A Tribute For my Brother

Is it by accident or by fate that we end up where we are, sometimes getting lost in the possibilities of the roads that we have not taken along the way.  Thinking back to when, to where, to how we have come to settle upon the small plot of earth which we inhabit now, it is not always clear.  What brought us here to this place that we consider home?  The seemingly small or large life events that moved us to the point at which we now reside could have been earth shattering, or, they could have barely made a quiet rumble underneath the soles of our feet.  I know that the string of events which led us to this point on a bluff overlooking the Pacific ocean was part my own spiritual earthquake, so to speak.  They say that you should never make any life changes or major purchases or important decisions following the death of a loved one but we did, and by doing so, we followed our someday dreams to the place that we now call home.  

We were led here by the very sudden passing of my younger brother.  My only sibling.  The only other person in the world who knew the punchline of my childhood anecdotes and jokes.  The sudden end of my brother's life was like the abrupt ending of a long conversation that was only just beginning.  Stunted, hastily cut short, truncated by an early exit.  It made us think.  A lot.  It made us wonder if "someday" was too presumptuous and too far away in pursuing some of our dreams with a major one being a home near the beach.  And so, we did the one thing that we were told not to do in the months following my brother's death.  We decided that it was time to purchase another home near the beach.  We dove in head first without doing a lot of thinking(we might have thought ourselves out of it) or searching.  We opened the gate which led to the front yard of this place and knew that we had found it. Over the course of the past five years, I slowly began spending more and more of my time here.  I didn't want to leave.  We had a beautiful, large home that our daughters had spent over a decade of their lives growing up in, but after my brother died, it no longer felt like home to me.  Something about the peaceful call of the ocean was drawing me away from there.  I needed to be here.  

We never purchased this place as an intended full-time home.  I'm not sure why that was, and honestly, I do not really dwell on it.  With all of our children and pets, it is not really as large as what we have become used to over the years, but we do know that as our youngest two Angel Daughters get ready to fly off on their own, we will have more space than we need in the future.  We sold our large home last summer after our youngest daughter graduated from high school, and moved everyone down here for good.  I can feel my brother's presence, support and encouragement for our decision.  He has a favorite light upstairs that he has become quite adept at turning on and off at very appropriate moments and he visits us quite often even though he was never here in life.  I know that if he were physically here, he would definitely approve, yet I also know that if he were still here, we would probably be living someplace else.  It's one of those odd juxtapositions in life that needed a certain number of events to occur in order for the equation to work out as it did.  Would I prefer to have my brother still here and for us to live someplace else?  Absolutely.  Am I glad that his death lit a spark under our spirits which allowed us to make the choice that we did?  Absolutely, which is why I believe that there really are no absolutes in life, strangely so.  

Just after the five year yahrzeit(anniversary) of my brother's death a couple of weeks ago, Mark and I were in the car and it suddenly came over me that it was time to visit my brother's gravesite for the first time since his funeral.  I have considered going many, many times over the course of the past five years, but obviously, something(or many somethings) were holding me back from doing so because the thought would come and then just as quickly, go.  Mark said it was probably because I was not ready.  Maybe it was because my heart was still too tender, maybe it was because I knew what had(or had not) been inscribed upon his very simple tombstone.  The thought of my brother only being remembered as a "Beloved Husband and Father" and nothing else, is something that still stings me to the core, but I know very differently.  The sting is becoming easier to tolerate.  We located Rob's gravesite and placed three stones on top of his tombstone.  One for me, one for Mark, and one for our girls.  In Judaism, we place stones on the graves of our loved ones instead of flowers.  This is something that has been done for centuries as it is a constant way to keep building a memorial to the person that is more permanent than flowers.  When we arrived, there were no rocks on my brother's tombstone which seemed to break my heart more than anything.  It was the five year anniversary of his death and my sister-in-law had not bothered to bring his children to pay their respects.  Ouch.  I do know that others have been there in the interim since his burial and it is my belief that other mourners sometimes remove stones from other graves(as completely tacky and disrespectful as that is) because the cemetery does not leave loose stones just lying around on the grass.  It is customary to bring your own rocks, and not everyone thinks about that so whose going to tell if they "borrow" a stone from someone else's grave.  That being said, it struck me hard to view my brother's stoneless tombstone.  I knelt down to clean some of the dirt and bird poop from his headstone and then I looked up towards the sky and laughed through my tears.  Right above Rob's tombstone, there is a large tree with branches that hang directly over his site.  Something tells me that bird poop is not an unusual occurrence in this part of the cemetery.  I know that it will be much easier for me to return to the cemetery in the future and although I do not believe that it is where Robert's soul resides, it is where his body remains at rest and therefore, I will go back.  Robert Mark Sherman was my little brother and the sharer of my history.  He became a brother to my husband.  He was a son.  He was the most beloved uncle to my four daughters.  He was a storyteller and a comedian, oh what a comedian!  He could have me laughing until I could no longer catch my breath.  He was a loyal friend.  He wanted to make the world a better place by assisting the downtrodden.  He was a brilliant attorney who made very average grades in high school but when it came to passing the State Bar exam, he did so with flying colors on his very first try.  He was so much to so many.  His life was cut way too short by a failing heart which may or may not have been broken beyond what he could tolerate any longer.  

I often think about my brother when I gaze out at the rolling Pacific ocean, but most especially at night when the skies are clear and the stars are at their brightest.  Something about the constellation Orion brings me to immediate thoughts of my brother because I believe, that for some reason, he is probably  viewing it too, just from a different angle in the universe.  I am home, for now, and he is home, for now, and somehow I believe that someday we will see one another again in a different place.  And if nothing else positive came out of his sudden passing, I do hope that he knows that because of our sad loss, we learned to take the "somedays" more seriously in the now and that the love that we had and still have for his beautiful life was something which led us home.

Levity, Lessons and Love

For those of you who have been visiting my little blog spot in Etherland for awhile, you might actually recognize the man in the lobster shirt with the Shitzu on his head.  For anyone else who might have just happened by while innocently looking up information on Shitzus first off, I apologize.  The dog likes it up there, he really does.  Second, allow me to introduce my father and my dog-brother.  No, I was not adopted(although my dog-brother was) and yes, my daughters think that I am just as much of a nut as their grandfather is only when he does things the girls think that they are much, much funnier than when I do them.  Pop-Pop gets all the laughs and I mostly get the eye-rolls.(Must be a generational thing, I am looking forward to my future grandchildren.)

When my father and my step-mom first adopted this little guy, his name was Augustus or Auggie for short.  Very befitting for a Shitzu residing in Palm Springs.  After a few days, they realized that he was more like a battering-ram on four short legs than a sophisticated little dumpling so they started calling him Rambo.  And as incongruous as the name Rambo and those beautiful eyelashes are, the name really suits him.  He follows our father around like an enormous watchdog would, barking at anything that he perceives as danger.  He recently received a new sister named Lizzie.  She is a wire-haired Dachshund.  She might need some doggie Prozac.  She makes Rambo look very, very calm.  Very calm.

But of course, then there is my human family.  This includes both my children and,

their grandfather, my father.

There is a sign that I have hanging up in our mountain house.  It says, "My family tree is full of nuts."  This is not a figure of speech in my case.

Over the course of the past several years, I have boiled most of those nuts down to the good kind because unfortunately, I also have my share of the other kind.  The kind that will constantly give you indigestion and heartburn all the while expecting a pass-go pass for forgiveness.  Which is something that I do: forgive.  Sadly, forgiveness cannot always include a free pass on forgetting which is something that they also expect without repercussions.  They seem to confuse the two, and up until fairly recently, I had a difficult time with the concept as well.  I not only forgave the abhorrent behavior but tried my best to forget about it, too.  But I think that this is just one of the many lessons that I am here to learn and for the most part, it is a good one for me because I am getting it.  I can forgive without trying to forget.  It is actually quite important to remember.  It breaks my heart more to move ahead in these stale relationships that cause me more pain than pleasure.  I think it is time for someone other than myself to put actual effort in to learning from life and then using those lessons to improve upon how the behaviors might adversely affect somebody else.  Patterns are very difficult to break, but if everyone involved continues dancing the same dance, then nothing will ever change.  Nothing will ever improve.  Nothing will be learned.  And nothing will be gained.

So, I am learning to embrace the "nuts"  who are willing to grow along with me, while distancing myself from the ones who leave a horribly bitter taste in my soul.  I mean, I enjoy pecans.  Walnuts, not so much.  So instead of continuing to add walnuts to my brownies, I might add some extra pecans.  Makes sense, yes?

A couple of weeks ago, we went out to Palm Springs to spend the weekend with my dad for his birthday.  Living two hours away from each other is hard and although we speak on the phone almost everyday, we do not get to see each other nearly enough.

We all arrived on different days and at different times, but everyone made it and we had a really nice trip.  My dad can make me laugh harder than anyone else in this world.  Not only that, he is as intelligent and as big-hearted as a man can be.  He mentors my daughters as if they are his own and motivates them to do things that Mark and I could never convince them of.(Once again, that generational thing.)  Would you believe me if I told you that he has several projects going on right now, one being that he is seriously considering opening up a college in China???  Who does that?  Who even believes that they are capable of doing that?  This man's mind is never, ever at rest.  Lordy, lordy...

Angel Daughter Number Two and Joshua drove out to join us on Saturday and stayed with my dad and Rita.  The rest of us stayed at the beautiful La Quinta resort across the street from their house.  We like it there and we can bring our thirteen year old pup, Becca, so it works out perfectly.  Becca is getting to the point in her life(and mine) where I do not feel comfortable leaving her with anybody else so we just set her up in the backseat and take her along.  Makes me happy, happy.

The girls adore their grandma Rita so much.  Twenty-five years ago when our oldest Angel Daughter was born, my step-mom felt like she was too young to be called "grandma" so the girls all called her Rita.  Now, she loves it because when she goes out with them, people think that she is their mother.  She now readily admits that she is their grandmother and qvells(Yiddish for "bubbles over with joy") when people don't believe it.  Too, too cute!  The girls absolutely love going into Rita's closet and coming out with all sorts of goodies that she doesn't wear anymore.  How many grandmothers can claim that?

Three generations.  This is what makes me happy.

I had to share a photo of a Palm Springs traffic-jam.  When Mark pulled up behind this golf-cart, I couldn't resist snapping some photos.  Yup, life is hard in my father's neighborhood.

On our way home from Palm Springs, I am always fascinated by the miles and miles of desert covered in windmills which seem to magically sprout up from the mostly baron land.  Leave it up to human ingenuity to take advantage of a natural resource that cannot be seen(the wind), and utilize it to create power for thousands and thousands of homes.  Something from what seems to be nothing.  There is so much beauty in the thought of that.

Update:

I am grateful to everyone who follows my blog either silently(I can feel your presence but don't be shy, say hello sometime:)), or those of you who have become my dear friends.  Thank you for all of the comments and e-mails and phone calls(Hi Nessie!) that you left for me after my previous post.  At first, I considered not writing anything at all about what I was going through, but then I decided that it was important for me to be authentic about my life when I write here because that is why I write here.  Life is messy sometimes and that goes for every life.  The object is to learn from both the wonderful times and the messy ones.  Things are better now.  I was able to verbalize the truth about what I was really going through over the course of the past four plus years since Robert's death, culminating in a pretty bad depression during the past few months or so to my husband, Mark.  In doing so, I have also come to terms with something that was pretty damn hard to admit.  I have been in a pretty big hole for awhile now.  I did not write much about the court case seeking visitation with my nieces after it ended a few months ago.  I thought that I would be able to handle the verdict regardless of what it was.  I thought that if a judge told me that I have no rights to my deceased brother's children, that I could accept it and move right along with my life.  I thought that I had properly grieved for my brother.  The truth is that what I should have known is that that was a bunch of crap.  I didn't consider that I would actually have to grieve the loss of my two nieces in the event that the court case did not end in my favor.  Unexpected feelings sucked me into a place of isolation which in turn, caused my physical pain levels to soar, which in turn spiraled my entire body into a flare.  My family, not really understanding what I was going through, made some major assumptions because those assumptions would have actually been much easier to deal with than depression, especially because I have never been seriously depressed before.  I am a very happy person and even though I have difficult days, essentially, I snap out of it very quickly. I don't think they knew what to do with me.  They did what they thought they needed to do and for that, I love them.

I am feeling much better now because I was able to acknowledge and in turn, got Mark to understand that what I was going through was profound sadness.  I have taken some steps toward healing but this will take some time.  There is no time table for grief.  There are still some things that I feel that I have to do before I can move ahead such as visit my brother's gravesite for the first time since the day of his funeral.  I know that his soul is often with me, but I can no longer use that as an excuse for not visiting the place where his body will forever remain.  I have been examining the reasons that I have stayed away and it is now time for me to go whether alone or with my husband.  I am not sure what I will feel after doing this, but it is something that I must do.  It is only right.

So here I sit, in a place of acceptance, forgiveness and contemplation and I am doing okay.  I am proud of myself for being a strong woman just as my grandmothers and great-grandmothers were.  There is a very tough gene residing someplace within my body and I am pretty sure that this gene has been inherited by my four beautiful daughters.  I mean, I may not agree with the way that they went about doing things, but I admire them for doing something.  I admire them for being proactive.  I admire them for not giving up on their momma.   It is an odd feeling knowing that one's own children are turning into adults right before their eyes and it is new territory for all of us.  If I have taught my girls nothing else, at least I know that there is one thing that I have taught them for sure, to lean on one another and to stick together when life gets messy.  Because it is so much easier to clean things up when you share the job with someone else whose motives are in line with your own.

Wishing you peace, my friends.

I Kissed a Girl and I Liked it; Well, Sort of~

When we first met up with Jen, Jack, Kate and Gretchen, they were exhausted, overwhelmed and covered in Disney pixie-dust.  They had spent the day shlepping around Disneyland, Moo-Moos and all, and as wonderful as that can be, it is tiring beyond measure.  Jack snuggled into each one of us as he dreamed peacefully about flying, about all of the stuff that nine year old boys dream of after a busy day at Disneyland. When he woke up momentarily, he crawled sleepily into my lap, looked at me with his  big, gorgeous brown eyes, and took the Moo-Moo that he was holding and wrapped its fuzzy legs around my neck.  Before I received a hug from my boy, I received one from his loyal, somewhat stinky, but oh-so-well loved friend.  I melted into a puddle of mush.  Jack is not that much shorter than I am, but he fit perfectly into my lap.  We sat heart to heart as Jack sunk back into blissful slumber, clinging to my neck the entire time.  I kissed the top of his precious head more times than I can count, knowing that I would not have as much of an opportunity to do so once he arose from his sleep.  Jack is, after all, a nine and a half year old boy.  He smelled like sweetness and boy-sweat and angel, all in one.  An intoxicating nectar which captured my senses on a level that I can hardly describe(especially being the momma of only daughters).  I sat for a few minutes taking it all in.  This boy, our boy, who I hadn't seen since he was under a year old, felt like one of my own.  Somehow, the embrace lined our hearts up perfectly.  I could feel the unbridled energy of this little boys heart connecting with the rhythm of my own and it was good.  I could feel our hearts connecting as if to say, "Ah, there you are."  Jen always said that she felt as if Jack and I were kindred spirits.  When the food showed up at our table, I refused to let go of Jack's sleepy body so my beloved husband cut my food up and fed me careful bites over Jack's fuzzy head.  Jen also took turns placing bites of chicken gently into my mouth while Angel Daughter Number Four bonded quickly with sweet little Kate.  Kate, Jack's sister, is six and does not really like to have her picture taken, but I snuck in some cute ones with her permission, later on.  The restaurant was noisy and full of other people, but the love at our table was affirming and intimate.  After a while, a long while, I asked my husband if he would like to hold Jack.  We passed him gently as he continued to sleep, a mixture of Disney-fatigue and strong pain medications.  I watched Mark cradle this precious boy as they fell into one another.  The look on my husband's face described the bittersweet feelings in his heart.  So sweet.

Jack woke up when Jen and Gretchen were collecting their luggage from the hotel and he asked me if he could ride home in our car.  He sat in the back seat with AD4 wearing his Mickey Mouse Pirate ears, chatting, asking lots of questions and cuddling.  When AC/DC came on the radio(My husband loves rock music!), Jack asked if we could turn it up.  He tapped his hand on his knee to the pounding rhythm of the music and watched out the window until he spotted a Carl's Jr. sign in the distance.  I asked him if he wanted to stop and he said YES!  He could have asked for the moon and we would have found a way to lasso it for him.

We set everyone up in our beach house and left them to rest the day off.

The next day when we got back to the house, Jen was taking pictures of Jack in the perfect sunset.  Angel Daughter Number One and Angel Daughter Number Four hopped in for a few shots.  We told Jack to give AD4 a kiss on the cheek.  After a bit of coaxing and cajoling, Jack gave in reluctently.

Since we were on a role, we asked Jack to give AD1 a kiss so that she wouldn't feel left out.  He started to get the hang of it very, very quickly!  Soon, he was giving out kisses without making the face.  He is such a trooper!

Well, sort of.   Here is how Jen was really able to convince Jack to kiss on the girls.  She used something a bit more tangible in the mind of a nine and a half year old boy, crafty mom.  Bribery!  When Jen began to renegotiate the terms after the kisses were already deposited, Jack started to get very upset.  Somehow, the forty dollar price started to come down as Jen reminded Jack about some of his outstanding debts.  His displeasure only lasted a few minutes and then, Jack was back to being his happy, smiley self again although I wasn't quite sure why.  After all, he had been duped into kissing not only one girl, but two!!!  

It was then that I noticed the two men with their heads together, my dear husband looking a bit satisfied with himself and Jack, holding his handmade, duct-tape(guys and their duct tape!) wallet in his hand.  When I asked Jack what Uncle Mark had given him, he sheepishly withdrew a $100.00 bill(Dad, you would be very proud.) from inside of his wallet.  Mark, understanding Jack's anguish over having negotiated a price for some photos and kisses, immediately pulled Jack aside, told him to share the money with his sister, and slipped a $100.00 bill into Jack's hand.(Sorry, Jen)  But there could be no price too large to satisfy the heart of this precious little man.  He is a unique old soul in a young, failing body who landed upon this earth to teach us all so very much.  Quite honestly, I think he would have kissed the girls cheeks without being bribed, but don't tell any of his friends that.  We will just leave it as an understanding between two men, and a $100.00 bill tucked safely into a duct-tape wallet.  That is their story and they're sticking to it.


*More information on how to follow Jack in the post below.

Cancer Sucks Which is Why I am Choosing to be Crude This Time

I am here.  And I must share a bit about where I have been for the past several days and why it has been so difficult for me to come up with words and why my heart is constantly breaking into a billion, trillion pieces but how those shattered pieces are still very much alive and living in the people who now own them.

This is Jack.  For those of you who might have missed my previous posts about this angel boy or for those of you whom I have more recently come to know, Jack is a nine and a half year old boy who has been living with cancer, neuroblastoma, for far too many years of his life.  For those of you who took Jack into your own hearts at first sight, thank you.  Your thoughts and prayers and encouragement for Jack's mothers have helped to hold them up when all they wanted to do was melt into a puddle on the ground beneath their own feet.  First diagnosed at age three and then again, at age eight, Jack has fought a battle that most of us will never have to endure in an entire lifetime.(God willing.)  Whenever I say that I am fighting the good fight, this amazing young angel shows up in my mind's eye and gives me the power to fight even harder.  For HE has truly fought and continues to fight, The Good Fight.  He has done so with bravery and resilience and more courage than I could ever begin to even claim to have.  He has done so with a love for life that far too many healthy individuals take for granted even on their best days.  He has done so with a heart so huge that it humbles me to know that it can still fit within his tiny, cancer ravaged body.

We have known Jack since well before he was born.  His mommy has been a part of our lives for so many years.  She was a teacher in the school that my daughters attended.  Angel Daughter Number One who is now twenty-three, was in her fifth grade class, and Angel Daughter Number Two was lucky enough to have her as a teacher in both third and fifth grades.  She is now twenty-one. We requested and insisted on Jen all three times.  She and I became friends, which was not so easy at first because Jen, Jack's mommy, is a very private person.  She didn't want to cross that parent-teacher "boundary".  But, over time, she could not resist just letting me in bit by bit(I knew I would win her over, chocolate helped) and by the time she was ready to move from California to Georgia so that she could afford to stay home with Jack full-time, we had become close friends.  Thank goodness for the Internet!  We were able to remain close friends from a distance and stay updated on each other's lives.  When Jack was first diagnosed with cancer, we wept and cursed and then cheered him on from across the country.

Last week, Jen brought Jack and Kate(her sweet six and a half year old) out to California.  And although we did not have nearly enough time together, I understand that Jack's days are precious and that there was a huge amount that they wanted to pack into a four day trip.  Thankfully, we were able to see them for two of those days.

These photos were taken the first night that we met up with Jack, Kate, Jen and Gretchen(Jen's sweet partner).  Jack was very groggy from some of the new pain meds that he was on, but when he woke up, he asked if he could ride in our car on the drive down to our beach house.  We were overjoyed!  Jack has a herd of stuffed cows that accompany him everywhere.  Jen sent me one when Jack was three.  He calls them all "Moo-Moo".  Angel Daughter Number Four is holding my Moo-Moo(who insisted on coming to visit with Jack and the herd!), Jack is holding his.  It was a wonderful, bittersweet, sobering, but never to be forgotten, reunion.

I am so tired.  I am punch-drunk on love.  I am emotionally spent.  And I am grateful, so gosh-darn grateful to have been able to share these precious moments with this boy, our boy.  Your boy.  I can guarantee you, part of your heart will be his, too.  He is that incredibly special.


There will definitely be another "Jack" post to follow very soon, more pictures to share.  In the meantime, feel free to stop by Jack's website and when you do, please leave a note of encouragement, prayer, love, support, or even just a hello for this beautiful family.  They need all of the kindness that they can get right now, but also, you will find out what it is like to be truly touched by an angel.  The earthly kind.  For underneath all of the sadness, there is grace.  So much grace.  http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/campjack


With so much love,
Debbie

The Pursuit of Happiness/Dear Life

Dear Life,

Summer has always been an interesting time for me.  All of that "before birthday" build-up and then the quiet, bittersweet feeling that lingers behind when the day finally comes and then goes.  It's kind of like that very last slice of chocolate birthday cake with whipped-cream frosting that sits solemnly under wrinkled plastic-wrap inside of the fridge.  You want to eat it but when it's gone, so is the reality of another year behind.  My brother, Rob, only had forty-one of them.  Birthdays.  He should have had more.  Many, many more.  He should have eaten more cake.  Mine and his own.  His birthday was in July, too.  And honestly, Life, I feel like he got ripped-off.   I feel like I was also deprived of the rest of his life, but who am I to determine these things.  So I think about him when I blow out my own candles, and I envision that little black smudge of fading smoke that rises up into the air, as a wish for peace.  Mine and his, everyones.
Last week when Mark and I were walking on the beach searching for sea glass, I came across this leftover bit of ribbon which was tangled in amongst the rocks.  And while we usually pick up small pieces of trash that are left behind on the beach, I couldn't help but leave this one where I found it.  For there are many people who might have needed to see this message which was accidently, on purpose, left between the stones on the beach.  Messages have their own ways of finding the individuals whom they are meant for.  This seemed like a message for many.

Dear Life,

Please always let me take the time to notice the messages.  And the lessons.  And the hellos from the Universe.  We miss so much when we forget to notice.

They say that life is what you make of it.  I fight, with all of my spirit, to live a contented life filled with as much love as I can bring in.  And then, I release it back out.  When I was eighteen years old, I met the love of my life.(But of course, you already knew that.)  We set out to build a marriage filled with joy and adventure and love.  Our quest brought us four incredible angel daughters.  Each one is unique.  Each one is special.  Each one is a product of love.  You certainly trumped my wildest dreams there, Life.

I never could have imagined this beautiful family.  These extraordinary individuals.  Five distinct people that I love more than life(sorry, but true) itself.

Dear Life,

Thank you.

In celebration of my birthday, all four of my angel daughters came home to spend the day with me.  There is nothing that I look forward to more, these days, as they get older and busier and more independent.  We traveled south down to San Diego to a lovely, little town called Solana Beach.  Truly, I love Angel Daughter Number Three's pink high-topped sneakers.  Watching each one of my girls develop their own personal style is something that amuses me.  When they were little, I dressed them all alike.  It was the cutest thing I've ever seen.  Everyday, four little ducklings in matching outfits.  Some people worried that they would never develop their own, individual styles because of my guilty pleasure.  But if there is one thing that you have taught me, Life, it is to follow my own instincts about things.  Not only have they each refined their own personal style, but they are very original in everything that they do.  Angel Daughter Number Four, my youngest daughter, even shaves the hair over one side of her ear.  And she wears it very well!

Now if this baby isn't an original, I do not know who is!

While shopping, my girls spotted this sweet fairy baby.  We all "oohed and cooed" over her which made me very happy because I know that my babies love babies, too!  This ensures that I will someday have grand-babies to love on in the future!  Which, dear Life, is something that I would very much appreciate!

We visited a nursery and discovered a giant cage filled with the most wonderful birds.  Little nests overflowed with the most beautiful doves.  We tried to count how many were in the nest above, but there were babies hiding underneath the babies!

These unusual Quails nest by creating a hollow in the ground and then the babies burrow underneath the parents.  Our whole family sat for at least twenty minutes admiring this cage filled with sweet, chirpy birds.  The doves make that low, melodic cooing sound, the kind that tends to melt your heart.  And the smaller birds chit-chatted in that high-pitched chirpy way.  They were absolutely mesmerizing.

Dear Life,

Please always remind me that there is always time to be mesmerized.  And fascinated.  And to learn something new.

We then made our way over to a lovely Farmer's Market teeming with fresh, organic produce, flowers and handmade trinkets.  We snacked on delicious goat cheese samples and chocolate toffee covered in almond bits.  We purchased some gorgeous yellow cherries which tasted like sunshine, and brought home some tomatoes, baby potatoes and blueberries.

Angel Daughter Number Four rescued a fuzzy, little caterpillar while AD3 giggled and took her picture.

Angel Daughter Number Two, who was having a particularly rough day at first:(, couldn't help but smile after a while.  Sometimes, I will do the silliest things which tend to annoy her, in order to see those adorable dimples.  But I don't give up easily, because seeing my daughters happy is what life is all about.

Dear Life,

Please remind my daughters that sometimes, old boyfriends need to be brought out with the trash where they belong.

Enough said.

Angel Daughter Number One browsed through the jewelry with her youngest sister.  I cannot help but look at my children through a "mother's eyes".  Each one of them fascinates me in a way that enriches my heart and makes me want to capture the moments.  The little moments that often go unnoticed.  The little moments when we are all together and life is good.  Very, very good.

And I can quietly view them through the lens of my camera.  Capturing their innate beauty and sometimes, unconventional distinctiveness.

Dear Life,

Please remind my daughters that feeling confident in their own skin is more important than what anybody else might think of them.  And that following a "trend" makes you exactly that.  A follower.

On the way home, we thankfully sped easily past the border patrol station.  For people who do not live in a state "bordering" another country, you might not be familiar with these interesting little points of contention.  For those of you who do, you can understand the frustration of going from sixty-five miles per hour, down to zero, in order for an officer to peek inside of your car to do a bit of racial profiling.

Thankfully, this racial profiling only occurs at random times of the day, so when you are lucky, you are able to zip right by without barely a second glance.

Enough said, again:)

Once we got past the border patrol station, we drove past the San Onofre nuclear power plant which is  also lovingly known as Dolly Parton by some locals.

Dear Life,

Sometimes even nuclear power plants can be funny in a really silly way.

On July 4, 1776, the forefathers of our country signed a declaration: The Declaration of Independence.

The words, in part, go like this; We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.  As do most Americans, I take these words very seriously.  We fought for our ability to lead independent lives.  To create our own paths on this journey.  To pursue our own happiness.  For myself and for those who have come before me, I will lead a happy life.  For my brother, I will continue to pass his legacy down to his daughters and nieces.  For me, I will fight with all of my might to be content.

And I will jump for joy in knowing that I have lived another year on this earth.  Another year loving on the people who I care about.  And another year learning a bit more about how to really live.

Dear Life, Dear America, Dear Me,

Happy Birthday!

                                                              *July 4, 2010-San Clemente Pier Fireworks

Madly, Wildly, Fiercely

*I just signed up for Skywatch because I have seen so many beautiful pictures from there.  I am not sure, yet, what it entails, so I will be jumping in to get my feet wet!

*Angel Daughter Number One and Angel Daughter Number Four

I have all of the strength that I need in this moment because I have been successful in love.  I know this because I can observe it in my children as they playfully hang on one another during candid but expressive moments.  I know this because I can catch them loving on each other even when they think no one else is looking.

I believe this because my absolute love for them, and for my husband, is mirrored in the love that they share with each other.

I honor this because although I know I was loved as a child, there were very few expressions of that love for me to draw from, yet I was able to grow into a woman who can love freely and without hesitation.

*Angel Daughter Number Three

And even during an "alone" moment, I am able to witness this in my own children as I watch them turn their own faces toward the sun.

This past weekend, we traveled out to Palm Springs to spend some time with my dad.  Like most of California, Palm Springs is beautiful.  It is a desert environment which means that summer arrives much earlier than it does in most places.  It was hot and dry and colorful.  After spending over three hours sitting in on a deposition, last Thursday, there was a lot on my often, overactive, mind.  I spent hours listening to someone trying her hardest to make me out to be a raving lunatic.(I could almost feel the foam forming in the corners of my mouth while a maniacal smile formed slowly across my lips.  Almost.)  And while it is very difficult not to take that kind of thing seriously, my father reminded me of something that I had almost forgotten to remember.  He told me that nothing that she said, or continues to say about me, matters at all.  Nothing.

I spent a lot of time thinking about darkness and light.  I thought about love and hate.  I contemplated the muddled line which exists exactly in between each of these different ends of the spectrum and what it is that can send us over from one side to the other.  I thought about how this little sprite of a woman is capable of facing off against a six foot tall, mean-spirited man(her attorney) and his very sad, sad client.  I thought about the strength that it took for me to sit there while listening to such deplorable nastiness, but how I did so with grace and humor.  And I realized that there is nothing that she can take from me.  There is nothing that she can attribute to me.  There is nothing that she can do to me.  I still have my brother(although there is a spiritual boundary between us now) and whether it be in a month, or in five years, I will have my precious nieces in my life again someday.

Yesterday, before we left for the long drive home, I took a walk by myself.(I brought my camera along so that I could share the beauty of the environment with you!)
As I walked along the flower-lined pathways, I felt a sense of peace...

And the overwhelming feeling of loving and being loved.

As I passed by this beautifully adorned gate, I thought about doors and going through doors and discovering what is on the other side.  I thought about how we do that each time we make some sort of a decision.  I had a discussion with God. I wanted to check in with Him to find out how I was doing.

And then I found myself standing in front of this gorgeous stairway going up.(or down, depending upon your vantage point)  I thought about how easily I could have just meandered my way right past it, but how it caught me in my steps.  I thought about pathways which look as if they could go on forever, but how each one ends up someplace.  I thought about love and pain and the suffering that each of us experiences throughout a lifetime.  None of us gets by unscathed.  But if we are lucky, and we keep our hearts open to the possibilities, the love is what will keep us strong.

Love is what gives us unfounded strength.  It allows us to venture into areas that seem almost scary at first.  It is what carries us through the tough times.  It is what sustains us through the pain.  And in the end, after everything is said and done, love is what wins.