11th and 12th, mark the seventeenth year anniversary of the diagnosis, surgery and prognosis of Ben's cancer.
Every year I silently remember those days, and also reflect on the wonderful moments Ben and I share today, because of the excellent care he (we) received.
But it is never easy.
This year it is again, especially hard for me. I have just received news about another little boy named Ben, who has been gallantly fighting against his cancer. Ben is not winning. In fact, Ben will die soon. Ben has a twin, who is healthy.
It is always awful to hear of any child who is diagnosed with cancer. It sickens me because I know all too well the thoughts, prayers, hopes and fears one feels during this time. Because this news falls on the anniversary of "my" Ben's cancer, I am taking it especially hard.
At a time in our country when we are fighting about health care, I become perplexed with these questions. How can we NOT justify funding health care? Why do I see so much hate on the faces of those against health care as a public option? Who on earth would intentionally fabricate lies that muddy this difficult discussion? And lastly, and most importantly in my book, why can't we, at least, cut back on funding weapons and war, and put that money towards health care?
I don't understand.
I'm sad. I'm sorry and I'm sick over the imminent loss of a child named Ben.
Donna
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Mr. Kennedy Died and so did Mr. W
Hello.
This past week, Senator Edward Kennedy died.
Hearing of Senator Kennedy's passing made me feel sad. Watching the different memorial tributes to the late Senator also made me feel sad. Observing the familiar Kennedy family faces endure another passing, made me feel sad too.
This past week, a patient of mine, Mr. W, died.
Reading of his passing in the local paper made me feel sad. Looking at the list of kin he left behind also made me feel sad. Remembering our last conversation made me feel sad too.
Both of these gentlemen in their respective passing was a deliverer of a poignant message to me.
Senator Kennedy died in his family's famous home in a wealthy community in Massachusetts. Mr. W died in his trailer with his wife and hospice at his side.
Senator Kennedy pursued the latest in brain tumor treatment from all over this great country. Mr. W pursued excellent care in his home town hospital.
Senator Kennedy had supportive care, most likely paid for from his private funds.
Mr. W had excellent supportive care from public agencies like Public Health and Hospice.
Both men died with dignity.
I experience the process of death often enough to keep me grounded, and tuned in, to what is really important in life. Having this intense human contact is a privilege and makes one realize that each of us "different" human beings are, in fact, very "similar."
To be connected with family, to have access to a doctor and health care, to get choices on how to live or die, and to have love, are the foundational "similarities" entitled to each of us. Our "differences" lie in the specific ways we fulfill our choices.
In this country we face big issues that are really not so big. We face daunting tasks which when looked at from the perspective of our "similarities," are not so daunting. We expend too much energy on the distractions so that we cannot hear the direction we must go.
Now is the time, with the passing of these two very special men, to lay down the anger and strife which demeans all of us, and pick up the olive branch of discussion, cooperation and consensus, to bring solutions to our biggest issues. We have a war to end, we have an economy to fix, and we have a health care system to entitle to every citizen. It is just that simple.
Inside all of our hearts resides goodwill. Let us begin there, in our beating heart of goodwill. Let us not allow fear, anger, and untruth, to distract us from achieving all that is possible. It is in the silence that comes with one's last breath that it is realized what has been valued or what could have been...
Have hope.
Donna
This past week, Senator Edward Kennedy died.
Hearing of Senator Kennedy's passing made me feel sad. Watching the different memorial tributes to the late Senator also made me feel sad. Observing the familiar Kennedy family faces endure another passing, made me feel sad too.
This past week, a patient of mine, Mr. W, died.
Reading of his passing in the local paper made me feel sad. Looking at the list of kin he left behind also made me feel sad. Remembering our last conversation made me feel sad too.
Both of these gentlemen in their respective passing was a deliverer of a poignant message to me.
Senator Kennedy died in his family's famous home in a wealthy community in Massachusetts. Mr. W died in his trailer with his wife and hospice at his side.
Senator Kennedy pursued the latest in brain tumor treatment from all over this great country. Mr. W pursued excellent care in his home town hospital.
Senator Kennedy had supportive care, most likely paid for from his private funds.
Mr. W had excellent supportive care from public agencies like Public Health and Hospice.
Both men died with dignity.
I experience the process of death often enough to keep me grounded, and tuned in, to what is really important in life. Having this intense human contact is a privilege and makes one realize that each of us "different" human beings are, in fact, very "similar."
To be connected with family, to have access to a doctor and health care, to get choices on how to live or die, and to have love, are the foundational "similarities" entitled to each of us. Our "differences" lie in the specific ways we fulfill our choices.
In this country we face big issues that are really not so big. We face daunting tasks which when looked at from the perspective of our "similarities," are not so daunting. We expend too much energy on the distractions so that we cannot hear the direction we must go.
Now is the time, with the passing of these two very special men, to lay down the anger and strife which demeans all of us, and pick up the olive branch of discussion, cooperation and consensus, to bring solutions to our biggest issues. We have a war to end, we have an economy to fix, and we have a health care system to entitle to every citizen. It is just that simple.
Inside all of our hearts resides goodwill. Let us begin there, in our beating heart of goodwill. Let us not allow fear, anger, and untruth, to distract us from achieving all that is possible. It is in the silence that comes with one's last breath that it is realized what has been valued or what could have been...
Have hope.
Donna
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
My Daughter's graduation May 2009
Hello!
On May 9th, my oldest daughter graduated from Russell Sage College in Troy, NY. Here is a copy of the article that I wrote about my heartfelt feelings watching my daughter graduate from my Alma mater. This appeared in the RSC Alumni magazine, Connections, in July 2009.
Twenty-one years ago, I watched my little girl take her first steps as she walked across our living room floor. I stood at the opposite end of the room, cheering her on, holding my arms out to her as she quickly approached. As she reached her destination- my arms-I held her, hugged her, kissed her and gave her words of praise.
Around noon on May ninth of this year, at the RPI field house, I had the great pleasure of watching this same little girl, walk across the stage in full graduation regalia, with a diploma in her arms and magna cum laude in History and Political Science to her credit. Although, I was not at the other end of the stage, holding out my arms to coax her to me, I was present in the audience, proud and in awe of the young woman she had become.
It continues to amaze me in moments such as these that so many memories come flooding into the forefront of my brain. In the time it took Emily to walk from one end of the stage to the other I watched her take her first steps, go to kindergarten, play the clarinet, perform the lead role in “Our Town,” graduate from high school, move into Kellas, make life-long friends, become president of the Athenians, and call me to tell me she was accepted to Albany Law School.
I was keenly aware of my own journey through Emmy’s life as well. I smiled and clapped at her clarinet playing, boasted of her acting talent to family and friends, and quietly watch as she was inducted into Athenians. I also knew what she was feeling at that very moment because I too, walked across a similar stage twenty-six years earlier as a Sage graduate. I knew her excitement, her anxiety, her hope and her fears. I remembered watching the alumni invade the Sage campus during graduation weekend and thinking how “old” they looked and imagined that I would never look or act like that when I returned for alumni weekend. Alas, I sighed, time passed much too quickly.
Re-living college through my daughter’s years at Sage was educational for me. I learned that college students were much more sophisticated than I was back then. I learned that college students were much more mobile, and opinionated, and motivated to change the world, than I remember I was. I also was glad to see that some things stayed the same…excellent professors, small class sizes, Sage traditions... and I felt proud.
You are probably thinking that Emily took an hour to cross the stage for me to have so many reflections in such a short amount of time. The fact is, I have been reflecting about Emily and Sage and me for quite a while. I have smiled, and cried, and felt very, very grateful for this wonderful and uniquely shared experience between Emmy and me. And I know that she will do great things in her life, because she has received great learning at Sage.
So, even though I was not physically at the end of the stage to hug her and kiss her and give her high praise, I was there in spirit, twenty-six years earlier and at the moment she finished crossing the stage today-as well as afterward outside the field house, of course. And I will continue to be there for her in years to come to hug, kiss, cheer and praise her. And perhaps someday, just maybe someday, she and I will have another shared experience…the opportunity to sit in the audience, and remember, and watch another extraordinary Sage woman take a life changing walk across that special stage.
I love you Em,
Mom
On May 9th, my oldest daughter graduated from Russell Sage College in Troy, NY. Here is a copy of the article that I wrote about my heartfelt feelings watching my daughter graduate from my Alma mater. This appeared in the RSC Alumni magazine, Connections, in July 2009.
Twenty-one years ago, I watched my little girl take her first steps as she walked across our living room floor. I stood at the opposite end of the room, cheering her on, holding my arms out to her as she quickly approached. As she reached her destination- my arms-I held her, hugged her, kissed her and gave her words of praise.
Around noon on May ninth of this year, at the RPI field house, I had the great pleasure of watching this same little girl, walk across the stage in full graduation regalia, with a diploma in her arms and magna cum laude in History and Political Science to her credit. Although, I was not at the other end of the stage, holding out my arms to coax her to me, I was present in the audience, proud and in awe of the young woman she had become.
It continues to amaze me in moments such as these that so many memories come flooding into the forefront of my brain. In the time it took Emily to walk from one end of the stage to the other I watched her take her first steps, go to kindergarten, play the clarinet, perform the lead role in “Our Town,” graduate from high school, move into Kellas, make life-long friends, become president of the Athenians, and call me to tell me she was accepted to Albany Law School.
I was keenly aware of my own journey through Emmy’s life as well. I smiled and clapped at her clarinet playing, boasted of her acting talent to family and friends, and quietly watch as she was inducted into Athenians. I also knew what she was feeling at that very moment because I too, walked across a similar stage twenty-six years earlier as a Sage graduate. I knew her excitement, her anxiety, her hope and her fears. I remembered watching the alumni invade the Sage campus during graduation weekend and thinking how “old” they looked and imagined that I would never look or act like that when I returned for alumni weekend. Alas, I sighed, time passed much too quickly.
Re-living college through my daughter’s years at Sage was educational for me. I learned that college students were much more sophisticated than I was back then. I learned that college students were much more mobile, and opinionated, and motivated to change the world, than I remember I was. I also was glad to see that some things stayed the same…excellent professors, small class sizes, Sage traditions... and I felt proud.
You are probably thinking that Emily took an hour to cross the stage for me to have so many reflections in such a short amount of time. The fact is, I have been reflecting about Emily and Sage and me for quite a while. I have smiled, and cried, and felt very, very grateful for this wonderful and uniquely shared experience between Emmy and me. And I know that she will do great things in her life, because she has received great learning at Sage.
So, even though I was not physically at the end of the stage to hug her and kiss her and give her high praise, I was there in spirit, twenty-six years earlier and at the moment she finished crossing the stage today-as well as afterward outside the field house, of course. And I will continue to be there for her in years to come to hug, kiss, cheer and praise her. And perhaps someday, just maybe someday, she and I will have another shared experience…the opportunity to sit in the audience, and remember, and watch another extraordinary Sage woman take a life changing walk across that special stage.
I love you Em,
Mom
Monday, July 20, 2009
Gotta Love It
Hello!!!
I think you will relate to this.
Last Thursday, I went to the YMCA. In lieu of purchasing a treadmill with our tax return money, we, being my family and I, joined the local Y. Since June second, my husband and I have faithfully gone to the fitness center, I mean, "Wellness Center," to climb on a few of the machines and then lift weights. "I" go to the Y every day, and "my husband" goes four times a week..."and no more."
Since we get a free "wellness assessment" with our membership, we decided to sign up for it. My husband went first. And since he is the one with a few heart procedures in his medical history, and since he loves salt, butter and double high test coffee every morning, I figured, if he made it through the test, I should too.
The test is a computerized thing...you wear this gadget then do step work, stretching stuff and a strength pull. He comes home smiling and boasting how well he did (I am sincerely glad by the news.) He says, "My cardio is great. My flexibility is better than average but I am a bit weaker than I should be...best of all...this 50 year old body is really 45 years old in "exercise language."" Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. (I roll my eyes.)
To myself, I say, if he did that well...I think I will do well too....
My appointment is the next day at noon. One is not allowed to eat for four hours prior to the test. No problem, I don't enjoy breakfast anyways; and BTW, I also do not eat meat, add salt, butter or drink caffeine.
I walk into the computer room (what is a computer doing in a fitness center anyways...) and I step on the scale...seven pounds heavier than prior to beginning my Y membership.
Mr. Fitness assessor takes my blood pressure-126/87. He says I am pre-hypertensive. In all my years during my yearly physical my pressure has been 100/70 and my MD thinks I am practically dead. Not today!
Then I do my aerobic step test. I pass, in fact I do quite well. Yea for me!
Then I do my flexibility test. I am average. Okay, I will take it.
Then I do my strength test. I am a weakling. That is okay too...I knew I was weak, that is why I go to the wellness center and lift weights.
Then the final report spits out of the computer...my 48 year old body behaves like a 50 year old.
I am a weakling who is inflexible and overweight.
I smile and leave.
My poor husband. I did not talk to him for 24 hours. Now before anyone starts tapping out a note to me telling me how unfair I am, calling me a B%$*#. I already know I behaved poorly, but as a 50 year old female, who is overweight, inflexible and weak, I am entitled to my attitude.
During the next 24 hours, I begin to speak. I poke fun at myself, in a backhanded manner, calling my husband "Mr. Perfect." I know...I am not being a nice person, but I am still hurting. (and I am still in a 50 year old looking body that is overweight, inflexible and weak.)
Finally in the next 24 hours I get a little perspective. As my husband said, "It is only a computer program for goodness sake...don't take it so seriously." (Easy for him to say.)
AND, I still have my YMCA membership.
So, I will continue to go to the "Wellness Center" every day. I will work hard, modify my routine and seek assistance. I will also add a little salt, butter and caffeine to my diet (because apparently they help your body "be" 5 years younger). And I will press on.
I wish I didn't have to work so hard, yet when I compare my life with so many others in the world, I don't have it so bad...alas, I will see you at the gym.
Until next time, have hope,
Donna
I think you will relate to this.
Last Thursday, I went to the YMCA. In lieu of purchasing a treadmill with our tax return money, we, being my family and I, joined the local Y. Since June second, my husband and I have faithfully gone to the fitness center, I mean, "Wellness Center," to climb on a few of the machines and then lift weights. "I" go to the Y every day, and "my husband" goes four times a week..."and no more."
Since we get a free "wellness assessment" with our membership, we decided to sign up for it. My husband went first. And since he is the one with a few heart procedures in his medical history, and since he loves salt, butter and double high test coffee every morning, I figured, if he made it through the test, I should too.
The test is a computerized thing...you wear this gadget then do step work, stretching stuff and a strength pull. He comes home smiling and boasting how well he did (I am sincerely glad by the news.) He says, "My cardio is great. My flexibility is better than average but I am a bit weaker than I should be...best of all...this 50 year old body is really 45 years old in "exercise language."" Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. (I roll my eyes.)
To myself, I say, if he did that well...I think I will do well too....
My appointment is the next day at noon. One is not allowed to eat for four hours prior to the test. No problem, I don't enjoy breakfast anyways; and BTW, I also do not eat meat, add salt, butter or drink caffeine.
I walk into the computer room (what is a computer doing in a fitness center anyways...) and I step on the scale...seven pounds heavier than prior to beginning my Y membership.
Mr. Fitness assessor takes my blood pressure-126/87. He says I am pre-hypertensive. In all my years during my yearly physical my pressure has been 100/70 and my MD thinks I am practically dead. Not today!
Then I do my aerobic step test. I pass, in fact I do quite well. Yea for me!
Then I do my flexibility test. I am average. Okay, I will take it.
Then I do my strength test. I am a weakling. That is okay too...I knew I was weak, that is why I go to the wellness center and lift weights.
Then the final report spits out of the computer...my 48 year old body behaves like a 50 year old.
I am a weakling who is inflexible and overweight.
I smile and leave.
My poor husband. I did not talk to him for 24 hours. Now before anyone starts tapping out a note to me telling me how unfair I am, calling me a B%$*#. I already know I behaved poorly, but as a 50 year old female, who is overweight, inflexible and weak, I am entitled to my attitude.
During the next 24 hours, I begin to speak. I poke fun at myself, in a backhanded manner, calling my husband "Mr. Perfect." I know...I am not being a nice person, but I am still hurting. (and I am still in a 50 year old looking body that is overweight, inflexible and weak.)
Finally in the next 24 hours I get a little perspective. As my husband said, "It is only a computer program for goodness sake...don't take it so seriously." (Easy for him to say.)
I look in the mirror. No, I am not happy with what I see, but I also know that both of my legs work; as well as both of my arms. I can speak, write, laugh and cry. I have four children. I live in a nice house. I finished graduate school with a perfect 4.0. I have a husband who puts up with my moodiness.
AND, I still have my YMCA membership.
So, I will continue to go to the "Wellness Center" every day. I will work hard, modify my routine and seek assistance. I will also add a little salt, butter and caffeine to my diet (because apparently they help your body "be" 5 years younger). And I will press on.
I wish I didn't have to work so hard, yet when I compare my life with so many others in the world, I don't have it so bad...alas, I will see you at the gym.
Until next time, have hope,
Donna
Sunday, March 22, 2009
What Economic Crisis...
Hello!
I was not actually sure what to title this blog today. I was reading (and have been reading) various news stories on the Internet regarding the economy. Often when I read the poll questions and view the results; I am amazed.
By what you ask? I'm glad to tell you.
The questions I've been reading involve ideas like...have you and your family changed your recreation habits since the economic crisis...or...do you "eat in" more since the economic crisis...or my favorite...will you curtail your vacation plans due to the economic crisis?
I have to tell you, since this economic crisis, my husband and I, and my family are doing quite well. Does this mean we are living high on the hog? No, absolutely not. But we have never lived high on the hog. And that may be why this "economic crisis" is not so much of a crisis for us at this time.
For years, and I mean decades, I have beaten myself up about my choices and living situation. Twenty-three years ago, I made a decision to stay home and raise my newborn son...at least until he went to school. Then I had two more children and the same rule applied. Any physical therapy work I did, during their young years, was done on nights and weekends, when they could be with their dad. When I finally had the opportunity to return to work, which I was really looking forward to, my son was diagnosed with cancer. So, I did the right and appropriate thing; I fought for his life with him. Then I fought for his education for him. Then I fought for him to have a place to live and a job and a "normal" life as a traumatic brain injured adult. I also got divorced and raised my kids very much alone. Life was challenging.
Along the way I worked here and there, never, ever building a savings, a 401 K, an IRA account, or a retirement of any kind. As the kids got older and I could, I tried to find work full time as a PT. I was competing with new grads, twenty years younger than I. I had a difficult time finding a work. But I remained positive and became a private contractor with public health and had work and made awesome friends.
I married again and I decided to go back to school to be a teacher. This decision, I think, is a good one because, in my minds-eye, after I graduate in 7 weeks, my degree will afford me the possibility of a steady job, with benefits and a retirement...if I work till I am 70 years old, which I will. (if I can find a job in this "economic crisis")
What all this ranting means is this: For years, I have fashioned my life to live to the barest bones possible-providing food, shelter and clothing for my family and self. It wasn't always the prettiest or most extravagant by any means, but it was solid and good. For years, there were no big, fancy electronics or family vacations or many extras but there were moments of "lavish down times," which we all loved.
Now the rest of the world is catching up to us. Everyone is learning the difficult lesson of having to "live within their means" and "make choices based on what they actually have in their pocket." And do you know what? My family and I have a little more in our pockets these days. We actually get some restaurant food every weekend. My husband and I saw a movie last weekend and went to Boston for a few days in February. We actually carry cash in our pocket and get a treat a Starbucks or other place on a regular basis.
We also realize that now as I near graduation and hopefully land a job in education, we have to save and prepare for retirement. Even in this though, we take comfort that we did not lose one penny to the stock market in the past months. We never could play it.
We may be fools, we may be jerks. But finally I feel that we are playing on a more level playing field with the world. Other people are making the choices I've made for most of my 48 years. I am hopeful for the future. I really am. Personally for me and my family, I believe things are getting better. For this country and this world, I'd like the same.
Maybe this post was foolishness. I don't know. But I had to say it.
Have hope,
Donna
I was not actually sure what to title this blog today. I was reading (and have been reading) various news stories on the Internet regarding the economy. Often when I read the poll questions and view the results; I am amazed.
By what you ask? I'm glad to tell you.
The questions I've been reading involve ideas like...have you and your family changed your recreation habits since the economic crisis...or...do you "eat in" more since the economic crisis...or my favorite...will you curtail your vacation plans due to the economic crisis?
I have to tell you, since this economic crisis, my husband and I, and my family are doing quite well. Does this mean we are living high on the hog? No, absolutely not. But we have never lived high on the hog. And that may be why this "economic crisis" is not so much of a crisis for us at this time.
For years, and I mean decades, I have beaten myself up about my choices and living situation. Twenty-three years ago, I made a decision to stay home and raise my newborn son...at least until he went to school. Then I had two more children and the same rule applied. Any physical therapy work I did, during their young years, was done on nights and weekends, when they could be with their dad. When I finally had the opportunity to return to work, which I was really looking forward to, my son was diagnosed with cancer. So, I did the right and appropriate thing; I fought for his life with him. Then I fought for his education for him. Then I fought for him to have a place to live and a job and a "normal" life as a traumatic brain injured adult. I also got divorced and raised my kids very much alone. Life was challenging.
Along the way I worked here and there, never, ever building a savings, a 401 K, an IRA account, or a retirement of any kind. As the kids got older and I could, I tried to find work full time as a PT. I was competing with new grads, twenty years younger than I. I had a difficult time finding a work. But I remained positive and became a private contractor with public health and had work and made awesome friends.
I married again and I decided to go back to school to be a teacher. This decision, I think, is a good one because, in my minds-eye, after I graduate in 7 weeks, my degree will afford me the possibility of a steady job, with benefits and a retirement...if I work till I am 70 years old, which I will. (if I can find a job in this "economic crisis")
What all this ranting means is this: For years, I have fashioned my life to live to the barest bones possible-providing food, shelter and clothing for my family and self. It wasn't always the prettiest or most extravagant by any means, but it was solid and good. For years, there were no big, fancy electronics or family vacations or many extras but there were moments of "lavish down times," which we all loved.
Now the rest of the world is catching up to us. Everyone is learning the difficult lesson of having to "live within their means" and "make choices based on what they actually have in their pocket." And do you know what? My family and I have a little more in our pockets these days. We actually get some restaurant food every weekend. My husband and I saw a movie last weekend and went to Boston for a few days in February. We actually carry cash in our pocket and get a treat a Starbucks or other place on a regular basis.
We also realize that now as I near graduation and hopefully land a job in education, we have to save and prepare for retirement. Even in this though, we take comfort that we did not lose one penny to the stock market in the past months. We never could play it.
We may be fools, we may be jerks. But finally I feel that we are playing on a more level playing field with the world. Other people are making the choices I've made for most of my 48 years. I am hopeful for the future. I really am. Personally for me and my family, I believe things are getting better. For this country and this world, I'd like the same.
Maybe this post was foolishness. I don't know. But I had to say it.
Have hope,
Donna
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Birthday Hello
Hello!
It is good to write this morning.
It is a cold day in the Northeast with a fresh coating of snow. March is the month of endurance for me. I love the feeling of hope and possibilities that present themselves with the passing of winter and the anticipation of spring. And this year is no different.
Today is my birthday. I am 48 years young. Yesterday, my eldest son turned 23. He is my birthday present. Every year, I remind him of that. And every year, he smiles and turns his head away with an, "Aw, mom."
I believe people come and go from your life in a very deliberate way. I also believe that we have "pre-ordained" people sent to bring opportunities our way. My son is one such person. (As well as my other three children too.)
My eldest son, if you have read my past posts, has brought many challenges to me personally. Through him and his brain tumor diagnosis, I have had the opportunity to grow deep roots that allow me to be strong and stand tall. Because of his presence in my life, I've learned to view all that comes my way in light of the bigger picture. And when I do that, the things that seem "oh so big" in the moment, turn into a piece of the puzzle that makes me who I am.
I get stressed. I get sad. Sometimes, I get to feeling that I'm wading through jello with a ball and chain on each leg. But, I also have a deep knowing inside that everything is temporary and everything is connected. And this too shall pass.
So, today I'm forty-eight. Wow-wee. How about that? I wonder what the next forty-eight years will bring.
Have hope,
Donna
It is good to write this morning.
It is a cold day in the Northeast with a fresh coating of snow. March is the month of endurance for me. I love the feeling of hope and possibilities that present themselves with the passing of winter and the anticipation of spring. And this year is no different.
Today is my birthday. I am 48 years young. Yesterday, my eldest son turned 23. He is my birthday present. Every year, I remind him of that. And every year, he smiles and turns his head away with an, "Aw, mom."
I believe people come and go from your life in a very deliberate way. I also believe that we have "pre-ordained" people sent to bring opportunities our way. My son is one such person. (As well as my other three children too.)
My eldest son, if you have read my past posts, has brought many challenges to me personally. Through him and his brain tumor diagnosis, I have had the opportunity to grow deep roots that allow me to be strong and stand tall. Because of his presence in my life, I've learned to view all that comes my way in light of the bigger picture. And when I do that, the things that seem "oh so big" in the moment, turn into a piece of the puzzle that makes me who I am.
I get stressed. I get sad. Sometimes, I get to feeling that I'm wading through jello with a ball and chain on each leg. But, I also have a deep knowing inside that everything is temporary and everything is connected. And this too shall pass.
So, today I'm forty-eight. Wow-wee. How about that? I wonder what the next forty-eight years will bring.
Have hope,
Donna
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