white hot and 40...

My sister, Christy, turns the big 4-0 on July 9 and her husband and my other sister, Laurie, pulled off a successful surprise party for her on Friday night. (no small feat with her nose!) She was overwhelmed as was I when I rounded the corner to the back yard and all the guest wore white. The tent was adorned with little white lights, white linen and white candles. Truth be known, I didn't get the whole "wear white" thing but wow- I loved it. and I love my family.

Happy Birthday, Kissy NoBungi!

...5 more years- if I could look half as good.

...follow the yellow brick road...

I have no clue how this all got started. That is what can be exciting about life. If we just look around for different forks in the road, tap into the courage and discover what is on the other side we shouldn't be disappointed. Sometimes I travel down a particular road and have no clue why and then an "ah-ha" moment appears or then again, maybe not, and I am left as clueless as before. At least I am a little more travelled. Always learning. Life has a lot to teach.

One of the forks in the road has been a writing workshop at Hospice that I signed up for during the month of May. I can't even remember what prompted it or why I even did it. I enjoy writing. I love to be surrounded by hurting people. An opportunity to have the two worlds collide. A fork in the road.

A hour and a half, for eight weeks I met at the Hospice office with eight strangers (well, 6- I knew two of them) and we wrote out our bleeding heart in AWA format/discussion. We laughed, we cried as each of us exposed a window to our soul through the powerful art of writing. A fork in the road I was so happy I took.

The instructor suddenly became this HUGE cheerleader for me. She believed in my writing. She listened to what I wrote. She responded. She told me to take baby steps to my dream. Just follow the forks in the road.

Now I am on a path of taking a summer seminar at HOPE college presented by Heather Sellers. I had no idea how I would be able to cough up the money but I knew I had to keep running the race. After many emails to the faculty at HOPE and my attempts to play the disability card, I ran into a dead end. That is until I received word that anonymous donor paid for me to attend the writing workshop.

I am humbled. I am forever grateful. I am intimidated.

I am going to be under the teaching of a dynamic professor.

Don't put a fork in me just yet...I don't think I'm done.

eating humble pie...

On certain days I think, is this really my life?! This week (yes, week) has been one of those. If I only had the ability to fast forward over the tough stuff. But then again, I wouldn't be who I am without these 'hiccups'...and I am not giving this dang disability any more credit than that, it's molding me, making me but it is not me and never ever will be.

Two weeks ago I received a phone call from someone who hosts a summer seminary program for 15 students. For the past two summers they have been focusing on the subject of wisdom. This summer the topic is Listening to the Wisdom of the Wise: How God uses suffering to reshape our lives. Okay, I get the suffering part but am I really wise from it all?

On Monday night if these students were in my bathroom when my head caught yet another nasty fall on my bathroom tile, I am not sure they would see a wise person. After feeling the 4 inch goose egg on my forehead and retreating to the kitchen to fill a bag with ice, tears of frustration streamed down my face. I had enough energy to climb into bed and silently weep cries of desperation that this damn disease is invading my life. It's not welcome. I didn't ask for it. Am I wise because of it?

My response to his question if the children would be able to sit at my feet was mixed. It was an honor but I was filled with trepidation as the word wisdom was attached to my suffering. Such pressure.

On Wednesday I met with these students. A couple of times I felt a little lump in my throat as I reflected on my journey so far and how my God loves me and provides for me over and over and over...

In the silence of God, I want to be listening...I often think that's when I hear the most.

That and when I fall on the bathroom tile.

she did it!

When I was on my death bed (literally) my family became my strength and my #1 cheerleaders...I honestly think I wouldn't be alive today without them.
It is amazing that my sister is alive and still kickin' after running her first marathon at the Notre Dame campus this past weekend. After a near decapitation as a result of a head on collision with a deer at 5 in the morning, no money for a toll booth and Brett and I ALMOST experiencing our first argument, we made it at the 16 mile marker and 20 mile marker to cheer Christy on. As she rounded the corner and she called out "you guys" I couldn't get a word out edge wise. (what does that saying really mean, anyway?) Through my tears, I faintly yelled, "I'm so proud of you, Christy, you can do it!"

...and she did. 26.2 miles.