Never take a Bathroom for Granted

Do you think much about bathrooms?

My friend Jerry does.

Finding this clean, accessible one, was the HIGH POINT of his day!  

Jerry has Cerebral Palsy.

Yet I've never seen him without a smile.

He is in all sorts of organizations:  UCP, NWDSA, OCDD... the list goes on.

He believes he must give back,

for he has been given so much...

I don't think too much about bathrooms... unless they clog.

I take so many things for granted...

I was at Costco yesterday.

The man ahead of me was in a wheelchair, with a rambunctious guide dog.  He was struggling to control the dog, and get out his Costco card.

With one hand holding his dog...

the other un-useable,

he used some sort of tool to reach in his pocket and bring his wallet to the surface.  

Grabbing it with the dog-holding hand, he lifted it to his mouth,

and with his teeth, extracted the card.  

The whole process took about 10 minutes...

I caught his glance and smiled... 

trying not to be patronizing.

He was a so handsome... a beautiful smile,

and a mischievous twinkle in his eye...

Tongue-tied for conversation ideas, I asked if I could pet his dog,

his beautiful, devoted Golden Retriever... 

That was our only interaction.  

The walk back to my car, in the outer limits of Costco,

suddenly didn't seem so far... and my Morton's Neuroma was tolerable...

I felt so happy... so humbled...

so determined to be grateful for simple things...

 like getting my Costco card in and out of my wallet...

Another friend volunteers for the March of Dimes (35 years!)

Here's her link, if you feel so inclined... every little bit helps...

Link to Cory's March of Dimes Fundraising efforts

Where much is given, much is expected...

Don't take life for granted...

Call me.

For God so Loved the World...

When I was a little girl, I asked my daddy, 
Why do we call it GOOD FRIDAY?
It should be called Sad-Horrible-Terrible-Bad-Friday!

I'll never forget his answer... 

or the love in his eyes when he told me it was so we would 

FOCUS on the GOOD NEWS 

of the

GLORIOUS RESURRECTION!

I like that... the memory... and the message...

HAVE A BLESSED EASTER

In the Arms of an Angel

Miss you dad... 

That Still Small Voice

One of my personal goals is to LISTEN TO THAT STILL SMALL VOICE...
You know the one I'm talking about - 
the one we so often ignore.

The one that told me to stop and help a lovely couple recently...

It's a 3-mile journey to our local Safeway.  It's a beautiful walk... but you have to go over a HUGE HILL...

That's where they were... at the top of the hill, resting on a rock.

The woman was leaning forward, head in hands...
her husband was rubbing her back.

I thought they were just taking a break as I passed, 
but within seconds, my NOT so "still small voice" screamed at me:

"TURN THE CAR AROUND!"

For once, I just obeyed, and turned the car around.
"Do you need some help?"

They SAID they were fine, but I offered them some water.
I always keep some in the car,  
because dehydration can creep up on you.

Then I surprised even myself, and offered them a ride.
They looked at each other... then looked at me and smiled.
For some reason, we just trusted each other... 

We chatted as we drove back their daughter's home.
They were visiting from Colorado, and just wanted to take a walk. 

With tears in our eyes, we said our good-byes, 
exchanging hugs and email addresses...
They called me a saint... 
but their guardian angels were easy to hear...
Thank goodness I was listening...

Be still... 
you will hear it...

Obla Di Obla Da... life goes on...

Seems impossible that he's been gone eight years... 

I still miss him every day... yet the tears are not as often, 
and are quickly replaced with a smile  and a rousing rendition of 
Obla Di Obla Da!

Would we have seen him before he died, had Jocey not entered our world?

Dad almost flew on his own wings to meet his Great Granddaughter!

I fight the urge to relive that weekend...  

We shoulda coulda woulda stayed longer had we known it was our last visit... 

But something tells me daddy knew...  

 The Great Addie Bobkins is alive and well... living in all of us!

If you listen closely, you can hear his bongos..

Obla di... obla da... life goes on...

Love Letters...

My daughter caught me crying... sitting on the floor... 
surrounded by boxes...

a piece of paper in my hand...

 "What is that, Mom?  

It looks like dad's handwriting."

She was right... 

it was her father's handwriting. 
I recognized the D.J.
(he acronymed me from the start)

He would copy lyrics to songs,

and leave them on the windshield of my 73 Super Beetle,  wrapped in plastic, in case it rained...

it was Portland, after all.

I'm so glad she caught me...

It was nice for her to see that

underneath all the crap (literally), there really is love...  

At least it started out that way.

So right there, 

in the middle of all the muck...

After hours of sorting and purging... 

I was rewarded with this sweet memory... 

My husband's version of a love letter:

Just remember in the winter...

Far beneath the bitter snows...

Lies the seed that with the sun's love...

in the Spring... becomes the Rose...

30 years ago... in the 3rd row of the intimate Portland Paramount Theater...

Marcel's eyes glistened as Bette Midler sang this song.
We've been married almost 29 years.

I haven't thought about him like that for quite some time... 

what a lovely way to start the new year...

The digital age is wonderful...but some things can only be properly expressed with a pen and sheet of notebook paper...