Motherhood, otherwise known as the Eternal Guilt Trip

My alarm woke me up this morning at 5:15.  I laid in bed for another 15 minutes before I made the trek up the stairs to wake my not so happy teenagers for Seminary.  I was greeted by my sleepy but sweet sunshine Baylie who was almost all ready and happy as usual.  I skipped Kyle's door as we have a no-knock policy until 5:40.  That extra 5 minutes of sleep can totally determine one's entire day.  Not really, but it can determine how pleasant said teenager will be for the next 15 minutes of my morning.

I then traveled downstairs to find Mikenzie half awake and trying to roll out of bed.  I made sure she was awake.  I then crawled back into my bed for another 10 minutes before I made my final attempt to awaken the beast.  I checked the weather for the day, the bank account and Facebook and then made the trek once again up the stairs.  I knocked, no response... I knocked again... no response.  Third, much louder knock... still no sign of life.  I then pulled out my handy dandy paper clip, unfolded it and inserted into a locked door.  Popping the door open, I told Kyle to get up.  No response.  Called his name again...  no response.  I finally grabbed a foot a shook it firmly until I finally got a sleepy... debating how ornery should I be... oh, it's my mom... I better be polite... response.

I headed back down to the main floor of our home and wandered around for a minute.  I chatted with Baylie who was how wondering how Kyle will ever succeed in life if he can't wake himself up every day??  I just smiled and thought of the mission he will soon be serving and breathed a sigh of relief that yes, one day he will indeed grow up and wake himself up.

After a few more minutes it became evident that Kyle and Kenz were nowhere near ready and would make Baylie late, again.  She asked for a ride to the church so she could arrive at at reasonable time.  I was more than happy to accommodate her so off we went.  As I drove home through the quiet dark streets I wondered to myself and to my Heavenly Father... why can't they ALL be as easy as Baylie 

( and Jeremy, who was just a pleasant and easy to raise )??  I then thanked my Heavenly Father and my lucky stars that I was blessed with two "easy" kids.

As I thought about my two or three " easy " kids ( depending on the day, Mikenzie is mostly easy ) and my three more challenging children ( who are on a constant sliding scale between independence to down right rebellion, but never anywhere near the side of complete compliance ) along with a discussion I had with my husband last night, the guilt rushed over me.  I wondered why these fierce spirits seem so content to ride on the coattails of  my testimony instead of building their own?  Why does everything from Home Teaching to Missionary Prep class to Seminary have to be a battle? Why do we argue over so many petty things?  It just wears a Momma down.  How firm of a line should we draw? Am I too demanding? Do I not demand enough?

Every morning as I clean up the residual mess that accompanies getting four kids off to school I wander around picking up dirty socks, empty dishes, discarded homework and sometimes downright bizarre findings. I mean really, who in the world finds the need or the time for that matter to stick 100 toothpicks into a stick of butter??  I think of all the perfect Mommy bloggers out there who never have to pick up one stray item as their children happily march to a positive beat all while staying neat, clean, prepared and organized.  Why can't I be that organized??

As I battle one last year with Kyle over seminary, telling him you WILL graduate from Seminary...  you WILL go to Missionary Prep class... you WILL go to church each Sunday... you WILL watch General Conference... you WILL participate in family scripture study.... I think of all the perfect Mormon bloggers who have children who run gleefully into Family Home Evening and drink fully from the cup of gospel teachings.  Why aren't I that spiritual? Where is my leadership?

Where is the line between allowing free agency and being a "goodly parent"?  Where do my teachings and desires to raise good, strong adults who add to society and not take away from it overtake my children's personal responsibilities and choices?  How do I raise children who WANT to serve missions and WANT to serve The Lord?  So many people have said " Well, you can't force them to go on a mission"  Um... have you MET my children?? I couldn't "force" them to walk across the street if my life depended on it let alone force them to fill out mission papers and serve for two years!  My children ooze independence, maybe a little too much, but that is who I raised them to be.  No helicopter mother here.

I then thought to myself  it would be SOOO much easier if they would ALL just do what I want! If they would just obey me and not question my impeccable judgement.  If they would just comply more than they complain!  Can't they just be happy, compliant little soldiers??

No, they can't!  That is not the plan... you know...the great, eternal Plan of Happiness.  I honestly can see Satan's side of things every once in awhile.  Seriously, I could save my children from so much heartache and myself from so many unnecessary headaches if we all just obeyed!  Life would be so much easier.  But what would we learn?  How would we grow?  Who would we become?  Not the people our Heavenly Father wants us to be.  Not the eternal, sanctified, righteous saints we are striving to become while we travel through this veil of tears.  

So as my children stream back home after seminary and begin making their sack lunches for the day, as they play and laugh with our puppy and Baylie stands in awe of a beautiful sunrise ( because that's just who she is, sweet, easy and grateful ) I take in a deep breath and enjoy the fleeting moments of raising teenagers.  Teenagers who will soon be leaving my home to start out on their own at college or on a mission.  Teenagers who despite their constant stretching and growing and rebelling and exercising of independence still somehow melt my heart as they fill our home with energy and laughter.

I don't have the answers, even after writing this long post.  I probably never will.  I just do my best, each day.  One child, one challenge at a time.  I hope for a better than average outcome.  I pray for my children each day.  I pray for myself as a mother.  And then I get off of my knees and go to work.

Be Grateful!!

I'm too sick for this guilt trip...

This morning as I dragged myself out of bed at 9:30, after a long night full of sneezing, coughing, sore throat, maybe a bit of whining, achy muscles and a mild fever, I entered my family room to see two of my kids arguing.  I stopped briefly with my whisper of a voice and told them I didn't feel well enough to deal with who had the remote control to the TV.  Never mind the fact that all four of my kids were lounging on the couches.  Later that morning when I reappeared, Mikenzie was cooking chicken, at 10:30 in the morning??  I didn't really care, I just wanted Tylenol, Ibuprofen and some cough drops to go with my Kleenex and misery.

As I laid back down in bed I pictured of one of the "perfect sisters" in my ward who most likely had her home humming with happy, well groomed children completing their chore charts with smiles on their faces, all while primary music was playing in the background ( and I can almost guarantee you, that this was in fact happening and it is just not an exaggeration-- they truly exist ).  I laid in bed for a few minutes before I drifted off into yet another restless nap to help me overcome whatever illness I am battling and  thought " I am really NOT the best mom, my kids should be working, cleaning, practicing piano... wait... I'm too sick for this guilt trip... " and into dream land I traveled.  

Later today, when I finally arose with  my ears ringing and throbbing from what I am assuming is a double ear infection ( aren't 42 year olds too old for that ? ), hacking all the way to the bathroom and finally out the bedroom door, I found... no... not a immaculate home filled with sunshine...  but I did find that maybe I am not the worst mom either.

Mikenzie had readied herself for her job, which she had acquired on her own at 15.  One check in the good mom box. I have raised an independent, hard working child. 

 Kyle had taken her to work so I could rest.  One more, no two more check's in the good mom box.  #1, I have a kind son who had concern for his mom and was #2, responsible enough to take his sister to work.  Hmmm, not sooo bad I guess.

I then found Baylie, cleaning the kitchen.  Only half a check in the good mom box, as she had ulterior motives for the cleaning.  It is National Share A Smile Day and she was baking a cake in the form of a big smiley face.  Not sure who gets a check in their box for that one, me for raising such a sweet little girl, or Heavenly Father for sending her to me.  He must  think I can do something right, so half a check to even it out to four checks.  She had to hurry, as she was helping with hair and make-up in the school play.  Voluntarism! Another check!

And then we have Brandon, who was arguing earlier with Baylie over the remote.  He was off playing in a basketball game.  Another check for keeping my children well rounded and physically fit? Kyle was there watching, supporting his brother.  James was able to go as well.  Maybe another check for all that? 

Later today, Kyle suited up and went to work as well. Another check in my good mom column.  He is a hard working kid, he just doesn't enjoy it as  much.  I think he would rather be here at any given moment on any given day : 

So, a grand total of 7 checks in the good mom box for the day.  I guess I can take that with a good pat on my own back.  I think I can honestly say have raised some pretty decent kiddos.  And I am NOT going to be a dutiful accountant at the end of today, subtracting from my good mom column the many things that I am sure I did wrong, wrong, wrong... nope, I'm just too sick for that guilt trip today.

Be Grateful!

Finally Blogging Again

Boy has it been a long time since I last wrote a little something on this blog.  I have been thinking about it for months, but I just never seem to have the get up and go enough to get it done.  As I reviewed my quiet little blog tonight, I realized what a treasure it is to reflect on over the past few years.  Little memories that may have slipped by if I had not taken a minute to write them down.

Life has not been kind to us in many ways over the past six-nine months.  It has been a long difficult winter in more ways than the cold temperatures and extra snow we have received this year.  We have had job loss, funerals, children with medical issues, one son leaving for a mission, another one leaving for BYU.  It has been a busy time in life.

A year ago today, James sold  his private practice to move towards a more lucrative career opportunity.  Things were going swimmingly well and everyone was happy.  James was actually working less, I was at home and NOT working in the office.  The pay was unbelievable, we almost  had to pinch ourselves at our good fortune every time a pay check was deposited.  We had plans, big plans for being totally debt free in 5-7 years time.  Life was great.  Kids were growing and we were moving right along.   The kids had a phenomenal summer, with a lot of travel and fun.

On August 21st we sent our first missionary off to the MTC in Provo.  We were thrilled to be able to fund his mission and were (are) so very proud of him.  There had been a few rocky spots along the way.  A little tension surrounding the elephant in the room, as Jeremy should have been missionary #2, not #1.  He shared with me the awkwardness of it all and I reassured him he should never be ashamed of making correct choices.  I was blessed to attend the temple with him a few times before he left and those were cherished moments.  My little boy was all grown up.

So, we outfitted him and sent him on  his way after a wonderful farewell and open house.  My Dad was able to help in setting him apart as a missionary, which I would have never dreamed of in a million years when I was a teenager.  It is amazing how much we all grow over time.

So, we were cruising right along until August 28th when James called me to tell me he had bad news.  Well, to be honest, he always has bad news.  He went on to tell me the company he was working for, the one with the fabulous salary, was closed effective immediately and he was no longer employed.  Surprisingly, both of us felt calm, and have continued to feel calm through out the entire ordeal.  But reality quickly set in.

It has not been pleasant financially.  It took James over a month to find another job.  And it pays much less than what we had been enjoying.  Even less than his office produced, and that was always a struggle.  He now has a second job to supplement, but it requires a lot of travel and a lot of  hours.  No one is too happy about that.  And, we are in a very deep hole financially due to the months of being underpaid.

But, we have learned a lot as we have reflected on all that we have been through.  A lot of self-examination takes place when you are on the brink of losing it all.  And now, it is time for us to rebuild. So many blessings have come into our life along the way, not in the form of our choosing, like another high paying job, but many blessings.  Friends and family offering to help pay for Jeremy's mission while we are getting back on our feet.  An escrow refund check arriving the very week we needed a big chunk of change to pay for malpractice, kind gestures and yes, even a big dose of humility along the way.  Many blessings indeed.

As we were pushing through the fear job loss brings, Brandon had surgery.  Kyle happened to break his ankle the same night I was staying in the hospital with Brandon, which was the same night James was in Michigan being trained for his new job.  Yeah...one of those days.

I was heavily involved with multiple ward parties and Christmas giving throughout this time and I kept saying " If I can just get through Christmas... things will slow down and I can relax"

The highlight of our Christmas of course was talking to Elder Teela via Skype.  We spent almost two hours talking to the happiest missionary on the planet.  It was wonderful seeing him so very content and just HAPPY.

I called my mom after our family call to let her know we had spoken to Jeremy.  She was thrilled for us.  And then, she told me my sweet Grandma wasn't doing too well.  That she had stopped eating and was sleeping 24 hours a day.  She didn't have a lot of time left.

I scoured the internet for a not so cheap ticket to fly to Utah.  Buying a plane ticket last minute during Christmas season is not an inexpensive task.  I found a reasonably priced ticket and flew out on the 27th.  Praying the whole time I would be able to go say goodbye to a wonderful lady who meant so much to me.  When I landed at 10:30 p.m., she was still hanging on.  I prayed all night we wouldn't get "the call" and woke up feeling anxious to get to Levan to see her.  At 8:00 that morning, just after breakfast, my aunt called to let us know Grandma had passed away at 11:30 the night before.  She wanted to let us have a good nights sleep.  I missed her by just a few hours, but was grateful she was in a much better place, where she could walk again, use her quick wit to make others smile again and to be with more family and friends than she has left on this side of the veil.

We had a wonderful celebration of her life on January 4, 2014.  Grandma brought so much joy into so many lives.  It was a great family reunion, as my mom said " Well, it's too bad Mother passed away, she would have loved to hear who came to her funeral"  And she would have, she loved family and friends more than anything.

So, it truly has been a long winter.  A lot of cold and dark nights.  Worry and sadness for one child, not to be outdone by worry for another child and concern for another.  Many nights spent praying, worrying, crying, and praying some more about the temporal and tedious, but necessary thing, called money.  

 But with it, many bright, sunny days as well.  I have wonderful children who make me smile and cry and make me want to pull my hair out, and then laugh again...all within a 10 minute time frame.  I have a husband who will work as long and as hard as he has to for his family.   I have been so wonderfully blessed with a good life, not an easy one, but a good life.  So... we are on a bit of a detour.  We might as well enjoy the scenery of the enormous mountain ahead of us, there is more joy in the journey that way.

Be Grateful

    

I do it myself...

You see this tough little guy? This is a picture of Brandon trying to pour a bowl of cereal for himself.  I have been smiling about him all week. He is such a feisty little person.  This last Sunday Brandon and I attended a baptism in the morning before church.  He has suddenly become obsessed with tying his own tie.  He worked and worked at it for about 15 minutes before we left and all during the drive up to the church.

Still unsuccessful, he wanted to stay in the car until he had that tie tied.  I finally convinced him to come into the church and work on it.  He had to come in barefoot as he hadn't even taken the time to put his shoes on yet. Once inside he realized he had two different church shoes, but that is a different story.

He continued to work on his tie and refused any help from many of the well meaning priesthood holders who were more than happy to help this soon-to-be deacon learn to tie his tie.  

" I don't want ANY help!" Was his constant tight lipped reply.  He was frustrated many times, told me it was a double windsor, not a slip knot and kept on working at it.

Finally, just as the baptism began, he mastered it! He tied his tie all by himself and sat with a half contented smile.  Disappointed it took so long, but happy it was finally perfect. I wanted to snap a picture to show everyone, but he had that thing untied and off of his neck the second church was over.  Boys!! I also showed many of the men what a great job Brandon had done, but he was irritated by my attempt at giving him props and told me to stop. " It's just a tie Mom... what's the big deal?"

Recently someone asked me if I ever had problems getting my kids to ride in their car seats.  Not really, other than Brandon, who never minded riding in the car seat, he just had an issue with HOW he got into the car seat.  He would only ride in that seat if HE was the one to get himself in, from start to beginning.

He would only let me open the door, and that was because most 1 year olds can't quite reach the door  handle of a Suburban.  Often times I would actually have to hold him up and let him " open" the door, with some very limited help.  Once the door was open, he would climb into the car and into his car seat.  I could never lift him in or give him a boost.  It was from the ground up only for this kid! Then, we would all have to wait until this toddler with chubby little fingers would snap his buckles together.  A few times I would try to sneak ahead and buckle one while he wasn't looking, only to be caught and have to unbuckle my helpfulness and wait until he had done them all by himself.  If I tried to help in anyway I  would often be scolded with these words" I do it myself!" 

That was his mantra as a toddler and obviously it still holds true today.  I have no idea where this head strong independent child will go, but I have a feeling, he will do it his way and by himself!

Be Grateful!!

The Ute Stampede

Today I have been reflecting on my childhood summer memories.  I guess it is just that time of year, when we used to make the annual trek from Provo to my mom's hometown of Nephi, UT.

If I could re-live just one memory of my life, this week would be a contender.   So many memories came flooding into my mind this morning as I thought about the wonderful week we would spend with family at the Ute Stampede every July .

Usually we would caravan down with my cousins The Ostler's, which was always a treat to me because  I loved them all so much.  I used to pray my Aunt Barbara would adopt me as I enjoyed each and every one.  I don't think I could name a favorite, although Heidi and I were the closest in age and therefore the closest of my cousins.

So, we would all caravan down to Nephi, usually in our old truck and The Ostler's white station wagon.  I remember stopping by fabric shops and sometimes clothing stores on the way.  But my absolute favorite childhood memory was pulling into my grandma's driveway.  She would almost always be waiting for us on her red cement stairs in the carport, or come right out to greet us.  We always felt so welcomed and loved when we arrived, as if we were travelers from another country being welcomed as highly anticipated guests.  That event played out over and over during my childhood.  It still warms my heart today. And my Grandma welcomed us with the same open arms whether it was in Nephi, Moroni or Provo.  Everyone was always welcomed and loved in my Grandma's house.

I remember sitting under her big plum tree in an old hammock my Grandpa Garrett had made from thick fabric he acquired at the hose plant.  We would all pile into that hammock and enjoy the shade.  We would also try to slide her old Clorox bottle full of clothes pins as far and as fast as we could down the clothes line.  Eventually we would push too hard and all of the clothes pins would fall out.  Even picking them up became a fun game.

We spent time in her garden and in her shed, usually hiding from cousins during a game of hide and seek.  We would also spend plenty of time in the irrigation ditch, usually being chased and  dunked by the boys in a very wet game full of running and squealing.  My Grandpa would make us boats out of cucumbers or squash and we would race them in the irrigation ditch. An irrigation ditch was as fun to us as any water park, we would spend hours trying to dam the water and then let it all go.  We would usually not get too far with this, as the adults were always worried about using someone else's water time with the irrigation system.

My Grandpa would also sneak us out to his camper, which is where he hid his secret stash of candy.  He was more that happy to share with us, as long as we would keep his secret.  Another secret that he was pretty good at keeping was how to find buried, delicious hot meals.  Usually at the end of the day he would start to tell my Grandma he was hungry and could sure use a good hot meal.  She would tell him to go find one.  He would look and look, and then to our delight, he would unearth a magical dutch oven, full to the brim with hot delicious homemade dinner.  We were always amazed he knew just where to dig for such a wonderful discovery.

Later in the week, we would  walk the few blocks down to the center of town for the annual Ute Stampede Parade.  My Grandpa would usually be under a tree, sleeping when we arrived.  We laid out blankets in the same spot every year in front of  the high school.  We didn't know anyone in the parade, but we sure enjoyed being treated to the candy they would throw at us as the passed us by.

Eventually we would make it down to the main event.  This is where we had the most fun.  One night was usually reserved for the rodeo, where we were instantly transformed from city slickers to country folk, watching the rodeo queens and all of the cowboys with their neat tricks. Bull riders and barrel racing, rodeo clowns, they had it all.

The next night was where we finally were able to ride carnival rides.  I don't remember the rides so much, but I do remember being asked over and over if I was Mildred Garrett's granddaughter.  The reason everyone knew was because of our french braids.  Every night before we went to town, Grandma would line us all up, retrieve her trusty bottle of either Dippity-Do or Vaseline ( which was almost impossible to wash out in less that a week ) and braid every granddaughter's hair.  That is how they knew us. The evening was usually full of cotton candy, a few free goldfish, and plenty of fun.  We would usually come home to fresh peaches and cream with just a little bit of sugar.  Best dessert anyone could ask for after a night of nonstop fun.

We also had a family reunion every year at the park where the swimming pool was.  We would sit under the large shade trees and there would be tables of wonderful food.  We would run and play all morning and into the afternoon.  Eventually we would make our way into the pool and spend hours splashing and swimming and jumping in and out of the water.  It was the same pool my mom worked at as a teenager and if we asked to go swimming too early, my Grandma would tell us all of the carnival workers were in the pool swimming and we had to wait until they were out.

I remember lazy car rides all around Nephi.  My Grandma's car always had a unique smell.  I would sit in the back seat and listen to my mom and Grandma talk about each house, who had lived there, who was living there and where they had all gone.

Some summers we would spend a few nights at the K-O-A camp.  My mom would bring down our trailer, but we usually all slept outside under the stars.  We would swim all day, walk back to the camp site for lunch and dinner.  My sister Lesilie lost her first tooth at that camp ground.  Heidi and I once tried to take a handful of candy from two boys we thought were my cousins.  Much to our embarrassment, they weren't! I was also rescued from drowning by my cousins friend once while we were swimming.  My older cousins were all going down the slide and it looked so fun.  The edge of the pool seemed really close and I just knew if I got enough speed while going down the slide, I would only have a few inches to go.  Well, I went down the slide and was quickly reminded that I didn't know how to swim and the edge was not nearly as close as I thought it was.  I was bobbing up and down in the water, hoping my mom would see I was going under.  Suddenly, my cousin's friend pulled me up out of the water and said " Don't do that again, okay?" Believe me, I had no plans on doing it anytime soon.

We spent many nights sleeping outside in my Grandma's back yard under the stars.  Only to awaken to the sounds and smells of pancakes and sausage cooking under the carport.  We would all line up, with sleep in our eyes, but our braids firmly in place and enjoy a huge family breakfast.  That is when I discovered The Ostler's put syrup on their sausage!

Those are just a few of my wonderful memories of Nephi and the Ute Stampede.  I have plenty more to share, like the time my cousin's burned me while trying to curl my hair, or the fun games we used to come up with, such as playing hospital. Or the way my Grandma acquired her ducks after my cousin won them at the carnival.  I have plenty of memories of Grandma cooking in her kitchen, her brown pots and pans and her double oven.  Brown paper bags full of cherries. Homemade mac and cheese with tomatoes on top.  But this post is long enough.

I sure wish my kiddo-s had some of the same memories.  It was a magical week for us every July.

High Adventure

Kyle an Jeremy have been out on yet another adventure. Here are a few snapshots. 

Baby Steps Towards Acceptance

I have had this thorn in my side, this wrestle with The Lord, one that I haven't wanted.  One that I have resisted and fought against.  A cup I have begged to be removed from me.  And yet, that darn thorn is still there, sticking in my side, itching away, not letting up one bit.  

The thing about this thorn, I don't have any control over it.  I have no "free agency" on this one.  Someone else is choosing to use their free agency in a manner that is not quite fitting in with my plan.  And in my opinion, the choices are wrong and will have eternal, life changing consequences. And the whole world will come to a screeching halt if things aren't done the way I think they need to be done! Or so I thought.

So, after months and months of complaining, lamenting, whining, weeping and praying, I have finally come to accept this prickly thorn.  I truly have.  Really.  Even my husband doesn't believe me.  But I have.

In the beginning, I was in denial.  I was convinced I could change the outcome.  If I had enough faith, hearts would change.  If I went to the temple enough, angels would attend.  If I fasted, prayers would be heard.  And I am sure all of that happened, on the other side of the veil.  Meanwhile here in Missouri... I continued to follow my "promptings"  which caused more bitter, hateful angry battles in the process.  Because I was trying to do it my way.  Then one day I realized, regardless of my intentions, contention is of the devil and I am not bringing any spirit of love and peace into the situation by "helping" Heavenly Father.

Then I went into the depression mode.  Everything depressed me and brought me to tears.   I could not find peace.  Every choice made that wasn't in line my agenda, sent me to bed.  I would cry and pray and cry some more.  And then...everything would still be the same when I would finally emerge from my den of despair.  Other than feeling my children were being neglected, 

nothing came of this self absorbed selfish behavior.

Strike two on how to solve this problem.

Well, here I am.  I still have a thorn in my side, a lump in my throat and a band-aid across my broken heart.  But I have changed as a person.  I have come to accept this "trial".  I hesitate calling it a trial, as I know so many more people are out there in the world with real, heart-breaking, mind numbing full blown trials.  At first I considered it a challenge, which is why I approached this whole thing the totally wrong way from the very beginning.  I like challenges, I thrive on overcoming difficulty.  This was a bit more than a challenge, but hasn't quite risen to the true level of " trial " in my book.

 I have accepted this challenge, trial, frustration, lesson.  What ever it is. Bit by bit.  I truly have.  I find comfort in short scriptures.  In quotes from the prophets.  In prayer.  In beautiful sunrises. Just today I heard a scripture from a talk that had a totally different subject, but it brought me great comfort.

D&C 100: 12-15

12: Therefore, continue your journey ( ie. life's journey ) and  let your heart rejoice; 

for behold, and lo, I am with you, even unto the end.

13: And now I give unto you a word concerning ____( the person not making the best decisions ).  

_____ (same person ) shall be redeemed, although ( he will be) chastened for a little season.

14: Thy (son is) in my hands; 

and inasmuch as (he) keeps my commandments, 

( he ) shall be saved.

15: Therefore, let your heart be comforted; 

for all things shall work together for good to them that walk uprightly... 

See that? A little drop of comfort and peace.  A little dab will do ya.  It is all I need, just to know my prayers have been heard, are being heard and that this battle is far from over. Little baby steps, one at a time on my pathway of finding peace during a trial,  challenge, not very fun time.

Be Grateful!