The last thing I should be doing right now is writing a journal entry. I’m not packed yet, and New Orleans awaits my arrival. Imagine that, an entire town is waiting for me! I’ll try not to disappoint. I dress rather conservatively, but for New Orleans, I’m willing to loosen up a bit. I am packing two beautiful black dresses with spaghetti straps. That will look great with my pearls.

Although I am always thrilled to take a road trip, this is not an ordinary trip. I’ll be with Bear. Maybe I will learn some valuable tidbits about academic publishing, Bear’s specialty. We will both learn if we travel well together. That’s the final hurdle; although, I hasten to add that I don’t feel like I’ve been jumping over obstacles at all with Bear. To the contrary, everything has fallen nicely into place, which is how it should be when you’re traveling along the right path. “By George, I think I’ve got it!”

I have no idea who George is.

This time tomorrow I will be in New Orleans. I’m very eager to be in a town that loves jazz and the blues as much as I do. I’m both saddened and curious about the parts of the City that Katrina damaged. I’m saddened for all the residents who were displaced, who lost their footing, who lost their homes. We can always start over. It is never too late.

So, that’s what I’m doing now. I’m starting over. When my dad became really frustrated with us, he would say, “I’m turning over a new leaf. Things will be different from now on…”

I never knew what he meant by that. A new leaf? I thought about books first and trees next. Neither made sense to me then. But, they both make sense to me now. We have to dispose of the old in order to make room for the new. We have to throw out the old remnants and open ourselves up to new possibilities. In short, that means deleting the old emails, destroying the old letters and cards, changing the locks on your door. I’ve done all those things. I’ve turned over a new leaf.

At work the other day, one of the Kitchen staff, Mrs. Smitty, said hello and gave me a little hug.   She always does that.  I commented about how nice of a day it was, and how I loved the sunlight, and how this might be the last “good day” of the year.  Mrs. Smitty, with her grace and wisdom, looked me in the eyes and said, “They’re all good days Baby Girl.  Every single one!”

I thought about Mrs. Smitty’s words all day, and they’re with me still.  She’s right, of course.  Every day that we take a breath is a good day.   I remember when my mom got her first real job in the housekeeping department of a nursing home.  She was thrilled to work in an environment where she could provide consolation to patients when they felt most alone.  I remember her coming home one day in tears.    My mom cried easily.  She took everything to heart.

When I asked her why she was crying, she told me that she had talked to an elderly man who was dying.   She said he told her, “I’m ready to go now.  I just want to die and I can’t make no sense of why I’m still alive, as sick as I am.”

When I asked my mom how she responded, she said she simply told him, “As long as you are alive and breathing, you still have work to do.” 

What an excellent response.   Sometimes the work that we have left to do in those final hours is the most important work of our lives.  Sometimes healing occurs.  Sometimes reconciliation occurs.  Sometimes love.  Anything can happen in the eleventh hour.   

I consider myself an eleventh hour person, especially when it comes to relationships.  Still, I am open to all the wonder and intrigue that this eleventh hour has to offer.   My special gift was meeting Charles, (I call him Bear), an extraordinary man who has reminded me how magical and wonderful life can be.   He is all I have ever desired in a partner and more.  He is intelligent, witty, liberal minded, and he shares my love of books.  (He has about 15,000 volumes.)  He is also kind, honest, compassionate, and committed to our relationship and to me.   In short, he is wonderful, and I love him.

Life is good.  Every day is a gift, and every day is a good day, just like Mrs. Smitty said.  If you're still breathing, you still have work to do and gifts to offer to the world.  We prosper when we do our best work, and offer our best gifts to the world, because whatever we give to the world, the world will return to us triplefold.  Perhaps, love is the best gift of all.  Thoughts of snow and sub zero temperatures don’t bother me at all.  Love is keeping me warm.   Love and the anticipation of a trip to New Orleans later this month!  Yes, that'll do it every time!  

Here's the link for "Perhaps Love" by John Denver and Placido Domingo.   (Thank you, Bear.)   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YnfCH7LNcM

My mom is gone, and I am sitting here this day, trying to make peace with the way things are.  But, first, let me tell you how things were.  This is how my mom was.  She didn’t know the meanings of words like hate, resentment, envy, or dishonesty.  She forgave perpetually for every offense, large and small.  She worried about everyone, except for herself. 

Not only was she my mom, but she was a mom and a friend to everyone who needed her.  She believed in you when no one else did, and she saw beauty in every living being.  My mom was the one who brought you food when your cupboards were bare; who held your hand when you were feeling down; who slipped you the twenty when no one else was looking. 

She knew everybody’s secrets and everybody’s dreams.  The secrets, she kept to herself; but the dreams, she announced to the world so that no one would forget them—no one, not even you.

No one made chicken with tomato gravy, turkey with cornbread dressing, or sweet potato pies that came close to tasting anything like Dear’s. 

To me, my siblings, and all of our friends, my mom was known as “Dear.”  Most of her friends called her “Pearl,” which was shortened from her given name “Pearlina.”  How appropriate both names are for her.  My closest friends know that I always wear a pair of pearl earrings, but probably only a couple of you know why. 

Those pearls are my good luck charm.  They remind me of who my mother was, and who I would, someday, like to be.  I’ve been wearing them since 1982, the year Papa died.  

Yesterday, my sister, Alicia said, “What a wonderful time Dear must be having, away from all earthly beings and things.”

She’s right, of course, which is why we must say good-bye and wish her Godspeed.  Although she walked, talked, sang and rejoiced with us for 80 years, this was never truly her home.  She was merely visiting here.

I’ve been summoned to jury duty, a task I would ordinarily look forward to, if I didn’t have a gazillion things to do.  Worse still, I probably won’t be selected to sit on a jury, if the process is anything like my last experience with jury duty.

In that instance, the case before us involved an alleged assault to a police officer.  While we waited to be interviewed by both attorneys, the psychologist sitting next to me whispered, “You won’t get picked and neither will I.”

“Why do you say that?” I wanted to know.

“They don’t want people like us because our job is to solve problems.  They don’t want us to solve the problem,” he said in a conspiratorial tone.  “They want us to deliver the plea.”

When it was my turn, the prosecutor asked a series of questions:  “Are you married?”  “Do you have children?”  “What are their ages?”  “You have a daughter in law school?”  “You realize you can’t discuss the case with her!”  “Have you ever been arrested?”  “Have you ever had a crime committed against you?” 

(Finally, he had hit pay dirt!)  He shot his glance away from his notepad and focused his gaze on me.  “Can you tell me what happened both times, Mrs. Urch?”

I explained that in each instance, along with the police officers, we worked out a solution which did not involve pressing charges or jail time.  In both instances, they were adolescents who I thought deserved a second chance.  In the first instance, the young man turned his life around following the incident.  I would like to think that I had something to do with that. 

I’m not sure what happened to each of the three young men who were involved in the second incident.  Two of them failed to make restitution, and their lives went downhill.  The third young man was true to his word; however, I don’t know what became of him.  I hope he continued to make good.

After I described both these incidents to the prosecutor, he turned his back to me and stepped back to the table.  I heard him say, “Scratch Mrs. Urch.”

This has definitely been a feather week.  But, that is not necessarily a bad thing.  In the American Indian tradition, feathers are a sign of good luck.  White feathers are especially symbolic.  A brightly colored feather is also a good thing to find lying discreetly among the green.

But, as the song goes, “I want to talk about me.  I want to talk about I.” 

I had a rough week.  This week’s theme was, “Things break.”  My cell phone broke.  My desktop computer broke.  My laptop may as well be broken.  As usual, it has attitude. 

People I know and like broke down and disappointed me.  I realize that I have high standards, and that’s not going to change.  I can’t imagine myself ever apologizing for expecting the very best that my friends, acquaintances, and professional associates have to offer.  I enjoy saying, “So And So really came through.  He’s a standup guy.  I’m so proud of him!”

To the contrary, I had a couple of instances this past week where individuals wanted me to compromise on values.  My closest friends know I’m not going to do that, and my closest friends are classy enough not to ask me to do that.  So, people who don’t really know me, but think that they do, asked me to do stupid stuff.  And, lying, for instance, is stupid stuff.  But, ask away!  My answer will most certainly be “No.”

Also know that you disappointed me.  You let me down. Michael (from The Godfather) summed it up well when he told his brother, “You broke my heart…” 

What that means is, I loved you once, but I can never truly love you again.  While you were so carefully massaging your own ego, you forgot about my feelings, my needs and my expectations.  Not only did you break my heart, but you permanently shattered my image of who you are.

So, we’re back to our theme, “Some days chickens; some days feathers.”  We need both.  We need the feather days to remind us to keep things light.  We need the flesh days to remind us to keep things real.  We need it all, because it’s all good.  We need it all because it’s all a part of the lesson plan that we must complete in this life’s journey.  

We mustn’t forget that the Cosmos keeps a karmic balance.  Pay me now, or pay me later.  That’s a choice we all make.  If you’re struggling, reexamine your choices.  If you’re in the flow, I don’t have to tell you that God winks, and synchronicity happens—all the time, in every area of your life.

Sometimes, I think we really mess up, and we complicate matters more by not being able to clean up the mess we made.  I dealt with a situation like that today.  I was trying to play cleanup woman; trying to be fair to all parties; and trying to make sure that I didn’t take sides or compromise on values.

All in all, things went very badly, and hours later, I am still trying to figure out what I could have done to achieve a better outcome.  I take my work home with me—I always have.  In the past, I have established debriefing sessions at the end of the day to help alleviate that problem.  Perhaps I should do this now, in my new position.    

When I worked in manufacturing and later in sales, we did a lot of talk about “win-win situations.”  In the real world, it’s not always that way.  Sometimes, when all is said and done, not everyone wins.  Sometimes, there is one big winner and several identifiable losers.

I continue to remind myself that everyone is doing the best job they can do given their current level of awareness, understanding and knowledge.  I sincerely believe that most individuals want to do a good job.  Most of them want to succeed.  They want to garner love and respect for the work that they do.  They want to feel important.  They want to feel valued.  They want to know that they matter in the large scheme of things.   

So, what are we going to do? 

I am an English major, and I love words, but I also believe that behavior is more important than words.  So, maybe we can begin by noticing, appreciating and complimenting outstanding behavior. When we witness exceptional behavior, perhaps we can actually say to that person, “You are absolutely outstanding!”

I get alone well with most people, but every now and then I have a relationship that is truly challenging.  That used to bother me, but it doesn’t anymore, thanks to Aziz.  When I worked as an industrial engineer, my long ago supervisor, Aziz Rahman, taught me a valuable lesson.  He said, “You’re not here to win any popularity contests.  You’re here to do a job.”

Aziz was right.  We’re all here to do a job.  Sometimes the job that we have to do is difficult, but we still have to do it.  We have to do it every day, to the best of our ability, using our best judgment and always balancing our compassion and fairness to achieve the best possible outcome.

A few weeks back, one of my clients decided he wanted to purchase a new TV set and eliminate the converter box he had been using.  We withdrew the money from his account on Monday and planned to go shopping on Wednesday.  However, by Wednesday, my work had piled up, and I knew that if I went shopping with him, I would get even farther behind.

After dinner, I found him and told him I had a lot of work to finish, and I couldn’t take him shopping.  I offered to have one of the drivers take him.  He responded, “It would be better if you took me.”

Again, I explained that I had a ton of work to complete, and I really didn’t have the time to spare.  My thoughts had already drifted away and I was focusing instead on the work that I needed to complete when my client’s comment brought me sharply back into the moment.

In a quiet and even tone, he said, “But you promised.”

He was right.  I had promised.  Without verbalizing it, my client reminded me that keeping one’s promise is one of the truest aspects of integrity.  I believe in keeping my word and doing what I say I will do, but every now and then, I need a reminder.
 

I have just completed my first week in a new position as Director of Human Resources.  I have a lot to learn, but I’m not worried about that.  I’m an avid student and a hard worker.  Besides, I do believe that “85 percent of life is just showing up.”  Not only have I showed up, but I worked hard when I got there, and turned the lights off when I left.  I worked an average of 10 hours every day.

I took short breaks and spent long hours absorbed in reading policy manuals, creating computer spreadsheets, reviewing personnel files, and meeting with experts (both internal and external) who will help me and my company to work smarter, not harder.

I became interested in human resources a long time ago when I met Gus.  Gus was my psychology professor.  He taught at Columbia College part-time and worked full-time as a crisis counselor in the Employee Assistance Program (EAP) at Amtrak.  Whenever a train derailed or any other serious trauma occurred, Gus was rushed to the site to counsel the survivors.   He won my admiration immediately.

For all practical purposes, Gus was also my psychologist.  My marriage of 22 years was in shambles.  I had left a secure job to start my own business.  Most of the money that I had saved for my retirement was gone.  Everything was a mess, but Gus did two things for me.

Number one thing:  I had always been opposed to pharmacological treatments for psychological problems.  I thought that therapy, exercise, meditation, diet, and other holistic methods could solve any problem.  I was wrong.  One night after class, Gus sat me down and gave me the facts.  The fact is, sometimes, medication is the only viable solution, and Gus thought it was important for me to know that in order to provide the best possible treatment to my future clients.

Number two thing:  I was on the verge of doing something really drastic.  I had always been a goody-two-shoes, and it hadn’t gotten me anything good.  I wanted to completely transform my persona.  I wanted to become someone else, someone new, someone who did not get too personally invested in anything.

Gus told me to get real.  He said, “I’ve got three words for you.” 

When I asked what those words were, he responded, “Keep a balance.”  Then he said, “I have three more words.  “Balance is everything.”

So, that’s what I will remember in my new venture:  purpose and balance.  Those two things are everything that I need to know.

“When we forgive someone, we set a prisoner free

and then discover the prisoner was us.”  —Lewis B. Smedes

I was reminiscing with Bobby, an old classmate of mine, about an experience I had with one of our teachers.  This was back in the days of corporal punishment.  Not only was it okay to get a “whipping” from your parents, but it was also okay for a neighbor, a teacher, or a stranger off the street to brandish the rod, the belt, the switch, or the ruler. 

In our house, Papa was the disciplinarian.  He believed that if you “spared the rod, you spoiled the child.”  I guess he didn’t want us spoiled!

My mom slapped me only once, and she paid dearly for it.  I looked her squarely in the eyes and called her a fool.  Then I ran underneath the back porch, a place I knew she wouldn’t go—not in a million years.  My mom was afraid of spiders and snakes, and I’ve always been intrigued by both.

My mom was still crying when my dad came home, and I was afraid I would get it again, but my dad was amused by my antics.  He never said a word to me.

Then there was the incident with Mrs. Harris who loved to give pop quizzes.  She announced that there was going to be a test that day.  When I opened my binder, I discovered that I was out of paper, so I wrote a note requesting a few sheets, and passed it to my best friend, Marilyn.

When Mrs. Harris saw me passing the note, she assumed I was giving Marilyn the answers to the quiz, and she whipped me for that.  When I got home, I told my dad what happened.  The next day, he came to the school and gave Mrs. Harris a piece of his mind.  I don’t know what he said to her, but she never touched me again.

I was telling Bobby that I saw Mrs. Harris on the street years later and she didn’t look well at all.  She looked very old and very broken.  I told Bobby that I forgave her at that moment, but after our conversation, I realized I still had a lot of anger. 

I realized that I had never really made peace with that incident or with Mrs. Harris, and I know I have to do that now.  The truth is, if you can’t forgive the wrong that someone else did to you, you’re going to keep meeting that person in various disguises, over and over again.  When we accept that everyone is doing the best they can, given the awareness, understanding, and knowledge they possess, it becomes easier to forgive them, and ourselves, as well.

I know.  I have written about Brown Rice Sushi before.  But I did not think that it would end up at my very own grocery store.  I did not think they would even consider the idea.  So when I went in last night to purchase a few items, I was amazed to see the sign:  “Brown Rice Sushi Made Fresh Every Day.” 

I like Sushi.  I like it a lot. But, I love Brown Rice Sushi.  I'm no good with chopsticks, but I don't have to be to enjoy sushi.  I have spoons and forks and knives.

I bought a 12-pack of the Salmon and Cream Cheese Sushi.  It was delicious.

I remember Jim and I enjoying sushi at Port Edward.   I also remember us eating sushi at the Sushi Station on Randall Road.  What a treat!

It’s amazing.  You think you know someone, and you really don’t.   You spend hours and days and months with them, and you only know what they want you to know.  And as you think back on everything they said and did, you have no idea of what is true and what is false.   

The truth is, Jim has his own soul’s agenda, and I have mine.  We still have work to do, lessons to learn, and games to play.  And, as we continue to work and learn and play, I wish for him all those things that I would wish for myself:  joy, peace, love, and all the miracles that the Universe has to offer.

And, let's not forget, Brown Rice Sushi for me, please!

It always intrigues me to observe happy couples, to listen to the dialogue they share, to observe the tenderness of their touch, and to see the look of love in their eyes as they gaze at one another as if they are the only ones in existence.  True love is always wonderful to watch.

True love is true magic in its highest form.  There is nothing more splendid or more spectacular.  Someone once told me that true love, for him, was like “being in a state of grace.”  True love is also true bliss!

Yet, true love is not always easy.  It is not always convenient.  Sometimes it is most inconvenient.  True love can tear us apart, but it can also bring us together again.  It can heal our wounds and give us hope.  It can expand our minds and bring joy to our hearts.  When everything else is falling apart in our lives, true love can sustain us.     

In the Honeymooners, a 1950s comedy, regardless of everything that was going wrong in Ralph Cramden’s life, he told his wife at the end of every episode, “Alice, you’re the best!” 

And whenever my dad saw my mom approaching, he would tell us, "Here comes the best woman in the world!"

Thomas, an old friend of mine, told me that since he met his true love, they have never spent a night apart.  “Every day I tell her how wonderful she is and how much I love her,” he said.  And every day, I remind her, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me."

I’m spending the afternoon Downtown where there is always something wonderful in the works.  Here are a few of my favorite things.

·         The Printer’s Row Book Fair, a June event, tops my list.  One year I attended the book fair and saw the late Senator Paul Simon, standing all alone.  I had corresponded with the Senator when we both wrote a column for my college newspaper.  I didn’t think he would remember me, but, of course, he did.  By the time our conversation ended, a large crowd had gathered, eager to speak with the Senator.

·         The Chicago Blues Festival is a wonderful three-day tradition held in June at Grant Park.  Noted for being the largest free music festival in the world, the Chicago festival celebrates the best of the blues and offers tributes to past blues legends.  The recent death of Koko Taylor, dubbed the “Queen of Blues,” added a sad note to this year’s festival.  She will be deeply missed.

·         The Taste of Chicago opens the end of June and continues through July 5th.  I was invited to attend the Taste this year, but I declined because I had other plans which fell through, anyway.  Spoken like a true Cubs fan, I’ll just say:  “There is always next year.”

·         The Bud Billiken Parade, held in August, is a 90-year tradition that began small and grew into the second largest parade in the nation.  It is said that Robert Abbott, founder of the Chicago Defender, spotted a Billiken while dining at a Chinese restaurant.  The Billiken, believed to be the guardian angel for children, later became the theme of the parade which celebrates diversity among Chicago’s youth.

·         The Jazz Festival, held Labor Day weekend, is the longest running lakefront music festival in Chicago.  For the past 30 years, the festival has continued to attract music lovers from all over the world.

·         The Chicago Lyric Opera will begin its 55th Season on September 26th with an Opening Night Gala followed by the Big Event:  the performance of Giacomo Puccini’s Tosca.  Tickets are on sale now!  Need I say more? 

Some people will do anything to keep from doing yard work.  Some people, including me, will find a score of other things that need their attention.  Knowing that, I will limit myself to 15 minutes of writing, and then I’m off to beautify my lawn. 

Last night, I had a dream about one of my clients.  This particular client is a true gentleman.  He is polite, gracious, and always eager to please.  There is not a malicious bone in his body, and there is something about him that is so beautiful that it brings tears to my eyes.  His trademark phrase is, “Okay, my friend.”

We have clients who are physically abusive.  We have clients who are verbally abusive, who steal, hide in corners, fabricate stories, make threats, and injure themselves.  This particular client doesn’t do any of those things. 

He holds the door and allows others to enter first.  He offers to carry things when my hands are full, and to lift things that he feels are too heavy for me, even when they are not.  He smiles when he sees me.  He sits quietly.  He waits patiently.  When I return from vacation, he timidly asks if everything is okay, and he tells me that he missed me while I was gone.  He has a heart of gold.

In all my life, I don’t think I’ve ever seen or felt more love—unconditional and unstoppable.  One of the therapists, Linda, said to me, “Gloria, when you walk in the building, they make you feel like a rock star.”

Yes, I agree.  They make you feel like you are the best thing that ever happened to them, when in reality, it’s actually the other way around. 

In this line of work, we are well advised to check our emotions (along with any other baggage we might have) at the door.  But, sometimes, that is next to impossible to do.  There is dialog in The English Patient that aptly describes how I feel:  “Every night…I cut out my heart.  But in the morning, it was full again.”

In my typical fashion, I have been awake all night, reading, writing and reflecting.  That’s what I do, especially when I feel wounded or betrayed.  My friend, Trudy, who now lives in Nevada, is just the opposite.  Whenever she feels disillusioned or disappointed, she sleeps.

I miss Trudy.  I miss the road trips we used to take.  I’ll never forget the week we spent at a writer’s retreat at the Clearing, in Ellison Bay, Wisconsin.  While most of the participants roomed in the dormitory, Trudy and I shared a semi-private room.  We actually had the best room on campus. 

I love the water, and I remember awaking every morning to the sights and sounds of Lake Michigan—clear blue water with white-capped waves rapping widely against the shore.  I’ll never forget Toft’s Point, Sister Bay, and Sturgeon Bay.  Nor will I forget Rosemary, Maggie, Richard, Rusty, Christine, Gil, Norb and Dave. 

I’ll never forget making the five-mile trek into town, and spending the afternoon engaged in good conversation and even better scotch at the neighborhood tavern.  When I returned just before dusk, Trudy was sound asleep.  Later on, she told me she was upset because of a remark someone made about her poem.

I told her that sometimes people say and do stupid stuff.  It doesn’t matter how smart they are intellectually or otherwise.  Sometimes, they are simply coming from a different place.  Sometimes, they lash out at us for no good reason at all.  Sometimes, they hurt us, because hurt people hurt people.  That’s what they do.

That’s life, and we mustn’t let it worry us.  Most of the things we worry about and weep over won’t matter anyway when all is said and done.  Not even our own broken hearts.  All that matters in the end, and the best that we can ever hope and pray for, is this:  that we will be able to look back on our lives with pride, appreciate how much good we tried to do, and acknowledge how few regrets we have. 

I’m eager and excited to begin working in a new position in two weeks.  I have a little anxiety about moving beyond my comfort zone, but I’m prepared for the challenge.  I’m ready now to stretch, which reminds me of someone who is stretching all the time.

When I hosted a cable TV show called, People You Should Know in McHenry County, one of my guests was my daughter, Jennifarre.  She and her classmates at Northwestern University had already been interviewed by the Chicago Tribune and a major TV network to discuss the premier of University Place, a sitcom that was developed entirely by students. 

It was wonderful to have Jennifarre on my set and to view clips from her show.  It also gave me a chance to ask her something that I had always wanted to know.  “Why on earth did you decide to become an actress?”

Jennifarre responded that everything else had been easy for her:  Japanese, math, science, art, music, track, basketball, volleyball, softball.  All of it was “easy peasy japanesy.”  She literally hit the ball out of the park when she played modified-fastpitch. 

Acting, Jennifarre said, was the only thing she had ever done that posed a real challenge for her, and that's how she wants to live her life.  She does not want the easy way out.  She wants to stretch every day.  She does not want to lie back, become soft, or settle for less.  She wants to push herself to the limit.  She wants to come on strong, every day and every minute. 

I am proud of this child of mine, not only for what she does, but for everything she inspires me and others to do.
 

I took a holiday from work today and I’m glad I did.  I accomplished so much.  I cleared the back yard of the branches that had been cut from the maple.  I cleaned out the garage, I planted some perennials, and I updated my resume. 

A great weight has been lifted, literally.  When I stepped on the scale, I realized that I had lost ten pounds since I weighed myself two weeks ago.  Thought my tummy looked smaller...

Anyway, thank you to everyone who has offered me so, so, so much support.  Thank you Dale (although, personally, I think your bullshit detector is broken).  Go out and buy a new one.

Thank you Garth, for being a good friend and keeping me company when I felt most alone.  Thanks for respecting my personal boundaries and having a sense of humor about it.  You’re okay.

Thank you Terry, for your continued emails of support and ideas.

Thank you Fe for the flowers.  I planted them today.  May they take root and grow.

Thank you Cindy and Peggy for inviting me to meet your family and have dinner at your house last evening.  The food and company were wonderful.  Your mother-in-law is indeed special, and I loved her and all of the Filipino food, which I am reheating tonight.  You all made me feel welcome and at home.

Thank you Donna for giving me your words of consolation.  I know you understand more than most, and I love you for that.

Finally, thanks to my daughter, Netta, who played the Devil’s Advocate throughout this entire charade, although, I think her bullshit detector is broken, too.  Had it not been for her, I would have faced the truth months ago.

Smooches to all of you…

There is great power in not knowing what tomorrow will bring, or even the next moment for that matter.  There is strength and energy in the simple response, “I don’t know.” 

Because whenever we think we know everything or even anything for sure, we close our minds and our hearts to every other possibility and every other reality.  We stop learning; we stop growing.  We die a little inside, and there is only one thing that can truly save us.

It is incredibly ironic that the one thing that can save us from ourselves is the very thing that we’ve shut out of our lives: the openness to welcome the truth.  The truth won’t come looking for us; we have to seek it out.  We have to look for it and listen to it and balance it with every honorable ideal that we have—including freedom, justice, compassion, and love.

Let’s not confuse truth with knowledge.  Truth is a heart and soul thing.  Knowledge is mostly a head thing.  We may find that it is very difficult, at times, to balance the head with the heart.  It’s all right to take a leap of faith in times of confusion, but we should always arm ourselves with information and intent before we take that leap.

When someone comes into our lives and causes us to question our own sense of judgment or to reevaluate our own actions, we can know for sure that this person came to teach us a lesson that we needed badly to learn.  So, we can thank them for that because they may have saved us from a greater evil farther on up the road.

We can also realize that although we’ve lost someone whom we thought was wonderful, we’ve gained a valuable lesson that will help us in our journey to discover who we are and what we’re meant to be.  We’ve stretched.

People don’t always do what we expect them to do.  Sometimes they screw up royally.  Sometimes they crash and burn when there is no accelerant in sight.  Sometimes we have to remind them to tread gently, speak softly, be truthful, and smile widely.   

Other times, we have the incredible host, the great server, the wonderful girl at the checkout, the magnificent knight in shining armor.  Sometimes our cup runs over and we topple over with joy.  Those are the good times.   

And other times, we can see the face of someone who is trying. We see the face of someone who is struggling.  We see the face of someone who is in deep pain.  We look at them and we know that every decision is difficult—just deciding to get out of bed was a big choice for them.  Those are the tough times.

Our nation is celebrating its independence.  Perhaps we can all do the same in some small way in our own lives.  If something is not working, let’s not force it.  If we’ve allowed someone who is not a part of our Divine Purpose to enter into our lives, now is the time to release them.  If we’re seeking to be free, now is the time to stage our own rebellion.

I’ll be watching the fireworks tonight with a dear man, but I’ll be thinking of all of you, who feel trapped, deceived, lonely, and just weary from life.  Don’t give up.  Don’t stop believing.  Don’t stop hoping.  You can do it.  I give you love, strength, energy, and the power of these four words:  I believe in you.