On a Hot, Muggy, East Texas Day in August 1984

Not all abortions come about due to an unwanted pregnancy. Some abortions become the best next action involving a much wanted pregnancy that takes a painful, unwanted turn…that’s what happened to me.

It’s a very hot, muggy day in August 1984. That might sound like an uncomfortable day that would cause someone to dread getting out in the heat to go to the doctor. Not for me. Not this day. I’m pregnant and feeling so blessed, so happy, so excited. I have an appointment with my doctor for my 12-week checkup where we’ll get to hear my baby’s heartbeat, and I’ll have an ultrasound, which is commonplace for this visit. Everything is wonderful, I feel good, my husband is happy about becoming a father, and I can hardly wait to see him after my appointment and tell him all about it.

I get to my appointment early and chat with everyone in the office. One of the great things about living in a small town is you know everyone and it’s very likely the nurse and office staff are all friends of yours from high school. That’s the case in my doctor’s office and it’s very comforting and joyful to be sharing my pregnancy experience with all of them.

I’m told to “come on back,” and get the exam gown on, the doctor will be with me in a minute. He comes in all excited about my pregnancy and we chat for a few seconds to catch up on what’s new. I’ve been his patient since I was in junior high. He tells me to lie back on the table so we can “take a listen to this sweet baby.” First he listens to my belly with his stethoscope. Looking back, I can see slight concern on his face, but at the time I was too elated to want to see anything scary. He says we’ll do the ultrasound now, and we do. The liquid is cold on my stomach, but I don’t mind. He spends a few minutes trying to get the heartbeat so I can hear it, but he can’t seem to find it. He says not to worry, sometimes it takes a while to find it. He keeps moving the handheld probe, called a transducer, over my abdomen for what seems like forever. I can now see concern, but he’s not saying anything. He finishes the ultrasound, and gently, caringly wipes the access liquid from my abdomen. He holds my hand and helps me to a sitting position and says to “sit tight,” he’ll be right back.

A few minutes later he returns to the exam room and pulls up a stool to sit close to me, and puts his hands on my knees as he does when he wants me to listen. The color has drained from his face as he looks into my eyes and says, “Here’s what’s happening. You have what is called a blighted ovum. We don’t know what causes it, but it means your body still thinks it’s pregnant, so your uterus is growing, the sac is there and filled with amniotic fluid…but there is no baby there. At one point, it did not attach to the uterus and your body resorbed it, possibly at the point when it was still a zygote. Your body shows no sign of miscarrying on its own, or it would have by now.”

After much discussion, and making sure I’m emotionally and physically ok, we decide that he’ll perform a Laminaria procedure today, and I’ll go home and rest over the weekend while my cervix slowly and painfully dilates to be ready for the D&C, or Dilatation and Curettage procedure to be done in the hospital early Monday morning. He explains to me it is the safest procedure to remove the rest of the tissue from inside the uterus, now that it has been determined there is no baby.

This was almost 40 years ago, and it never occurred to me that this procedure would be considered an abortion. I thought it was a miscarriage. There was no baby, so I miscarried, right? The truth came to me years later when I needed to see my medical files and the word “abortion” was checked. “Miscarriage” was not. I was curious so I asked my doctor about it. He said that the reason we had to do the D&C was, in fact, because my body WOULD NOT miscarry on it’s own so it was imperative for my health to rid the uterus of the tissue that was left in my body after the baby did not form. The medical term when this happens is “spontaneous abortion” and when other doctors see this, they know it means the body was having difficulty miscarrying the tissue on its own.

I share this story in light of the recent case of Roe v. Wade being overturned and how it is affecting women in the United States. To see the word “abortion” being used as a blanket term to be outlawed and prevent the procedure to be used after the baby is no longer alive, is frightening. If I had not been “allowed” (using the vernacular of a human who feels dismissed) to have this procedure, there is no telling how much longer my body would have continued to prepare for a baby that was not even there. My heart was broken, and I wanted to be as healthy as possible so I could be ready to hopefully get pregnant again and carry my baby to term. That is exactly what happened. Three months later I became pregnant and one year later, I gave birth to a healthy little boy and all is well. Would I have experienced the same happy outcome with the toxic tissue left behind and still occupying my uterus when I got pregnant? Thankfully, I’ll never know.

This is my story and I hope in some way, it helps bring clarity and support for women everywhere.

The Last $5.00

Hello there! I have a story to tell you. Yep, that’s right…another story. I hope you like this one.

I know a woman who woke up one morning, looked in her wallet and counted only nine dollars. It was all she had, a $5 bill and four $1 bills. Her bank account was empty, she had no credit cards, and she was getting dressed to meet a friend who was driving her to her bankruptcy hearing.

Ten months prior to this day, she’d made the decision to change her life in a big way, and to help someone she loves very much. She knew the risk, didn’t hesitate, just made the move filled with love, riding on blind faith. Shortly after making this move, a series of events unfolded and to some it might have appeared that she’d “lost everything.” In her eyes, there were miracles happening all around her. She was elated. Grateful.

Now back to the day she woke up with only $9 left…

She rode with her friend downtown to the courthouse for her hearing. There were several big buildings, and it took them three tries to find the correct one. All along the way, with each attempt to get to her hearing, she met wonderful people and stopped to smile and share stories. Her morning was beautiful and cheerful, in spite of her current perceived conditions.

Once she found the correct building, the right hearing room, and patiently waited her turn to confirm her paperwork was indeed factual and correct, things progressed swiftly. The Trustee informed her that she needed to go over to the other courthouse and confirm a small detail regarding her contact information. She thanked him and went to do just that.

Her friend said he would meet her in the car, he had some calls to make. She agreed, and proceeded along to the courthouse across the street. After taking care of her paperwork, the clerks (who were all very nice) told her if she wanted copies of her filing, she would need to pay for them. She knew from experience that having copies of such important transactions was in her best interest. She asked how much it would cost to attain the copies. The person helping her said, “With the amount of pages included, it will cost you $4.25 and we can’t give you change.” The woman said, “That’s ok, I have a $5 bill,” knowing that would leave her with only four $1 bills. When the person behind the desk made the copies and took them to her co-worker, she asked her to charge the woman $4.25. “How many pages did you copy for her?” asked the co-worker. The clerk told her how many. Her co-worker said, “It’s only four dollars, we round down.” The clerk said, “It doesn’t matter, she only has a five dollar bill and I told her we don’t give change.” The woman, hearing this, said, “Oh, it’s ok, I also have four $1 bills, so I can give you correct change.” It all worked out. She gladly gave them her four $1 bills, she received her copies, and left the courthouse with only one $5 bill left to her name.

The woman could not explain it, didn’t question any of it, just walked out feeling filled with grace and joy, smiling at everyone she met on the street as she went to cross the street where her friend was hopefully still waiting in the car to take her to work.

As she approached the corner, something made her cross the street, even though she hadn’t seen where her friend had parked the car because he’d moved it. When she got to the other side, there was a man standing there holding what appeared to be a large bag of clothes. He looked at her and said, “Excuse me. My wife and I are trying to raise enough money for a room to stay in tonight. We just need $12 and all I have is $7 so far. Could you help us?” The woman looked into his eyes and she was immediately filled with love and happiness. She said, “Wait…so all you need is $5?” He said, “Yes.”

She reached into her wallet and gave him her last $5 bill. The man beamed with gratitude. “Thank you,” he said. The woman said, “You are most welcome.” As the man turned to walk away, something stopped him. He looked at the woman, and she was smiling from ear to ear. She said, “I want you to know something. I just left bankruptcy court and that is my last $5. I’m sure I crossed the street because you are supposed to have it.” The man said, “What? Now I feel bad!” The woman laughed and said, “No, don’t feel bad, it’s a GOOD thing! The only reason I told you that is because I want you to know things are turning around for you right now! I truly believe that this $5 is yours…I was just holding it for you.” The man said, “Oh, I get it. If you give to me, someone will help you. It’s karma.” The woman said, “Well…I’m giving to you because you need $5 and I have $5. I’m happy to help you because others have helped me in the past and I know without a doubt that you and I are going to be fine, we are taken care of…and all is well.”

The man said, “My wife will be very grateful and excited to sleep in a warm, safe, dry space tonight,” and then he smiled a bright, knowing smile as though the tables had turned, and he was the lender, not the borrower.

I don’t know what happened in this man’s life after he met the woman on the street that day, but I do know the woman personally and her life has continued to unfold in ways she could not have imagined all on her own. She sees miracles happen each and every day, all around her on this amazing journey, and every minute holds endless possibilities of something absolutely wonderful for her…and for you. It’s all good.

Love always and in all ways…GoTerriGo!

Go By What You Know, Not What You See

NOTE: This entry is a bit longer than my usual writings because I was mindful not to edit too much and instead, to be raw, honest and vulnerable. I hope it moves you…

It’s very easy to “go with the flow,” have faith in the Universe, take a risk or two, let go and let…when there is well…not much, but enough money in your savings to pay the bills for a few months and you are filled with the knowledge that you are on the right path. Even when it makes no sense to others.

You tell yourself you are taken care of and you believe it.

When people ask how you are making this ridiculously risky, against-all-odds plan(?) of yours work you simply say, “I’m not sure, but when I need the means to stick with it, they appear.”

You make plans to do things you know are not extravagant but a necessity, even though, again, it doesn’t make sense to your friends. And it works out. When you decide to live a life of receiving the deep bounties that Spirit provides and you accept small jobs in California even though you live in Denver, those small jobs become bigger ones and they lead to more opportunities. And you get to stay connected to your dear friends because you make the effort. It grows your heart. It fills the holes with happiness. More importantly, you begin to understand why the holes were there in the first place. The hurtful experiences that were filling up your world were removed to make room for the bliss.

You know you are where you are supposed to be.

When a two day promise of work on a project in Ojai turns into ten days of work which pays your rent, and gives you the opportunity to spend time with your cousin, you know you are where you are supposed to be.

When that same trip gives you time to hike the stairs in Santa Monica with a very dear friend, stopping along the way to be invited into a lovely stranger’s glorious garden while she is cleaning her breakfast dishes and she shares her story with you, then hiking back to your friend’s home for pancakes, you know you are where you are supposed to be. And you smile as you think back about the squirrel you and your friend saved from being trapped in a net…a long, delightful story and possibly incriminating so it will remain a secret.

When someone from your past sends you a text on Halloween, two months before you move to Denver, offers you a part time job doing what you love for people you care about and a cause you believe in, you know you are where you are supposed to be and you are grateful.

When you get to Denver and circumstances change, as they do in life, and your living arrangements do not turn out as planned, you see the opportunity and excitement around the move instead of the heartbreak and anxiety. It lights you up as you think, “something fantastic is about to happen!” And it does. You find the most amazing little home that is just right for yourself and even if it appears that there is no obvious way to afford it right now, you know that is not the Truth. You know you are where you’re supposed to be and you are grateful. You know you are doing everything you can to network and find a job, to pay your bills and your debts, to make a difference, to follow your heart, to help others, to live your purpose, to move forward and take the lessons learned with you while leaving the pain and struggle behind like the gift wrap in which it all came to you.

Now here‘s where the scary part happened…and where I found out that I’ve changed and there is no going back.

A month ago, I looked at my situation and realized I had only enough funds left to pay for one more month of living expenses, then I was out. Yep, down to zero. I’d done all the right things, had that nest egg they tell you to save that should last you three months, and it was almost gone. Instead of letting a sense of panic overwhelm me, I felt excited, relieved, blessed. Yes, blessed. I thought, “Wow! I’m about to find out what’s next for me! I’m going to find out very soon what my new job will be because I know in my heart that all is well.” I’ll be honest, my chest tightened for a second and I almost threw up.

The very next day I got a call. My resume had come across the desk of someone at an office in downtown Denver and they wanted to talk to me. We set an appointment at a coffee shop early the next Monday morning.

I took off for a weekend of housesitting in Los Angeles for Carol, who would later hire me to do research on a project for her. Another opportunity. More seeds planted.

Early Monday morning, I was at the coffee shop for the first interview toward my new job. “K” and I hit it off, had a great talk. She asked me to come back the next morning, same coffee shop, same time, to meet with the General Counsel of the office. I did, “T” and I got along great, found out we have a lot in common. Great people, loved them. They called me back and we arranged a Skype call with the CEO to whom I would be reporting. That call happened the next week while I was working in Seattle on my part time job. We talked, laughed, had a really good conversation. I instantly liked him. This was going very well. Human Resources called me back a few days later and asked for references, they wanted to make some calls. I gave them three references with summaries of my relationship with each one. I’d called each person and verified their contact numbers and let them know to expect a call. All good. It was a go…then nothing.

One week went by, no calls made yet. I got back to Denver from Seattle and started to wrap up the previous week’s project. Another week went by, no calls made yet, and I took my monthly trip to Los Angeles for some work and another dose of inspiration, both giving and getting. I also went to arrange the details of having my four front teeth replaced after having them yanked out by my trusted dentist of five years, but that’s another story…and to connect with my friends, my cousin and my niece. A random discussion with my cousin in Ojai sparked an intention for more work in California for the future. Great, plant those seeds for later. All good, but no money coming in that I was aware of. I reminded myself that money is not my supply, no person, no situation or condition is my supply. I have unlimited Abundance. And I also took several really, really deep breaths.

I received word while I was in Los Angeles that all the reference calls had been made. Human Resources called two of them, and the CEO, himself, called my current part time employer on Friday. Ok then…here we go….I should hear something soon. Another week went by…it’s the holiday, a long weekend. And I got a horrible sore throat. What?? I never get sick! Then I got a wretched cough and sore, raw chest cold. Great timing! No, really, it is! I can stay in, rest and drink orange juice, get healthy, ready to start my new job! So I did. I slept a lot, took Nyquil, and took good care of myself.

I got a call from my friend, J.P., who was on his way to hike Mt. Rainier in Washington for two weeks, and he asked if I’d heard back about the job yet. I said no. He said, “That doesn’t sound good.” Great. Like I needed to hear that. But strangely, it didn’t bother me at all. I immediately said, “Actually, I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. It is what it is and if this doesn’t work out, something better will.” And I truly meant it.

Did I hang up the phone and start to over-think everything while I was alone for four days in my lovely apartment for which I might not be able to pay next month? Did I doubt the Universe and try to control what’s happening next? Did I panic, fall apart and practice sleeping scrunched up in my Jeep that I won’t be able to pay for if I don’t get this job, but I’ll be on the run so they won’t be able to take it back? Well…almost. But I didn’t. Because what happened next, happened instead.

I discovered what it means to Trust, and to know Truth, when it appears that faith is all you have.
I woke up each morning seeing the sunrise and knowing that all is well.

I spent time finishing projects and gathered things to donate to Goodwill, cleaning up and cleaning out, getting ready for what was coming next. I wrote thank you notes and condolences, and rearranged the furniture in my apartment (all I have is a desk and a couch so I switched them) and told myself that I’d better get ready because my new job was starting soon and I was going to be really busy. Maybe not the job I was expecting, but something was about to come my way and I knew it. I went running in the cool, crisp air, training for my next half-marathon for charity. I enjoyed nature and said “thank you.” I drank lots of water and ate healthy foods so I’d have energy for life. I looked at my calendar and made tentative plans according to my new work schedule. I submitted myself to audition for the lead in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” a play in Denver that was by “invitation only” if you got past the initial submission. Why not? I meditated. I laughed. I watched the Breaking Bad Binge on AMC television.

The weekend passed, I felt completely healthy again with no sign of that chest cold. I rose before the sun came up and went for my four-mile run. The morning was colorful and beautiful. It was a new day.

Later that day I got a call from the office in downtown Denver and they offered me the job. I start work the 15th of this month.

Oh, and I was invited to audition for that play in Denver. I go in on the 14th of this month.

As I stated at the beginning of this very long article, it is easy to have faith in the Universe and have confidence in what you are doing when things are going well. You want to believe your faith in the Source will be strong if things get scary, but sometimes you don’t know for sure until it happens and things appear desperate, maybe hopeless. And when your faith is bigger than your fear, when you go against everything safe, secure and practical, still knowing all is well, finding it difficult to explain why you are not worried when all of your friends are, when you live by what you know and not what you see, THAT’S when it happens. True bliss.

I couldn’t post this story until now, because I wrote the ending before it actually happened. I just knew it would go that way. Yep, I just knew it would…and it did. GoTerriGo!

An unlikely reunion led me to BE the change I want to see…every day.

Sometimes you think you’re just meeting an old friend for drinks in Los Angeles and you end up in Papua New Guinea for two weeks.

I was 14 years old, a tomboy wearing cutoffs and a bikini top, standing on the scorching blacktop road and my feet were burning, blistering up. Mark was waving goodbye through the back window of his family’s car as they drove away from Shadowood Lake on a hot, summer day. He was 14 too, and we both had tears in our eyes. Mark was my best friend, my neighbor, my brother, my heart, my sounding board, my enemy when he told me things I didn’t want to hear and now he was leaving. His family was moving out of state and I would probably never see him again. This happened in the 70’s and we didn’t have cell phones or computers. We had no internet, no Facebook to keep in touch or track each other down or post photos. He was gone.

Oh well…the car was soon out of view and I realized my feet were burning so I ran to the grass and cooled them off.  Then I probably went swimming and decided to grow up the rest of the way without Mark to laugh with, cry with, fight with. I held on to happy memories of running through the woods to his house, sitting at their kitchen table for occasional meals with his parents and little brother, pretending I was part of their family too. I never forgot about him and thought about his family often, wishing them well in my prayers at bedtime.

Thirty-six years later, after marriages, children, divorces, happily remarrying again, making many moves and having several jobs, seeing hundreds of friends move in and out of our lives, we found each other again. Yep, that’s right. I got a call one day from Mark, “My son and I will be flying through Los Angeles from Nepal and we have an overnight layover. If you’re not busy…” You kidding me? I told my husband I was going to see my childhood friend and had no idea what time I’d be home because I wasn’t letting him go until I’d caught up on the entire three decades since we waved goodbye at Shadowood. He laughed and understood.

I knocked on the door of the LAX airport hotel room where Mark and his son, Matt, were staying overnight until their flight home the next morning. As soon as he opened the door and we saw each other, it was like we were 14 years old again. We hugged, we laughed, we punched each other in the arm like dudes. Mark stood well over six feet tall, and so did Matt, both still filthy dirty from their trip, and I was thrilled to be there. It was surreal. Matt was stretched out on one of the double beds, feet hanging off the end, chuckling and rolling his eyes at his father acting so giddy.

Within 10 minutes, Mark had given me the t-shirt he’d brought me from Nepal and we were  looking at photos from this amazing trip he wanted to share. I was in awe. He had just spent two weeks in Nepal building a school for underprivileged children with a group called Be The Change Volunteers. It wasn’t his first time doing this, he’d built schools in other places in the world with BTCV and I wanted to hear more. I was captivated. We’d lived so many years apart, yet our missions were the same. We wanted to help people and nothing was too big, too far, too much. I looked at him and said, “I have to do this.” He shrugged and said, “Then do it!”

And so I did. We did. When Mark got back home to Montana, he called me to follow up on my desire to begin building schools all over the world with Be The Change Volunteers. We looked at the planned trips for the year and found one in September 2012 that would work for both of us to go with the group. That was it! We were going to Papua New Guinea, and being geographically challenged, I had no idea where I had agreed to go…and it didn’t matter. I was on top of the world at the idea of going to a remote part of the world to give children hope. Nothing too big, nowhere too far, nothing was too much.

My 50th birthday was coming up and I was elated. I knew I would wake up that morning changed. My life was coming together and making sense and it was a feeling beyond description. I spread the word and in lieu of gifts, I asked for donations for my trip. Thanks to my many friends, co-workers and other loved ones, I raised the money for my trip in no time. I requested and was graciously granted the two weeks off from work, got all of my shots, checkups and malaria meds to take with me. I got hundreds of stickers for the kids, shirts to cover my shoulders and shorts to cover my knees, work boots and flip-flops, sunscreen and mosquito repellant. After three flights and an open, muggy bus ride in the pitch black of night into the jungle, I found myself watching a tribal dance, beautifully choreographed by the children of Omo as a welcome gift to us. One of the pastors of the community also welcomed us with a speech where he mentioned that God had preordained this moment and on the day each of us were born, it was decided that we would come together that night as one culture, one family, one skin color, in order to do something good in the world. To help each other and to love one another. I was transformed. I was home.

It was extremely hot and humid, we showered (sort of) with spiders as big as the palm of my hand, washed our work clothes outside in tubs and hung them on the line but they never dried. We worked hard all day building a school from the ground up, in the hot sun and through torrential downpours, and with the exception of the day my son was born 27 years prior, I had never been happier. We laughed, we cried, we sang songs and played guitar, we told stories and listened to the children tell us stories handed down from their grandparents. We colored pictures, played games and handed out stickers and small gifts to the children each night. I spent time with the ladies as they cooked three meals a day for us, helped them take the dishes to and from the kitchen hut that was yards away from the house they had built for us. By the end of the first week they were teaching me to speak their language, laughing with me as I tried to learn their ways, and lovingly christened me an honorary “PNG Lady.” I was never afraid but always aware of how remote our location was, hearing the sounds from the jungle each night, watching the geckos run up the walls of the rooms where we slept.

Many volunteers join BTCV in order to travel the world and give hope to children by building schools and actively participating in their lives. I sat there one morning with the wonderful group of volunteers in Papua New Guinea as we finished breakfast, rubbed on our sunscreen and grabbed our work gloves, ready to get to work. We were nearing the end of our stay and the school was almost finished. As the discussion turned to other places we’d like to see, I asked Jimi (he and his wife Cristi are our fearless leaders) if I could come back to Papua New Guinea. I wanted to be on “Team PNG.” This project, as planned for the community of Omo by our friend and PNG contact named Martin, is on a 10-year plan with several schools and a community center in mind. I want to be a part of that. I want to watch these children grow up and help them to be everything they want to be. I want them to look back when they are adults and have children of their own, and know that I was with them from the start and I never let go. I want them to know that I care, that nothing is too big, nowhere is too far, nothing is too much to give.

It’s been two years since my first trip and I’m going back to Papua New Guinea with Be The Change Volunteers again this year. I’ve already raised the funds for my part of the trip and it’s all set.

AND I KNOW none of this would have happened if I hadn’t lived a life of challenges and gratitude, heartaches and humor, fear and faith, friends and enemies, loneliness and loving relationships, sometimes despair but never giving up. And hope. Always hope. From waving goodbye at Shadowood Lake as teenagers, to picking up thirty-six years later as though no time had passed at all, two friends, bound by the need to help others. Can’t beat that.

“Your freckles moved while you were sleeping…”

I know a young man named Adam. Adam is a good man…the kind of man you want to be around all the time.

I’ve known Adam since the day he was born. In fact, I was in the hospital with all of his family at the moment of his birth. That MOMENT, that very moment we all realized he was here, he was real, he was healthy, he was beautiful, he was something special, and he was…HUGE. Adam weighed 11 pounds and 3.5 ounces when he was born. He was a delightfully wonderful bundle of smooth ivory skin, big blue eyes and not just red hair, but the magnetic color red that you can’t find in the Crayola box without mixing a few crayons together. He was, and is, that particular and rare kind of strong, gentle soul, to this very day.

Adam grew up in East Texas, around horses and cattle and was allergic to farm animals, so to this day he’s probably never smelled anything. His skin is fair and his dad used to say he’d “get sunburned in a picture show.” He has just the right amount of freckles on his skin and when he was four years old his mom used to tell him that while he slept, the freckles on his face would rearrange themselves, depending on whether he slept on his right or left side. When he would wake up in the morning, she would get excited and say, “Let’s go look in the mirror while you brush your teeth and see which freckles moved last night!” Laughter was a big part of his growing up, a tool his mother tried to make sure he appreciated and used often to enhance the good times and get through the times that appear more challenging.

Adam is a gifted high school teacher, a thoughtful and loving husband, a loyal and trustworthy friend, a joy to be around. He’s funny. He’s really funny. He’s the kind of funny that makes you laugh those big guffaws from your gut so that after spending an afternoon with him your stomach muscles think you did 100 sit-ups. His humor is subtle, though. You watch his wheels turning, anxiously awaiting to hear his take on the conversation or you marvel at his silence when there is just “nothing to say about that.” Babies and dogs are so drawn to him that they have to sit close and gaze up at him as though they are saying, “I like you. You get me. I’m safe with you.” His curiosity is insatiable and he can spend hours roaming the internet, touring a museum, or walking around Best Buy on a Saturday afternoon. And you want to go with him.

I’m inspired today to write about Adam because I am filled with gratitude to know him, and I want to share that with you. It’s important to shine a light on the people in our lives who stand out, who teach us the lessons we are here to learn, those who are valuable treasures to us, the ones we can’t imagine our lives without. I KNOW we need these people in our lives because they also shine the spotlight back on us, to show us what’s missing, what’s important, what to pay attention to, how to love fiercely and with abandon. Adam’s vibrant place in this world, his heart, his soul, his values, his laughter, everything he has been, is now, and will become, make him that person, that special being, that good man we all need in our lives.

I am forever grateful that among all of those other gifts, he is also…my son. This is indeed a Happy Mother’s Day. GoTerriGo!

I’m an only child. Just ask my sister.

If you asked my sister, she’d tell you I’m an only child.

That statement makes me giggle…now. Someone once said, “Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” The author is unknown, but I have found this quote to be true throughout my life’s journey, so I thank that person for saying it so simply, so directly. For I have built a fortress of family, person by person and soul by soul that stretches out and hugs its global members on a daily basis. I haven’t forgotten any of you…

My mom was and is “accidentally” the best parent for whom I could have asked. Many of you who know me have heard countless stories about my mom, Babes, as we affectionately call her. She’s always been there for me. Not HERE so much, always THERE, but while I was growing up, every time I let her know I needed her, she would grab her cigarettes and settle in to give me her undivided attention. I still morph into my imitation of her, almost channeling her delightful spirit, when I have something profound to say about a situation or to lighten the burden of finding the funny in tragic or absurd experiences. Thanks, Babes.

Andre Maurois wrote in The Art of Living, “Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles in the cold.” Maybe that’s why I’ve been blessed with finding family wherever I go. YOU CAN TOO!  I don’t want anyone feeling alone in the world, trembling in the cold, nor do I want that for myself. Maybe it’s because two of the most important people in the world to me, the two genetic family members I love more than I love myself and thought I was supposed to take care of, didn’t seem to want me in their lives as much as I wanted to be there, so I had to put all of this love inside of me somewhere. I also had a choice to make. Do I leave them alone, respect their apparent choices, lovingly give them what they asked for and wish them well? Or do I find strength and set an example of how powerful love and surrender can be? Do I turn it around and push my way into their lives anyway, love them SO BIG because that’s how I love, as though we are really living in the same home, never truly leaving their side, always a few steps away ready to jump in and rescue them from harm, only a phone call away, a flight or a drive away, and sometimes just a whisper away? Never THERE, always HERE for them? You bet! I chose the latter…

HERE’S THE FUNNY: If I could have a family photo, my sister would be one of those blank body cutouts they put as placeholders (and I would make hers really tall and skinny because she would like that). Babes would be holding a cigarette and a drink, looking in a different direction as though the photographer were standing in a different spot. It would have my son, Adam, and his family, looking right at me, lovingly. My “chocolate” family would be there, front and center (thank you Willie C., Stanley, Ray and Nate). The rest of the family would be all fabulous colors and cultures from Colorado, Texas, California, Croatia, Costa Rica, Missouri, Montana, Cleveland (hi Eileen), New York (hugs Colleen), Canada (hey Krista), London, Arizona, West Virginia, Kansas, Illinois, Papua New Guinea…and then the green grass beneath their feet would go on forever in some grand panoramic shot…leaving room for more family members yet to come. Can hardly wait to meet all of you…

What would your family photo look like? I KNOW you are building a family along your journey just as I am. I’ll bet lots of people already think of you as family and you might not even realize it. That’s a good feeling, isn’t it? That means that no matter what, you are not “…alone in the world, trembl[ing] in the cold.” Neither am I. Thank you. GoTerriGo!