Saying Goodbye

 Saying goodbye.  The action of those two words stir my spirit with dread.  My emotions struggle with the ache of letting go of people, places and things.  

People such as a college roommate I'll probably not see again.  Saying goodbye to parents or grandparents possibly for the last time.  Speaking by phone from my hospital bed to my critically husband in a hospital bed miles from me, telling him it's ok to go home to heaven now.  The goodbye hug to my sister after a wonderful week visit of laughter mixed with tearful memories.  Encouraging a longtime friend to return home to her family roots for loving support in this season of life.  Having grandkids away at college or pursuing their dreams long distance from my small world.  I remind myself that we grow them up to grow away.  It is the natural progression of life that becomes bittersweet.  

Saying goodbye to places  that change over time.  You cannot keep the past as the present because there would be no future.  Going home is not the same. Yet the familiarity prompts the memories that bring comfort and peace. 

Saying goodbye to things.  Cherishing sentimental treasures that track our life journey.  Sometimes passed on, kept in a drawer or displayed for daily viewing.  The things will eventually be left to others to decide if anyone will add these to their life journey.  

Saying goodbye encompasses various degrees of loss.  Heartache,  longing, emptiness, sadness, loneliness and finality.  

So I do not say goodbye to people.  I choose to part with the phrase, I will see you later.  It leaves hope for a reunion especially for those that believe in eternal life.  It keeps you looking forward to the future.  

I do not say goodbye to places because I may or may not be back  If I return, I will embrace all of the sameness tweaked  by  unexpected changes. 

I do not say goodbye to things.  I prefer to pursue a hello in new homes for special treasures.  It is satisfying to share and pass on meaningful gifts of memories.  

Saying goodbye can be redesigned into a positive feeling of hopeful anticipation.  So I'm sticking with it.  I will see you later.  

Whistle While You Work

 My husband whistles. This short sentence of fact reveals a great deal about my husband‘s character and personality. My husband is not a musician or up on the current top 10 music chart. But he is a master of whistling his own heart tunes. I took my husband’s whistling for granted until I realized how rarely I hear other people whistle. Only a chosen few are gifted with the art of whistling. I tried to whistle as a child and failed. I still don’t whistle  

My husbands whistling habit reminds me of  the song from Snow White the Seven Dwarfs “Whistle while you work”  My husband always whistles while he works. A person whistling is generally not an angry person. In frustrating situation, while others may curse or angrily throw things, my husband whistles. He tackles the task, improvising if necessary and continues to whistle while he works. 

His whistling has proved to be handy countless times. My husband’s long, loud whistle summons our daughters home from playtime at the end of summer days. If I need to know his whereabouts I stop and listen. Yes, I hear him.  He is whistling.

Whistling is a ‘one of a kind’ gift. It takes coordination. It has benefits. It relieves stress and is relaxing. Next time you hear someone whistling take advantage of this extraordinary privilege and stop to listen. You’ve just been privy to a lost art.

1992 

On Replay: The Goodness of God

On Replay:  The Goodness of God

I love You, Lord. For Your mercy never fails me. All my days, I've been held in Your hands.  

My days have become many years. The winter of life. Troubles and trials, mountains and valleys, yet never alone. 

From the moment that I wake up Until I lay my head Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God And all my life You have been faithful And all my life You have been so, so good. 

.

You know the best for me. You allow me to choose bitter or better. You lift me up when I take my eyes off you. You are always with me. 

“With every breath that I am able Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God." 

I remember the struggle to breathe. Each breath was an effort. Breathing is so automatic until it is not.  It was a dark time filled with challenges from a body that almost totally shut down.  

 I love Your voice You have led me through the fire In the darkest night You are close like no other I've known You as a Father I've known You as a Friend.  

You were with me in the deep dark tunnel helping me see I could climb out of it.  One effort at a time. 

I have lived in the goodness of God. And all my life You have been faithful.  And all my life You have been so, so good. With every breath that I am able Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God.

When I found I was able to physically and spiritually sing again my inner spirit soared.  I was lifted up by my worship and praise for the presence of God that never left me. 

And all my life You have been faithful And all my life You have been so, so good With every breath that I am able Oh, I'm gonna sing of the goodness of God (I'm gonna sing, I'm gonna sing) 'Cause all my life You have been faithful And all my life You have been so, so good With every breath that I am able Oh, I'm gonna sing of the goodness of God Oh, I'm gonna sing of the goodness of God.  

#alwaystrusting 

Perspective

Making choices! It can be difficult from the most mundane decision to the very important decision. Like from what to eat for dinner to deciding to what shingles for a new roof. Yet the hardest choice for me can be how to view my circumstances. This is a daily choice. Actually a moment by moment choice. Do I choose to be frustrated and discouraged because I'm tethered to oxygen 24/7? Or how I get tangled in tubing so many times a day? My lifeline leash has limits to my independence. Yet I do have the choice to be thankful for where and how I am today. Live in THIS day! I chose to remember the journey and where I was a year ago My visit to my pulmonogist was an eye opener yesterday When i pressed him for a prognosis he replied, "It is hard to know what the long term prognosis is because most of the people as sick as you didn’t survive. And we are only 2 years into this to know what long term is." That really shook and shocked me. I'm in a small percentage of critical covid patients that survived. I knew that but I do not always grasp it. Does that make sense? So today tubing tangles are a symbol of survival. Be thankful in all things. It is all about perspective! I choose joy. 

Again?

The power of words coupled with truth is an undeniable life changing force.  The words we like to hear are positive, happy ones like “I love you”, “Proud of you”, “Til Death Do Us Part” Having your baby” to name a few. But then there are the hard words.  “You are fired”,  “There’s been an accident”, “He died”, “She died”, “You have cancer” to name a few more. My normal world came to a screeching stop with the C word. Fighting cancer for a year of treatment was life changing. As was the dread of hearing those three words again before every single annual mammogram.  Praise the Lord I’ve been cancer the last 18 years. But the dread lies quietly in wait each year. 

Three other words, “You have Covid”  changed my life a year ago.  I almost died and my recovery in rehabilitation was five months. I am still recovering with the need of oxygen.  And my hair grew back. And a new dread took up residence in the recesses of my mind.  What if I get covid again?  Several doctors have told me that I might not make if I get Covid again because of my damaged lungs. 

So I’ve kept my world relatively small.  I recently bowed out of a wedding and didn’t attend my grandkids’ music camp performance.  Just keeping my world as safe as possible. But it happened. A scratchy throat prompted me to test and I had Covid.  AGAIN. Sigh. 

But God quieted my fear. He reminded me that He brought me through it last year. If it is His will, He can do it again. So I just fell back on my favorite hashtag. #alwaystrusting

My family and friends prayed. My good doctor prescribed good meds that I started immediately. I kept a close watch on my oxygen levels. My granddaughter Ava came to keep me company and her eye on me. She’d already been exposed to Covid from her mom. 

This is the  fifth day and I feel normal!!! No fever  No loss of taste or smell  No headache  No bronchial issues. The only symptoms I had were scratchy throat and fatigue. I’m very thankful the worst is over. I hope so but with Covid, you never know. 

So today I returned to life. Being outside was so refreshing. Ava and I took a drive and got donuts and Panda Express. I delighted in my favorite pass time of taking pics from my car window.

So thankful for God’s mercy to me in countless ways. “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” Psalm 23:6.

PS:  Dear God, could I also skip the Covid hair loss this time around?  

A year ago

 A year ago my covid test was positive.  As I looked at the test result apprehensively, I didn’t anticipate the long journey ahead. Looking back I find it hard to grasp that I almost died and half of our family got covid.  I was in a fragile physical condition when my husband died. Grieving was postponed by recovery efforts to breath and build my strength to ambulate.  Five months later I returned home and to a multitude of adjustments, emotionally and physically. 

So where am I today, a year later?  I’m still dependent on 2-4 liters of oxygen depending on my level of activity. My much needed knee surgeries are permanently off the table because of damaged lungs.  So I’m still adjusting  To things I cannot manage without help. To figuring out how to do things in a different way.  Or adjusting to the loss of things I probably won’t be able to do again.

Like walking on the beach.  Not a wheelchair friendly place   Or immersing myself under the cool refreshing water or jumping a wave.   Not quite compatible with a nose cannula and oxygen tubing. As a former Florida girl and beach lover, how do I reconcile this personal loss in my life? 

Refocus  on what I can do  Not what I cannot do   Not always easy but doable   It’s a choice. And remember.    

Every day I go to the beach in my memories   How?  The master bathroom is decorated in a beach theme  I hung a grouping of  six    favorite beach pics out of large collection of beach shots.  Long gazes of my photography reminds me of cherished times and it soothes my soul.  Memories   Let the memories live again  and a new day will begin.    

#tobecontinued

#wellwithmysoul

#alwaystrusting

Recovering and Grieving

I’ve been pondering the similarities between grieving and recovery. Recovery is a return to a normal state of health, mind or strength.  Grieving is a cause or occasion of deep distress or sorrow.  And I’ve been doing both since last September.  

Grieving is an continual journey.  The triggers of grief sneak up on me at times I least expect.  Grief cannot be measured because there is no defining end. 

But recovery is evidenced in countless ways. A gain of strength or mobility in an area of physical challenge.  Or recovery of an interest that seemed lost to you just a few months ago. A step forward. A measured progressive step. 

I’m keeping track of my recovery steps. This week I was ready to decorate the front porch and dining room with patriotic decor.  I was always into seasonal decorating except for the last six months. No Christmas, Valentine’s Day or Easter. But my state of mind took a step forward to bring out the decorations for Flag Day and the Fourth of July. It was good to embrace this personal tradition again. A little step here. A little step there. I’m recovering my life.  

#alwaystrusting 

It’s your birthday

 It’s your seventy fifth birthday. And you are gone. I am beginning to process this. I see the signs of your absence everyday. The empty chair. No frozen waffles for breakfast. No worn socks turned inside out oleft on the floor. Not hearing your daily phone calls here, thereu and everywhere. Quiet nights. No snoring  So much more is missing. You’ve been gone for six months. Yet, I’m just now experiencing the reality. The numbness is slowly wearing off. 

When I was fighting to recover from Covid, you’d always ask me when I was coming home. I’d answer tomorrow.  It was easier to say that then acknowledging the long recovery journey that loomed ahead. 

And then you had a massive stroke. I wonder when I spoke to you from my hospital bed to yours if you heard me say I loved you and it was ok for you to go. Did you remember why I wasn’t at your bedside?  Did you know how strong our three daughters were through this heartbreaking time? 

But what I really wonder about is how it was when your faith became sight.  When you were face to face beholding our Savior and Lord in all of His glory.  Did you shed your conservative side and raise your hands in worship and praise? Have you been hanging out with the disciples? David? Noah? Moses? Do you see our parents, family and friends that have gone before us?  

You and I shared life for fifty one years, from dating to marriage. We kept our commitment vows. And we kept our faith in the Lord always. Though I have been left behind, I have countless memories and photos. As I go forward as a widow, I will miss my life partner.  But I promise you, I will see you later.  

Always Trusting 

Amy Grant sings Lead Me On

 The first strains of our adopted anthem begins.  We look at each other. We promised each other we would always stand for this song. In unison our concert feet are on the floor. We dance. We raise our hands. As the majority of concert goers do.  

Except once. The concert venue was packed out. My daughter and I had excellent seats on the second row center  The familiar anthem intro begins. But no one else has stood up. We look at each other. We kept our tradition and bravely stood. Two of us. And before we knew it, the entire venue was standing. It was a goosebump moment.  

And whenever I listen to this song, my heart soars, my feet want to dance and I still raise my hands in praise.  Those concert days with daughters and their friends were the best. 

Milestones

 My sister and I grew up hearing our dad proclaiming certain life happenings as milestones. We celebrated most of them. First date, first drivers license, first prom, significant marker birthdays. Except our mom who stayed 29 for ten years, then she was thirty nine for another decade, you see where this is going. But I digress.  

The first birdie out of the nest was college bound me. A definite milestone to celebrate but a bit bittersweet. Perhaps we were not ready for the changes but we adjusted.  And we celebrated every homecoming and time we spent together.

The years passed and family milestones kept coming. Weddings, new babies, growing kids with their milestones from babyhood, childhood and adulthood. Now we are not only going to visit our parents three states away but going to see them as loving grandparents. Special visits. New milestones. Precious memories.  

Sooner than we imagined our family milestones became a balancing bar of role reversal mixed with respect to our aging parents. A major milestone to relocate them to be near us for better care. We only had Mom with us for a year and Dad only two years. And talk about a hard milestone-burying your parents. The hard part was we never talked about this milestone. The only conversation was IF I die not WHEN I die. My sister and I made it through this tough milestone of letting beloved parents go. We were comforted in knowing they both were in heaven, waiting for our reunion one day. 

Today was a milestone for myself and daughters. We designed a grave marker for their dad and myself. Seeing our names on the marker is a ‘suck in your breath’ moment. My husband with a death date. My name eventually will be completed. 

I cannot help but wonder how did we get here so quickly. Yet there are marvelous milestones still ahead. I will embrace them because I know God is my life planner and in control. 

Always trusting. 

Quarantine mixed with Retirement

 A year ago today, Vance had extensive open heart surgery. He had a few complications which extended his hospitalization to thirty seven days. Meanwhile, besides visiting him twice a day, I was settling us into another home with the tremendous help of family and friends. There was a water disaster at the new residence but we ended up blessed with three rooms of new carpet. My sister found a new to us vehicle to replace my less than reliable ride. So many decisions! 

Vance came home to the mix of new and familiar.  He loved it all.  He also came home to a different world of recovery, rehab, covid quarantine and forced retirement.  I also was forced to retire from my enjoyable part time job, maneuver safely in the masked quarantined world and keep up as a caregiver. So many changes! 

And now a year later, we are still adjusting to the mix of quarantine and retirement.  It’s rather liberating to not have a schedule per se. We get up and go to bed when we want. We do afternoon appointments. We have a small social bubble of family and friends come over for meals and games. We miss fellowship with our church family immensely and look forward to resuming our church attendance when the covid risks are fewer. So many quiet days! 

We are so thankful for the prayers, helping hands and encouragement in cards and calls. Our faith in our Lord Jesus Christ sustains us. Always trusting.

Spilled noodles happen

 Ever have days when you wonder if you are losing it?  Like when you are draining a pot of noodles and the colander goes askew and half the noodles spill into the kitchen sink. Or you can’t find stuff that you put in a safe place you wouldn’t forget but then do. Speaking of forgetting, I forgot to empty the filter on my Eureka lightweight vacuum cleaner and the full filter falls off the machine and dumps an embarrassing load of feathers, fur and dust in front of my three daughters. And how many times have I pushed the radio button to start my car instead of the ignition button?  Or when the family arrived for spaghetti and I’d forgotten to boil the noodles.  Senior moments.  So I’m losing a sense of having it all together which is indeed a loss.  And a pride issue since I’m being transparent.   

But last night a long time friend died of Covid. This is a loss beyond words for his dear family and friends. A loss that is a life journey of grieving.  Moments that hurt. Anniversaries of the first time since a loved one died. An empty chair at the table. A song. A season. A smell. A food. A memory.  Lots of memories. A forever longing for one more day. 

So I am reminded that my sense of having it all together is now very insignificant.  Spilled noodles happen . Senior moments go on. I am choosing to be content in whatever situation  I am in. And praying for those who are suffering a deep loss. 

A year, a month, a week, a day

A year ago my husband had a stroke. Our relationship changed. He became more dependent and I stepped up to take on more responsibilities. We transitioned into the new ways relatively well. I became his Uber driver, day planner, prompter on memory issues, handled all his meds and insulin and kept track of doctor appointments. Throughout the year I still sought the answer to the cause of his extreme fatigue.

A month ago the answer came. He needed open heart surgery to take care of several issues. It was a whirlwind month of preparations. The things you need to do before a serious operation, like taking care of legal papers, making decisions and spending extra time with family and friends. We celebrated his 73rd birthday the weekend before surgery date. It was also our last family gathering in our home of 38 years. The downsize move became a TO DO when we learned he needed open heart surgery. Yet while we spent our evening eating, laughing, praying and crying our family looked forward to new beginnings in a lovely home we’ve been preparing for some time.

A week ago my husband walked bravely into the hospital to submit to a very serious surgery. While I had perfect peace he would be fine, it is still hard to go through the journey. The surgery was successful. He has had complications of needing an external pace maker which impeded him getting out of bed all week. His breathing and dependency on oxygen has been a critical issue. Other critical issues occurred on the home front. Our new home had a water mishap that damaged two rooms of carpet and hallway hardwood. We still moved but put our Furnishings and belongings in the garage and sunroom. Our lives are temporarily split between two houses because being completely settled now is not possible.

A day ago my husband received a internal pacemaker. The procedure went well. He is able to start moving. His lungs need it.

Today he stood up like a warrior. He walked. He is fighting. I am proud of him.

I have found myself between my fear and my faith many times in the last year. I choose faith. I take one day at a time. God is in control especially when things seem so out of control. Like last week. Even when the days are long and the nights are short. To God be the glory, great things He has done.

Just give me Jesus.

Always trusting.

SACRIFICE

Sacrifice. This nine letter word is a loaded word to define a variety of countless acts of service.  The greatest sacrifice originated with GOD who sacrificed his only son for compensation for our sins, followed by Jesus who willingly gave his life for us. In our lifetime each of us has been called to sacrifice in some way, like our finances, our time, acts of service and small daily ways. I remember a story my Dad told me about an elderly couple. The husband frequently made toast for his wife and always gave her the heels of the bread. One day the wife angrily asked, “ Why do you always give me the heel of the loaf?”  The husband answered, “Because that is the best part!”  I have a similar story on my Dad. Whenever we got takeout chicken, Dad always got the legs because Mom said he liked the dark meat best.  Years later I found this to be untrue. Dad liked the white meat just as much as we did but went along with it for us. It was a quiet sacrifice.  I wonder how many acts of sacrifice go on around us unnoticed and unappreciated.  Keep our eyes, ears and heart open. Be thankful. Be appreciative.

The Christmas Dress

Seeing my granddaughter in her Christmas dress at the annual Candlelight Service brought instant tears to my eyes.  It was the Christmas dress her mommy wore 35 years ago.  It was the Christmas dress my Mom gave my daughter. My mom who loved Christmas more than anybody I have ever known.  Memories came tumbling forward in my mind upon seeing the reappearance of the Christmas dress. My granddaughter in the Christmas dress looking so much like her mommy did.  Sentimental moment.
While each day forward is a special blessing, sometimes I still long for the days of yesteryear. My family has grown up. My parents are gone.  I recently read that once the glue of the family passes away, the holidays aren’t ever the same anymore. This is why I feel a bit lost every Christmas Eve. I miss the magic of the Christmas Eve of my childhood when we opened gifts. My mom, THE GLUE of the family was all about Christmas. She planned all year long. She decorated in full out style.  She wrapped gifts exquisitely.  The lights on the tree sparkled. Mom waited in childish  expectation for each of us to open the gifts she thoughtfully chose.  Christmas Eve was always very special.
I still long for that special excitement. We’ve added attending the Candlelight Service as a family and that is very special.  But afterwards all the families go different directions with other plans and we are left to fill the evening on our own.  We’ve entertained small parties.  We’ve spent quiet evenings at home. This year we went to a movie and ate waffles at Waffle House with our best friends. I never do Waffle House but it was   a good night.
But I still grieve for the Christmas Eve of my memories. Grieving is a forever long journey down the lane of life. Turning another corner. Embracing the flood of memories both sweet and sad. Seeing new things while remembering old things. Even through tears. Sad smiles. Replacing last looks with new looks. I usually think I am ready to keep moving forward. But I realize seldom I am ready. Like when I saw the red Christmas dress on my granddaughter.  Tears easily sprung to my eyes and memories flowed freely. And tears are okay. Life changes. Memories are forever. 

COLOR BLIND

Walking into a Krystal Restaurant for breakfast with my husband seemed like an uneventful happening until we sat down to enjoy our eggs, grits, bacon and toast.  I noticed a sense of community in the air.  Friendly greetings between the staff and the customers; " How are you this morning?"  "Good Morning, you're a bit late today."  Looking around, I saw several senior citizens were doing solo meals.  Alone but in a sense, together.

An elderly gentleman behind me was on his way out.  Another man greeted him as he passed by and inquired how he was doing.  "I'm doing worse and worse each day." he replied.  A list of complaints backed up his proclamation.  These two gentlemen had caught not only my eye but now my ears as well.  As I continued to listen to the discouragement of the elder gentleman, I was impressed with the encouragement and empathy from the other gentleman.  "You need companionship."  "Does your family know how you feel?"  "I feel lonely like that sometimes.  You should come to the Senior Center where I go.  It is for people like us."  "The good Lord tells us when our days here are done.  I still want to be here as long as I can."  It was a time of precious sharing between the two.  When they were wrapping it up, I stood up and approached them.  I confessed I'd overheard their conversation and how they'd been a blessing to me with their sharing and caring.  I gave a word of testimony and "God's timing is not our timing.  As long as we have breath, we are here for a purpose."  I commended the encourager for wise advice and encouraged the discouraged.  I walked away from these two gentlemen and an ordinary breakfast with a sense of community too. 

 Yet, there is another inspiring aspect to this encounter.  The discouraged gentleman was white and his encourager was a black gentleman.  Obvious diversity in color but even more obvious was the unity of understanding and respect in their hearts.  Color blind.  We need more color blindness in our lives. 

So grateful how the Lord blesses us in the most unexpected way.

Thoughts about cancer from someone else

My Bucket List

My Bucket List

Not in any special order, priority or date of time accomplished.  Just a random list of things to do or things I've done.

Learn to sew.
Buy a two piece swim suit.
Learn to ski.
Wear mini skirts.
Sing alto.
Learn to fly.
Be a social worker.
Go to college.
Get married.
Have kids.
Have grandkids.
Find my high school BFF.
Do square dancing.
See Ronald Reagan.
Hot Air Balloon Ride.
Sing solo or a duet.
Meet Andy Williams.
Buy a brand new car.
Make a book of my writings.
Lose weight and keep it off.
Organize Dad's MFI and family slides.
Make girls school stuff keepsake books.
Make My Favorite Things Shutterfly book.
Visit Switzerland.
See the Eiffel Tower.
Eat a Belgium Waffle in Belgium.
Take a cruise.
Get a daisy tattoo.
Make Log Home Shutterfly book.
Meet the new owners of the Log Home.
Revisit the old places; where we lived, high school, Flagler Museum, Vizacaya
See the Grand Canyon.
Get published.
Meet my drunk driver.
Get a gun permit.
Sing in the choir.
Walk a mile in the Susan B. Komen Race.
Publish Cancer Journal.
Organize pictures.
Be at the Missionary Flights 50th Anniversary Banquet in WPB and Ft. Pierce.
Speak publicly without sounding nervous.
Make Beldin, Keller and Our Beldin Family Shutterfly books.
Preserve family recipes for girls.
Swim with the dolphins.
Downsize.
Move to Robin Ann Lane.
Go on a cruise with Joan.

Reflections from a yard sale warrior

It's times like this I wonder why I haven't retired from doing yard sales. My heating pad is on the highest setting and the warmth is soothing my aching back.   The doses of Zyrtec and cough medicine will soon mask my allergy ailments from sitting outside during two 'high tree pollen' days.   And Advil will kick in and relieve the extra aches and pains from cleaning out, setting up and and running a two day yard sale.
This yard sale had sunny, cool days and the usual funny moments.  Like the customers who jumped when the Sully plush toy talked to them.  Or the couple who wanted to give us rock bottom price for all our books and one of them was wearing a McKay Used Book Store tee shirt.   And the older gentleman who bought the spiffy hat even though his wife told him it was too small for his head.
Retiring from doing yard sales would be a loss of an annual purging for profit and taking control over ''stuff' instead of 'stuff' controlling me.  Though I have passed the yard sale baton onto my daughter and her neighborhood, I feel like she still needs me until her daughter is old enough to step in.  But the biggest loss of all in not doing our yard  sale would be the loss of quality time with my three wonderful daughters and grand kids.
So probably I will postpone retiring for a few more years.  Surely when the next yard sale time rolls around the memory of how old I feel right now will have faded.  Yard sale warrior will rally to do it again!

Looking back as I continue forward.

     Sometimes you need to look back on life.  And remember where  you came from to appreciate why you are where you are now. 
     Another one of my mentors and a spiritual parent went to be with the Lord and Savior he faithfully served.  Pastor Gustafson played a pivotal role in my life when I was a young wife and mother.  He helped me find direction in being a faithful follower of Jesus Christ, not just in my head and heart but  in my daily walk according to the Word of God.  He was my shepherd, my sounding board, my adviser and my friend.  I am grateful for the time I was a student under his teaching ministry. 
     Being at the funeral home to express our love to the family of our dear pastor, we saw many familiar faces from years past.  We raised our families together.  We shared laughter and tears.  We often see each other at bridal showers, weddings, baby showers, milestone anniversaries and birthdays, retreats, reunions and funerals.  And though we haven't spoken in awhile, we smile, shake hands, hug and pick up right where we left off.   We share a bond.  These folks will always be home.  And it is good to go home.
     Yes, sometimes we need to look back, draw strength in the memories.  So we  continue forward, being mindful to be thankful for the dear ones who invested in our lives and helped us become who we are today.