Mike and I have this long running joke between us. When one of our adult kids does something kind, thoughtful or just plain good, one of us will grin and say “He gets that from me,” or “she definitely takes after me.” It’s always said in fun, never seriously because we both know the truth. Goodness isn’t inherited like eye color, it’s learned from watching. The other day one of our sons posted a Snapchat reel of a week’s worth of meals he had made for a friend’s mother, a woman who had just placed her husband in hospice care. No fanfare, no explanation, just quiet love and thoughtfulness in containers. I said to Mike, “He’s so thoughtful.” Then half laughing, at the same time, we both said, “He gets that from me.” Without missing a beat, Mike said “I’ll give you this one.” I stood there for a moment, genuinely confused. Why would he give me the credit this time? And then it hit me. I was standing there, half way out the door with a big bowl of homemade chicken soup. S...

Thirty-two years ago, we said “I do” without knowing how heavy or holy those words would become. We’ve laughed until our sides ached, cried until words failed us, and learned that love is not proven by ease, but by staying. We have walked through chronic illness, uncertainty, and seasons that asked more of us than we felt we were able to give. Yet grace kept meeting us there, quietly faithful, never late. God built a family from our love,  children who became adults we admire, marriages that widened our hearts, and grandchildren who remind us that joy multiplies when love endures. Mike, you are still my safest place, my answered prayer, my partner in faith and perseverance. We are not the same people we were back then, we are stronger, gentler, and more deeply rooted. Thirty-two years later, I choose you again, grateful for every chapter, trusting God with the ones still to be written. “Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain.” Psalm 127:1 “Let us n...

  I have spent most of my life caring for others. As an LNA, I’ve walked along side the elderly, loved those living with dementia, and supported special needs students in Intensive needs programs and those on the Autism spectrum. Caregiving has taught me patience, resilience, and compassion in ways nothing else ever could. When you do this kind of work long enough, you learn an important truth, you don’t just care for people, you grow to care about them. Most clients leave an imprint on your heart in some way, but every so often there is someone who settles into a deeper place. Someone who stays in your heart and thoughts. Trillium was one of those people. I spent nearly six years with her. Six years of routines and small victories, challenges and laughter, quiet moments that outsiders might never notice, but that meant everything to me and I believe it meant something to her as well. She was mostly non verbal, a word or phrase here and there, but we definitely con...

Although I wrote yesterday, a year in review, I am currently working an 11 hour shift and felt like writing some more, so if it is repetitive, I apologize. This season does not arrive quietly for me. The coughs, sneezes, the warnings about respiratory illness, the fact that I work in a Petri dish (school) and am exposed to all of it. The simple act of hearing someone clear their throat, all these things sometimes bring me back to last year. Like the title of a book I read a year or two ago, “The Body Keeps The Score”, my body remembers what my heart lived through. This whole week my back has been knotted and I’ve had crippling muscle spasms. I wonder if it’s related to last year at this time, being on my mind or just a coincidence. Mike was critically ill and every breath felt like something we had to fight for. Even now, fear comes before reason has time to process. Trauma does that, it lingers, uninvited long after the danger has passed. I have learned that faith doesn’t erase these ...