At St. Pete’s airport. The noise of rolling suitcases. Flight announcements echoing overhead, people rushing to their next destination, everything keeps moving.  I’m sitting here in a little airport café, just finished a bacon, egg & cheese bagel and sipping my tea. Sitting still in the moment, thinking about the last 5 days. It’s bittersweet. I’m getting ready to board a flight home, and while part of me is ready, ready for my routine, my own bed, and the comfort of familiarity, another part of me aches knowing what I’m leaving behind. Saying goodbye to my daughter never gets easier, no matter how many times I do it. Watching her in her life, with her family, fills me with pride, but leaving her still tugs at something deep inside me. Then there is the grandkids. The snuggles, the little giggles, the little arms wrapped tightly around me like they never want to let go. Those are the ...

                 It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions these past 5 days. Every hour has seemed to carry a different weight, hope, worry, exhaustion and anticipation. I kept thinking that maybe today would be the day that Mike would be discharged, and I’d be able to leave for Florida with a lighter heart. But yesterday brought another turn I didn’t see coming. A new area of cellulitis was discovered on the back of his left leg, climbing up his calf. The doctor’s felt it necessary for him to remain hospitalized for additional IV antibiotics. Just like that, the uncertainty continued. By the grace of God, I was able to arrange for our nephew/Godson to stay at the house and care for Oscar & Tortellini. That alone brought a sense of relief I desperately needed. One less thing to worry about, one small piece of the puzzle falling into place. Now here I am sitting in the airport, waiting to board my flight. This moment feels heavier...

                       I have learned not to get too comfortable with plans. Not because I don’t like them, I do. I make them with hope, excitement and with something to look forward to. Plans feel like promise that life will open up, even just for a little while. But I’ve come to realize that my plans don’t entirely belong to me, they belong to Mike’s health. Back in February, I was supposed to be in Florida. I could already picture it, I had been planning to jump out of a huge box to surprise my granddaughter, Noelle (My Poppy), for her birthday. Spend time with my daughter, son in law and the 3 Florida grandkids who are growing up so fast. I wasn’t planning on anything extravagant, no plans for Disney or anything, just spending quality time together. That’s all I was hoping for. Instead, Mike needed emergency surgery and I had no choice, but to cancel.  Not resentfully, not dramatically, just in a disappoint...

Time has a way of feeling both abundant and scarce all at once. There are 24 hours in every day, same as it is for everyone else, and yet some seasons of life make it feel like those hours slip through our fingers before we even realize we had them. Responsibilities stack up, commitments pull in every direction, and somewhere in the middle of it all I think will I ever get to ALL the things that matter to me ? Lately that something, has been my home. Not just surface level cleaning, but the deeper kind. Decluttering, organizing, restoring order to a space that has become overwhelmed. I see it, and I feel it, and yet I keep moving past it because life keeps asking more of me. Work, family, commitments, me being stretched in a hundred different directions. Then Sundays come, my only day off. Every week I say to myself I am going to make it to church, then I find myself at noon time still in my PJs, being lazy and feeling the exhaustion of the week or I spend it with my grandkids. Time wi...

                    What I Learned Too Late: Cooper’s Story and Why I Started making My Own Dog Food. Sometimes the hardest lessons in life come wrapped up in love and loss. Seven years wasn’t long enough, not nearly long enough. When we lost our sweet Cooper, our hearts broke in ways that only pet owners truly understand. Dogs aren’t “just animals,” they’re family.   They are the quiet companions through the hard days, the overly excited greeting at the door and the ones who love you without conditions. After Cooper died, I found myself asking the questions many grieving pet owners ask, Could I have done something differently? That question sent me down a path of research that I wish I had taken years earlier. Before Cooper, we had a 14 year old lab named Coal. Although he lived to be 14, which is pretty good for a lab, at the end he had all the symptoms that were named in a lawsuit against the dog food called “Beneful”...