April 30, 2017 The Story Behind Dead Trees

There was once a tree standing tall and green in a beautiful valley giving shade to all the living things.  It stood tall and proud soaking up the sun and drinking up the rain. It gave what it took in perfect balance for all living creatures that visited it's patch of earth.  It was a life of service.. to provide shade, food, rest, home, fresh air and beauty.  Life was peaceful and blessed.

Then it happened.  A fire, a flood, insects or disease.  Whatever it was, the existence the tree knew changed.  From living to dead.  Gone is the shade. Barren is the tree.  It stands naked, blackened.  A skeleton of what it once was.  Yet it's spirit still is still there.  Peacefully it stands, erect and graceful.  No glimmering green leaves to distract from its austere beauty.  Naked in it's natural state.  Still providing value even in its death.  What can a dead tree give?  Take a look.  It is still present.  It teaches us a lesson that we can still stand and exist even in death.  There is still strength in the presence of change and grief.  There is still beauty and grace in the aftermath of pain.  There is no end, only change and how we perceive this change and react to this change is up to us.  We can look at this tree and see something ugly, or we can look at this tree and see the beauty and feel its presence even in death.

April 28, 2017 How do you "Self-Care"?

No!  I'm not talking about THAT kind of self-care.  I'm talking about tending to your emotional well being.

As a child growing up in a concrete jungle, I learned that the best way to unwind from an emotional landslide was to put my feet to the pavement or go on long bike rides.  I started walking long, unattended walks (5 or more miles) in elementary school.  My bike rides were all over the place, but I did have one rule.  I could not go under the expressway (which was just under 2 miles away), but I could go anywhere, North, South or West without any limitations.  And I did just that, all of the time. Physical activity was my emotional outlet.

I belong to a board on facebook that talks about Self-Care.  Someone suggested that  maybe some of our "self-care" techniques were about avoidance rather than really taking care of ourselves emotionally.  I can see where some of the time, my running away from something (especially when I'm really upset) can be seen and felt as avoidance.  But inevitably, I calm down and settle in and my mind comes to some kind of peace or learns some kind of lesson.  As a child, I was not so self-aware to understand the lessons that might be coming at me.  But as an adult with some wisdom under my belt, I am pretty open to listening to my intuition and being open to metaphors in life.

This week has been a very emotional week for me.  There have been lots of "little black bags" for me to open and dig through and explore.  It has been difficult.  I am so grateful that Tracy gave me my birthday present (my bike) early and I have been able to get on the bike and ride.  The other day, I took my bike to the greenbelt to ride.  I needed a bit of self-care, but really, I wanted to just get on my bike and feel freedom.  I wanted to see the Boise River Flooding and I wanted to just be out in the beautiful nature that surrounds me.  It is so different than the concrete jungle I grew up in.  The rain finally let up that morning and I took my bike to the greenbelt.

Time after time I came across signs and blockades that said "path closed" or "detour" or "caution".  The Boise River was flooding and taking out paths. But I wanted to SEE it for myself.  So I went beyond the cautions signs.  And yes, sometimes I was very cautious because I could see where the greenbelt had broken off into the river, and it is a possibility that it could continue doing so as I walked across it.  But I saw the warning signs and I kept going.  I'm glad I did.  I was able to go for about a mile or so before I came across fast and deep (ish) looking water going across the path.  I decided that I was not stupid, and I turned around and went back the other direction.  Again, I carefully rode by that broken part of the path and I made it safely.

Sometimes I could see just beyond the sign that the water was too much and I really can't get beyond the signs.  But then there were other times, where I could not see the immediate danger.

That is where the real lesson comes in.........

So I came across a blockade.  It said, "Path closed".  Presumably, it was closed because of flooding over the path.  But I could not see any water.  So with caution, I proceeded.  Interestingly enough, I arrived at the other end of this blockade and it, too, had a sign that said, "Path Closed".    But I had just gone from point A to point B with absolutely no issues whatsoever.  It is clear and safe now.  What happened?  Well, at some point, that part of the path had been flooded and dangerous, and the park's crew wanted to keep us safe so they put up signs to tell us it's closed and not go any further.  Then, the conditions changed.  The water dried up.  It's safe again.  But those warning signs are still there.  Those "path closed" signs could have had me turning away.. stopping in my tracks.. giving up and going back the way I came.. or just finding a different way around.

That is just like life.  Sometimes, something "bad" comes along and hurts us.  In order to protect ourselves, we put up little blockades that say, "Caution, going beyond this could be harmful and painful.  Maybe you should turn away or find a different way around."  Sometimes those signs are very valid and on point.  And sometimes those signs are just "out dated" and need to be questioned.  Sometimes you need to come up to that sign, read it, feel the caution and keep moving through it.  While you are moving through it, you have a choice... you can stay guarded and always on edge (which is emotionally draining and causes unneeded drama) or you can enjoy the safe journey and the beauty that surrounds you and just deal with any issues that come up WHEN they appear.. not before.. because as I found on my bike ride, that danger just might not be there anymore; the caution signs just haven't been removed yet.

April 23, 2017 These Small Hours...

Have you ever spent some time with your child(ren) and thought, I want to remember this moment forever.  It may be a huge moment like getting a drivers license, or it  might be something really small or unexpected, but it tugged at your heart.  What do you do to make sure you remember those times?   I used to think I would remember all of it forever.  I could never understand when I asked my mom "How old was I when I learned to walk?" and mom would answer, "I don't remember".  She had 4 kids.  As a mom of more than one child, I now understand why she might not remember.  In my own life, with the brain damage that killed my memory and the loss of Nick have shown me the importance of snapping pictures and blogging the important things.  They don't have to be "huge" but they are significant (even if in a small way).  This is why I blog today.

Yesterday was Naomi's first prom.  She is a junior this year.  She had been looking forward to this day for a very long time.  A friend of our's gave us a dress she wore back in high school.  She was just going to donate it, but I told her Naomi would LOVE it.  It was Naomi's favorite color when it comes to formal dresses, and it was her size.  So yay!  About a month ago, Naomi and I went shopping for the right shoes for the dress.  The only thing left was the hair.

I remember going to school dances as a kid.  Most of the time, it was a matter of going to a salon to get an "up do".  However, Naomi has asked me to help her with her hair.  I am not a hair stylist.  But somehow, over the years, Naomi and I have created this relationship that allows for us to come to each other for hair and make up help.  We are good about helping each other pick out clothes.  We make a good team in that department.  So last night I had the privilege of helping my daughter with her hair.  I did not take this for granted.

Sometimes as a parent we need to create times for special one on one interactions with our children and sometimes those events can feel contrived.  But last night, Naomi and I were just two women in a bathroom using a curling iron and visiting.  Naomi has seriously long and thick hair.  Curling hair takes a bunch of hair spray, patience and time.  So there we were for an hour doing nothing but curling her hair and chatting.  In those small moments, big things were talked about.  "I can't believe I am going to my first prom."  "I can't believe I will be a senior next year."  "I can't believe I will be 18 in a few months; I'm not ready."  Those are small sentences with big and deep meaning for her, as well as for myself.  She is my baby.  My little girl is growing up.  She isn't so little anymore.  She is a remarkable young woman who is intelligent, compassionate, empathetic, talented, graceful, logical and passionate.  She has a smart mouth and a quick wit.  She is a loyal friend.  She is feisty and funny.  And I am so proud of her.  And I am so grateful for these small moments in the mirror of life.

Forever Red Banquet 2010(ish)

Freshman Homecoming 2014

Junior Prom 2017

Junior Prom 2017

Nate's only prom was his senior year.  He wasn't planning on going.  But a girl he had been dating (but wasn't dating at the time) basically told him that he was taking her to his prom.  And he went.  LOL.  We rented the tux and he looked amazing.  I suppose he had a good time, even if it was under duress.  But the small moments I remember with Nate, when it comes to school, are all the nights we stayed up late doing home work.  He had such a difficult time just before we moved here to Idaho.  He was in 4th grade and just moved to a different school.  He would come home from school, rest for an hour and then hit the books.  He literally did homework from about 4 or 5 till after 10pm.  In that time frame, there was much crying!  He would get so behind, I would keep him home from school just to get caught up.  It was a horrible cycle and the teacher blamed it on him.  I asked her to not give so much homework, and she said that my son was holding back the class.  It was horrible.  Then when we moved to Idaho in the middle of that year, I asked them to keep an eye on him and let me know what they thought.  I really thought he had some kind of issue.  Indeed he did.  I had been asking since kindergarten to get him tested (and I was completely clueless about testing.. I didn't know I could get him tested on my own.  Of course, it didn't help that each year the teachers said he was fine.)  Anyway, moving here was huge!  We got him tested.  Found out what his challenges were and got him the help he needed.  School continued to be a struggle for him.  But as he got older, and after graduation, he started to find his strengths in life.  He is such an amazing human being.  He is creative.  He is a great people person.  He can sell sand to a thirsty desert dweller.  And he is one of the most compassionate and patient people you will meet (yes he also has a crazy temper....comes by it honestly).  In high school he volunteered with the adaptive ski school at Bogus Basin and he taught a woman who was paralyzed on one side of her body to snowboard.  He spent weeks teaching autistic kids to snowboard.  He is phenomenal at connecting with people.  It's the not so quiet moments on a ski hill that I will cherish for my life time. I am so grateful to have pictures of him doing crazy stunts.

Snowboarding Tamarack 2010(ish)

Bogus Basin Beach Party 2009(ish)

Senior Prom

I will also remember the day he broke his thumb and I totally laughed at him. I am notorious for laughing at inappropriate times.  It's a nervous habit.  We had gone on a bike ride on the greenbelt.  We found a BMX track and he decided to do a couple of runs.  He crashed and broke his thumb or wrist or something.  He was going into shock.  At the time, I didn't know the greenbelt well enough to know where we were.  I just knew where we had dropped our car off and it was  few miles away.  I managed to keep him  moving and keep him talking through the tears and the pain long enough to get him to the car.  It was scary and adventurous all at the same time.  These are the things that Nate lives for.  He is one crazy kid.  To this day he still does stuff and is constantly getting himself hurt.  He has no fear.    And yes there are pictures and even video of that.  There is proof that I laughed at the moment of his crash (before I knew he had really hurt himself.)

One other very precious memory of Nate I have was hiking with him when he was 3 or 4 years old.  We lived in Arizona, and one of my favorite places to hike was the Superstition Mountains. Nate and I had decided to go hiking. It was a chilly morning.  He had this little tiny teddy bear he carried EVERYWHERE, including that hike.  It was spring so there were wildflowers out in the desert.  He sat down in the midst of the flowers with his knees up and his his little teddy bear.  I took a picture of him.  His blond hair.  His freckles.  His red flannel jacket.  So precious.  It is one of my favorite memories with him.  I have that photo somewhere.  It was long before digital cameras.

One of the sweetest "small hours" I have of Nick was the day that I drove he and Suzy to college tour at ISU.  They had decided they wanted to go to ISU.  I wasn't thrilled with the choice, but I understood it.  When the date came for them to take that tour, we woke up long before the sun did and we made the 3 hour drive to Pocatello.  The tour was enlightening.  The kids were excited.  It was a good day.  But on the way home, the two of them fell asleep and I was trying my hardest to stay awake.  And the song "Little Wonders" came on the radio and I cried.  My oldest was about ready to go off to college.  He was just a few weeks from graduating from high school. All of that hard work and worry of getting him through school was coming to an end.  He was happy.  He had put us through the wringer, but he was well adjusted and ready to be an adult on his own.  As they slept, I cried.

I guess since I already talked about Nate and Omi's prom dates, I should also talk about Nick.  He was a colorful child.  He was certainly a non-conformist.  For his Freshman Farewell Dance, he wore a kilt.  We rented one from a store that is no longer in business.  He looked amazing.  For he and Suzy's sophomore homecoming, they wore matching black sarongs.  Finally, his Senior year, he decided to wear an actual tux, but with no bow tie, just the fancy buttoned up collar.  Tracy and I actually chaperoned that dance.  It was so much fun!

Sophomore Homecoming 2005

Senior Prom 2007

As a family, we have spent so much time hiking, snowboarding, camping.  We love being outside.  And I have so many pictures.  I wish we had had digital cameras back when the boys were little.  And I wish the digital images I have now were better organized.  But I'm so glad I have them.

Walking around Kathrine Albertson's Park 2003

There are so many moments we share with our children.  Since Nick's death, I have vowed never to squander those moments.  Each moment counts.  Each day counts.  Each hug counts.  I listen to more music with Nate.  I dance with Naomi.  We play board games.  We climb ropes.  We go on bike rides.  I watch Nate as he speeds down a grassy hill on his mountain board.  We laugh together.  We sit around a camp fire playing Bop It.  No day is taken for granted.  They are not always perfect.  Lord knows, I'm not perfect.  We all have our issues and times when we need our space or when we are not so happy with someone in the family.  But even in THOSE moments, there are things to remember and love to be shared.

And this is why I blog..... to remember.....

April 13, 2017 Show Me Your Brave

One of my dance mentors and dear friend has a day job as the volunteer coordinator at Family Advocates, and she invited me to a free luncheon where I was going to get to hear stories from people who have worked with this amazing organization.  I really had no clue what I was suppose to expect, but I have always heard amazing things about this organization from the other women I have volunteered with through the Junior League of Boise.  When I walked into the conference area of the Riverside Hotel, I was shocked by the sheer number of people who were there.  There were at least 40 tables filled with 8 people each, 2 big screens to watch the video on, and a nice size stage.  I looked around and sure enough, I could spot at least 10 people I knew from my different social circles (and that did not include my friend who invited me).

As we sat down and the speakers began to speak, it didn't take long for my tears to start flowing.  Why?  Well, one, because I wear my heart on my sleeve and I cry at EVERYTHING.  But the other reason is because I could have been one of those kids in need of help.  Their story was mine, only I didn't get shuttled off to foster care.  I didn't know of a place that would help me as a teenage mom become self-reliant.  Though, I did know how to care for a baby because I had years of baby sitting experience.  Still.  I didn't have those services, and I certainly could have used them.  No one taught me how to break the cycle of abuse; I did it on my own.  I didn't have a support group.  I could have used one.  And here I was in a room filled with people who support just that!  My heart was so filled with gratitude for all of those people who want to help make life better for these at-risk children and their parents.

Listening to the stories reminded me of mine.  I realize I have 3 siblings and a mom and NONE of us see the way our house was through the same eyes. None of us agree on the amount of abuse that happened in the house.  We all have our individual stories.  I just happen to be the loudest and most vocal about it.  Why?  Because I want people to know there is life beyond abuse.  I want people to know you CAN break that cycle of abuse. My dad abused me in horrible ways. He abused my mom in horrible ways.  He abused my brothers in horrible ways. My friends witnessed this.  I'm not just making this stuff up.

I didn't start to realize the extent of my abuse until I was removed from the abusive home and my unconscious felt safe enough to let it's guard down and start to feel.  I am blessed that my boyfriend (now husband) didn't run for his life from the crazy person I had become in that time frame (and for at least 13 years after that). When I was 19, just 2 weeks away from our planned wedding, that I was pregnant, I broke down in tears.  I cried because I was afraid I would be just like my dad who was just like his dad, who was most likely just like HIS dad.  Abuse ran in the family.  Physical, emotional, sexual abuse, ALL of it ran in the family.  I was the recipient to ALL of it.  I won't go into the details here (though I am an open book, and if you want details, if you think hearing my story in depth will help you get through something you are going through, I will be more than happy to share my whole story with you.  I believe that is why I went through this in the first place.)  When I found out I was pregnant, I swore to myself and to my unborn child that life would be different.  I would never raise a hand to my child.  I would love him and support him and protect him at all costs.  He would not know the anguish I knew.  And yes, I broke that cycle of abuse.   Not only did I break that cycle, but I found a way to live my life happy.  I found a way to heal from PTSD.  I found a way to heal from Dissociative Identity Disorder (that was a result of the abuse).  I found a way to be a pretty darn good parent and raise some pretty amazing human beings.  I am grateful to have the husband that I do; I could not have done this without his amazing love, support, encouragement, patience, and empathy.  He is truly amazing.

So yes, I went to this luncheon today not knowing what it was about.  But I also knew that I was being called to volunteer.  What that volunteering will look like, has yet to be determined.  But I KNOW this is where I belong.  This is my calling.  I believe that we choose our parents before we are conceived.  I believe that I chose the parents I had to learn the lessons I needed to learn..which include some really horrific abuse.  I learned to love myself.  I learned forgiveness.  I learned empathy. I learned compassion.  I learned intuition.  I learned the meaning of true love and true joy and true bliss, because without having experienced the opposite, I would never truly know those that I have listed.  As hard as my youth sounds, I look at it as a blessing.  I am able to use what I have gone through to help support others who go through it now...or have gone through it in the past.

Joy is my birthright.  Love is my calling.  Compassion is my action.   In an effort to share some of my story with you, I will copy and paste a story I wrote years ago called "Legacy of Happy Hands".

Have you ever looked at a person's hands? A woman might have long slender fingers with well kept nails; or maybe she is a gardener with short nails and rough hands. A man's hands are rough from working with tools and lumber or playing sports; maybe they are soft from desk work. A handshake can tell you about a person's attitude. A good, firm handshake leaves you with a positive attitude about the person, but a soft, limp handshake leaves you feeling like they are wishy-washy. Hands can tell you alot about a person and their attitude. You touch with hands. A blind person sees with them.

As adults, we warn children that a harsh touch is bad and they should tell someone. A soft, loving touch is good. When I remember my childhood, I don't remember hearing that warning, but I do remember my mothers and father's hands. My father (who is a very large man) has thick, fat hands and since he didn't lift a finger to do anything around the house, his hands were as soft as rose pedals. My mother's hands were slim, long, with beautiful nails; although sometimes her nails were uneven because she did alot of gardening and yard work. Her hands were rough and callused from the yard work and they were steady and sure for her needle work.

As a child, it is hard to imagine how one's parents' hands could hurt them, but in my childhood, it was rare for these hands that I described to touch me in a way that was warm and loving. These hands were strong, harsh, and quick to raise. Sometimes they were smooth, slimy, and sneaky while touching me in places they should not have been.

For the most part, I saw these hands strike the faces of my brothers, or grasp the belt that was used to "punish" us. Sometimes those hands would grab my hair and pull and shake while in my ears loud voices screamed.

As terrible as all of this seems, I do have a warm memory of my mother's hands. Maybe it was because I was the only girl, but my Mother and I were close in-spite of the harsh touches. I remember walking for miles talking and holding hands with my mother. My hand always seemed so small and innocent while being held in her strong, warm touch. Maybe it was because we had both been violated by the stronger, harsher touch of my father, but either way, she and I would walk for hours hand in hand.

When I became a teenager, I looked at my boyfriends hands. They were large, strong, and rough from honest, hard work. When they touched me, they were filled with gentleness and love. When I cried those hands held and comforted me, and reassured me that all will be alright. Now that we are older and my hand has been joined with his, we have been given 3 pairs of little hands to nourish and love. It is up to us to show them what a soft touch feels like. They will never know the sting of our hands against their face or the ickiness of a misplaced, slimy touch. Instead, they will feel the security of their tiny hands sheltered in the strength of ours. And they will grow up to have the hands of honorable, trustworthy, and loving adults that will one day pass on the legacy of happy hands.
The End.



With that said, if you are feeling so inclined, please check out Family Advocates to make a donation to help the children of Idaho or to check out their volunteer information.  Any amount of money or time can make a difference.  Together, we can change the story from abuse to love!

Thanks for reading!

April 12, 2017 The Mountains Are Calling And I Must Go.....

That quote by John Muir really should be next tattoo.

I grew up in a cement jungle (Richardson, Texas.. a suburb of Dallas).  I used to say that I was allergic to the country.  Now, I live in Meridian, Idaho.  It's still a suburb, but it is NOTHING like Dallas or Richardson.  I live in a valley where I can see Mountains all around me.  It only takes a short drive to get to them.  Even when we lived in Arizona, I found myself going to the mountains as often as possible.  Somewhere along the line, my country lovin' husband has turned this city girl into a mountain running crazy person!  And I'm okay with that!

Anyway, I have been stuck in the city and not getting up into the  mountains near enough.  The new knee has played a part in that; and so has taking care of my mom after her shoulder surgery.  But last weekend, I had the incredible honor of traveling to one of my favorite places on earth to crew for one of my most favorite people as he did his first ultra marathon (The Gorge Waterfalls 50K) in the Columbia River Gorge.  If you have never been to this part of the United States, you really need to make a point of going!  By going, I don't mean just drive through. I mean, get out and hike!  Get out and touch the moss growing on the trees.  Climb over or under a tree.  Get your feet wet in a water crossing.  Stand on a bridge and feel the mist from a water fall bathe you.  Smell the clean air.  Feel the energy and be renewed.  EXPERIENCE LIFE.. don't just drive by it!

On this amazing adventure this weekend, I got to do a little bit of hiking with Brandon, Megan, Jodi and Andy as we scouted out just one little part of the 50K trail.  The pre-race reports they were getting told them that part of the trail had been washed out and there was a detour; Brandon wanted to check it out.  Sure enough, the trail was completely washed out and the race director created a detour.  That detour was treacherous and required a rope to help the runners navigate the upward climb.  (I'm glad I wasn't the one running this race!)

On this hike, we got to walk through this forest in the mountains.  The trees were covered with beautiful green moss.  The path was packed with a soft bed of natural mulch from fallen leaves, dirt, pine needles as well as some slippery rocks just to keep you on your toes.  We had to hike UP to the waterfall.  I am so out of shape that I thought my heart would explode, but I made it.  Once we made it up there, Andy did some filming for his YouTube channel and interviewed our two runners (Jodi and Brandon).  It was fun to watch that happening in this beautiful setting.  There was lots of laughter, and I got some great shots of that.  My heart was also filled with the way that Megan supported Brandon and showed him love through this whole adventure.  I got some great candid photos of that.  It just warms my heart.

On the way down from that waterfall, again, everyone is so much faster than I am.  But when I got to a clear section that wasn't so technical, I let my legs free and I let myself run (which I am not supposed to do).  Man did it feel amazing. I miss running through the mountains. There is just something so freeing and magical about it!

Race day came and everyone was filled with jitters.  Our racers were filled with nervous energy for what they would find on the course and how their bodies would handle the tests the trail would give them.  As support crew, we knew what their goals were and we held our breath and watched the clock as we waited for them to come into the aid station (hopefully before cut off times).  It was nerve wracking.

Once we started them off on their race, we decided we had a few minutes and wanted to meet them somewhere up on the course before the first aid station to cheer them on and so Andy could catch some video.  This meant hiking up a very steep trail.  Once again, my heart felt like it was going to explode.  It is so pretty there, but time was of the essence. There was no time to really appreciate the beauty around me.  As it was, Megan reached to the part of the trail where the racers were running through just 3 minutes before Brandon ran through.  I arrived just before Jodi ran through.  On the way down, we decided to take a different route down hoping it wouldn't be as sloppy and muddy.  NOPE.  At one point, I was slipping so much, I had to put my hands down to stop me from falling on my arse!  I'm grateful that Megan helped me down that and I stayed in one piece.  It was a gorgeous hike though!

Once they came into the aid station, everything was a flurry of action.  Megan helped Brandon re-stuff his bag with nutrition.  I refilled his water bottles.  He was in and out of the first aid station in a little over a minute.  When Jodi came running in, I was in charge of the video camera while Megan and Andy took care of her running pack and sending her on her way.  Whew!  That was nerve wracking.

The 2nd aid station was at the trail we had hiked the day before to check out the washed out trail.  We arrived early enough to set out our aid station things and wait for our runners.  We watched as time ticked by.  Brandon made it through sooner than we had expected.  We filled up his water, got him some coke, re-powdered his feet, changed his socks and shoes and sent hm on his way. He was in great spirits and feeling strong.  Then we waited for Jodi.  The cut off time had passed.  As runner after runner came in and learned that they had missed the cut off time, we watched their disappointed faces.  They had just finished some of the hardest 19 miles of their lives.  They had just accomplished more than most people will ever dream of.  Yet, they didn't get to finish their race, and that is heart breaking.  And as support crew knowing we still had a runner up there, our hearts broke.  As we waited she sent a message to Andy saying she thinks she missed the cut off.  (And she had.)  From what she said, it took everything she had to climb up that rope at the detour.  She came running down the remainder of that trail and met the aid station workers who took her running bib from  her.  Her race was over.  She handled it with such grace and dignity.  I know she was disappointed, but she handled it like a champ and was excited to cheer on Brandon for the remainder of the race.

Brandon did finish the race in under the "cut off time" for the entire race.  He made it in under 9 hours.  I could not have been prouder of him.  And the moment he shared with his beautiful wife was so touching.  It made my heart sing.

I am so humbled by the strength and determination of my friends.

The other part to this weekend was the amount of joy I felt while being in the mountains.  It renews my soul.  I could have taken a million pictures, and none of them would have conveyed the way I felt up there.  The energy in the Gorge is palpable.  The waterfalls are majestic.  The bed of moss is inviting.  Everything about that area welcomes you into its beauty and tells you its secrets, all you have to do is be still and listen.  It was exactly what my soul needed!

Oh.. and aside from the beautiful soul-feeding mountains, I had the incredible pleasure of meeting up with one of Nick's college mates, David.  I had only met him once (at Nick's memorial) and it was such a beautiful experience to connect with him on this strip.  He shared stories of Nick with me.  It was so heart warming to see how much he admired  my son and how much he missed him.  I love hearing stories about Nick.  I love seeing how much he was loved.  And I loved getting to know this incredible young man on a more personal basis.  I hope he comes to visit Boise soon!

April 4, 2017 Not what I thought I would write about today...

I really thought today's blog would be about giving birth to Nick 28 years ago.  However, I know I have shared that before, and I just can't find it.  When I went looking for it, I ended up finding the eulogy I wrote and gave at his memorial, and I think that is more fitting for today....  but I don't think I have ever shared it in a blog... or I might have.  But you all know how much I blog.   So ya, I will just share it here.....

"20 years ago as Nick’s dad prepared for graduation from FIT, I  never imagined we would have a child preparing to graduate from the same school.  And Just last week, I was thinking about Nick’s graduation that was to take place the day after my birthday this year… 20 years after his dad graduated from here.  It’s crazy to think how time flies.  And it’s crazy to think how much this particular school has shaped and changed the life of our family.  So thank you all for being here and being part of this beautiful life.

Nick was an amazing human being.  He had his own religious beliefs (or lack there of).  But here is what I like to believe…. Everything is made of energy.  And to me, God and Energy are synomynous.  I believe that before we come to earth to have this human experience, we choose parents that will lead us down a path to help us learn the lessons we want to learn during our time here on earth and once we learn those lessons, we let go and return to that energy source.  I fully believe that And since I believe we are all one and I believe we are all energy, then I also believe that Nick is still right here with us.  (And I can totally see him rolling his eyes at me right now and shaking his head at me.  That’s okay, he’ll get over it!)

The funny thing is, Nick often got into conversations about “what happens after we die”.  And typically the conversation comes down to, “no one REALLY knows because we are alive and NOT dead.”  So  now, Mr. Know It All is dead and he has the answer to this question and I wonder if he is laughing at us going.. “neener neener neener, I know the answers!”  It’s all good.

From the very beginning Nick lived life on his own terms.  He took a look at the perspective parents to choose from.  I’m sure he got all analytical about it.  He probably used the scientific method to make his choice.  But whatever he did to decide, he ended up giving his dad and I the surprise of our life by letting us know he had chosen us just 2 weeks before our planned wedding date.  He couldn’t have waited just a few more weeks?  (Did you all notice he is a bit impatient?)

Then after choosing the earthly experience, and choosing his parents, I kind of think he might have changed his mind cause he just didn’t want to be born.  He was late and refused to come out on his own, no matter what the doctors did to try and coax him out.  Finally, he had to be cut out and brought into this world kicking and screaming with a temper tantrum cause he didn’t get his way.  (maybe that explains the rest of his childhood and the choices he made… just trying to get back at us for not giving him more time.. I don’t know.)

He loved life. He loved adventure.  He loved to learn.  He CRAVED learning..his entire life.  Even though, from the time he was born he was raised in a conservative Christian home, he still had his own thoughts and opinions.  I raised him to make up his own mind.. no matter what my beliefs were. I would not force them on him.  So when, at the age of 11 he decided to ask us about Wicca, my heart kind of stopped but his dad and I did our research and helped to guide him down the path in which he felt he was called.  And as a family we studied.  He felt at home there for several years… we all did. 

But his spiritual beliefs didn’t stop there.  He continued to read and research.  He continued to live life on his terms.  And eventually he decided he had NO religious beliefs.  He decided there was no god.. only science.  And that’s cool by me.  And I could not be any prouder of him with his choice to become part of the SSA and go beyond that and become the President of the club here on campus. He was passionate and I loved that about him.

Some of the discussions he has had about his religious views and his scientific views could get pretty heated. So heated, in fact, even the flies were afraid to listen in from the walls.  But that is the way Nick lived.  He played life full on, filled with passion for everything he did. 

Nick was always the kid that was a bit different, especially in high school.  Most kids were wearing name brand clothes trying to fit in.  Nick wore sarongs or Kilts to school dances with Suzy.  His senior year, his back to school shopping wasn’t done at the mall, it was done at Haight Ashbury in San Fransisco… all hippy wear, all the time.  Funny, he went from wearing all black clothing to some of the brightest colors ever!  He was an all or nothing kind of guy.  If he was in something, he was ALL in!  (I’m sure he came by that honestly.)

Maybe that is why when he fell in love with Suzy in 8^th Grade and Suzy just wanted to be friends, Nick waited a couple of years until Suzy was ready.  He just knew that she was the one.. even if she didn’t know it yet. He was all in long before she came around to the idea.  And I’m so glad she finally did.. cause we kinda like her and we might just keep her.  She can’t get rid of us now!

His mind was beautiful.  And his heart was JUST as beautiful.  He loved to give out hugs.  He loved to laugh.  He had a wicked sense of humor.  And in our family, if you don’t have a sense of humor, you are just gonna sink.  We kind of joke in our family… “Here’s the appropriate line…. .and then here’s us.”  As a matter of fact, a couple of years ago, I had a cycling accident and hit my head an sustained a pretty serious head injury.  I had a bit of a personality change.  Before my injury, I never cussed.  But afterwards, well.. let’s just say, I could teach the sailors a thing or two.  And Nick thought this was hilarious.  Last June while he was visiting Idaho, he laughed and said, “I like the brain injured you. You are more fun now!”  Yup, he always spoke his mind and lived life on his terms, and I would never want it any other way.

He was the best big brother to Nate and Naomi.  He baby sat them and saved the house from burning down once.  Which is kind of funny cause Nick loves to play with fire.  I am just grateful he realized that the house burning down would not have been a good time to play with fire.  When his dad was travelling and could not make it to the daddy daughter dance for Omi’s elementary school, Nick stepped up in his best Hippie Attire and took Naomi to her daddy daughter dance.  He Flew from Florida to surprise his brother Nate and take him to an Avenge 7 Fold Concert in Idaho.  He taught Naomi how to work on their Dad’s motor cycle and on cars.  He taught both of them how to ride their bicycles.  He introduced them to all kinds of music.   He was their best friend and protector.

  

Nick, from the get go, you melted our hearts.  You were the spitting image of your dad.. the perfect mirror.  You were a shining light in this world and that light will never fade, but continue to shine through each life you touched.  You are already missed in such profound ways.  Thank you for picking me and Dad to be your parents.  Thank you for teaching us how to be parents.  Thank you for the adventure!  And if you get a chance, can you send us a note and let us know what’s on the other side so we can all stop arguing about it? That would be cool.. it might even bring world peace!  Thanks!

  

We love you, Kiddo."