That Black Angus Bastardo............

     I had a run in with our youngest bull, not my first, but my closest so far.  All turned out well, neither one of us is hurt, unless you count my look that could kill, but I do not get the impression he was disgruntled by that.

     Always being prepared, with my guard up is the only reason I was able to escape him.  Plus, he had tried the same action just the day before, therefore my eyes were peeled for him and I knew my escape route.

     First let me apologize for the curse word I am using for him.   Knee deep into a Ralph Compton, western book series with tales of long, arduous cattle drives and Spanish speaking Indians, I somehow feel that if I say it like the men in this story say it, then it doesn’t really count.  In Spanish it doesn’t seem as curse-wordy.

We first brought this beautiful slab of beef home when he was just a wee little guy.  He was hot and ready to work, day and night if need be.

     Once when walking to the feed bunk, I noticed that look in his shiny black eye, his left one to be precise and I knew.  That black bastardo was going to kick me.  Always carrying a five-gallon bucket of feed between myself and our livestock, his hard hoof planted on the plastic that I was carrying instead of my tender flesh.  Never having another altercation for an entire year, I was a little perplexed when for the last month he developed a little of a “tude”.

     One more thing.  Do not label me as racist for calling him black.  It’s a descriptive word and I feel those who do not know Angus cattle may not understand there are also red Angus cattle.  Now you have an image to go with this story.

     Back to cattle drama.  Each day I don my custom braces while working on the farm to increase my stability because of my fused ankles.  Sixty-two (my name for our bull because of ear tag) had developed a habit of closing the gate to his feed lot, cutting himself off from grain.  It swings one way and each time I tied the metal barrier open, the next day, as sure as the sun shines, this hunk of muscle has broken what I thought was my solution.

He’s still young, maybe he was entertaining himself or maybe he was being an ornery male.  Here’s where it gets a little precarious.  The gate has to swing outward and he must walk around it, enter the alley and ambulate to his feed bunk.  He is big, clumsy and impatient.  Not understanding he must wait for the gate to open wider than his chiseled flanks, he would inadvertently get himself caught in between the gate and pipe fencing or close the gate again.  I tried and tried, but he was not a thinker, he was a reproducer and it was showing.  It was also wearing on my own patience.

 

   Standing at the end of the gate where it met the pipe fencing, I would hold it open while he pushed past the other end.  With just enough time, I could climb to the top rung and watch him stride past me.  Usually with his nose in the air snubbing me.  After the second day of this he came to the fence to flare his huge, wet nostrils at me, pace three times back and forth in front of my perched self before deciding his growling stomach was more important.

     Not enjoying this experience and wondering what the heck tightened up his bung hole, I made a pack with myself, for my safety.  If the same scenario happened one more time, Carey would not feed this moody beast.

     You know it’s always that next time, isn’t it?  Next day, gate closed, I hold it open and begin climbing to the top rung of the fence.  This day he was again not patient, but he was not clumsy either.  It’s like he mastered a martial arts class in one night and became as agile the Karate Kid during his last tournament. 

He was coming for me, eyes not wavering, focused on me.  I was the only thing that existed for him.  Almost to the top rung, his head dips down only to raise up swiftly.  Already having my right leg over the fence, I pull my bent left leg higher as his massive hard head catches under my knee and there I go.  Like an awkward ballerina flying through the air, trying to catch a glimpse of him but yelling to the blue sky and white clouds, “ Youuuuu Bastardoooooo!”

     Apparently my left hand still encompassed the metal piping, pulling hard, I righted myself in mid-air and came down feet first.  Having mentally prepared for any fall, I hijacked my right knee to my arm pit, knowing I will do anything not to land on my right foot, I put that left foot down and waited for the sting to ride up my leg as I landed.

     Holding my breath, bending forward, riding out the wave of fire traveling up to my knee, I turn my head slightly to the left as I look between the rusty pipe fencing, only to see a smirk on this muscle butt’s face as he says, “Booyah”.

Recovering more quickly than I thought it would take, I straighten up while muttering incomprehensible words at not only Sixty-two, but myself.  “You win; I’m not messing with you anymore.  I’m done.  Wait ‘til Dad gets home,”, I spat.

     I challenge myself daily, prepare before entering any situation and am constantly aware of my surroundings, due to my situation and career I choose to work in.  This day is the reasoning behind that.  It is also the reason that there are times I must accept that some jobs cannot be mine.  Usually taking a few times to find a creative alternative doesn’t always pan out, as in this case. 

Giving it my best shot, I admit, it is in my best interest if I keep a pipe fence between myself and this black Angus bastardo. 

WINNER: Sixty-two.

Amberley Snyder-Using Her Tragedy to Change the World

     Early in 2015,  a suggestion from Instagram guided me to follow a pretty spectacular cowgirl based on others that were already in my news feed.  Instinctively, wanting to know more, I hit "Follow" and began to read her story.  Miss Amberley Snyder.  An hour later I knew this woman was going places and quickly. 
  

  

 Watching her online audience explode the rest of the year has been exhilarating.   Promptly feeling a kinship with this young woman, I scoured the web to find any speaking event of hers that was located near me.  

   


  
There are snippets of her presentation online, but I wanted to see it, more so I wanted to 

feel it.  We enjoy the same activities, both started riding horses at the age of three, both of us experienced tragedy and were now speaking of it publicly.  What I really desired was a one on one.

 

   It just so happens that my friend, farming partner and the FFA adviser of Bourbon High School felt so enraptured with her testimony at the National FFA Convention last Fall that he brought her to Missouri to speak at three of our local schools and asked if I would like to spend the day with them.   That message was sent by text so he didn't hear my artless snorts of, " Well Yeah!"

   


  Listening to her message and watching her influence decisions

that day, anyone could plainly see she was made to provoke thoughts.  She moved and spoke with ease, calling attention to ability, motivation and attitude.

     Enjoying a lunch between speaking events, I quietly studied this vision of motivation.  She has a beautiful, contagious smile for anyone who crosses her path, but it was the genuine look in her eyes that hooked me as a fan for life.  She has a naturally, honest heart of a cowgirl with a side dish of sass. 

      I enjoyed her company, I admire her fight, I praise and respect her ability to share and I loudly applaud her for "getting back on that horse."  I urge you to read her story and use it as you need for your own growth.

    


 Her positiveness is palpable.  She will continue to crush her life's challenges, succeed in influencing others and I know I will watch her compete in her dream rodeos.  I am but a minnow in her sea of followers, but I will be cheering just as loudly as the next at her new found accomplishments.   






     We all wish you well in your upcoming endeavors and will remind ourselves of your equation to prosperity. 

Ability +Motivation +Attitude=SUCCESS

     

     (Amberley's photo)

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A Journal to my Heart

      Just like my blog, I've started, stopped, started again and I feel that now is when my heart is telling me it is time to write a book. 

     Rather than surprise you when it is written and done, I would like to take you on this part of my journey.  As you have been with me during my emotional recovery, I cannot leave you out of this nor would I want to.

     You. Complete Me. 

     I am serious about this, but I cannot help but to always slip some kind of humor in my writing.  It's dry, I know, but I hope someone besides myself just laughed at that joke!

   

 This will be difficult to write about, unearthing all of those emotions that are always on the surface of my soul that have been tucked away as a reminder of where I have started, but at some point in my story those difficult times turn to astounding progress.

     As you travel with me, you will feel my heavy heart lighten, strive with determination and explode with achievement.  And I could not have done it without you.

     You are my rock, you are my anchor  and I give you my story in book form. 

     Who knows when I will finish, time is not my purpose, but the person who emerges as I finish, is. 

     

Footprints in the Sand

        I was becoming moody.  Three months had passed since our collision.  Having decreased my narcotic dose, I was more lucid, which allowed me to remember more of my daily pain.  Misery was normal.  Moodiness came from lowering my narcotic consumption and frustration of not being able to accomplish what  I want to do each day. 

      I had never sat this much in my life.  My mind would not let me focus to read, I stared at the tv without hearing it.  I was exhausted from healing, I was bored, I couldn't drive, I couldn't leave my house on my own, I couldn't do much at all without help.  

     I was pissed about it. 

      Dependency is not my personality.  Greg sat with me and explained this is the third time I had gone through this phase of frustration.  Remembering this time only, I was stunned by his confession.  

     I did not go around the house screaming or throwing things, but my family could sense how irritable I was.  I did not want to talk, I did not want to be alone, but I did not want to be around anyone at the same time.   I just wanted to stand up! 

     Limbo, is where I was swinging right then.  We did not know if I would walk well or when.  We did not know if my ankles would hold me or how long.  We did not know how long the actual healing was going to take.  We did not know much, except that I was surviving. 

      Reminding myself of this often helped me work through my days.  I am grateful that I am alive.  I do not want to give up the life God granted.  Somehow I had to work through this and learn patience.  Please God, grant me the patience.  

     Greg and I spoke at length about how I could find peace with dependency until I could do things on my own.  I could see it was wearing on him.  He'd gotten upset only once, at least that's all that I can remember and I believe I am the one that pushed him.  

     Knowing that I do not know what I am saying most of the time requires great understanding from him.  He is my living angel.  He has patience, understanding, a thick skin and a love for me that carries us all.  I hold onto his strength so tightly that I hope that I do not drain it from him completely.  

     Thoughts of how well I was going to recover were constantly boring their way into my mind.  I desperately wanted Greg to understand my thoughts, feelings, all of these emotions swirling their way around inside of me.  He is unbelievably compassionate, but I see in his deep, brown eyes, a lack of full comprehension.  

     He's cannot fully understand because he experienced a different side of this tragedy.  It is not fair of me to get upset by this.  I felt I was at my lowest, saddest point in recovery. If it hurt this terribly to sit, it was going to be more excruciating to stand.  Maybe it would be better to stay in the wheelchair.....  Maybe it would be better to remove my right lower leg.....  Anything had to be better than what I was going through at that time. 

      Explaining to him that I felt like I was going through this part alone, he softly says that while we were in the hospital he read a phrase in the hospital gift shop and would like to recite it to me. 

      Holding my hands loosely in his, he looks tenderly at me, "Carey, you are asking me why you feel alone during your weakest moments and I think this is your answer.  The quote said,  

"Why, during my hardest times was there only one set of footprints in the sand?"  God answered, "You were not alone.  That is when I was carrying you, when you were not strong enough to carry yourself." 

  I stared, awestruck at him, lips parted, eyes wide with understanding.  I could not believe how true those words rang.  Greg's timing with that phrase was impeccable.  I could only sit there and allow that to sink in as my admiration for my husband grew.   

     He kneels on the floor beside my wheelchair and caresses my hand.  He says softly, sympathetically, "I can't fix this part for you Carey.  You cannot take the idea of being vulnerable and depending on others to take care of your needs, I can sense this."  

     "You feel guilty and it's causing a great deal of frustration.  Let us take care of you and make yourself a priority for once in your life.  I don't just love you Carey, I adore you." 

      I'm sobbing at his words, he is spot on.  "Carey, you haven't cried about what has happened, not once.  Just cry and let it all out," he begs.  I sobbed on his shoulder until I could sob no more.  

Asshole of the Day!

     Two weeks ago, on a Thursday, I was leaving an appointment an hour from my home when I pulled into a well known fast food establishment.  Already disappointed that this drive through was the last  place I could stop before making the trip back home, I pulled up and both lanes were full of travelers in the same predicament as I. 

   

 It was not a healthy choice and it was busy.  As my turn to speak into the intercom to place my order approached, I noticed there was a pretty long line behind me as well. 

       Sitting in the outside lane, I pulled up and waited for the inner lane to progress so I could merge into the pick up line. Unable to move but a few feet, I hear a female voice radiate from the speaker asking if she could take the next cars order. 

     For a reason unknown to me, I left my window rolled down even though it was only twenty degrees outside and I hear a male voice bark, " If this asshole in front of me would pull up, I'd love to order!"  WTH?

     My lips parted and my eyes opened wide and instinctively I stuck my head out the window and looked behind me, only to have my mouth gape wide open and I now looked incredulously at the car behind me with bug eyes.  WTH?

     For there was a man and his wife that were most definitely in their seventies staring back at ME.  They were talking about ME!  Never, ever, ever has the term "asshole" been directed at me before, at least within my ear shot. 

     Looking ahead of me, I pull up the six inches between myself and a woman driving a brand new Tahoe, only to get a look of WTH? from her!  I am now cursing an elderly man and his elderly wife for having such nasty, impatient attitudes, effectively working myself into a offended tizzy. 

     Approaching the payment window, viewing them in my rear view mirror, I decide that I didn't care if they were ordering for the entire Jeff City football team, I was going to pay for their lunch!  I am "kind of" going to take the high road that even if I couldn't do anything about the dang drive through line, I was going to make an attempt to brighten their day, even if it was somewhat out of spite.  Or a lot out of spite. 

     Smiling as I was handing my debit card to the ladies on

the opposite side of the window, I instruct them that this "asshole" would like to pay for the "gentleman's" order behind me.  Humored shock crossed their faces as they both burst out with "awww, good for you for honey".   Yeah, yeah, high road.

     Driving away, I hear a couple of honks paired with a big wave from the gray haired couple to the rear of me.  Instead of flying my free bird, I also give a big wave to accept their thank you.  

     Pulling back onto the highway, my thoughts were of hoping they learned a lesson of patience and kindness because it really was no fault of my own.  

     Then I speculated that it was a good possibility that they were thinking they were the ones who taught ME a lesson.   So I was like, WTH?

 whatever.

     

     
     

The Healing Powers of Medicine Springs Minerals

     Having written and spoke of the many natural measures that I use for pain relief, I have to share my most important resource. 

     Hidden deep in the Montana mountains there is a natural spring that produces minerals that help to alleviate aches and pains.  They help to the point that I most often use these minerals in place of any prescribed narcotic.    Still using my Curamin each day, the minerals can be an immediate pain reducer as well as be used for maintenance.

 (insert self here!)

   This past summer I was able to visit the spring at the Wallis KbarL Ranch in Montana and meet the creators of this powerful product.   Not only were they immediately in my family's hearts forever, they were knowledgeable beyond measure about their minerals and their effects. 

     For those that do not know, I have severe bone and joint damage from a car crash five years ago.  I am left with end stage traumatic arthritis and will only used strong pain medications when absolutely necessary.  Having many years left to live with my condition, I do not want to put a liver transplant on my list of upcoming surgeries.  The minerals also have powers to ease eczema and psoriasis as well!

      Using these minerals correctly is essential.  I have no idea if I could not read adequately through my pain filled vision or if it is just the effects of living with four teenagers that I did not comprehend the directions.  
 When Julie (Medicine Springs owner) instructed me that I was indeed using them incorrectly, I pork chopped my own forehead and thought, " If they work that well only using half of the recommended dosage, I can't imagine what I will feel like with a full dosage!"  I must also note that having the bath water at a high enough temperature is also relevant to ease discomfort


     I asked Julie to write a guest blog explaining how her and her husband Brandon became to  understand and create this product and her story is below:

"Medicine Springs is an all new concept in mineral health.  Turning your bath tub or hot tub into a mineral hot spring!  
Medicine Springs spawned from a necessity 5 years ago.  Brandon’s mom Brenda has painful arthritis and cannot close her hands.  On a vacation Brenda was sitting in a geothermal mineral hot spring and noticed she could close her hands and the pain was gone!  
Very excited about how these natural mineral springs provided such relief, she mentioned on her return that she wished she could put that water in her hot tub and bathtub.  This began the quest to bring this relief home and Medicine Springs was born. 

 Brandon and his wife Julie took chemical analysis of the most healing natural springs to be found anywhere in the world including the actual Medicine Springs on the K Bar L Ranch.  They brought these results home, removed the water, separated the compounds, isolated the reactions packaged it. 
 This allows anybody to turn his or her bathtub or hot tub into a world famous healing mineral spring!  Through their analysis and research they learned these springs have been used for their healing properties for thousands of years, but up until now the power of these springs has 
never been harnessed.  

They learned of the multiple conditions helped by these springs and created 3 varieties of Medicine Springs product.  They started with an Arthritis and Fibromyalgia blend calling it “Joint”.  They then went on and created a skin blend for Eczema, Psoriasis, and acne called “Skin”, based off of the Blue Lagoon of Iceland.  The final blend created was one for soreness and fatigue based on a spring ancient warriors used to use after battle to heal the ailments of war, knowing this would be perfect for modern day athletes, they called it “Sport”.  

They are extremely proud of what they have created and believe they have the opportunity to help others the way this helped Brandon’s mom.  They originally did not intend to sell it, but after researching and learning hot springs were used for their beneficial purposes for thousands of years and giving it away at race for the cure and to several wounded warriors, the results were compelling enough they knew we needed to get this out there for others to use! 
 Medicine Springs is the only company in the world to “Harness the Geothermal Healing Powers of Mother Nature”.  You can find them at www.medicinesprings.com, or on their Facebook page under Medicine Springs Mineral Therapy."

     Isn't that a great story behind a wonderful product?  Since most of you are unable to travel to the mineral spring itself, this is the best alternative.

    Brandon and Julie are true "Montanans".  We enjoyed our time spent with them and it feels pretty cool to know the personalities behind a product that I use.   I have been able to visually perceive and hear the passion in their voices, how deeply they care about helping others with their pain management; in a natural way. 

     To check out their website and order click here: Medicine Springs 
     To contact them about bringing their product to your business: Email at    info@medicinesprings.com    or click here to be taken to their Contact Page.

     But most of all, try it and share it!

     
 *if you would like to visit the springs themselves contact them via their web page: Contact Wallis KbarL

Strong Testimonies about Choices

     Each presentation that I give has a main focus and that is choices.  More specifically, that our choices can and most often do affect someone other than ourselves. 

   

 This past October, during Red Ribbon Week, I asked a friend of mine to give her personal testimony to one of our local high schools reliving the emotional details about the evening she heard siren after siren after siren speed past her house.  Then having her suspicions confirmed.  

     She had relived those moments for me once before, but sitting beside her in a gymnasium as she recalled the specifics had me swallowing sobs that desperately wanted to escape. 

      She relayed the story about two other mutual friends that she was in constant contact with during those hours of extraction and  transportation of myself and my two daughters.  Those two friends also agreed to write a few paragraphs as their personal testimony for my blog today. 

     Jen Harmon:
"The night that I learned of Carey’s car accident I was in shock. It was one of those moments that was hard to even comprehend what was happening. My mind started flipping through every memory I had of being with her and I couldn’t make myself believe that the person I had become friends with was possibly gone forever. I didn’t believe it was real, I didn’t see how it could be real, I didn’t want to accept that it could be real."

"I started making phone calls, sending text messages and searching Facebook for information but there were no clear, factual answers to be given. I heard that there was a fatality and at that time, I didn’t even know if there was another vehicle involved so I began to worry that my worst nightmare was proving to be true. I continued to make calls but was told many different stories ranging from rumors of her losing her legs to her being transported by helicopter to St. Louis but was not expected to live.  It was one of the most helpless feelings I have ever had."

"I struggled with whether I should go to the hospital or not. I knew there were going to be so many people there and felt that I would probably just be in the way. I chose to stay home and wait. I held my phone in my hand everywhere I went – not knowing if I wanted it to ring or not for fear of what I would be told if it did."

"One night I just started texting her. I assumed she had lost her phone in the accident, but I continued to send them anyway. I didn’t know if she would ever get to read them but it was the only thing I could do. I had no control over what was going to happen but I could at least tell her that I was thinking of her and praying that she would come back to us."

"Finally, one night as I held my phone in my hand while lying on my couch my phone chimed. I can’t explain the feeling I got when I looked down and saw that the text I had just received was from Carey. It honestly felt like God had just come and placed her right into my arms. She later told me that she didn’t remember sending me that text or even talking to me later that week. But I do - and it will always be one of the most amazing, miraculous days in my life. "

    








   Lisa Gansner:
 "I will never forget that wintry December night.  I had an odd feeling that night…couldn’t explain what…but things just didn’t seem right.  
It was a Wednesday night…and I didn’t go to the studio as Carey taught that ZUMBA class."

  "About 5 minutes before class started, my phone rang…that sick feeling came in my stomach and my head knew….and my heart knew..something was happening.  It was the girls at the studio., asking if class was cancelled?" 

 "Carey hadn’t arrived..and we all knew that never happened.  If she wasn’t able to show, which she NEVER cancelled..she would always say something.  I knew when I was dialing her number, a sickness continued in my heart and stomach.  I left message after message." 

 "As I was on the phone with the girls at the studio, they heard sirens…our heart sunk and tears whelped up as we knew..it wasn’t a fear…we knew it had to be her.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined the extent….and as I learned about the seriousness, all the emergency personnel traveling..the great amount of emergency personnel, the Face Book posts, I just prayed. And prayed.  And prayed." 

 "I will never forget that night.  Feeling helpless, prayerful, wishing I could do something, wishing I could be an angel in the sky giving her strength, so scared for my dear friend, knowing something horrible had happened and just praying with all my might that she would live…breathe…."

"As those next months continued, watching her struggle and watching her overcome so many obstacles, yet wishing I could take all the pain away.  Wishing that night had never happened.  I can’t imagine what it is like to be in Carey’s shoes.  I know God has such a great purpose for her.  She touches and inspires so many before and NOW…it is so evident his purpose for her." 
 "I feel so blessed that it was NOT his plan to have her join the angels and to let us continue to enjoy her, her spirit, her personality and all she is."  
"I love you Carey and feel so blessed to call you my dear friend and thankful God has blessed us with you for a longer time.  Thank you for who you are and what you stand for.  You are such an amazing model to others and me daily.  When I feel like complaining selfishly about things, I think of you often and say…”No way I can complain…look what SHE overcame…I can overcome anything too! “

"Our Choices Matter"

Horrible Bosses

     Most of us have endured at least one horrible boss in our career.  If you have not, you should.  It teaches you lessons you use to guide you throughout your adult life. 

 

 

 The worst boss I have ever had the displeasure of working under was my very first adult job.  Freshly graduated from X-ray school, I landed my first position at Bothwell Regional Health Center located in Sedalia Missouri.

     The radiology tech field had become flooded as I graduated. I felt indebted to find a seat in this geographic area.  Sedalia was larger than my home town but still was not too far away for a weekend visit.  I never even knew what this quiet city had to offer me due to my first horrible boss. 

     Here are five lessons that I had learned NOT to repeat from that short initial job choice:

     1-Speak before you Think:  By all means, please say whatever comes out of your mouth, no matter how crude, insulting or racist it is.  Your employees love hearing negative low level phrases come from your mouth!  (This kind of behavior cascades over into the employees attitudes and soon you hear the negativity rolling off their/your tongues in as ill a manner as your horrible boss.)

     2- Ignoring employee diversity:  If your were advanced in age, gay in any form of the word or your skin color was not white, you did not belong in his department and it was made known to you. (I was a young, naive woman when I encountered whom I thought was going to be my first role of leadership.  My mind was blown and my mouth often parted in confounded awe at the bigotry of this ugly specimen.)

     3-Ensure that your staff feels they need to protect themselves at all times: Especially from you that is.  Staff should always be on guard around you or the one troll you have managed to reel into your dark corner. (When workers feel they have no margin for error-ever, they generate unnecessary anxiety within themselves usually inducing minor mistakes normally not made by the calm, confident self they were before meeting The Witch King)

  4- "Suggest" your team work all three shifts in one week: Originally I was hired to swing between second and third shift so when my tyrant in charge "suggested" I pick up one day shift, I perceived I didn't have much of a choice.  I felt I should accept the offer or I would forever be overlooked for promotion. (There was no social life for my twenty-something self working all three shifts in one week.  My clarity lacked on the job due to my body desperately trying to find balance between waking and sleeping.  I could see the joy he took from my predicament.)

     5-Avoid all criticism towards yourself as a leader: Oh, yes, please avoid all feedback on how you can improve your leadership skills and provide a positive atmosphere for your department members.   
 As a tech you were forbidden to give encouraging advice and if you did you were branded and treated as a traitor.  If administration gave the advice, you do not agree with it and if asked, you confirm that your supervisor is adhering by all standards and such. (This additionally creates a resentment from all staff and an unintentional feeling of ill will towards you as a manager)

    I held out for a year before snagging a new position at a corporation that I would remain for the next nine years.  Bothwell Hospital required an exit interview for all faculty.  When asked, "Why are you ending your employment at this facility?", I balked.  I didn't want to be a snitch or admit the awful comments that I harbored for the wretched soul in the radiology department.

     The Human Resources rep leaned down and asked if it was due to the manager of our division.   Replying with a matter of fact, "Yes, Ma'am", she said a thank you and admonished that is why there is such a high turn over rate for radiology technologists in their hospital. 

   My first year in adult employment was horrendous.  Normally lit with a bright smile and attitude, I felt down trodden and stripped of a confident experience.  

     Early in my career I learned some valuable lessons that I have used in all of my life choices.  I have done well in those positions because of these and even though the experience brings 
dis-pleasurable memories, I would not change their participation in expanding my growth as a human being. 

If you never tasted a bad apple, you would never appreciate a good apple. 

  

If Tomorrow Never Comes

     Scouring our digital photos for a specific one I was searching for, I clicked on this image.  At once, I stopped, filled with emotions and memories flooding my thoughts.

December 25th, 2010.  One day after my thirty-fifth birthday, four days before our family would be forced to adapt to a new way of living. 

The next image that enlarged on my computer screen was this one. 

My heart nearly fell out of my chest.  Our family, our children, our world.  Almost lost.  

"What if's" came to my mind for the first time ever about the footings we poured as the foundation of our little tribe we had formed.

     "What if" we knew what was going to happen just days from when this photo was taken, would we have absorbed more from this memory?

     "What if" we would have slowed down more instead of just talking about it?

     "What if" we wouldn't have let the stressors of this life disturb us so much?

     "What if" one of us hadn't lived, would the rest of us know how much we loved them?

     That's the one that became my main focus.  Had I not lived, would the rest of my family understand how much love my heart holds for them?  

     We cannot use "what if's" to look at or change our past, we can use them to look at and change our future.  

     I have been working on this concept for five years now.  Not thinking about "what if's" and just doing what my heart feels regardless of life's circumstances.  

     It can be so hard at times, so hard to keep that positive outlook with the negativity influencing our posse of six. 

    Our teenagers may not want me to hug or tell them that I love them, but I'm doing it anyway because it is true.  They may not want to take things as slow as I do, to stop the moment so I can cuddle up in it and feel the warmth surrounding me, but I'm going to do it anyway. 

     My husband may appear bashful as I stroke his ego for stepping up and choosing to be the protector, mentor and leader of our family until I could again stand by his side in partnership, but I will continue to lift him up with praise.  When our lives fell apart, he dug in his heels instead making an exit.

     My hopes are that each of us will have no regrets of not showing enough affection, not saying I love you or of not sharing in the memories.  At the end of our lives, creating memories are all that really matter, all that we truly look back on and there should be no anguish over, "What if" I had done more.

     When I view these images, no matter if they seem insignificant or historic, that these are moments, memories in the making, that we would have lost out on.   

     If my tomorrow never comes, as it almost did, my family will know how much I loved them, they will know I tried in every way, they will know how much they fill my heart. 

   

An Afternoon with Kate Duryea

     God is not shy about sending me life lessons.  Many of these are moments I have when I am spending time with other people and that is what happened the afternoon that I spent with Kate Duryea.

 

   I was introduced to Kate by a mutual friend Kim Wallis, who is the founder of Pilates4Pros.  Kate owns an active wear boutique in Ladue, MO, Dimvaloo, which promotes Lorna Jane products and a healthy life style. 

     Kate enjoys photographing clients clothed in her active wear line, especially those that work at living healthier, active lives and who have stories of triumph.  This is where Kim thought I would fit in.  

     Being on the other side of the camera was something new for me.  I become an introvert at the attention and I found myself striving to relax.  There was no need to feel uncomfortable around her, she is an adorable person to interact with and we hit it off very well.  Actually,  I never asked her how she felt about me, but I enjoyed her eccentric personality immensely!

  
Feeling a little blah about myself, I went into the photo shoot looking to boost myself up a bit.  With any new activity, usually the first time I do not get it right.  It may take a few tries to understand how my new, inflexible body can accomplish the same activity and I was having difficulty on this sunny day.

  

   I was aggravated that my too early in life, fluctuating hormones had caused a ten pound weight gain that I could not seem to shake. Because of my joint fusions, I was unable to correctly perform the Pilates moves she desired and I let my frustration cloud my creativeness.  The result altered my focus on how I should accommodate in new ways versus my old ways. 

   


  Realizing that I am that awkward woman now, made me want to cuss or pout like a child, especially with how physically coordinated I was pre-crash.  Kate was a sport as she may have had no idea of the struggle I had going on in my mind and heart that day.  Or of  the sarcastic one liners I was throwing at myself and God as I posed like Elaine from Seinfeld.

     "The only times I get truly disheartened is when I try to be something I'm not."  

     Yes, I am still physically active, but on a different level. I am a substantially different woman, palpably.  I work hard at making you think otherwise, but it is a struggle.  I am not a model for limber poses, I am now a sit by the pool and show off my active wear kind of female.  Still awkwardly exercising, just more privately.

     My day was not a waste.  I met this eclectic entrepreneur who took myself (a cattle farmer) to a vegan restaurant and introduced me to the most amazing chocolate avocado mousse to ever land on my taste buds.  It turns out she is a beef eater too

though!  



 Also living through another life lesson handed down from God Himself.  I believe He succeeded in his goals for this day and I also believe He has met his match with me.  I hope He continues to help me grow and holds my hand as I do so.

I will continue to test my limitations, for if I should not, I will never know what I am absolutely capable of.  

And I will maintain a smile as I accept with a sigh what was dealt to me.

*all photos are the copyright of Kate Duryea and Dimvaloo active wear
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