Monthly Archives: September 2017

Who Changed The Rules?

00 NothumsMy dad was an immigrant. He came to the United States in January 1930. Yes, just as the Great Depression was going on, and my dad’s family saw this country as the land of opportunity even during this time.

These boys grew up and started their own businesses. The ones that did not start their own businesses were somehow involved in business with their brothers. Here is the list of their entrepreneurial endeavors from this group of brothers: building contractors, land developer, inventor of the machine that makes seamless gutters, owner of HVAC company, owner and manufacturer of food processing systems, owner of of a gutter and siding installation business, and the list goes on and on.

None of this came easy for them. They worked hard to support their families and to build their businesses. The boys served the United States in the military. They appreciated what this country had done for them, and they honorably served to protect our freedoms.

00 little meWhen I was a little girl, I learned the “Pledge of Allegiance” and the “The Star Spangled Banner,” our national anthem, along with “America the Beautiful,” in school. It was part of our daily school life.  We learned about pride of our country and those who served our country.  I am very proud to be an American.

On September 11, 2001, many of our citizens of the U.S. and others around the world died from a senseless act of terrorism in New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington D.C.  I remember people displaying their American flags. We began singing “God Bless America” during the 7th inning stretch of the baseball games. There was great pride in the symbol of freedom, of our country, and the courage we had to stand in the midst of our suffering.

Since these days, something has turned upside down. Our American flag was the symbol of our freedom—all the freedoms that are in the constitution, and a symbol of the American dream. It was a symbol that our veterans fought and gave their lives so we could enjoy the free speech and the right of assembly. Work hard, be honest, treat others with respect, and succeed. It never represented a president, or an administration, or a particular issue in our history. It represented the freedom for ALL in the United States of America.

I have voted in every presidential election since I became voting age. That is a lot of presidents. I didn’t vote for all winners or all losers. I have never voted one party over the other. My political leanings covered all parties. Some of our leaders I was satisfied with, but on the most part, I learned that they are all flawed. None of them will be the perfect leader. Regardless, we are required to honor whoever is in charge. We don’t have to like them, and there were plenty of presidents I did not like. My faith says that I should respect them. God has allowed these leaders in place for whatever His purpose may be. As a Christ follower, I must respect that.

I think that is the operative word — respect. People seem to have lost respect lately. Children are raised without rules. Parents want to be their buddies rather than their parents, instead of guiding them and setting boundaries for their children’s protection and to teaching them how to behave in the world.  Part of parenting is setting rules (boundaries) and if not followed, consequences ensue. This will teach children how they must get along in a world where their actions, good or bad, will always have good or bad consequences.

Social media and entertainment has made fun of authority. It is no longer an honorable thing to be one in authority, it is mocked, and the children pick up this from the adults and media. They don’t have to follow any rules, there are no consequences for breaking any rules.

00 kneelingI quit watching sporting events and a lot of television, because I am tired of the mean-spirited action of others. I didn’t stop in this presidential administration. I did it earlier. I got tired of “satire” in which we make fun of human beings who were created in the image of God. I refuse to watch professional football because it breaks my heart that players dishonor the country that gives them the freedom to play sports and chose whatever career they want. I know we have have some deep issues that need resolving, but refusing to show respect when the national anthem is played at a sporting venue is the ultimate of disrespect to me. It hurts me deeply.

Kneeling doesn’t solve the problem that makes them angry. If you don’t like what is going on around you, run for office, volunteer to serve in your community. Remember the old saying, “You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” You may get my attention by kneeling during the National Anthem, but you won’t win me over with that. Love, yes, love is what is needed. I will listen when someone reaches out in love. Show me you mean these things by the actions in your life. Don’t make the divide bigger, use love to close the gap. I will listen to you when you quit telling people they are wrong—and that is for everyone on all side of an issue.

Its time for adults to be adults. Entertainment to be entertainment. There is a time and a place for everything.

DadsflagI love the country in which I live. It is far from perfect. It has real problems. But it is no different than the people who inhabit this country. We all have problems. We all see the world from the perspective in which we were raised, educated, and continue to be educated. It is what we call diversity. If we educate out of anger, all we teach is anger.

Right now, I am embarrassed by what I see going on in this country I love. I would just like to hide away from it all. Someone give me a call when this is over and we are all friends again. That’s what I would like to do, but that is not reality.

I am not sure how to reach out. I have struggled with this. I have come to the realization that for me it is to love whomever I come in contact. A few years ago, I wrote an ignition statement (the thing that catches me on fire), and a vision statement for my life. It states:

I want to enjoy each day to the fullest, show love to others, be a light to those who want direction, accepting others where they are, being their cheerleader, showing passion, forgiveness, love and connection. My Life Vision is: To let others know they are not alone in their challenges, they have value and worth and a voice. I want to be surrounded by those I love and enjoy the grace of their love to reach out and share it with others.

I am not perfect with either of those, but on occasion I pull these statements up and read them and remind myself what I think my mission is here on earth.

Everyone, take a deep breath. When is the last time you prayed for our country? Prayed for those in leadership? Prayed for your neighbor? When is the last time you reached out to someone in need, no matter how large or small that need may be. When we are self focused, we lose sight of the big picture. When we no longer put ourselves in the selfish middle, and look to see who is standing next to us, we can begin to work together.

All people has value and worth. Everyone has a voice. I want to use our voices harmoniously. I can shout and scream, or talk over someone. Or, I can harmonize with others, singing different notes, but blending the sweet music of our thoughts and lives together. What beautiful music we can make, if we just try.  Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:39).  It’s all about love.

00 Verse

Please understand and respect that these are my thoughts and feelings. I welcome comments, but do not welcome name calling by any side. Discussion, in my opinion, should always start from a position of love. We don’t have to agree with each other. Disagreement is not the same thing as hate. If  you want to make a comment that agrees or disagrees with my thoughts and feelings, you may do so if done in a respectful way.  Thank you.

Do You Have Class?

00 Andrea

My Senior Photo 1966

Class reunions — have you ever attended one? Why do we get together for such events? A better question — what can we make of such events? Are they for getting together and reminiscing about our youth and the crazy things we have done? Are they for us to show up and show everyone we really made it in the world? What are the reasons you have attended or not attended a reunion?

I have attended several high school class reunions. I attended the 10th, 20th, 40th, 45th, and 50th. When I was a senior in high school, the thought of being 50 years older sounded like an impossibility. Surely we would all be dead by then, because isn’t 67 or 68 years old really ancient to a 17 and 18 year old? Ha!

lindberghschoolsI attended Lindbergh High School in St. Louis, Missouri. I didn’t have any friends in high school. I had acquaintances, some really nice acquaintances, but not true friends. I am the youngest of three daughters in my family, My dad was an immigrant who arrived in the U.S. at the age of ten. My mom was a first generation American—both her parents were immigrants. They were hard workers, and went for the American dream. My dad started a business as a building contractor when I was a little girl. He said during that time we kids wore patches on our patches. I don’t remember being poor. I don’t think children know what poor is—if they are in a loving home, they are fed, and have clothes to wear, they don’t know that their parents are struggling to make ends meet. My parents never went to high school. They thought their daughters needed to be educated, but I don’t think they really were sure what that meant.

My parents were also very religious. My whole upbringing revolved around the church. We were in church every Sunday. My mother taught Sunday School, and she was the church treasurer. The “approved” people for me to be friends with were the kids from church.  We attended a small church. Almost everyone was related. There was probably never over 50 people, if that many, in attendance any Sunday. My social life revolved around church.

When I was in high school, I got involved my junior and senior years in drama club. I 00 Junior Playwas not an actor. I probably could have been, but I had no confidence in myself, so I was happy to take roles working on the business side of productions. I did publicity. I still have copies of the newspaper articles I wrote for the local newspapers promoting the Junior Play, “Meet Me in St. Louis.” I worked back stage at our largest production, the annual variety show, and my senior year I was in charge of ticket sales. I carried a lot of money on me everyday selling tickets, reconciling the sales to the tickets, and daily turning in the proceeds to the school office.

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LHS Class of 1966

I worked with many classmates, but I didn’t socialize with these classmates. I never felt as good as I thought they were. I know that sounds funny, but I thought they were all connected with each other.  They went to school dances together. I wasn’t allowed to go to dances. They joined clubs and the girls had sleepovers. I wasn’t part of that.

So, the first reunion rolled around 10 years after graduation. I still remember it. I was now married, had two children, and just found out that I was pregnant with baby #3, but not showing. I felt good about my ten years of accomplishments—I had a bachelor’s degree, a husband, a house, and 2.5 children. I think I went to the reunion because I was curious how my classmates did. I liked them, and cared to see them. I also think I wanted them to know I was successful like them. I wasn’t the odd girl who couldn’t associate with them. Whatever . . . .

I went on to attend the 20th, and then took a break for whatever reason until the 40th reunion. I even volunteered to be on the committee for the 40th reunion. This reunion was a turning point for me. We were at a committee meeting, and the registrations were rolling in. There was a person who registered for the reunion that none of us on the 00 40thcommittee recognized as a classmate. He must have been, he was on our list of alumni, and he responded. One of the committee members stated that we were no longer 17. It didn’t matter if we didn’t know him, we needed him to feel welcome. Wow! We were no longer thinking like teenagers. That was the beginning of the best reunions. There was a small turnout. We had 426 graduates in our class, and the total turnout was about 100 with half being spouses. We passed around the microphone and let each classmate share whatever they wanted. We talked to everyone, and the evening was a success. That evening one of my classmates came up to me and invited me to join a large group of them going to a local bar after the reunion. Really? I’m in the “in-crowd” and have been invited to an after party?

That reunion was the beginning of a shift in our class reunions. Everyone had such a good time that a group of local classmates got together informally at a restaurant for dinner on a bimonthly basis. This is how I started to become friends with a group of folks that I didn’t even associate with in high school.

IMG_5617We repeated the small reunion for our 45th. I really pushed for the 45th reunion because shortly after our 40th, one of our attendees passed away. We had good addresses for the class, and we were getting older. Time to meet more often. Once again, we connected, not as buddies from high school, but as adults who had lived life.

Last year we had our 50th reunion. It was by far the best reunion we had. Approximately 10% of our class are deceased. It may be more—there are about 100 folks whom we have lost all contact information. Some could be deceased in that group also. We had a very large turnout of classmates, who traveled from afar to attend. I set up a Facebook page exclusively for the reunion, and over 150 joined that page. For over a year, we had conversations on this page about our lives as classmates. That Facebook group page is still going strong. People still post on it, and some even plan events for the group on this page.

A few things we all learned over the 50 years:

  • We were all insecure in high school.
  • We have all gone through life with good things and bad things happening throughout our journey.
  • We don’t care who you were in high school, but we care about you now.
  • Just because we weren’t friends in high school doesn’t mean we cannot become friends as adults.
  • No one was or is better than the other.

14468569_10210365500231524_2316933569860910525_oI now have a lot of friends, or really great acquaintances, from high school. The group in St. Louis still get together on occasion. One classmate who lives out-of-town wanted to see everyone when she came home for Christmas, thus the annual Faux New Years party began. This year will be the third such party. It is called a Faux New Years party because it occurs one evening between Christmas and New Years at a local restaurant, and we are usually done before midnight.

I have learned that we may not be best friends, but we love to see each other, and to share our lives today. This past August my husband and I hosted an Eclipse Party at our home. We live in an area of total eclipse. About 20 classmates and their spouses drove 90 miles to our home to spend the day, having a pot luck, watching the eclipse, swimming in the pool, and visiting. Not a single one of these folks did I hang out with in high school. It doesn’t matter. We are not 17 anymore.

I have heard other people say that their high school class is still snobbish even years later. That is too bad. They lose the joy of getting to know each other, and caring about them in their later years. Our group is diverse. We are not the same politically, or by religion, or life style. The thing that is important is that we shared a small time in history together, and now we have reconnected to appreciate what each has lived for 50 years, and we rejoice in their good news, and we grieve along with them in their hard times.

What a blessing to be able to go full circle with a group of people from my youth.

Version 2

All my friends (who weren’t my friends) at the 2017 Eclipse Party.

“The typical expression of opening Friendship would be something like, ‘What? You too? I thought I was the only one!”

~ C.S. Lewis

For All The Kids

This month (September) is Childhood Cancer Awareness month. What a sad thing that we have to have a month for such an awful disease. Wouldn’t it be great if we could eradicate this disease and not have a month for it?

me judy 2

The last photo I have with my sister.

The truth is, I was very unfamiliar with childhood cancer. That big “C” word really never entered my life until five years ago, when my sister at the age of 67 was diagnosed with cancer and died three months later. She was an adult. Her illness and death turned my world upside-down.

I journaled during this time. This is part of what I wrote:

My sister is very ill Her cancer is in her liver and instead of getting better, she is sicker day by day. Want to feel helpless in this world? Be around a very sick person. I sit in her hospital room and she sleeps. Just sleeps. Her face is red with fever. She opens her eyes for seconds and then falls back asleep, and I sit there wondering what I could do to make her feel better, to make her well. And there is nothing. So I visit with her husband and chat, and go to my laptop and read or write, but concentrating is not easy. Nurses come in and out. They change the infusion bags. I watched 2 units of life-giving blood go into her veins, but I don’t see more life. I see a big brown bag of something, dripping into her–the chemotherapy drugs. It will be hanging there for 24 hours. Big bags of fluid and little bags of specialized meds and antibiotics flow into her veins. And yet she still sleeps.

The tears well up when I see so many hurdles. It aches in my chest. All I can do is sit there for hours, go home exhausted, as if I just ran a marathon. Sleep comes easy. I’m too tired to think of anything else.

This is a good time for me to get in my “God Spot.” That very spot where I know I am completely loved by the creator of the universe. How awesome is that? He loves me completely. He loves my sister completely. He holds us all in his arms. I close my eyes and I feel his loving arms around me. I feel the comfort he gives. Is my sister suffering? Yes, she is. But I must not forget that Christ suffered to death. He knows pain, he knows suffering. He understands, and not only does he hold me in his arms, he holds her in his arms. See the scars? He suffered. He knows. He loves.

Tears flow. My breathing stops for a second. I don’t know her pain. I don’t know Christ’s pain. I only know my pain. If feels so selfish. I am here. I am waking up, eating, walking, talking, seeing my family, seeing my friends. I am having good days and bad days, I am experiencing life, and it all seems so selfish right now. Yet, God knows. He says that is okay–he loves me in my weakness and in my strength. And I need to feel his loving arms right now.

This time was so hard, and yet I cannot imagine what it would be like to be a parent watching their young child go through this awful disease.

Did you know that:

ChildCancerRibbonMagnet

  • Forty-six (46) children are diagnosed everyday with cancer in the United States?
  • One (1) in five (5) of these children will not beat the disease?
  • The average age for cancer diagnosis in a child is 6 years old?
  • One (1) in 285 children will be diagnosed with cancer by the age of 20?
  • Most of the drugs used in fighting their cancer are over 20 years old?
  • More U.S. children are lost to cancer than any other disease?
  • Every day seven (7) children in the U.S. die from cancer?
  • One (1) in 333 girls and one (1) in 300 boys in the U.S. will be diagnosed with cancer this year?
  • Less than 4% of the National Cancer Institutes’ funding supports research of childhood cancer?

I am searching for statistics. I went to the American Cancer Society’s website and found a link to a Powerpoint presentation of 2017 statistics. It’s 22 pages plus a cover page—only one page discusses childhood cancer.

IMG_3026Why do I know all this today?

Four years ago I moved to Fulton, Missouri. Shortly after moving there I met a neighbor and we chatted. I asked her about all my neighbors. She told me that the little boy who lived next door to me had been diagnosed with cancer and his family was out of town so he could get treatment. That little boy was Sam. I never met Sam. He did not win his battle with cancer.

Sam had a twin sister named Ava, and a mom and dad, Cassie and Matt. This family loved this little boy 0 twinscompletely. Sam was an inspiration to his family. When they would say their prayers at night, Sam always wanted to pray for the other children. He was always more concerned about the other kids in the hospital, that they would feel comforted.

Cassie and Matt promised him they would also “Help All the Kids in Children’s Hospital to feel better.” Today they run the Super Sam Foundation. They raise money to provide comfort packs for sick children, their siblings, and their parents. They also raise money 0 Comfort Packfor childhood cancer research. The Super Sam Foundation sponsors an annual 5k in Fulton, Missouri and the annual Super Sam Gala in Columbia, Missouri.

I was blind to the struggles of these children and their families who go through this cancer journey. I know how hard it was for me to lose a sister in her 60’s. I cannot fathom the loss of a child. I can only hope and pray for these kids . . . and do what I can financially to help foundations such as the Super Sam Foundation accomplish the goal of “helping all the kids.”

What can we do? Pray for “all the kids.” Pray for their families. This disease has turned their world upside-down. Start learning about childhood cancer. Donate to a fund that helps these kids. Volunteer our time. Love on all of them.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13

If The Walls Could Talk

IMG_1384Do you ever look at abandoned property and wonder about them? One of the things I first noticed is that when a property is abandoned, how quickly it deteriorates. It seems like if there are people living in a dwelling, even if they are not good at upkeep, the dwelling seems to be standing okay (mostly).

0Abandoned2jpgAs my husband and I travel around the country, I tend to notice abandoned homes. I take photos of many of them. I see these abandoned buildings, and they are collapsing around itself. I wonder what was the life that went on in these rooms. Was it a family with children who ran around the home, playing, laughing, cuddling with their parents? Who lived there? What were their lives like?

abandonedDo the walls talk? What would they tell us? Was this a happy home, or was there a lot of discord? Were there a lot of children living here? Was there fun and laughter? Did they worship together? Did they talk around the dinner table? Was there special celebrations, like Christmas, Easter, and birthdays?

3901Elmhurst-1949.jpgI think about the many homes where I have lived. The first home I remember is near the airport in St. Louis. My dad built the house. It was on the property of my grandparents’ farm. Dad borrowed Grandpa’s mule to dig the foundation of the house. How he did that I am not sure. Shortly after completing the house, the mule died. My dad always chuckled and said that Grandpa said Dad killed that mule! I was a few months old when we moved in that home, and we moved out when I was in 2nd grade. My memories of that home are good. I lived next door to my grandparents. I could walk over to their home, and Grandma would feed me cookies and milk. Next door was my cousin, Gordon. He was my age and my playmate. I do not remember if we moved out first, or if his family moved out first. We had two large pear trees in our yard, and Grandma had a cherry tree in her yard. My sisters would climb the tree and eat the cherries, and on occasion would drop a cherry down to me, who was too little to climb the tree.

ST MOMy next home, my father also built. He now had become a building contractor and built all the houses on our street in the south county of St. Louis. It was a large ranch home—a typical 1950’s style ranch. I didn’t like it when we first moved there because the windows were high, and I had to jump to see out of my bedroom window. That lasted only a short time, as I grew taller, I could see out. I have fond memories of this house. I lived there until I got married. My parents lived there for almost 30 years before they sold it and moved on.

The very first home that I owned as an adult was in Webster Groves, MO. It was a 75 year old home with a beautiful large yard. Three of my four children were born while I lived in that home. We owned our first dog there, and I learned how to garden. I carpeted over the hard wood floors (really? Who does that? It was the 70’s—we liked carpet)! Memories in that home are good.

Front 1I have lived in four other homes since. The one I love the best was the home I had in St. Charles, MO. In 1999, I decided I wanted to move from the neighborhood I was in. I just felt it was going downhill, and that I needed a place to fit my family, as I saw it growing with daughters-in-law, and future grandchildren. I had been a single mom for about 15 years. I now was getting professional positions, had finally gotten my finances in order.  On a fluke, I drove around looking at new housing. I wasn’t looking in the St. Charles area. That was fairly far from where I lived. One of the builder’s homes I was interested in, told me they had other model homes I could look at in St. Charles. They could build those same houses in the area where I was looking. One Saturday I got in my car and drove to St. Charles to look at the model home. I accidentally pulled into the wrong development, and went to look at their model homes. I realized a couple things on that excursion: 1) Homes were less expensive for the same house in this neighborhood, and 2) I liked this new builder’s homes better than the ones in which I was previously interested.

I made that “fork in the road” decision. I decided to step out in see if I could actually house buildpurchase one of these homes. Would I qualify? Could I really have a house built? I picked the floor plan I liked. After looking at several model homes all over town, I actually picked a floor plan of one that I had not seen a model, but by that time, I knew what I was wanting. This was so out of my comfort zone. I signed the contracts and gave them an earnest money check. I drove back to my home in south county. I walked in the door and all my kids were home and chatting in the living room. I walked in and sat down. They all looked at me, and I burst into tears! I then told them that I just signed a contract to get a new home built in an area of town in which I was not familiar. I said that I didn’t even know where the grocery stores were. My oldest son looked seriously at me, and then proceeded to say, “Mom, you used to talk about moving to Phoenix, Arizona. You don’t know where the stores are there either.” It hit me! No one is starving in St. Charles—there must be grocers. This is a new adventure, and I will find the grocery store. Be bold and courageous, and go forth! It took four months to get the house built. My home sold immediately, and I lived in temporary housing with the majority of my belongings in storage. That home in St. Charles had some of the best Christmas celebrations, and 4th of July barbecues. It is the house my grandkids remember when they were little. If the walls could talk, it would tell of such happy times there.

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After living for 14 years in that home, I met my current husband, sold my home, married him, and moved to the country. We have a lovely home in the middle of the woods with a lake and pool out back. This is a home made to entertain—to welcome family and friends to enjoy the serenity of this lovely location. My grandkids have made a lot of new memories here also. My friends have attended my parties and barbecues here.

Will any of these houses be abandoned in the future like the ones I have driven by? I don’t know. It will be sad if that happens. Homes stand because they have life. They give shelter and protection to those who live there. Hopefully, those homes are filled with love and laughter, not sadness and dysfunction.

What would your homes tell if the walls could talk? What are the memories made in your homes? What would you want the walls to say about you? If it’s not what you want, it time to start making those memories now. Get those walls to smile, and tell great stories of the ones who filled the rooms.

Start now building good memories!

house blessing

 

Fork In The Road Decisions

I have come across many fork in the road decisions in my life. It probably didn’t matter what route I took, it would lead to something great, but the decision to go one way or the other, changed the course in my life. One such example is when later in life I decided to go back to school to get my masters degree. It was a huge leap of faith. I had not been a great student, but I was determined to do well if I could get into graduate school. I needed to earn a reasonable living to support myself and plan for my future. Had I not been accepted, or worked hard to get my MBA, I am sure the other fork in the road would have been good—just different.

As we travel down the road of life, we come upon bumps in the road. We come upon detours. Sometimes the road is smooth, and then it gets rough, maybe it’s only a gravel road struggling to get through in inclement weather.

dawWhat does it mean when we come to a fork in the road? It is decision time. It doesn’t matter the issue. It could be a financial, career, relationship, health related, educational, or any other issue. A decision needs to be made. Do I go this direction or the other? It’s a fork in the road, not an intersection. We are not veering off too far. Farther down the road it moves farther out, but not now. It’s just a simple decision.

Many times we get stuck at the fork in the road. We are afraid to make the decision. What if it is the wrong decision? What if it is rough roads down one direction, and not the other? Why can’t I see what is ahead?

When no decision is made, it really is a decision. When we are at that fork in the road and we make no decision, we move forward between the two roads. The problem is that we are now off the road. We are walking through the terrain. Its not smooth. It’s rocky. It’s muddy. It’s messy. All that was needed was a decision.

holding you backWhy do we fear decision-making when making no decision can make life harder? We fear making a mistake. Okay, it’s a mistake. Big deal! So make the turn around and find that fork again. It is better than being stuck in the muck and mire.  Decisions can be scary–and sometimes risky, but they move us farther quicker than winding through the rough terrain. Making no decision takes me off the beaten path. It makes me frustrated. It makes me scared.

I have taken a fork in the road. I am not sure where it will take me. I am a bit scared and nervous, but I am on a path. I am moving forward. What is the new landscape I will see? Who will I meet new by taking this new road? I am sure if I had taken the other road, it would not have been wrong either. It just would take me elsewhere, meeting different adventures and people.  Can I change my mind? Why of course I can. I always have choices and options. Always have new forks in the road, and where it will take me is the new adventure.

There are times that I have been really scared making a decision to go one way or the other. I have to keep in mind my final destination. Will making the decision to go a certain direction still take me there? Whatever way I go will require movement. I cannot stay at the fork in the road.

I took the fork in the road and after a few years, of blood, sweat and tears (well, probably really tears), I received my Masters Degree. Yes, the girl who was not a good student in the past. The girl who was told by her high school counselor that she was not college material. That was all the past. I took a new road—a road less traveled.

Getting my Masters Degree didn’t solve all my problems, but I moved into a career where I believe I made a difference. I met wonderful coworkers whom I would have not met before. I worked with great employees who wanted to work their best. I got to travel and meet many people in my field to learn from them and share my ideas and talent.

YogiOne simple move at that fork in the road. As long as I am living and breathing, I will continue to make decisions to move to new adventures. That’s just who I am.

Decisions are hard. They all require movement. It doesn’t let us stay in one place. It brings energy to the process. We fear to make a decision because we cannot see the full outcome. But making a decision that is good and right and honoring to my Creator, how else can it be but to give a life changing, moving-forward, abundantly full life. There is a sense of peace and serenity to making positive forward-moving decisions.

How do you handle the forks in the road you come upon? Do you fearlessly take the road? Or, do you walk right into the field of muck and mire and then wonder how you got there? What is holding you back from where you want to go? What is the step you can make today to move toward your dreams?

Are voices screaming in your head to stop and not be courageous? Quiet those voices, and take the fork and see what new adventures are in store for you. You may be surprised what you are capable of doing. Get past your fear—take the fork in the road and see a new horizon!

Forkintheroad