True Friends
August 7th, 2010 by Karen
I’ve been dealing with some medical falderal the past two weeks and I’ve been tired, incredibly irritable and exceedingly impatient to the point of downright rudeness. You know that horrid little inside voice that you keep clamped down internally because its monologue is so amazingly critical and nasty that you’d never ever say any of those things out loud? Yeah. Mine was on a rampage this week. In public.
I honestly felt like I was losing my mind until my doctor pulled me off the meds he had insisted I needed for my blood pressure. Yikes. I’m still really jittery, but my mind is starting to clear, the anxiety is fading, and I’m not some catty she-witch out to insult total strangers.
In any case, the one thing the past two weeks have taught me (besides not to listen to my doctor about medications, tyvm) is who my true friends are and I was honestly a little surprised.
- I discovered that my husband is more of a God given saint that I already knew.
- I discovered that the person I would consider to be one of my best friends was too busy to be bothered with lending me an ear or offering a bit of sympathy, despite all the times I’ve been there for them in the past several years.
- I discovered that a nearby acquaintance was a far better friend than I had previously realized.
- I discovered that an online gaming friend I had previously given short shrift to because of their brusque attitude was incredibly sympathetic and helpful.
So after a fair amount of strife, frustration and tears this week, I’m finally starting to feel like myself again and today I found this on another aquaintance’s blog and felt it summed up how I was feeling fairly well:
Simple Friends vs. Real Friends
A simple friend has never seen you cry.
A real friend has shoulders soggy from your tears.A simple friend doesn’t know your parents’ first names.
A real friend has their phone numbers in his address book.A simple friend brings a bottle of wine to your party.
A real friend comes early to help you cook and stays late to help you clean.A simple friend hates it when you call after he has gone to bed.
A real friend asks you why you took so long to call.A simple friend seeks to talk with you about your problems.
A real friend seeks to help you with your problems.A simple friend wonders about your romantic history.
A real friend could blackmail you with it.A simple friend, when visiting, acts like a guest.
A real friend opens your refrigerator and helps himself.A simple friend thinks the friendship is over when you HAVE an argument.
A real friend knows that it’s not a friendship until after you’ve had a fight.A simple friend expects you to always be there for them.
A real friend expects to always be there for you!
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Perspective
July 6th, 2010 by Karen
Saturday was like most days around here, just with a bit lighter work load. We got up, had breakfast, made plans to do some yardwork before it got hot then go out for some ice cream in the afternoon with the kids to cool off. Perhaps we would even make the trek to Grandma & Grandpa’s pool down in Sacramento.
The hubby mowed the lawn while I did some minor weed pulling and some major raking for about an hour while the kids enjoyed their summer vacation morning cartoons. Now, we have these trees around our house with tiny little white flowers that are just massive pollen bombs. They make hubby’s allergies flare massively and since we’re trying not to run the AC much (it’s old and needs replacing) the windows are open a lot and that makes him worse. Not fun.
Since the trees are along the fence line, the neighbors and I have been hosing the tree down occasionally since that stuff gets _everywhere_ and while we enjoy the shade, we all hate the pollen. We finish up the yardwork, hubby goes inside to shower all the pollen off and I stay in the yard to hose down the tree.
I’ve been at it for only a couple of minutes and I suddenly feel a stabbing pain in the outside of my thigh, about 6 inches above my knee. I look down and the world stops.
I’ve been stung.
Creeping up my leg is a bee, its stinger firmly embedded in my leg, rather then where it should be on the tail end of the evil beast. I take one deep breath not knowing if I’m getting another and scream for my husband. Our oldest comes to the back door with a concerned look and I holler at her to get my purse. For once, she doesn’t ask questions and just blessedly does as she’s told. Hubby comes running as I’m slowly hobbling in the house trying to remain calm and hands me a credit card. The oldest comes with my purse and I pull out a second card because the stinger’s in too deep for just one. I get it out and he hands me my epi pin as I sink onto the couch.
I’m afraid of needles and I really, really don’t want to do this.
I flick a glance at the instructions, but I know them by rote even though I haven’t had to do this in more than a decade. I pull off the safety cap, I take quick breath to brace myself and slam it against my thigh. The needle fires. We count to 10. (I count to 12 for good measure.) I pull the inch long needle from my leg and press the spot to stop the bleeding and lay back against the couch waiting.
The oldest sits with me while the little ones find their shoes and Joel finishes getting dressed in case we’re hospital bound, and I’m deeply sorry for the worry etched on her young face, but there is little I can do to make her feel better at the moment. I want to tell her everything will be ok, but I can’t promise that and she already knows it. The lie never leaves my lips and I just tell her I love her and she did a good job instead. I can feel the medicine racing through my veins and my heart is beating so hard I feel it’s going to leap from my chest Indiana Jones style.
Five minutes pass, then ten.
The feeling I’m expecting…the tightness in my chest, the struggle to breathe, the feeling of slow strangulation…this time it doesn’t come. Instead, my hands are shaking like mad, I’m sweating bullets, I feel like I’m going to faint when I sit up and like I’m going to lose my breakfast when I lay down…all side effects of the epinephrine.
I’ll take it.
I spent most of the rest of the day on the couch, simply exhausted. I’ve been taking antihistimines the last two days since then to stave off the dinner plate sized rash on my leg, but all in all, I dodged a very large bullet.
I’ve spent the last two days being a little more contemplative than normal…and while I don’t want to sound trite, I really do feel like I stared death in the face. For a single moment, I realized what I had gained in the last 15 years that I stood to lose.
- A husband that I love more deeply every day. (Yes honey, even when we argue about dumb stuff.)
- Three beautiful children.
- My chance to see my brother (eventually) and sister (sooner) get married.
- My chance to see my children grow up, graduate, get married and have children of their own.
- A thousand day to day delights, moments with family and friendships.
I think my hubby realized it too…this morning we began the long overdue spring cleaning of our room. It was time to clear the clutter and pare things down to the essentials. Us. The whole event is still weighing heavily on my mind, but today as I sat at my desk, I realized how much time I spend chained to it. I mean, I like my desk and all, but I had to ask myself “Do I really need to be at it 14 hours a day?” As the laughing, unspoken “no” echoed in my ears, I set my chat windows to away and went to play with my kids for awhile…they may not have appreciated it, but I know I certainly did.
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Stephen
November 21st, 2009 by Karen
Today, was a difficult day. By far one of the hardest days of my adult life.
Today we buried Stephen.
He was my brother’s very best friend, so much so that Stephen was the brother he never had and vice versa. They brought out the good in each other and he’s been around for so very long that it’s hard to believe he’s really gone. Last Thursday evening, with his beloved wife Rosemary by his side, Stephen lost a long, hard fought battle with cancer. He leaves a hole in so many hearts…a testament to his undying and unwavering love for others.
Personally, I’ve always had a difficult time with my tears. I admit it…I cry easily. Part of it I’m sure is inherited from my mother, but part of it is that I can feel the grief of those around me profoundly. At times, I have set foot in hospitals and simply burst into tears from the overwhelming emotion that washes over me. Sometimes this is a blessing…I can tell when people are hiding their grief, but sometimes the constant tide dashes me against the proverbial rocks and I find it difficult to maintain my composure for any extended period of time.
This morning at the graveside, was one of those moments…from the first second I saw Rosemary until I got back in my car, there were tears on my face. I cried for her…for the loss of her beloved husband, that she won’t be able to grow old with him, that she has to experience widowhood at such a young age, for her broken heart. I cried for his mother and father, Marlene and Dave, that they had to bury their only son who brought so much joy to their lives, that they would never again go golfing with him or be able to hug him tight. I cried for his little sister, Christina, for the loss of her big brother, her hero. I cried for his grandparents, who I’m sure never considered that they would ever be burying a grandchild. I cried for his in-laws, who grew to love him as a son and a brother, for he filled a special place in their lives too that will forever now be empty. I cried for his adorable nephews, E and Marsh, who are so small that their memories of their uncle will be smudged by time. I cried for his friends, Charlie and Kate and Andrew and Daniella and Nathan and Eric and so many others, that they have lost their friend and confidant and with his illness and passing, some of their own innocence. And finally, I cried for my little brother, for his loss of his best friend, his brother by choice, his golf and baseball buddy and for his own unexpressed bottomless grief that I can see in his eyes and for my inability to do anything to fix it.
After Stephen’s funeral and memorial today, I had the long, quiet drive home alone in the dark to think. Upon reflection of this morning’s chilly mourning, the following words filled my heart and brought me a modicum of peace…I know Stephen is home. And in time, we will see him again.
~Karen
Stephen’s Goodbye
widow’s weeds
of grey and tears
glide quietly through the crowd of somber faces
weeping silently for vanished years
of tea and coffee
of crooked smiles
of grass and sky
of embraces
of growing old
as so many do
and some may not
grief etched deep
sleep lost
and ache more plentiful than clouds
heaped on empty bellies
and broken souls
Angels weep soft tears of their own sorrow upon
wife, mother, father, sister, brother, family, friends
and icy wind rips the unspoken scream
from dashed hearts
resounding across the empty sky
with a whispered wail
tempered only by the final sound
of God’s soft breath on chimes
carrying him home
on a single sweet tone
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Adjust this!
September 16th, 2009 by Karen
Ok, it’s not that I fear change, so much as I’m stubborn. My mother will back me up with this one, I’m sure. If I find a way that something works for me, then it will take a lot of convincing for me to change my ways. Now, this doesn’t really apply to work concepts, since I love to check out new techniques and apps and such, but more to my everyday living.
When we go out to eat, I tend to get the same meal repeatedly. When I go to the grocery store, I always make the same path through the store…if I don’t, I always forget something. I have a morning ritual and an evening ritual. If those get interrupted (like by hubby shouting from downstairs for me to get up 30 minutes before my alarm has gone off), the rest of my morning is spent getting back on track with varying degrees of success.
When we moved here, I had a difficult time adjusting. It’s not my home, it’s unfamiliar, and filled with people that my hubby knows and I do not. People who greet me in the store by my first name when I have no clue who they are and tell me “Oh, tell your hubby I said hi.” Five years we have been here and if I were to count the people I knew well enough to call to go out for coffee, I wouldn’t run out of fingers. I haven’t adjusted to living here.
Recently, my youngest started school. This means that for nearly seven hours a day, I can work basically uninterrupted. I’m having to adjust to it and it’s been more difficult than I anticipated. There are times when I get a ton of work done and it’s only 11am and I’m suddenly stymied as to what to do with myself. I’m going through to-do lists like they are going out of style.
I’m liking the results, but it’s disconcerting to actually be able to crawl into bed at 10pm, long before I used to go to bed and be able to say “hey, I got all the housework done today.”
I’m sure, eventually, I’ll adjust.
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April 15th
April 15th, 2009 by Karen
Today is not just Tax Day when everyone over the age of 18 frets and worries and writes angry checks. Today is not just a day for Tea Parties and raging against the government that mismanages our money in such a way that would land an individual in jail. Today is not just the 97th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic.
Today is my sweet little boy’s sixth birthday!!
Six years ago, at 3 in the morning, I got out of bed and quietly sat in the kitchen, desperately trying to finish our taxes between contractions. About 4:30 am, Joel realized I wasn’t in bed and came looking for me. Let’s just say he was pretty upset that I was doing the taxes in labor without letting him know!! Luckily, I was pretty much finished and my Dad saved the day and finished them up for us and took them to the post office while we were at the hospital.
Suddenly, he’s a kindergartener, the class clown, reading beyond his ken, creating fractal patterns of anything he can get his hands on, and playing the World of Goo where he creates bridges to his little engineering hearts content.
I have no idea where the time has gone…my only regret with him is that it passed so fast. My girls will still snuggle into my lap but Alex has already started the eyeroll and the “moooom” when I try to kiss his cheek in front of his classmates.
You can’t wait for them to grow up and be independent, but it still smarts a bit when they do!
In any case, today he is six and beyond the blue cupcakes for class, his only request is to go out to dinner someplace they have calimari.
That’s my boy!
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Rebirth
April 15th, 2009 by Karen
This past week, Stephen has never been far from my thoughts. Because of the amazing generosity of so many family, friends and strangers, he and Rosemary were able to travel to Houston last week for the battery of tests to once again battle the Hodgkins and Non-Hodgkins lymphoma still attacking his body.
If all goes well and he stays healthy, he will go back in another week or two for the medication and treatment to finally kill it and put him squarely in remission.
Knowing Stephen and his profound affect on my little brother and all his friends, the fact that this travel occurred during Easter Week is well, nothing short of symbolic. The last three years Steve has traveled a long road with his friends by his side…being their rock when they doubted, sharing his own fears and being lifted up by them in turn, losing faith and rediscovering it over and over. Taking chemo and radiation treatments, bone marrow and stem cell transplants with short lived success. And then this solitary chance arose, a place that has done so much good for so many in his situation. An opportunity to overcome the death sitting in his chest. He took this journey to Houston akin to Christ’s own trip to Jerusalem. It’s a trip he knows will change everything. His friends celebrated with him and rejoiced, but I know that in each of them is that deep rooted fear that none dare voice…the fear that he is slipping away where they can not go.
Everyone who knows Stephen has high expectations that he will finally be safe and free and he and his friends can go back to joking and playing and being the young twenty-somethings they are and talking about baseball and barbeques instead of these suddenly somber men who use multi-syllabic medical terms in their everyday chatter.
That medicine they are making this week in Houston for Stephen will make him violently ill and so weak he will not be able to have visitors. He won’t be able to see his family or cling to Rosemary’s hand for comfort. He will be denied the creature comforts of home in the interest of sterility and his decimated immune system. He will be completely and utterly exhausted from the retching and the pain of feeling his insides torn apart.
In that IV bag is liquid death.
But in its plastic confines is Stephen’s final chance for rebirth in this world.
Posted in Family, Life, Uncategorized | 3 Comments
Saving Stephen
March 2nd, 2009 by Karen
The last couple of weeks, I’ve been working on a side project to help out one of my brother’s best friends, Stephen.
Stephen is a 28 year old young man, husband, uncle, and brother. He is a musician, a friend, a God loving person, and overall a very good man.
Since 2006, Steve has been battling Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He has gone through countless chemo and radiation treatments with little success. He just finished a 20 day stint in the “bubble” at the hospital where basically he was in total isolation as they killed off his immune system once again with two different kinds of chemo.
There is a place in Houston, Texas called MDAnderson that has had great success with treating hard to cure cases like Stephen’s and it is our sincere goal to send him there. Only problem is that it is out of network for him and just to walk in the door is nearly $42K. Add on travel for him and his wife Rosemary and other expenses and it is nearly an insurmountable cost. As his friends and family, we feel it is our duty and our priveledge to help Stephen with this part of his journey.
“…during your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”
~Footprints in the Sand
There is a high probability that Stephen will need a bone marrow transplant, so a drive has begun for that in addition to the drive to help him get to Houston for additional treatment.
Please visit SavingStephen.com to help.
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Tuesday’s Topic - Finding Fair
February 27th, 2009 by Karen
Last Thursday, I received a call from my mother to tell me that my Great Great Aunt Louise had passed away. Sure, she was nearly 98 and yes she had been ill and confused for several years, but despite this, I cried.
I’m fairly certain that I was the only one.
Not because my family is cruel or because they conciously wished it would all be over. Just simply because “she had lived a long fulfilling life”. At what point do we cross over from death meaning mourning and death meaning absence of grief? How in the world is that fair?
Is is fair that she had to spend her final years locked in her own confusion about who came and went, who was really alive and who she believed still lived? Is it fair that only about 40 people came to the funeral? Is it fair that the discussion at her reception focused more on when the estate would be dispersed than her long well traveled life? Is it fair that the last of a generation should simply slip away with barely a mention?
Everyone went through the motions of what was expected…solemnly fulfilling their filial duties until it was appropriate to be finished. There was no fault to be found in the service itself. The flowers were impeccable, everyone appropriately dressed, the family mortician did a lovely job as he always does. But it was all flat. There was no sorrow.
The only person I spoke with that seemed at all moved was my cousin’s daughter who is only seven. In all the swirl of black clothing and Portland rain, she quietly went about her little way and ended the reception at my side. She was the only person younger than I and both of us the youngest there by a long shot. We sat on the couch and she showed me her DS and we ate little cookies together for a bit and then she asked if I wanted to see her room since the reception was at my cousin’s house. I said sure and she led me up the stairs. She showed me the sticker collection on her door (which I’m sure just kills my cousin who is an incredible interior designer), her collection of ponies and frilly dresses, and her books. She pointed out all the fun bric-a-brac that make up the world of a child then she turned to me in all childhood seriousness and said simply “You know, it’s too bad that Aunt Louise had to go to heaven. She was a nice lady.”
It was all I could do to choke out “Yes honey, she was.”
That small precious moment made up for all the unfairness of the day that had assaulted my heart.
No one else could see past the paperwork, the cost and the hassle of the end of a life, but a small child with barely an understanding of what it means to live did.
Posted in Family, Life, Tuesday's Topic | 2 Comments
Patience is a virtue…
February 12th, 2009 by Karen
This past Sunday when Joel and I renewed our vows, one of the readings at Mass was Corinthians 1:1-13 and although it’s oft quoted to the point of becoming trite, it’s still a lovely message. Love, unconditional love, is patient. It is kind. It endures always.
I am not the most patient person in the world. I have known this for a long time and regretably, so have those around me that I love the most. I come by it naturally I’m afraid. (Like father, like daughter!) I do not go through life with a happy and overabundant spirit. I usually start my day grouchy and impatient and I end it thinking impatiently of all the stuff I still have to do but have to wait on since it’s bed time. Impatience, perfectionism, and proscrastination are a bad combination.
Recently, my friend Mike suggested that I read The Tao of Inner Peace by Diane Dreher. Keep in mind that I DEVOUR books and can read 700 pages in a day with little trouble. This book has forced me to slow down and start taking things to heart. I’ve been reading it for a week and I’m only about 20 pages in. It’s frustrating and cathartic at the same time. It’s been a long time since I did serious self-discernment and examined my soul and boy…it needs some help.
By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Galatians 5:22
I have been striving towards several of these in my life lately, but I haven’t been particularly focused on patience. Joel can tell you, I sit in my chair and grumble away most of the day. The spam annoys me, the temperature of the house, the stack of bills, the constant “mommommommom” of our littlest one, the misplaced notes that are somewhere on my desk but elude me until I no longer need them. Each minor irritation has its tongue lashing or harrumph from me. He has the patience of Job to put up with me, I know. I would have up and moved my desk to another room by now.
The more I reflect on the idea of patience, the larger a concept it becomes. Not only does it encompass my day to day attitude and interactions, but it directly affects my joy, my capacity to love, my inner peace. My lack of patience prevents me from being the gentle and kind person I want to be and throws my self-control out the window, at least where things like chocolate are concerned. Patience does not mean being a complacent doormat, but being proactive in the face of difficult or annoying circumstances.
Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. ~Ephesians 4:2
The last thing I want -ever- is for my children to be afraid of upsetting me or look back on their childhood and say “gee, Mom sure yelled a lot”. I need to learn to not sweat the small stuff, to take a breath before I criticize, to remember what impatience looks like through their eyes, because I was them once. I feel like I’m starting to make a little progress…seeing fragments of color flashing through my peripheral vision in a sea of gray and black.
It’s like patiently climbing a long spiral staircase, you can’t see the top, you can’t see the bottom, but you know each landing is higher than the last. If you’re patient enough and persevere, eventually you’ll see the sky.
Posted in Family, Life, Tuesday's Topic | 4 Comments
At the corner of Kismet & Karma
February 3rd, 2009 by Karen
I am not one who easily meets others.
Well, that’s not entirely true…perhaps a better way to say it is that I don’t easily approach others. I tend to be the quiet observer in a group, the seemingly shy one who smiles at the right times and laughs when it’s appropriate, then goes back to being a neutral shade of beige that blends in with the walls. I tend not to meet the eyes of people I don’t know in a crowd. Why? I don’t really know…a fear of what I might find reflected perhaps. I have tried in the past to convince myself that my self sufficency makes me a stronger person.
The last couple of months, I’ve been making a concerted effort to try to be more gregarious and outgoing and man, it’s incredibly difficult, but in the long run I think it will be worth it. In fact, I had the pleasure of meeting some really fine people just two weeks ago in Vegas. It was a struggle, but six months ago, I simply would have watched them from the sidelines without them even knowing I would have loved to talk to them.
When I was younger, meeting people was just as difficult, but fate has intervened on my behalf several times, despite my shortcomings, and I am very grateful for the people it has brought me.
My very best friend in the whole world, I never would have really known, if it hadn’t been for a trip to Ashland to the Shakespeare Festival in 7th grade. Our core teacher had one core class in the morning and one in the afternoon and we were each in different ones, so we didn’t really hang out or know each other well at all. Come to think of it, I think the only class Faith and I had together that first year was band. Anyway, neither of us had anyone to sit with for the long bus ride, so we ended up sitting together. We had an awesome time and after that, we were fast friends. Ten years ago, she was my maid of honor at my wedding and if I had to pick someone to do it again today, she’d still be the first person I would call. I in turn was her matron of honor and I like to think that she didn’t regret it, despite my razzing her with my toast. (You met him at French club meeting at a bar and neither of you drink and you took a long walk on the beach? Yeah, sure….) With families and distance, it’s harder to get together and hang out like we used to, but when we do manage to find an afternoon, it’s just like we never stopped being together on a daily basis.
I met my husband purely by chance as well. I was sixteen and part of the CYM core team at church and our youth minister signed us up for CLI, Christian Leadership Institute, up at Camp Pendola in the Sierras. I was -not- happy to be going. I was unsure of myself and frankly a little scared to be thrown into an unfamiliar situation. We got up to camp and we all went and sat down in the chapel/meeting room and the youth ministers started a skit. I had never met Joel before, but as he bounded into the room he nearly knocked himself out on the doorjamb. Over the course of the week, I found myself entranced by him and his goofy nature. We all parted ways and I went home to find that my beloved boyfriend of the time had been cheating on me with a friend of mine (broke up by handing me his wedding invite. ouch.). Fast forward a couple of summers and I found myself working at camp as a counselor and lo and behold, so was Joel. We hit it off and even though I had to kinda spell it out for him that I liked him, we fell in love. He hasn’t run away screaming in terror yet, so I count that as a bonus. We will have been together fourteen years and married ten this July 9th and yes, having everything on the same date (first kiss, proposal and wedding) has been very useful. I highly recommend it.
Finally, my most recent friend I met in quite a round about way. I freely admit, I’m a bit of a geek and I play an MMO for fun and stress relief…nothing like flinging around some fireballs to relieve frustration. One evening last year, none of my regular friends were on to play with so I switched to a different server. I picked one at random and within the first couple minutes, I heard about a player run radio station. I tuned in and was hooked by the Tom Lehrer the gal was playing. Since I work from home and my own playlist was getting rather tiresome, we started listening regularly and became acquainted with several of the other DJs. Last summer, I attended the IRCE conference in Chicago and two of the DJs invited me out to a B.B. King concert. I was nervous to go since I didn’t know them at all but honestly, I had a blast even though I stayed pretty quiet the whole time and that as they say was that. At Christmas, I ran into a bit of a dilemmma in game with one of my main characters. Trying to be more outgoing, I had impulsively agreed to allow her to be part of a bachelorette auction, but as the date got closer and I heard the various rp rumblings about people who were interested and why, I got more and more concerned. I didn’t want to back out and disappoint people, but I had a serious case of remorse. I voiced that concern to a small group of my friends and one of the DJs I met in Chicago, gallantly stepped up to save my character from a fate worse than death. In the process, we started talking more and more and he’s quickly become a fast friend and confidant. He’s been a huge support as I’ve been trying to get past some personal hurdles, rediscover who I am and nudge me down the path towards who I want to be. He’s also encourging me to slow down and listen to my own heart, which I haven’t done in a very long time. I’m blessed to have him as a friend.
None of these three I would have ever met, if I had been left to my own devices. The inital contact with each of them wasn’t something I actively sought out, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t think I needed someone. I can’t imagine how dreary and sad my life would be without them now and it saddens me to suddenly discover how many missed opportunities there have been to connect with others.
AN OLD man on the point of death summoned his sons around him to give them some parting advice. He ordered his servants to bring in a bundle of sticks, and said to his eldest son: “Break it.” The son strained and strained, but with all his efforts was unable to break the bundle. The other sons also tried, but none of them was successful. “Untie the bundle,” said the father, “and each of you take a stick.” When they had done so, he called out to them: “Now, break,” and each stick was easily broken. “You see my meaning,” said their father.
“UNION GIVES STRENGTH.” -Aesop
My lesson: Alone, I am important to none. With others, we are are important to each other.
Posted in Family, Life, Tuesday's Topic | 4 Comments
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