The Inevitability of Change

I went to have my hair done yesterday. And I threw the seeds to the wind.

Normally it's a matter of just putting a few highlights in and and trimming up my tresses. But yesterday was different. I was in the mood to change it up. When I visited Francesca, my very able bodied stylist, I presented her with a couple of pictures of hairstyles I might like to try. One was an unknown model, the other was Halle Berry. "Can you make me look like Halle Berry?" I asked. Fortunately, Francesca was up for a challenge and went about her business giving me that "berry berry" fine look. She took the clippers to my hair, made my style nice and cool for the heat of the summer, and I was quite satisfied with the the end result -- just like Halle. Darn it though, even though the hair is spot on, I'm afraid I have a long way to go to look like Halle Berry. Maybe losing about 40 pounds would help. Oh well. The hair's a start.

So why the impulse to change? I guess it's in response to all of the upcoming changes that will take place in my life in the next month. Drastic changes that I am both excited about and nervous about. Ok, I'm not just nervous -- I'm scared shitless.

A year ago I never imagined that I am in the place that I'm in now. What turned into a major change in my life really started out simply enough, as a passing thought. My youngest child had left the nest to go to college, and my husband and I were left alone in this empty next. Once he had left, I was left wondering, "What next?" So I got this crazy idea to look into what it might take to go back to school to pursue a PhD in my field (communication).

The initial exploratory process was fun and prompted me to investigate further into what the University of Kentucky had to offer. I attended an all-day preview day last November and liked what I saw. So I figured I would apply to become a doctoral student and then maybe go part-time (one to two classes a semester) while continuing to work full-time at St. Elizabeth Healthcare.

Really, my biggest worry was getting admitted, since I had heard it was a competitive program. I submitted my application on November 30 of last year. So imagine my surprise when in early February I received a call notifying me that I had not only been offered admission, but also a four-year tuition waiver and paid teaching assistantship if I agreed to go to school full time.

I was flattered when notified, but my first inclination was to turn the offer down. After all, it would be too much change in my pretty settled life. There would be no way that I could continue working full-time at St. Elizabeth and accept this offer. But I had two months to make a decision, so I took every bit of the full two months to weigh all of my options. Needless to say, it was a grueling two months.

I have to say many friends, family and co-workers supported and encouraged me along the way. I'm sure that probably influenced my decision to a degree. And ultimately, I did decide to accept UK's offer. I reasoned that to have such an opportunity dropped in my lap indicated perhaps a divine intervention of some sort. Perhaps it's' a calling from God. And at the very least, I knew that if I didn't accept the offer I would always wonder what would have happened had I taken the other path.

So that was the basis of my decision-- that perhaps it was meant to be.

Did I make the right decision? I don't know. It may be a while before I know -- hopefully just a few months, maybe a few years. I've already been warned that there will probably be times where I will panic and wonder what I have gotten myself into. So I'm desperately trying to prepare myself. (We're only a month away until it all starts.) Here is what I'm doing to mentally prepare:

• Attend a yoga class at least once a week. I like the hot yoga, the type that makes you sweat from the start. It seems as the sweat drips off our body, it has a tendency to wash the stress away and calm my mind.
• Work on my confidence issues. Part of this deal will be teaching two classes per semester to undergraduates. Am I up to it, or will those 18- to 20-year-old kids eat me alive? A colleague of mine reminded me of something very important on this note -- that I am actually the one with the power. I give the grades -- their GPAs are in my hands. Wow, that's deep. Not that I will get on a power high with this, but it helps put things in perspective.
• Don't let my age get in the way. I'm going to be older (okay, much older) than many of my cohorts. This could be intimidating. But I have to remind myself that I have approximately 30 years of work experience in the field -- way more than any of my fellow TAs will have. Hopefully this (and the knowledge I bring forth from this) will serve to command some respect from both my fellow co-horts and the students I will be teaching. (And besides, many have told me I look young for my age, so if I can pass for 10 years younger I'll be happy.)
• Immerse myself in my coursework. I'm there to learn, and not to question whether or not I can do this. So just do it. For God's sake, I have two previous degrees, so I should be able to do this, right?
• Embrace the change! Change is hard -- no doubt about it. But if we don't change, we remain static, and that fosters decline. As much as it is human nature to resist change, it is necessary. We must all eventually change to ensure continual growth.
• Manage my time effectively. Fortunately, I'm pretty good at this. As long as I can get a reasonable amount of sleep per night, I should be fine.
• Depend on those I know who can be valuable resources. I know that I have a support system that I can call upon if I need it -- mostly professors and colleagues from my master's program, at Northern Kentucky University. Although it's been almost eight years since I finished up my master's there, the folks there are so nice and accommodating. I know I can draw on their experience and expertise when needed.
• Remember that attitude is everything. The more positive I can be (and less nervous), the more likely I will excel. Hopefully I will be able to surround myself with some good vibes.

Okay, so this is a pretty vague plan so far, but I expect it will become more defined as I go along. Any prayers and good wishes you can send my way are most appreciated. I really do need those good vibes to give me the hope, confidence and enthusiasm I need to make this new chapter in my life a success. 

One more thing, just for the record. I'm not doing this so people can call me "Dr." in four years. I'm not really doing it for any kind of prestige. I truly want to do this so that someday I might make a difference -- a difference in the way I can consult with health care providers as they interact with patients, so that patients feel loved and cared for. This, in turn, motivates patients to work harder to be more compliant with their care, and such efforts serve to increase health outcomes. Enhanced communication practices in our system, coupled with the science of compassion, will ultimately foster caring environments that bring forth optimal peace, healing and well being.

This is important to me. A few years ago my grandmother, who had dementia, was admitted to the hospital and the assigned physician making his initial visit to her asked her bluntly, "Are you demented?" I guess he thought he was joking, but my mother and I were horrified. My grandmother was a person, dammit, who had lived through the Depression, helped farm her family's dairy farm during World War II, worked in the factory to support her family (while also tending to the family farm) and raised a family. She was married to my grandfather for 66 years until his death. And yet, during those few seconds and during that encounter, that physician reduced her to nothing but a demented object not hardly worthy of his time.

My quest in life is to make the patient-provider relationship better than this. This is why I do this.

There is so much wrong with healthcare that could be fixed with better communication practices. This is my calling.

For 25+ years, in some form or another, I have served a calling to make healthcare better. And now I have come to this place in my life. It's a new challenge.

Am I scared? Yes. But not so scared that I'm not willing to take the chance to see if this might be the opportunity for me to make the world a better place.

So here we go. As I have so many times before, I'm figuratively throwing the seeds to the wind. Let's see where they may fall! 

Farewell and Much Love to Aunt Millie

I received the call from the hospice nurse yesterday morning. Aunt Millie had taken a turn for the worse. I guess it was a call I had been expecting for quite a while. Turns out this really was the end. My husband’s Aunt Millie passed away last night shortly before 10 pm.

It’s been rough go the last five years or so. So

tough to see someone you knew as a sassy, vivacious woman slowly and steadily decline into the abyss. I watched as her body became increasingly frail, and as her cognitive capacity became more and more limited. I can’t tell you how much I rejoice that she has finally been freed from the bondage of those earthly restraints.

She was a tough woman, in a demure sort of way. At her peak, she was five foot two and 118 pounds. An introvert by nature, she always told me not to worry about making her into a social being, because she rather enjoyed her own company. She admits that she lurked in the shadow to her older sister Dorothy, far more extroverted and outgoing. But when Dorothy died in 1972 and left young sons, it was Millie who stepped up to the plate and served as the motherly figure.

While introverted, she wasn’t necessarily as passive as one might think. She used to tell me that some folks would call her “Mulie,” meaning “Stubborn as a mule.” I know that first-hand. A few years ago we attempted to remove the throw rugs from her apartment because they were a trip hazard. We put them in her closet. She obviously wasn’t hip to that, because the next time we visited the rugs were back on her floor. (Lesson learned!)

So minus the past five years, let me tell you about the Millie I knew.

When I first met my husband Ed, he talked incessantly about his Aunt Millie. I knew immediately that she was a woman I wanted to meet. A couple of months after we started dating, we went Christmas shopping and he wanted to buy her a nice dress. He didn’t know what size she wore. So he called her on a pay phone (no cell phones at that time) and told her that he was shopping for a dress for me. So being that she had not yet met me, he told her that I was about her size (way more than a white lie), and asked her what size she was (size 8). Anyway, he purchased a beautiful dress for her that day (which, by the way, I chose). While most of her clothes have been given to Goodwill, I couldn’t bear to part with that one yet.

When I finally did meet Millie, I found her to be quite the vivacious woman. You would think she was quiet and demure, but it only took a little time of getting to know her when she would talk your ear off. I was struck by the fact that she intensely valued family. While she was widowed very young and never had children of her own, her nieces and nephews meant the world to her.

I can’t relay the stories of them all, but I can share those of my own husband. My husband Ed has shared stories of Millies’s compassion and generosity. Having lost his mother (Millie’s sister) in 1972, he speaks highly of how Millie stepped up to the plate to step into the mother role.

As to my own recollections, they are many.

When Ed and I got married, it was Millie who lit the unity candle on behalf of his side of the family and stood with his father for the family pictures.

When my first son Clay was born, I remember how she came to my house the day after I came home from the hospital. She held my baby boy. And held him. And held him. I pretty much had to coax her to give him back. Up to that point she had never changed a diaper. Starting with Clay, and then with Luke and Sam, she became a pro.

If you would have asked her, she would have told you she was their grandmother. For the most part, she was. And like most grandmothers, she totally spoiled them. When I was pregnant with Clay, she was adamant about the fact that I needed a good rocking chair to rock the baby in. She bought me the most expensive rocking chair in the store, which I still have. She bought them toys, of course, and the occasional savings bond.

A child of the depression, she would come for dinner and want to save the tiniest teaspoon of peas (which drove me crazy). Not to say she didn’t have her quirks. Don’t we all?

Despite the quirks, I loved her. I loved her because she loved my husband and my children so much. And I’m guessing she might have loved me too.

I know she wasn’t happy when we transitioned her to assisted living. And I was heartbroken when we moved her into nursing home care (though I have to say we were completely satisfied with the nursing home we chose). But I know the Millie of 10 or 15 years ago would have told us to do what we needed to do that was in her best interests. I hope we did her right.

We so love you Millie. And we so rejoice because we know that tonight you are in a better place. Enjoy the reunion with our loved ones in the hereafter. Know that we will always love you and look forward to when we can join you in the heavenly reward. And rest in peace, my dear. You are forever loved.

Cheers to You, Grandma Evelyn!

Me and Grandma Evelyn, November 2017

The call came a little after 8 am this morning, August 5, 2018. 

While my husband and my parents and I were sitting on a screened-in porch in Hilton Head, enjoying the dawn of the first day of our vacation, we received news that my Grandma Evelyn Carpenter passed away this morning.

You’d think it’s not a great way to start a vacation. I, however, choose to take the time off this week to celebrate and remember her and the remarkable life she led.

In some ways she was not your typical grandmother. Warm and fuzzy she was not. Not by any means. Not so generous with the hugs and kisses, either. But friendly, yes. In fact, she could talk your ear off. I remember she would come to visit me when I was a child and if she happened to strum up a conversation with a cashier at a grocery store, or even a casual stranger, I knew I would be standing there for the long haul.

Part of her friendly demeanor probably stemmed from the fact that she was a well-known businesswoman in her small town. She owned and operated the town diner for many years while my dad was growing up, and then when she left the restaurant business she owned the local “cut-rate,” sort of a general store that sold a little bit of everything. It did a fairly brisk business, as Grandma and Grandpa’s store was the only one in town with a liquor license.

As a young child, I benefited greatly from this store, as I received comic books galore. When Grandma returned unsold issues, all she would have to do was send back the front cover of each magazine and pitch the rest. But did she do that? Of course not! After all, she had grandchildren! All the Little Dot, Little Lotta, Richie Rich, Archie and superhero comics I wanted (my brother was more into the superhero stuff). We always looked forward to Grandma and Grandpa’s visits because we knew they’d be loaded with comics.

As a teenager, during my visits to Michigan, I would actually go to work with my grandmother and help her out in the store. I remember the old-timey cash register she had. You don’t see those anymore.

But then Grandma and Grandpa sold the store and retired full time to the lake. The lake – Little Whitefish Lake. For me and my brother, that was vacation paradise. There were bikes, fishing poles (and fish loaded in the lake!), and a big old pontoon boat. Every day during our summer visits, my brother and I would go bicycling to the other side of the lake. Sometimes we’d bicycle the seven or eight miles to Sand Lake and back. Lots of lake fun!

There’s no doubt, Grandma supplied me some nice childhood summer memories. Even if she wasn’t always generous with the compliments.

It didn’t matter though, because with her, it wasn't about the words, but the actions. I knew what a good woman she was. She wasn’t an emotional woman, but a very generous one. I’ve heard stories about all the foster children she took in. Or maybe just friends or cousins that needed a place to stay for a day, a week, or a couple of years.


I've heard the stories about how she nursed my grandfather back to health when he came back from WWII with a bad bout of malaria. And I saw with my own eyes how well she took care of him during his 10-year battle with Alzheimer's disease.

I’ve heard stories of the hobos she used to feed when she owned the restaurant, nourishing them after close of business with what was left over from the day.

I've heard stories about how she helped build the VFW hall in Sand Lake, Michigan and worked tirelessly for the VFW auxiliary for more than 60 years -- a truly patriotic thing to do.

Over the last 20+ years, I have seen her tend to her busy schedule, as she worked at least three days a week. "Work" being volunteering at the Grand Rapids Home for Veterans, where in total she had logged more than 10,000 volunteer hours.

I’ve experienced her generosity myself when one year when I was poor as Job’s turkeys and I found myself owing $300 to the IRS. I complained to her about it and she offered to loan me the money. I declined, telling her I would find the money somehow, but I appreciated the offer.

Or even more substantial, when after having both my second and third babies, she flew down to Kentucky and stayed with me for a week each time to help take care of me and the kids. Plus she did all the cooking. I loved her beef stew and homemade noodles!

She was a busy lady. During the last few years I would laugh when she would complain about how crappy she feels. She would say you can feel crappy and do nothing, or feel crappy and do something. More often than not, she chose to do something.

Incidentally, I noticed that as she got older (and I got older too), the hugs became tighter, the “I love yous” became more frequent, and I developed a genuine admiration for her. I think things like that matter more when you get older.

I last saw her when I went up to visit her last November. It was a nice visit. We went out for lunch, then went back to the Home for Veterans and spent a few hours just chewing the fat. When it came time to leave, I hated to, but I gave her a big hug, told her I loved her and that I would be back to see her. I was hoping that was going to happen before then end of this year. I so regret that it didn't happen. I had no idea that last November would be the last time I would see her.

I recall another visit prior to the one last November. In April 2015 I felt this urge to go see her, which I did, and it was a wonderful visit. I asked if I could interview her, which she allowed. I recorded it, though I don’t have the recording at my fingertips just now. But there were a few things that we talked about that stood out.

First, she was proud of her independence. At the time she was 94 and still living by herself and driving (though I’m not sure that was a good thing). Anyway, she had always prided herself on her independence and staying that way, even 20 years after my grandfather passed. Unfortunately, several weeks after this conversation she had an episode that resulted in the permanent loss of her independence – a situation she absolutely detested. But while physically she was beat down, she never had a hint of dementia and was always sharp as a tack (other than being in a state of denial about the fact she was 97 when she would rather be 50). Up until almost the day she died, she spent every day reading her newspaper and watching CNN.

Second, she expressed that she was ready to meet her Maker at any time. The sooner the better. She had no reservations at all about dying. Most of her contemporaries had already gone before her, and she welcomed when that day would finally come.

Finally, when I asked her what she was most proud of in her life, she said it was her children – that she recognized that my dad and my aunt had both turned out to be such good people. It wouldn’t surprise me if she never told them that. As I said, she was never generous with the compliments. But it’s not that she didn’t feel love and compassion for those closest to her.

The last three years were very hard for her. Admittedly, she wasn’t always in the greatest mood because of her own frustrations about losing her independence and probably just wondering why it was taking so long to “cross over.”  But those three years represent but a fraction of her life.

She was a spunky lady with a fiery spirit. In some ways, we have all gained something from her and as such we are better people.

So as I embark on my Hilton Head vacation, I will toast to you, Grandma. (I know you would appreciate that, since you were known to have a glass or two of wine yourself.) I will toast you for your spirit, your spunk, your lifelong generosity, your admirable work ethic, and that really good pot roast you used to make.

Rest in peace, Grandma. And cheers!

Innocent Children and America's Moral Crisis

First, what I say, of course, is purely my opinion. But that’s what blogs are for, right? I don’t mean to offend, but sometimes I feel strongly enough or inspired enough about something to where I just have to write about it. I hope those that don’t agree with me can at least respect my point of view. If you don’t agree with me, I promise that if you start your own blog I will read it and give your points food for thought. Having said that, here goes:

(John Moore/Getty Images)

This post won't be long. Short and sweet. Just a commentary about the most recently implemented practice of separating migrant children from their parents at the border.

It’s wrong.

I’m probably preaching to the choir here. In fact, I probably won't change many minds. But just some points I wanted to make.

First, I’ve read some really insensitive Facebook posts expressing the opinion that if parents don’t want to be separated from their children, they shouldn’t cross the border illegally. Never mind that these people aren’t criminals, but fellow human beings who are simply desperate for better lives for themselves and their children. Despite that, even if you want to blame the parents, there’s one key point that’s being missed here: It’s about the children, stupid.

These children have no control over whether they are brought here are not. They don’t deserve this kind of treatment. They don’t deserve to be traumatized in this way. They are innocent children who need to be with their families. To rip them apart from their mothers and fathers in this way and then detain them in institutional-like settings is, to me, evil.

Second, in response to our Attorney General, who quotes Romans 13 from the Bible to justify such an atrocious policy  – I say I can’t help but wonder how many others may have used this passage to justify their brutal acts. Maybe the Nazis? Maybe abusive slave owners during what was another dark time in our history? And since when do we use Bible passages to dictate our policy? We do have such a thing as separation of church and state. It’s not a recent thing – the concept was the brainchild of our founding fathers. And what else does the Bible say? Aren’t we forbidden to eat shellfish? So when will the federal government start closing down all the Red Lobsters in this country? Sorry, but in my heart I’m thinking Jesus would have thought what we’re doing right now is NOT okay.

Third, when President Trump blames the Democrats for this he reminds me of an abusive boyfriend or husband. Follow my line of thinking here.

I was in an abusive relationship once when I had a boyfriend with a volatile temper. It was mostly verbal and emotional abuse I suffered, but once in a while I would get hit and thrown around too. I remember so vividly that instead of taking responsibility for his own actions, he would deflect the blame onto me. It was my fault that he had to treat me that way. So many times he would tell me that if only I would just change in this way or that, he wouldn’t get so mad at me to the point where I would have to suffer his wrath. In other words, I made him treat me that way. (Fortunately, I was able to eventually escape that relationship. But it was only after being far removed from it that I realized how insidious his logic was.)

So how do I use that experience to make the analogy to President Trump? He says he doesn’t like to see children separated from their parents, but the Democrats are making him do it. Yes, if only the Democrats would cave to his demands and agree to build that stupid wall, then he wouldn’t have to use these children as political pawns and rip them away from their mothers’ arms. Okay, that’s a load of crap. He can stop this at any time. Just like an abusive husband – deflecting the blame for his own actions and resisting any accountability.

Mind you, this isn’t a Democrat versus Republican thing. There are good people on both sides. And both sides should know that we are in the middle of a moral crisis here. Not Democrat versus Republican, but right versus wrong.

I guess in this day and age, maybe the divide of right versus wrong seems gray at times. But I would think common sense would dictate that all of us, no matter what side we’re on, would see this as so obviously wrong.

Call your congressional representatives. Call your senators. Express your outrage. And for God’s sake, the next time any of us want to look at refugees and immigrants as the bad guys, as the enemies, as animals (Trump’s words, not mine), please remember that we are all children of God. We are all fellow human beings.

Do what’s right.

JCI Revive!

On April 2, 1998 – 20 years ago next week – I joined my local chapter of the Jaycees. At the time, I had just had my second baby and was acclimating as a new stay-at-home

mom. After about three months of cleaning up soiled diapers and folding laundry each day, I started to wonder, “Is this all there is?” I knew I needed to pursue some kind of interest beyond just being a mommy.

So one day in the community paper I saw that the local Jaycee chapter was hosting a “Meet the Jaycees” night. I called the contact number for more information and spoke to a very nice person named Natalie. I ended up going that night and before the event was over, I was sworn in as a member.

I jumped in. Within a month I was newsletter editor. The next year I was Individual Development Vice President. Then Management Vice President (twice). And then, ultimately, President in 2002.

We were an active chapter with a diverse array of programming – social stuff, along with professional development events, charity fundraisers, and then the various community events we participated in, from corn booths at the fair to annual prayer breakfasts, to Christmas events to benefit underprivileged children, to hosting parties for developmentally disabled adults.

The wealth of projects made us a very well-rounded chapter. And I was proud to have served such a dynamic and active chapter. The year I was president, we had approximately 76 members in our chapter by the end of the year. I know this, because this is the number we needed to receive “Blue Chip” status from the national organization.

During my tenure I was honored with many awards. I still have many, but only a couple of the most special ones hang on my wall: the presidential appreciation plaque with my gavel; and my framed and matted JCI Senate certificate, which I received in 2004. Plus the lifetime membership award I received to the Boone County Jaycees.

So, long story short – Jaycees had quite the impact on my life. Though I do hit an event every once in a while, I’m no longer very active, as I’m not supposed to be. The organization is specifically for 18 to 40 year olds, the purpose to develop these young people into young leaders. I’m way over the age of 40, so my time is up.

But I do have three sons ages 18 to almost 23. Wouldn’t it be special if someday they were active in the JCI organization! I’m not sure how that could happen. The oldest has moved away to Lexington, the younger two are in school. But having learned what I have about the organization of late, I think it would be awesome if my own kids could someday become active. (I’d even pay their first-year dues.)

I happened upon the JCI national/international website a few weeks ago and I have to say, I’m impressed. While I have at times had questions whether the organization was going to make it here 

in the states, it appears the organization has rebranded itself into a massive global effort where all young people are invited to do their part to make a positive impact in the world. JCI is so much more than just what we do here in Kentucky. No, JCI is active throughout the world – in Europe, in South and Central America, in Japan, and in Africa, among others. There are just so many opportunities to make the world a better place while at the same time developing yourself to be the leaders of tomorrow. Check it out for yourself: go to https://jci.cc.

There are still some chapters that are active, but many are led by more seasoned members – some of whom are past the Jaycee age. This, of course defeats the purpose of the organization to train up and coming young leaders.

I think if my boys were to get involved (a big if, of course), it would have to be on their own terms, by starting their own chapter from the ground up – one they can own from the start. I know they have plenty of buddies they can recruit.

And one thing I’ve learned about recruiting is that if you start out with a few young men, the young women will follow. (Come on, oldest son, at least have you and your friends check out the website and see if their would be something you’d be vaguely interested in.)

So if any of you has near grown children over the age of 18 – children who could benefit from becoming engaged in their community, have them check out this organization. They’re nice people, of course. And what makes them particularly special is that each one has his or her particular vision for making the world a better place.

And given this current climate of unproductive political discourse, intolerance for diversity, and limited empathy for the plight of others, I can’t help but wonder if an international organization such as JCI may be the catalyst for more open dialogue, greater understanding and an enhanced sense of compassion for others.

And maybe it’s not initially a project that changes the world. Maybe it’s simply selling corn at a county fair to make enough to provide some nice gifts to underprivileged kids at Christmas. Sometimes the path to changing the world comes in small steps.

All I know is I greatly valued my time with the organization. I found a sense of purpose there. I’d love to pass it on!

The Jaycee Creed

We believe:

That faith in God gives meaning and purpose to human life;

That the brotherhood of man transcends the sovereignty of nations;

The economic justice can best be won by free men through free enterprise;

That government should be of laws rather than of men;

That earth’s great treasure lies in human personality;

And that service to humanity is the BEST WORK OF LIFE.

If you’re over 18 and looking for a great outlet beyond your work for making great friends, developing professionally and making a difference in your community then check it out:  https://jci.cc.

Counting My Blessings

It’s 6 am, though I’ve been awake since 4:30 am. I wake up around 4 or 4:30 every morning. I think it’s the curse of the middle-aged woman. So I decided to get up, though it’s too early to really do anything. So why not pound out a few words for a blog that barely received any attention

this year?

It is now Black Friday – the Friday after Thanksgiving. Yesterday was busy, as I was pretty much in the kitchen all day (and the day before, also). Of course, I sat with my family for the traditional Thanksgiving prayer, but didn’t really have time to ponder what I am really, truly thankful for. So let me get a couple of obvious ones out of the way, then go on to others. First the obvious ones:

• Family. Of course, family. No matter how dysfunctional a family one may come from, it’s always appropriate to be thankful for family. I am especially thankful, though, for the family I have raised – a quite stable family, may I add. Ed and I have been married going on 24 years. And Clay, Luke and Sam make us so proud, every day. Between school activities, outside community service projects and his job, I don’t know how Sam manages to remain a straight-A student juggling a challenging course load. His skills for time management are impeccable. I would have never guessed that a couple of years ago. Luke is about to begin his first co-op as an electrical engineering major at the University of Louisville. He’ll be working for the Louisville’s utility company as part of the transmission analysis team. I don’t know what that entails, but I’m sure he will be good at it. Clay is graduating from the University of Kentucky in a couple of weeks with a biology degree. He’s currently in a time of discernment, trying to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life. In the meantime, he’s a certified nursing aid at the local hospital. This job requires him to figuratively roll up his sleeves and literally get his hands dirty (in other words, he wipes a lot of rear ends). I don’t think Clay knows how much I respect him for doing the work that he does. The job isn’t always pleasant, and for a 22-year-old kid to give it a go for a little while (even if it’s ultimately not his intended career) says a lot about his character. So with my wonderful husband and three precious boys (none of whom have ever been in any kind of trouble, thank goodness), I am most definitely thankful for family. (Of course, this includes my mom and dad, brother, and all my extended family members, including my one surviving grandmother.)

• My friends. Yes, pretty obvious. Whether from my women’s meet-up group, the Jaycees, church, tennis, or anywhere else, I love to get out and just have some girl-time with my friends.

• Work. Another obvious one. I’m so thankful to not only have a job, but one that I like in the Patient Experience Department at St. Elizabeth Healthcare. This year has been especially rewarding, as a project I’m involved in shadowing physicians has enabled me to have a little more direct contact with patients. So much of the interactions I’ve watched between physicians and their patients have been interesting. On a couple occasions, when spouses admitted to the physicians that they could no longer care for their spouses at home, it had me wondering. Of me and my husband, which one of us will it be that will someday have to tell a doctor that we can no longer care for the other? It’s a sad thought, and hopefully it’s way down the road. But so often in healthcare, I think we can be presented with situations where it’s easy to put ourselves in the other person’s shoes. That, of course, is a good thing. I don’t know that there can be too much empathy in healthcare

• Aunt Millie. Okay, she should maybe fall under the “family” category, but I want to give her a paragraph of her own. She’s not doing so well these days. We had to place her in a nursing home in May, and while she is a nice facility, she is slowly withering away – sleeping, losing weight, losing strength, etc. She has dementia, often talking about her own dead relatives in the present tense. Obviously, it’s hard to see this decline, though it’s been gradual for the past four or five years, now. Still, I’m left with my memories of the vibrant woman she once was. The woman who was pretty much a grandmother to my boys. Having never had her own children, she never changed a diaper before my kids came along. Then she went to it like a pro. She was my number one babysitter. I still can see her pulling the boys in a wagon up and down the cul-de-sac at our Kennedy Court home. While we’ve been wondering for years when her time will come, I think Ed and I really think that this holiday season may be her last. So my thoughts are with Aunt Millie and everything she has done for my family.

• My quilting projects. I go slow. I have yet to finish a project this year, though I’m making steady progress on two projects. I don’t get to sew as much as I’d like, but I really like the quiet time when I do. It’s “me” time. I take my speaker and tablet out to my office, set the tablet to Pandora music, light a candle, and then spend the time piecing my quilts as if I was putting a puzzle together. Quilting takes much patience and perseverance. Thus, it’s bet not to rush, but to take it slow and steady. It’s a calming force, which I like.

• My dog. She’s my little baby girl. Spoiled as can be. And she knows it. Much more spoiled than the other two dogs we’ve had. Scout just has the sweetest demeanor. She loves me, though I think she may love the boys more. Too bad for her when they’re all at college. Then it’s just me and my husband.

• Internet shopping. I’ve been doing my Christmas shopping online for at least 15 years now. Love it. When I was younger I used to get into the hustle and bustle of the bricks and mortar stores. Now I just get claustrophobic. With my Amazon Prime membership and the free shipping, I’m good to go. Perhaps someday I’ll venture out again.

• The First Amendment. With such vicious attacks on the free press of late, I feel I need to emphasize how crucial it is that a free society have a free (and sometimes adversarial) press. This is one thing about President Trump that I don’t like (one thing, mind you. Not to say there aren’t many more things I don’t like, but I’m just going to stick with this one. For now, at least.) Thank God for mainstream media – CNN, New York Times, Washington Post, CBS News, etc. Fox News is about the closest thing to state-run media that we have (hence, why Trump pretty much only does interviews with Fox News, fielding total softball questions from his buddy Sean Hannity). Of course, we could completely evolve into a culture that eradicates a free media. I hear there are certain countries that do that – Russia, North Korea, Iran, etc. Wonder how it’s working out for them?

• The First Amendment, Part II: Free Expression. Part of the first amendment is a right to free expression. There’s been a lot of debate lately (instigated by President Trump, no doubt to distract from his own issues) about the appropriateness of professional athletes kneeling during the national anthem to protest racial oppression. Here are my thoughts. I love this nation and proudly stand for the anthem. I don’t doubt that those doing the kneeling also love this nation and want to see certain conditions get better in an already great nation. I don’t think it was ever a slam on our troops, the flag, or our nation in general. Just a peaceful protest. Peaceful protest is not a new thing. It’s happened quite often in our history. Remember the Civil Rights movement? Those who feel that kneeling is disrespectful have every right to feel that way. But those who kneel have every right to do it because it is their First Amendment right to do so. What’s not right is when those who feel offended think they can quash the rights of the others. It’s important to note, I think, that this world would be a boring (and dangerous) place if everyone went along with the consensus. Dissenters keep us on our toes. People should cool it with the uproar and seek to understand the opposite views of others. Anyway, I’m thankful for the troops who put themselves in the service of this country every day. And I’m thankful that one of the reasons they serve is to protect my right to express myself.

• My American Citizenship. All in all, I’m proud to be an American. Our country is great in so many ways. But it has its flaws too. Our political system is made up of folks who don’t really take the interests of the people at heart. They are more worried about getting re-elected. So their votes are up to the highest bidder (which special interest will give to their campaigns). The concept of a career politician is an antiquated one. Term limits should be the new law of the land. Just like we do for president. (Thank God.) Then, maybe when politicians aren’t beholden to special interests we can get some real progress done with things like gun control (I’m sure another mass shooting is just around the corner), labor laws (such as a real living wage) and healthcare (it should be a right, not a privilege).

• Finally, I’m thankful for my health. I think I feel better now at 52 than I did at 32. Other than a shaky left knee (a result of dislocating it 20 years ago), I think I’m in pretty good shape. I’ve lost a little weight.  I do okay on the tennis court, and I’ve made a resolution to take up hot yoga again this winter. I used to get really depressed in the winter – seasonal affective disorder. But not so much anymore. I’ve found a couple of great things about winter – roaring fires in my fireplace, and college basketball (mostly UK Wildcats, though I like to take in a Louisvillle game too when I can). Oh, and I burn a lot of candles in the wintertime, too. Somehow it gets me through.

These are the things I am thankful for. This is pretty much the big stuff. Every day I’m thankful for a host of small stuff too – whether it be my food processor, the mail coming on time, a bargain I found at the store or online, the dog curling up in my lap, a two-hour happy hour with friends, and so on. Yes, sometimes I get down about things – not enough money, too much debt, occasional lapses in self-confidence, etc. So it’s good to take stock sometimes about what you’re thankful for. I’m glad I did. It shows me that I truly am blessed.

Looking Ahead to 2017

My husband told me he doesn’t make New Year’s resolutions. Good enough. I’m not sure I do any more, either. But as we begin a new year, I find it a good time to reflect on the challenges down the road this coming year. Maybe it’s what I hope to do. But I hesitate to really call these things resolutions. So here are some things I hope to do (and yes, some may be harder than others):

•        Pray for our country and the Trump presidency. I don’t normally delve into politics on my blog, but this is a big one. I must confess – he wasn’t my choice. In fact, I’m still scratching my head trying to make sense of it. While I won’t elaborate here, I don’t think much of him as a person. (Mind you, it’s not a Democrat versus Republican thing, it’s just stuff about him.) But I’m really hoping he can win me over. Having said this, I feel I must respect the democratic process that elected him to office. The fact of the matter is, people voted for him, and because of the way our electoral college system works, he was elected. So yes, he will be my president and I truly want him to succeed. His success (as I define it) will only benefit me and my loved ones. So I will pray for him, and put 2017 in God’s hands.
•        Finish this weight loss thing. I began my latest weight management journey in August, and am feeling much better. So at least that’s one thing I don’t have to begin from scratch with the new year. So far, down 42 pounds (and for those wondering how, the New Direction very low calorie diet through the St. Elizabeth Physicians Weight Management Center). I still have about another 20 pounds to lose. And then, after that is when I’ll hit the more challenging part – keeping it off. I’ve done well at being focused on this, but admit that I haven’t lost quite as much during the holidays. But I guess I did good to maintain. As we hit the New Year, I have a renewed focus.
•        Complete Clay’s quilt. I’ve made quilts for my sons Luke and Sam. Now it’s Clay’s turn. I started it a while back but I’m still early in the process. I’m hoping to turn it up a gear, as I’d like to have it done by the time he graduates college this summer.
•        Stay strong. I mean this in a more emotional sense. Within the next few months we will most likely be transitioning Ed’s aunt to a higher level of long-term care. I think I’m procrastinating at beginning the process because the prospect of this breaks my heart.
•        Look forward to new professional challenges. In March I will have been with St. Elizabeth Healthcare for three years. Considering the tenure of most employees there, this still makes me a rookie. But I’m so grateful to be a part of this organization and its mission. New challenges are in store for me in 2017, and I certainly hope I’m up for those challenges. This is but one thing that brings me to my next point.
•        Overcome my fear of failure. How many people fail to try something out of fear they may fail? So many, I’m sure. I try to tell myself that the only real failure is to not try at all. And that occasional failure may be a means for becoming better and stronger. If we learn from our failures, are those not learning opportunities? I try to see it that way. Yet it’s hard when you so desperately want to be perfect the first time (or the second or third) and to please the people you serve.
•        Blog more. I launched this blog several years ago during a challenging time in life – probably more as a coping mechanism than anything. Anything I post online is meant to be read. I wouldn’t post it if it wasn’t for anybody and everybody to read. But I guess the blog is more for me than anyone else. I would still write it even if nobody read it. Still, if anything in any of my posts has ever provided insight, or wisdom, or just touched your heart, that’s great too. I think I only wrote two blogs in all of 2016. Let’s see if I can double or triple that in 2017. Still, I don’t want to post something just for the sake of posting. But when I feel inspired to write, it seems the words just flow.
•        Pray more. This goes without saying. I realize my relationship with God could always be stronger, and should go beyond church on Sunday and evening grace at the dinner table. I do try to live my life as God would want me – which includes following Christ’s example of love and tolerance for all.

OK, so that’s enough. That’s just a few things I’m facing as we enter 2017. I’m sure I’ll think of more. I guess my first challenge is to try to come down from the emotional high of the holidays and brace for the winter ahead. I would say let’s skip January and February and head straight to March, but then wouldn’t I be wishing my life away? Besides, something really awesome could happen between now and then. I just might not know what it is.

No, I won’t wish my life away. Nor will I become overwhelmed by these various to-do’s. And besides, one thing age has taught me is to not get so freaked out, even if I have an ambitious agenda.

So maybe I do have just a couple of resolutions for 2017.

I’ll take life one day at a time.

I’ll remember to stop and breathe.

And most of all, I’ll have the faith to put it all in God’s hands.