I Can, I Must, I Will

We are in the thick of Dance competition season which means that Angel Daughter Number Four is spending weekend after weekend doing exactly what she lives to do.  This child was born with a dancer's soul.  Whenever she preforms a piece, she not only goes through the movements, but she interprets them with her entire body.  She tells a story without words.  She is quite small in stature, like me.  We each stand all of four feet ten inches in height and she often makes me stand back to back to "prove" to me that she has suddenly grown taller than me.(the others girls passed me up a long time ago)  When she does this, Mark tells her that she may someday grow taller than her momma in stature but that she will never grow larger in heart.  This is a very sweet sentiment but I think that she already might have and when she dances, the size of her heart just emanates from her body.  It is difficult not to be captivated by her.

This year, the team put together a Hip-Hop piece which is dynamic, inspiring and tear-inducing.  All of the girls on the team seem to be able to relate to this piece on a level that makes it even more awe-inspiring because the underlying message in the music and in the movements is that "I Can".  The girls come out with their sweatshirts zipped up while the voice-over talks about how no matter what anyone ever tells you, you can make your dreams come true.  You can overcome adversity.  You can succeed in spite of any difficulty.  It is a message that we all need to hear on some level but most especially, the teenagers and young adults who are growing up today.  Suddenly, the beat of the music changes, the girls unzip their jackets and their tee-shirts reveal the words, "I CAN", "I WILL", and, "I MUST".

People at Dance competitions tend to get distracted after spending hour upon hour in a loud, bright, over-stimulating arena, but I have noticed that during this routine, people pay attention.  AD4's wonderful coach is so great at putting together routines that demand attention and this one is no exception.  People from other teams stop our girls on their way off the stage to tell them how beautiful this routine truly is.

It has a wonderful affect.

That is AD4 on the left with her cheek on the floor!  The Jewish momma in me wants to run up on to the stage just before our girls go on with a bottle of Windex and a dust rag.  What could it hurt?

AD4 told me that this is the only point during the dance that she can actually stop to breathe.  She said that on Saturday, she made eye-contact with one of the judges at this particular moment, and it made them both smile.  It is difficult to make the judges smile.  Great job, AD4!

At the end of the routine, all of the girls turn around to reveal that their tee-shirts spell out "JUST BELIEVE".  AD4 is in the middle but her hoodie was kind of covering the "L" on her shirt at the moment when I took this photo.

It is very hard for this child to keep her feet on the ground!  Her excitement and enthusiasm for life is absolutely contagious!

One of her best friends came to watch her for the first time and loved it.  It is so sweet how they support and encourage one another.  I am glad that my girls have good friends who love them and who they love.

Angel Daughter Number One drove down from Los Angeles to have dinner with us and to watch her little sister compete.  She is also doing really well.  Mark is such a great daddy.  He never misses a competition that is within driving distance.  There are times when I am unable to go because of my health but Mark is always there to represent.  He went up for both days of competition last weekend.  I know that all of the girls appreciate their daddy's support.  I married a great man.

Angel Daughter Number Three got off of work at 7:00 but rushed over to the Anaheim Convention Center to support her little sister.  She got there in time with only one routine to spare!  She wanted to show off how much taller she is than I am.  Of course, she was wearing very high heels and I don't anymore, but I guess that she wins either way!

You might have noticed that one of my Angel Daughters was missing from the photos.  That is because she is in Palm Springs for Fashion Week.  Here is a picture of AD2 standing in front of an enormous blow-up of her latest photo spread.  It is a picture of the Project Runway Allstars and it is being featured nationwide right now!  She said that she walked into the Project Runway reception room only to be surprised by this life-size replica of her work.  So fantastic!  I borrowed this picture from her Facebook so it is very blurry but you get the idea.  I am just so happy for her.

My girls are all working on following their dreams which makes me a very content momma.  As long as I know that they are all healthy, safe, happy and productive, I can rest better at night.  Tomorrow is not only the first day of spring, but it is also AD3's 20th birthday.  Happy Birthday, Angel Daughter Number Three!  It is difficult for me to believe that I will only have one teenager for the first time in many, many years.  There was actually a time period when I had four teenage daughters at once.  I was not quite sure I would make it past that time period unscathed, but I did.  We did.  And as quickly as life moves, I like where we are now and I am also looking forward to where we will someday be.  It's all good:)

*Opps!  I just realized that I wrote that it was AD4's birthday today, when it is AD3's birthday!  Sometimes I have trouble getting it all right!  It's like when one of them is in trouble and I start calling them all by the wrong name until I get to the correct one.  Oy!  Happy Birthday AD3!  I love you!

Why I Love My iPhone

After uploading 672 seemingly innocuous photos from my iPhone onto my computer yesterday, and weeding through a lot of recent memories, it occurred to me that modern technology really does provide an amazing way to capture and share moments that definitely otherwise would have been lost.  You see, I like to amuse my family by transmitting pictures in real time to them over the phone.  It could be something bizarre, funny, touching, or even just a photo of a tee-shirt that I am thinking about purchasing for one of the girls.  But all of it is saved courtesy of my iPhone for a time when I am looking for something mindless to do and I decide to load it all onto my computer.  That is when I realize that I am very thankful that I did not take the time to delete anything from my phone while sitting there waiting umpteen minutes for the doctor to see me, and I read that super fantastic article about the importance of tooth flossing in a two month old magazine instead.  And while I will spare you the informative details of all that I have learned from a picked-over magazine in the doctor's office waiting room, here are some moments collected over the past couple of months courtesy of my iPhone.

Above is a picture of Angel Daughter Number Four and our wonderful dog Micah.  Regardless of what color this little angel colors her hair at any given moment, her classic beauty shines right through.  Micah is our 110 pound rescue pup who was definitely "bred" for size and strength, but by the grace of God, turned out to be nothing more than 110 pounds of slobbering love.  We are so grateful to the individuals who rescued Micah, his momma, and his two brothers and three sisters from inside of a shed where they were abandoned, emaciated, and alone.  Momma dog was nursing her babies even though she had absolutely no access to food or water for who knows how long.  The "owners" moved to Hawaii and decided to call animal control several days after they arrived there to let them know that they had abandoned some dogs on their property when they took off.  Minor afterthought.  Micah, his momma, and his brothers and sisters were almost missed because they were locked inside of a shed.  Thank God that the officers heard some whimpering from the shed before they left with two other dogs that were found on the property.  We got Micah when he was a few months old and rather small.(except for his enormous paws)  He was so pathetic at the time that we allowed him to snuggle up in bed with us for the first few weeks so that he would feel more secure.  Now he believes that he is a lap dog.  Truly.  Our vet somewhat jokingly called him a "Drug Lord's Dream" when we had him tested for breed.  He is one half Rottweiler, one quarter Doberman and one quarter Pit Bull, but really, he is all pussy-cat.  It is amazing what love can do.

Here is my buddy, Becca.  I have mentioned before how important this old girl is to me.  She is strength, guts and loyalty.  Next month, on my oldest Angel Niece's birthday, she will turn 13.  So will my niece, and God knows how much I would love to see her.  We fought hard but lost our battle for visitation in court.  One of the saddest stories of my life but in my heart, not the way that the story will end.  On October 21st, Becca and I will share some goodies in celebration of the birthdays of two very special 13 year old girls, one whose gift I will be able to give on that day and another that I will pack away for someday...

Only in Southern California can you walk out of the grocery store and find a stark white Bentley with blush pink ornaments on both hood, trunk and hub caps.(Although there must be a fancier word than"hub cap" when it comes to a Bentley.)  These cars cost anywhere from $225,000 and up!  That is a quarter of a million dollars for a car.  A CAR!

Personally, I was more impressed with the pink emblems than the car itself.  This was one of those, "send a photo to my girls in real time" moments which I am now sharing with you.  You're welcome.

*Ghost kitty!

Sorry if I scared you...Halloween is coming and I LOVE Halloween!

Kissy face with Angel Daughter Number Two.  How I love this girl...How I love them all.

This one was taken specifically for Angel Daughter Number Three.  She loves it when I send her pictures of Rex and often texts me requesting them from work.  He sometimes likes to snuggle his way underneath the pillows on Mark's side of the bed.  He thinks we can't see him.  *Refer back to photo above.

Uh-oh!

For those of you with small children(Mark) who you might or might not have trouble bringing into fancy stores like Target, I am here to tell you that it only gets worse.

Oy Vey.

But then it gets better once they hit the age of about 24 or so.  You see.  I am here to bring you hope.

Another photo moment is when I find things like this.  First, they take my breath away, and then, I take them as signs of what they so obviously are to me; hellos from my beloved, deceased brother.  I have been constantly reminded over the course of the past three years that my brother is still very much here with us.  Unbelievably supernatural signs that line up in a way that cannot be explained in any other way.  As a teenager, my brother was a huge KISS fan.  His room was decked out in posters that I happened to find somewhat creepy but KISS was a guy's band and my brother was pure guy.  This record album was one of my brother's all time favorites.  I mean, if I close my eyes, I can hear it blaring loudly from his twelve year old room his voice belting out, "I wanna rock n role all night and party everyday!",  his fist rhythmically pounding out the beat.  Around his birthday, we were in a thrift store that sold a little bit of everything.  Up against the wall in a small corner, I spotted this album sitting by itself.  I reminded myself to capture the moments as they come because sometimes, they become an ethereal mixture of reality and dream in my mind and then I begin to wonder.  Doubt.  But with something concrete to look at, I cannot doubt.  And so, a picture...

One of my favorites is this last one.  My two guys, Micah and Mark, standing out on the edge of the bluff together, our strength and our protectors.  As far as I am concerned there are not five luckier women on the earth than my four Angels and I because we have this man to call our own.  Husband and father.  Chief of our tribe, love of my life with his trusty dog by his side.

And this is why I believe that the iPhone is really a fancy camera that happens to make phone calls, as well.

May You Be Inscribed and Sealed For a Good Year-And a Blessing For All

As I sit here contemplating these words, Jewish people all over the world are preparing for the days of awe, ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kipppur in which we reflect upon the year that has passed.  This is a time for reflection.  A time to ruminate.  A time to pull out our proverbial "scorecard" and to be honest with ourselves and God about the things we could have done better, the hurt that we might have purposely or inadvertently caused others, and most importantly, what we can do to repair our relationships with each other and the world.  On Rosh Hashanah, we celebrate the new year.  We attend synagogue.  We pray, and we spend time with family and friends.  Apples and honey are often eaten as a symbolic way of hoping for a sweet New Year.  It is a time of celebration.  Ten days later, on Yom Kippur, we fast, we attend synagogue, we pray that God will forgive us our wrongs and we pray that we will be inscribed in The Book of Life for another year.  Yom Kippur is also known as "the day of atonement".  It is a very serious day on which we are required to make repairs and right wrongs.  On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed.  It is a hugely meaningful time for Jewish people.  For us, these are the most important days of the year.  Even Jews who are not religious usually attend temple, as well as observe the meaning of these days.

As we head into these days of awe, I was reminded of this little prayer book that my husband received anonymously in the mail several months ago.  There was no note, no inscription and no return address on the package.  Only this small silver bible and nothing else.  I had never seen this type of a prayer book before, so I looked it up online to see if I could trace its origins.  I found that these bibles were produced in the early sixties, but not much else.  A true mystery.  And as much as this bothered me, my dear husband was satisfied with the idea that someone sent this to him anonymously and that whoever it was wanted to keep it that way.  It is definitely old.  It has that musty odor which only comes with time.  The pages are clear and mostly unmarred, although the plastic box that it came in carried the scratches from a lifetime of use.

Twenty-six years ago tonight, I was going over the details of a lacy, long white gown covered in tiny pearls.  I was absorbed in the particulars of a day which seemed as if it would be the most important day of my life.  I was laying out jewelry, traipsing around the house in pajamas and high-heeled shoes to break them in, and smiling.  Yes, I was definitely smiling.  For the next day, on September 9, 1984, I was getting married at the age of twenty-two years old.

And what I did not know at the time, but I do know now, is that I would be marrying a man who could receive an antique silver bible in the mail, not really concerning himself too much about the origins of this mysterious gift.  I, on the other hand, like to solve the riddle.  While I contemplate, he accepts.  While I analyze, he concedes.  While I delve in, he hangs back waiting patiently to find out whether or not I will need his back-up.  And if I need him to back me up, well then it is definitely time to get out of the way!

Looking back over the past twenty-six plus years, I have come to the realization that Mark is my perfect fit, and I am his.  We have grown up together.  We have transformed one another.  We have created an impeccable fit.  My head fits perfectly into the crux between his neck and collarbone when we hug.  I would know the rhythm of his heartbeat anywhere.  We often think the same thoughts and say the same words at the same time.  September 9, 1984 was only one of the best days of my life.  One of many.  Oh so many.

Happy Anniversary, my love.  The ying to my yang.  The cookie to my milk.  The other half of my heart.  And there is no riddle as to why someone would want to pass along their prayer book to you, anonymously or not.  Because you are that kind of man.  Humble and kind and a true mensch.

In your eyes...

And to all who honor me by stopping by and taking the time to spend a moment or two in my little corner of the world, whether Jewish or not, I pray for your health.  I pray for your joy.  I pray for your wellness.  L'Shana Tovah-For a Good Year.

PS-And yes, it is very appropriate to say Happy Rosh Hashanah or Happy New Year to your Jewish friends.  Thank you for asking, Kim-D, dear one:)  On Yom Kippur, an appropriate sentiment would be to say, "May you be sealed."

For Crying Out Loud You Know That I Love You

Last week slammed in.  Hard.  Very, very hard.  Brick wall, concrete floor, falling from the top of a skyscraper hard.  Mortality took center-stage as we said good-bye to one of our beloved cats, Angel Daughter Number Three's bed mate and best friend for over ten years, Max.  He was part Maine-Coon, and part dinosaur whenever we had his very unmanageable coat shaved skin close.  He worked his way into mine and Angel Daughter Number One's hearts in the restroom of a Petco where we brought him to see if he was friendly.  He was sweet as can be.  We brought all seventeen pounds of him home on that day.  He was a two year old full-grown cat who had been relinquished to an animal rescue organization by his previous owner.  His first home was only a pit-stop on his journey to find AD3.  When they bonded, it was true love.  

Next, my dad and step-mom unexpectedly lost a dear friend of over thirty years to lymphoma.  Very sobering reality, as my step-mother told me that she will never again complain about getting older.  Losing an old friend is like losing a part of ourselves.  But that, unfortunately, can apply in both death and in life.  Sometimes friends actually choose to die away from us.(A story for another day.  Maybe.)

And finally, but almost most shockingly of all, Angel Daughter Number Two lost a very old and very dear friend suddenly.  He was twenty years old. 20.  Two decades of life and only beginning to become a man.  But who knows what he might have become if he had more time.  More time to grow, more time to learn from his mistakes, more time to evolve.  Grief brings with it insurmountable anguish and pain.  It crashes into us with a thunderous blow.  But it also brings along with it unanswerable questions.  Questions that those of us who are left behind are forced to contemplate for the rest of our own lives.  And sometimes, shrapnel.  And fallout.  And guilt.  So, I comforted and listened.  Hugged and cried. Faced anger and resentment.  Talked to my daughters about the fragility of life and what we leave behind when we believe that our own actions do not have a major effect on anyone else.  How one action can set off another, setting off another, and so on, and so on, and so on.  It is difficult to hear, but even more difficult to be honest about.  And it is very difficult to accept when you are only twenty or sixteen or even forty-five if you have never really thought about it before.  That is why I must pass along what I know to my own children.  Because age should bring along with it perspective, but when you are sixteen or eighteen or twenty, the benefit of perspective is a difficult concept to bring into focus.  The corners are muddled together with the vaporous edges of teenage angst.  And although the despondency is both very real and very justifiable, there must also be perspective.  So there have been a lot of tears.  A lot of tears.  And "You just don't understand"s.  And blundering through the barrage of mixed emotions that accompany grief.  I am watching my twenty year old make her way through this daze of loss, anger and sadness.  There is not a whole lot that I can do.  I have said everything that there is to say through the sheerness of some slightly veiled honesty.  Now Father Time must take over.

So after the week of every other day sad news, we got in the car and drove out to Palm Springs to see my dad.  Our youngest daughter drove out with us and then AD1 and AD2 drove out separately to meet us there.  Unfortunately, AD3 had already made plans to spend the weekend with her boyfriend and his family at a BBQ cook-off in Reno, so she was not able to come.

Having a major distraction from all of the heartache and frustration was something that we all needed.  Seeing my dad always makes us happy.  We live about two hours away from each other which makes it difficult to get together on a regular basis, but when we do, it is always a good thing.  I must admit that even at forty-eight years old, I am a daddy's girl.(but don't tell him!)

And so are they.

*My youngest kidlet having her picture taken by her Pop-Pop.

The weekend brought us into the circle of family which, when done right, can be the safest place in the world.  And when done poorly, can be the most insecure place on earth.(I have been to both places and still float back and forth between the two realms.)  It also brought me back to my restless and stormy days as a seventeen year old girl.  When the world was a very arduous, angst-filled place and music filled in for words unspoken.  Thank you, Father Time.  But for today, I will stop here. And soon enough, I will take you here:

To the land of Rock and Roll.

The twenty-something masseuse from the spa who turned me into jello, asked me what we were doing that night.

"Going to see Meatloaf in concert."

"Oh, you're going to have meatloaf for dinner?"

"Um.....Yup."

Almost Heaven...

Our Angel Family enjoyed the Thanksgiving weekend in Lake Arrowhead. For more than the past decade, we have spent every Thanksgiving up here exactly a few thousand feet closer to heaven. Sometimes we come up alone and sometimes, we come up with our dearest friends. Either way, wonderful memories are made.

For only the second time that I can remember, our beautiful mountains received their first covering of pristine, white snow while we were up here celebrating the holiday. And although our cabin was cozy and warm, we all decided to venture out in the snow! Our Four Angel Daughters, Angel Daughter Number Two's handsome new boyfriend, Mark and I, all bundled up to go shopping at the lake. Unfortunately for the stores in town, the surprise storm caused the Black Friday crowds to stay away. But for us, it was like having the town almost to ourselves. We had a lovely day!

I will post more photos when I get back down the mountain. Although everyone else drove home this morning to prepare for school and work, my old dog, Becca, and I decided to spend one more night admiring the moonlight reflecting off of the snow.

To all of my dear American readers, I hope that the wings of your hearts are still buoyant with the gratitude of some time well-spent. And to my lovely Australian, Canadian, Swedish and other worldwide readers, may your spirits be brightened by the approach of the coming holidays!

Love.

When The Pain Blurs my Vision

Living with a chronic illness, sometimes means having a whole lot of downtime in which to count my blessings.  I view this as a benefit.  Something that can rescue me from the onset of a long-lingering bout of focusing on the pain, while going through the litany of the "Why me's?", only to feel worse for the wear.  When I awaken sometime around noon, most days, I am faced with unrelenting pain which forces me into an immediate state of reality that upsets my balance.  This morning was a particularly bad morning.  We have been experiencing a heatwave here in Southern California that is both unbearable and seems to be unending.  The high temperatures and humidity(Yes, we do sometimes have humidity in So Cal.) have made it harder for my body to recover, leaving me helpless against the outer conditions that I have little to no control over.  This morning, as my body ached and throbbed and rebelled against me, I quietly laid in bed praying for relief.  The pain began to worsen, as I began to make a mental list of each pang.  But then I stopped myself.  I began to breathe in and out more deeply as visions of my husband and our daughter's smiles floated through my mind's eye.  I began to focus on the joy that I have in my life.  My husband, our four daughters, our pets, the beach, and suddenly, the pain was only a background to the inner peace that I was experiencing.  Physically, I was still dealing with the pain, but mentally, I had created some images that had much more power.  The power of love.  The power of choice.  The power of knowing that everything is going to be okay, and that eventually the pain would subside.

It's important to do that.  To store up the mental and physical images that can restore your inner balance during times of pain, be it physical, spiritual or emotional.  To give yourself the tools with which to bring yourself to a better place.  To capture the moments that can make you laugh.  To remind yourself of the things which can bring your sight back into focus.  It is important to allow yourself a little time to wallow, but a lot more time to count the things that make you complete.  For me, this includes my family.  They can make me laugh like nothing else in this world can.
And this morning, these images are what saved me from the pain.  Images of Angel Daughter Number Three and Angel Daughter Number Four being silly with one another.
Angel Daughter Number Three is usually not too excited about having her picture taken.  Maybe it has something to do with being seventeen.  But yesterday, I caught her wrestling around on the floor with Angel Daughter Number Four, and we all laughed.
There is almost nothing that gives me as much pleasure and as much joy as seeing the way that my girls can love on one another.
The older that they get, the more that their childlike nature becomes submerged by more serious issues like boys and school and life.
But when I can catch them just being sisters, those are the moments that I love to hold on to.  The moments that make the hard parts of mothering virtually disappear.  The moments that can take away my pain.
These girls.  My four daughters.  My husband.  They are what bring my life back into focus.

What does it for you?

Tiny Treasures or Meditating on a Rocky Beach

Our beach home resides on a bluff which overlooks the rocky beaches of San Clemente, California.  On the days when I feel up to it, Mark and I like to take a walk along the coastline.  There are very few seashells to be found, but the wonderfully organic shapes of the various rocks that can be discovered are endless.  As the waves roll into the shore, you can actually hear the clinking of the rocks as they ride onto the beach with the tide.  The sound is quite hypnotic, especially when mixed with the calls of the Seagulls, and the rising laughter of children as they clammer away from the waves.  The landscape is never the same.  It is an ever-changing slice of nature's magic, transforming moment by moment.

Walking along the shoreline, one day, I discovered something which seemed a bit out of place.  It was a tiny, triangular piece of glass which was translucent green in color.  Its edges were smooth, but its surface was etched from the sand that tumbled around it.  I picked it up, and I was immediately filled with the curiosity of a child.  I needed to know more.  I needed to find more.  And so, my fascination with pure sea glass began.

It is a form of meditation for me.  Walking along the shoreline, searching through the thousands and thousands of rocks, only to discover the one, singular remnant of sea glass which shines brightly among the soft grays, the speckled blacks and the creamy whites.  There is something about searching for something so elusive that calms the mind and soul.

These tiny pieces of glass, survivors of something which began as something much larger, somehow made it to the beach below my feet.  They may have tumbled about for hundreds of years, beginning as a bottle or a radio transmitter, or who knows what else, only to be discovered by me, a small fragment in time.  Mark humors me in my search as he finds his own form of meditation in the ocean waves.  He watches the surfers.  He stops occasionally to pick up the tiniest treasure which I proudly add to my collection.  When he does this, I remind him that "he is the MAN", and we smile knowing that whatever we are in, we are in it together.  And we return home as I banter on about the amazing pieces of treasure we have collected, alone, but together.  He listens.

It is like that, isn't it?  We set out on this journey alone, only to find someone along the way who allows us to meditate and refocus in whatever way might be necessary and then who sometimes joins in along the way.  Allowing enough distance, yet enough closeness to remind both yourself and he or she that they are indeed "the MAN!"  When we join up on this journey, together, it should be in a way that still allows the other person to indulge in quiet meditation, even if that means sometimes humoring one another.  Even if it means something as seemingly insignificant as searching for pieces of sea glass on a rocky beach.

Like many of the things I write, this turned out to be something very different from what it set out to be.  Yet, sometimes allowing the stream of consciousness to move from one thought to another is like dreaming while awake.  It's like not really knowing why you are starting out where you are until you get to the end.

May you discover whatever form of quiet mediation brings you the most peace.  May you take the time to allow yourself to indulge in whatever it is that works for you.  And may you be lucky enough to find someone, along the way, who cares enough to accompany you.  Allowing you to both find the pieces on your own, while also knowing when to hand you a tiny treasure along the way.