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Phone Calls and Boys, I Mean, Men

Date: January 20, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“America’s best buy is a telephone call to the right man.” (Ilka Chase)

The right man calling me on the phone has been sort of a struggle for me.

I was about 12 when the phone became a nuisance in my life. A boy I didn’t “like” called me several times each week after school. Each time he’d call, I’d tell my mom to tell him I wasn’t home. She’d look at me, say, “I’m not going to lie—YOU tell him!” and hand me the phone. Then the awkward conversation would begin until I’d make up an excuse and hurriedly hang up.

It was that same pattern for years: Joe, Joestes, Espada, Rick, Wes, a young man in college who called before I was even old enough to date…I can’t remember the names of all the “wrong” boys who called me during my youth. It seemed like the right one never would. But then, when I was 15 years old and the boy I “liked” actually liked me at the same time, the phone began to mean something new! The history of my relationship with phones was pretty good from that time on through college, especially when the young man I  loved moved to Bolivia for two years when I was 20 and 21 years old and I lived for his twice-yearly telephone calls! In 1989, I married (someone else), and for 20 years, took calls from a husband. I’ll probably never get phone calls like his again in my life–from his “office” where he was “working;” and from unique destinations via satellite phone connections all around the world as he traveled “for business”–England, Tanzania, Etheopia, South Africa, Zambia, Cameroon, Zimbabwe, Austria, Russia, Armenia, Germany, Switzerland, Belgium and more. And then I got divorced.

After that much time had passed, though, dating, romance, phones, EVERYTHING about being single, had changed! Communication was an entirely different scene. There was even a phenomenon known as “Love Language” that had been invented. Most men didn’t call me on the phone, they emailed, instant messaged and texted me. All of the time. Morning, noon and night. I woke up to “Good Morning” texts, I went to sleep to “Goodnight” texts and everything in between. I got some interesting and unsolicited photo texts. I got some stalker texts. I even got one marriage proposal text. (Really. I promise, I don’t make this stuff up—it is 100% my unexpected life!)

Apparently, “Texting is a way to remind your partner that you’re thinking about him or her throughout the day…Send them whenever you please!” (Cellphones, “Good To Know”)

I didn’t have a lot of time to talk on the phone anyway. I worked all day, so in the evenings I needed to be free to talk to my children. I didn’t have time to talk to men on the phone for hours. I realized that early into my return to the singles scene, when a man called me a lot and wanted to talk on the phone…every night…for hours…and I just couldn’t take it. I suggested he email or text instead as I didn’t have time for telephone chit chat because I needed to spend time with my children, and that was pretty much the last I heard from him!

Now you have the 411 on phones and the singles scene today.

Eventually I narrowed the texts down to one man, Bachelor #5 (sometimes known as Agent M.)

Although, “Easy is to occupy a place in a telephone book. Difficult is to occupy someone’s heart; know that you’re really loved,” (Carlos Drummond de Andrade) let’s just say #5 doesn’t only occupy a spot in my contact lists, he occupies my heart! But even he doesn’t call that much–he texts, emails and talks to me in person—the perfect man for a woman who doesn’t like to waste time talking to men on the phone when she’d rather be with them in person!

We’ve been engaged for 8 1/2 months now and I have to say things were pretty quiet on the phone/texting front the first four months of my engagement. And then unexpectedly one night, I heard from the Stalker. Again. Out of the blue he contacted me, I told him I was engaged, and things were silent. From that moment on. Until the other night.

I love phones! (Not.) Their connections are so unexpected.

I received a mystery text, “Are you married yet?” Followed one hour later by, “Hi,” questions about where I was (home), was I going to bed (nope, too much housework), and an invitation to meet for a drink! I thanked him for asking, but told him I was still engaged. He said, “Oh, I did not know you were engaged,” (guess he forgot about the previous 9 months), then “When are you getting married?”

Isn’t THAT the million dollar question? And it came to me, courtesy of a phone. And my Stalker!

“I’m not just any stalker, I’m YOUR stalker.” (Unknown)

Every four months. Like clockwork. In my unexpected life.

What wasn’t unexpected, however, was #5′s response to the following question: “So, when you’re engaged, does that mean it’s inappropriate to meet a stalker for a drink?” He shook his head and smiled at me, made a joke about my “friendly” dating past, and we both laughed as he said, “Andrea, you’re NOT going!”

I sort of expected that.

Their Phone Never Stopped Ringing

Date: January 19, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I refused David Letterman’s proposal of marriage for obvious reasons, but thanks for asking.” (Teri Garr)

Nana’s youngest son, my dad, utilized the telephone as an integral part of his first marriage proposal to my mom, Sandra Jorgensen. (Although my parents had dated, fallen in love and decided to get married “someday” when they were only 15 years old, they both fell in and out of love with several other people before finally marrying each other at 25 years old.) One night, as my mom was entertaining a date at her home my dad called.

He had been drafted into the Army during the Berlin call-up and was undergoing his basic training in what he always referred to as “the armpit of America,” Fort Ord. Apparently, my dad was calling to propose marriage to my mom! And she had a date waiting for her in the living room.

When she asked if they could talk about it later, my dad asked, “What’s the matter? You don’t have a date do you?” My mom admitted that she had a date waiting for her and that she probably shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer. My parents weren’t dating exclusively, but my dad said, “Well, forget I asked!” and hung up on her!

“But I felt all the more bound to make this proposal, because it at once turns to a reproach.” (Ferdinand Lassalle)

I’m not sure how he eventually proposed marriage and my mom agreed to marry him, but he did. And they were very happy (and busy) their entire marriage. They raised 5 children…and I can vouch for the fact that their phone never stopped ringing!

“My phone has been ringing off the hook. I have like 17 cell phones and pagers.” (Steven Cojocaru)

My parents’ oldest daughter is an entirely different matter. Me. My phone. My experiences. ”A woman is a person who reaches for a chair when she answers the telephone.”  (Milton Wright) I do that. I guess I’m all woman.

If The Phone Doesn’t Ring

Date: January 18, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If The Phone Doesn’t Ring, It’s Me.” (song title by Jimmy Buffet)

Telephones.

Let’s just say I’m not addicted to them. Never have been. Probably never will be. But last night I realized what an impact the phone has had on the love lives of the women in my family, so I have to share.

The Henrie-Jorgensen-Christensen women have a history with…the phone.

My Nana, Vonda Henrie, (born in 1903) worked as a telephone operator when she was a teenager. She was the old-fashioned kind of telephone operator, the kind featured in black and white movies or tv shows, the woman wearing a headset that you called and asked to be connected to a certain phone number—and she’d connect your line to another one by hand.

One important rule for operators was the one about never listening in on the conversations of other people. I think my Nana was obedient to that rule, too, until the night a boy she had been dating called during her shift and asked to be connected to another girl!

Can anyone blame her for breaking the rule that night? Of course she listened in! And even at age 90, as she recalled it, she shook her head in disgust at the “lovey-dovey” things she overheard her boyfriend say to the other girl.  I asked, “Oh, Nana! What did you do?” She gave me a satisfied smirk, a wink, and a smile as she said, “Oh, nothing much…except disconnected them when I’d had enough of his nonsense!”

“There is something about saying ‘Ok’ and hanging up the receiver with a bang that kids a man into feeling that he has just pulled off a big deal, even if he has only called the telephone company to find out the correct time.” (Robert Benchley)

And then Nana had a son.

My dad.

“No, sir. The Americans have need of the telephone — but we do not. We have plenty of messenger boys.” (England’s chief engineer of the post office, when asked whether the new ‘Yankee invention,’ the telephone, would be of any practical value)

Magic

Date: January 16, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Her godmother simply touched her with her wand, and, at the same moment, her clothes were turned into cloth of gold and silver, all decked with jewels.” (Charles Perrault)

I’ve probably mentioned it before, but I was a girl raised on fairy tales. My mom read them to me every day. In fact, my earliest recollections of “art” are the illustrations that were in my fairy tale books. I loved every magical ending to every magical story. And I confess, I think fairy tales contributed a little bit in the formation of my dreams.

Ah, happy endings and fairy godmothers!

Have you ever wished you had a fairy godmother?

I have—on more than one occasion. As a little girl, I dreamed of a fairy godmother who would instinctively know when I needed her (aka. when I was alone and crying in my garden, let’s say), who would show up in the blink of an eye, transform me into a beautiful woman with a dazzling wardrobe, jewels and even a pair of my very own glass slippers; and then would vanish with a “poof” and maybe a little trace of glitter. But everything would be all right again. (Translation: easy.)

As I got older and life got a lot more real, visions of a way out of some of my challenges with a simple wave of a wand overshadowed any childish fantasy of fashion. Wouldn’t it be a dream to escape a trying circumstance without having to pass through it, via a magic wand? Bummer to not have a magic wand when you really need one!

The reality of life, especially the unexpected one, is that “There is no magic wand that can resolve our problems. The solution rests with our work and discipline.” (Jose Eduardo Dos Santos) Our magic wand is actually our labor. The “magic” we put to work to better ourselves or our situation; what we do to help create our fairy tale ending despite the loss of our prince, castle or pumpkin coach.

And as I think about that, and what my unexpected life has taught me is…that’s really all you need. A willingness to work hard, carry on and to never give up despite the setbacks.

Oh. And maybe a little bit of pixie dust.

That’s Real Glory

Date: January 14, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

I called my sister today. She asked, “So what’s up?”

“Nothing,” I replied. And almost at the same time we both said, “That is a nice change! Isn’t that wonderful!”

We chatted a little bit about everything good in our lives and then my sister said, “This is terrible, but it makes me wonder when it’s going to end.”

We’ve had that conversation before, several times, over the course of our lives.

It reminded me of when we were teenagers and we’d lay in bed at night, talking, as we drifted off to sleep. I remember one conversation in particular. The night we discussed how great our life was. It seemed like all of our friends had major challenges and struggles, and we couldn’t really even think of any small ones. We had it pretty darn good. Almost perfect. Nearly too good to be true. And even though we were teenagers, we both knew how good our life was. (I believe we thought it bordered on perfection, marred only to a tiny degree because we’d been blessed with twin brothers who were overly…rambunctious, you could say.) One of us wondered when our fairy tale was going to end.

Turns out, 1986. (When our dad died unexpectedly in a plane crash, we lost everything, our widowed mom moved the family to Utah and our mother returned to work to support her five teenagers she was left to raise alone.)

It was glorious, let me tell you. But not in the way you might think.

“The real glory is being knocked to your knees and then coming back. That’s real glory. That’s the essence of it.” (Vince Lombardi)

That experience knocked us to our knees. But our mom led our family in a comeback that changed my life forever and prepared me for my unexpected life, and my divorce, better than I ever could have imagined.

So in 2009, when my unexpected life hit and I got divorced, when I not only got knocked to my knees but felt as if my legs had been amputated at the knees, I knew a comeback was required; that somehow, some way, I was going to rise up again. I was going for the glory. I had to–because of the way I’d been raised, and for my children.

That’s one thing I’ve learned: No matter what knocks you down, no matter how far you fall, it is possible to come back. It is glorious to come back. In fact, there’s nothing like a comeback!

“There’s nothing as exciting as a comeback – seeing someone with dreams, watching them fail, and then getting a second chance.” (Rachel Griffiths)

Comebacks are real.

And while you’re making a comeback, don’t forget to note what you’ve learned because, “If you’re going to go through hell…I suggest you come back learning something.” (Drew Barrymore)

In other words, don’t waste your experiences. We’ll all get our feet knocked out from under us (multiple times throughout our lives, probably.) And when we think we’re down for the count, we have two choices: stay down or get up. (It can be a bummer that there are only two options. I remember in the midst of my unexpected life experiences in 2009 that neither of those options were my ideal and I SO wished there were more to choose from! But there aren’t.) The additional options come AFTER we pull ourselves up, after we work through the hardship, misery and pain, AFTER we don’t quit and decide to try again.

That’s what makes a comeback what it is.

Glorious glory. Courtesy of our unexpected life and resulting from things we possibly brought upon ourselves (aka. things that can be considered our failures) through choices we made and occasionally, from nothing we did. It really doesn’t matter how they come to us, it’s what we choose to do with them that counts. Our comeback.

“Our greatest glory consists not in never failing, but in rising every time we fall.” (Oliver Goldsmith)

I’m A Bag

Date: January 13, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

My divorce became final 18 months ago today.

You know what it has taught me?

That, as I feared all along, I’m a bag. A tea bag, to be exact.

“A woman is like a tea bag–you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.” (Nancy Reagan)

There’s nothing like the challenge of an unexpected life and subsequent divorce to show you how strong you are. And in my humble opinion, as a single woman and a divorcee, I’d say the trick is to not lose your flavor as you steep in your unexpected situation.

It can be done.

I know it can, because I’m doing it. I’ve been up to my neck in hot water more times than I can count since 2009, yet here I am. Holding it together (for the most part) despite the temperature and depth of my surroundings…and I’m still singing (trying to, most days, anyway.)

“Remember the tea kettle – it is always up to its neck in hot water, yet it still sings!”

If I can do it, anyone can.

And now I think it’s time to get real about a few things, my experience with them, and what I’ve learned.

Hang on! It has been the usual, unexpected ride.

Everything Else is Just Figure Skating

Date: January 12, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“High sticking, tripping, slashing, spearing, charging, hooking, fighting, unsportsmanlike conduct, interference, roughing… everything else is just figure skating.” (Unknown)

My first (and last) attempt at figure skating took place in Sun Valley, Idaho, when I was approximately 8 years old. Unfortunately, I didn’t progress beyond gripping the wall’s railing to stay upright, and even then it was a challenge to stay on my feet. It didn’t come easily at all. It just wasn’t my thing. (Meanwhile, my mom–who had never been particularly athletic–glided gracefully around the rink, skating backward and doing figure eights and other moves I’d observed watching the Ice Capades.) Lets just say I didn’t anticipate ice, skating on it, or ice rinks would ever be a part of my life beyond that one experience.

But then I grew up and became a mother.

Of sons.

Who love ice hockey.

That makes me a hockey mom, I guess.

“I love those hockey moms. You know what they say the difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull is? Lipstick.” (Sarah Palin)

I just hope I’m a lot more lipstick than pit bull!

My oldest is particularly passionate about hockey. I can’t remember a day in his life he didn’t have skates on or a stick in his hand, practicing shooting or other moves he’d seen professionals do on t.v. I discovered his dedication the day I heard a suspicious thumping in our Colorado basement. I went down to find him practicing shots against the wall of our home! We quickly established some hockey rules (ie. no hockey in the house beyond taping your stick) and he took his devotion outside, rain or shine. Snow or cold. In daylight and darkness.

Countless winter days he voluntarily shoveled snow…to clear a spot to practice hockey. Every winter he tried to talk us into flooding our yard for an ice rink. And every birthday or holiday, he asked for hockey equipment.

I remember his first hockey game. He was in 5th grade. His team lost. And for the first time in his sports life, he came away from a game loss absolutely BEAMING. I didn’t expect that. I asked him how he felt and he replied, “Mom! Hockey is so amazing! It doesn’t matter if you win or lose, it’s just so fun to play the game!”

Now he is growing up and the hockey experience has changed. He plays not just for fun, but to win. As a high school senior, he is captain of his high school hockey team. He was also invited to practice with the BYU Ice Hockey Development Team and hopes to play for BYU next year. He was chosen to play in the Utah All-Select High School Hockey exhibition game. On New Year’s Day he was selected to play in the Utah High School 2011 All-Star Hockey Game.

On the way home, he looked at me and asked, “Mom, did you ever think it would all come to this?”

Honestly, I never did.

I guess life is a little bit like hockey.

You never know where it’s going to take you. It can be rough, you fall, sometimes it’s messy, things get broken, and like the unexpected life experience of my family, there’s even a penalty box! (Prison. Lol.)

But there’s nothing more exciting, fulfilling, rewarding and skill building. Some days, “Half the game is mental; the other half is being mental.” (Jim McKenny) And the best part? It doesn’t matter if you win or lose, it’s just such a privilege to be a part of it, to play the game.

“…In a land so inescapably and inhospitably cold, hockey is the chance of life, and an affirmation that despite the deathly chill of winter we are alive.” (Stephen Leacock)

It’s Still Good

Date: January 11, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The human story does not always unfold like a mathematical calculation on the principle that two and two make four.  Sometimes in life they make five or minus three; and sometimes the blackboard topples down in the middle of the sum and leaves the class in disorder and the pedagogue with a black eye.” (Winston Churchill)

The new year has begun. My children have returned to school. My daughter spent a couple of hours on her math last night, trying to get things to work out perfectly for her equations. She was frustrated. I could relate.

I’d been evaluating some things in my life that were falling short of my vision of perfection. And while I believe in continual evaluation and constantly seeking to improve myself and my life, my thoughts were an exercise in frustration. Which led to worry. Which led to lots of other feelings. Things were not adding up the way I’d planned.

Then I came across a story by Gordon Green, originally published in The Reader’s Digest in the 1950s, about a farming family. Their finances were tight but they sacrificed to pay for an electrical line up their lane the year electricity came to their town. They acquired brilliant light bulbs that dangled from each ceiling; there were no more lamps to fill with oil, no wicks to trim, no more sooty chimneys to wash. Their lamps went quietly off to the attic. Unfortunately, electricity was the last good thing to happen to their family that year as the family experienced challenging weather, crop failure, and other setbacks. Their mother suggested the family forget Thanksgiving that year. Their father showed up with a jackrabbit and asked his wife to cook it. The children refused to eat it; the mother cried.

The father got an oil lamp from the attic, put it on the table, lit it, and turned out the electric lights. When there was only lamp light again, the family could hardly believe their home life had constantly been that dark before! They wondered how they had ever seen anything without the bright light made possible by electricity. They were grateful for what they had.

Like the farm family, I’ve lived through MUCH darker times (when there weren’t just a few frustrations here or there, or a few challenges to overcome, but NOTHING added up the way I’d planned or expected it to.) Seeing how far I’ve come gave me a better perspective on my present and reminded me how grateful I am for my life—unexpected, slightly imperfect as parts of it may be. I know there’s a purpose to imperfection; to challenge; to adversity. You see, when weaving a blanket, an Indian woman leaves a flaw in the weaving of that blanket to let the soul out. (Martha Graham) The flaws are there for our own good, for our growth and development. To expand our soul. To make us better.

Note to self: In life, things won’t always add up perfectly. Things don’t always turn out the way you expect. (I know this! WHY do I so quickly forget? Why do I have to constantly relearn that?) And if they don’t, it’s ok. Don’t worry. Don’t stress. Prepare to be enlarged through the experience of overcoming whatever you feel doesn’t quite add up to perfection. It’s still good.

“A good garden may have some weeds.”  (Thomas Fuller, Gnomologia, 1732)

But it’s still good.

Hamsters Do It All The Time

Date: January 10, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

Q: “Is there any living species of animals that feed on their young?
A: A lot of them. Many invertebrates (like insects and spiders) will eat their young…most fish will eat the young as they do not distinguish their young from others. Some mammals will kill and eat the young if stressed.  Hamsters do it all the time. As a kid I raised mink and we had problems. In a thunderstorm the female may devour the young. Much of the cannibalism among mammals is caused by stress and not hunger.” (AllExperts.com)

I’m pretty sure there’s a Proverb about “One bad apple spoils the whole bunch.” And since I’ve never taken the time to thank that one bad apple, I thought I’d do it now.
I was snuggling with my youngest before bed recently, which led to an interesting conversation. His arms were wrapped tightly around my neck, squeezing almost to the point of choking me (anyone who has hugged a toddler/small child knows the kind of hug I’m talking about!) He had just finished whisper-singing a few songs in my ear and we lay face to face, chatting about anything and everything and soon, our talk turned to love.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mommy.”
“I love you more.”
“How much?”
“I love you SO MUCH…I could eat you up!” And I kissed his cheek, his neck, the top of his head, and tickled him a little bit for good measure. (Ok, and I admit it, I may have pretended to gobble him up, but only a little bit.)
He stopped, released his hold on me, pulled back, looked me right in the eye with a bit of suspicion, trepidation and uncertainty and clarified, “But you wouldn’t ACTUALLY eat one of your children…would you, Mom?”
No, I would not. I promise I will not. In fact, I can guarantee it. But how remiss of me to never have thanked the spiders, insects and other creatures who apparently do and who have given the rest of us mothers a bad rap. Thank you. And despite the fact that apparently hamsters do it all the time, I promise I don’t. And won’t.
“I love running cross country…On a track, I feel like a hamster.” (Robin Williams)


The Hardest Thing

Date: January 8, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

I went to my first kick boxing class recently. I left feeling pretty inept at boxing. Sort of the way I felt the last time I came even close to boxing. In the 1980s. In high school. It was SO “not me.”

I blame it on basketball–one game in particular, and it didn’t even count, it was P.E.! A friend and I played a game of 2 on 5, against a group of five, short Hispanic girls…and it wasn’t pretty…because my friend and I actually played basketball outside of P.E. and we were beating them soundly. The other girls were frustrated, but it didn’t dawn on me (like it would now) to let them win or at least score a few points. It was my experience that “you win some, you lose some,” that’s part of playing the game, and I preferred to win as much as I could.

The next thing I knew, I was on my back, just outside the key. My friend was leaning over me, worried, questioning, “Are you ok?” The other team was standing around with satisfied smirks on their faces as my friend filled me in: while I’d been airborne for a rebound, one of the short girls had gone for my pony tail, grabbed it, forcefully yanked me down from behind, flat on my back onto the court, which knocked me out when I landed!

Told you they were frustrated.

I got back up and continued to play. But every time one of the other team got near me they talked trash and threatened to beat me up outside of class. I ignored them; I thought they had to be kidding. I mean, fight? In my world, that behavior never dawned on me. No one I knew fought or even thought about beating anyone up. I thought they were kidding–until they followed me around everywhere and warned me I’d better pray they never caught me alone or better yet, alone in a bathroom.

I didn’t respond to their threats, I ignored their taunts, I pretended I didn’t see them trailing me (but I confess I was always relieved when I walked into a bathroom and saw other girls in there, just in case) and after what seems like a few weeks (but was probably more like a few days) P.E. ended and I don’t remember ever seeing those angry girls again.

That’s my near-boxing experience.

“I’ll bet the hardest thing about prize fightin’ is pickin’ up yer teeth with a boxin’ glove on.” (Kin Hubbard)

Add pickin’ up yer teeth with boxin’ gloves on to the list of hard things in, and about, life.

Challenges.

Things like sickness, death, disease, poverty, crime, betrayal, divorce, unemployment, emotional trauma, abuse, too much, too little, and every other unexpected challenge that comes your way. Life is full of hard stuff. In fact, life, itself, is hard. As Katherine Hepburn said, “Life is hard. After all, it kills you.”

But before it does, at least TRY to pick up yer teeth. Don’t quit until you succeed in clearing the floor of your molars and cuspids, or whatever your adversity may be. I’ve found, sometimes, that what I’m going through isn’t quite as hard as picking up teeth with boxing gloves on would be (while other times, one year in particular, I admit to wondering if dying wouldn’t have been easier than the challenges I was facing. Thank goodness I never, personally, discovered the answer to that myself.)

Because when you’ve collected your teeth and pulled yourself together, when the bell has rung and you’re back in the match giving it all you’ve got, there’s nothing quite as exhilarating as a knock out. The knock out that comes at the end when you win because you endured. Victory.

The more I think about it, boxing is a lot like the unexpected life. Here’s why:

“As much as I love boxing, I hate it. And as much as I hate it, I love it.” (Budd Schulberg) At some point, we probably all have a love-hate relationship with our new and unexpected life. As much as we love it, we wouldn’t have chosen it. And as much as we may dislike certain aspects of it or the way certain things are, we wouldn’t trade it for the alternative. Life is glorious, regardless of your circumstances.

“Boxing gave me the opportunities to grow into the person that I am today.” (Alexis Arguello) Where would we be, who would we have become, what would we have learned, how would we have grown…without our unexpected life?

“Boxing is the ultimate challenge. There’s nothing that can compare to testing yourself the way you do every time you step in the ring.” (Sugar Ray Leonard) Life, especially the unexpected one, is a test every single day. So it’s vital we get through it. With a passing grade, or better yet, an A+. Our score lies in how we choose to solve the problems and answer the questions put before us.

“Boxing was not something I truly enjoyed. Like a lot of things in life, when you put the gloves on, it’s better to give than to receive.” (Sugar Ray Leonard) Don’t underestimate the importance of giving, giving back, and making the way easier for others as you travel through life. I can’t imagine where my children and I would be today if we hadn’t had a little help from our friends, if others hadn’t reached out to us and helped make our way easier. Truly, it IS better to give than to receive.

So don’t quit. Hang in there until the bell rings and you get a breather. Don’t expect to understand everything all at once, or even in this lifetime. Just trust, as I do, that someday we will be able to see the grand design of a beautiful plan put in place just for us and our necessary growth. Someday, every mystery will be solved.

“When archaeologists discover the missing arms of Venus de Milo, they will find she was wearing boxing gloves.” (John Barrymore)

The unexpected life.

Ding-ding!