Today I felt I was rapidly running up to the proverbial cement writer’s block. Some days I fear writing- who will read it anyway? What if it’s terrible? But, I do it anyway. I sit and I write. I’m discovering that sometimes writing badly can eventually lead to something pretty great. Not writing at all leads to nothing.
When I am procrastinating my writing, I typically do a lot of things that I make look very important like- wiping kitchen counters, vacuuming, and over plucking my eyebrows. I see the distractions as a spritz of grace when I need to take a minute and think about what to share.
This leads me to runner’s block…
My favorite thinking is done when I run. However, I have been told to take a hiatus from running because, according to my orthopedist, my ankle has aged much faster than the rest of my body (wrinkles not included). I mean, the guy looked me right in the eye then back to the x-ray, and said, “I’ve never seen such a thing, but you have the ankle of an 80-year-old”. Naturally, I changed orthopedists. I figured since he was half my age, he couldn’t possibly know what he was jammering on about.
So I received a recommendation from a sporty mom and the new “Doogie Howser” is known for pushing surgery way beyond the back burner. He likes to try many options before surgery. “He’s my guy,” I thought. “I’ll be running again in no time.”
Turns out they all went to the same wacky school and apparently once you see bones rubbing together without any buffer whatsoever, surgery IS the only option. The new doctor said, “As a runner myself (jerk)…I know it will be hard. But you could try other things – Swim! Ride a bike! Jump on an elliptical!” “I’m doing them all,” I told him. “None of which will ever equate to a run, but – I have tried.”
So after many tearful visits and a realization that I need to zip it and count my blessings, I will have the surgery at the end of April. It’s only a one-year recovery. Good gracious. This reminds me, I need to sign up for the 10 free sessions of psychotherapy my insurance covers. My serotonin will be running low, so I’ll have to supplement with a positive mindset and maybe wine.
That’s today’s rant. Go get some fresh air. Maybe go for a run for me 🙂
First off, thanks to anyone who is reading my posts. I hope it makes your day a little brighter or lighter.
I just need to be a mom for a moment. My mind generated so many questions after sitting outside in the cold watching my son play baseball and then not play. So then I started thinking of all the whys? Sometimes we think we know the answers but honestly, I’d rather jump inside people’s heads and crack that code. I guess I better just stick to having Faith with a capital F. Faith that people have reasons.
Here are my whys?
Why is my son not playing? Why is someone else’s son playing? Why am I tired constipated or angry? Why does my son’s stomach hurt again or why is my daughter over tired? Why did my friend get laid off? Why did that teacher resign? Why Trump? Why can’t someone young and spry and kind run for president? Why are people so divided when we are so much alike? Why do we call God, God – why not Hank or Hannah? Why does age bring on wrinkles and sagginess? Why do we cover ourselves with armor, ready to fight in a moment of messiness? Why am I scared of an empty nest? Why don’t I call Mom and Dad every day? Why can’t we lead with mercy and grace? Why? Why? Why?
All questions I can try and answer, but I’ll probably be wrong. So for now, I’ll just seek Serenity.
I’ll end with the Serenity Prayer:
Thanks for joining me, stay positive, and hug your family,
My son Dexter’s life is like a slow, melodic, country music song. He drives a Dodge Dakota, sees big swaths of land as a palette for bike trails and a humble home, kneels at church, loves long country roads, small towns, family, fixin’ things, and wiping his hands on his jeans to perfect the patina. The one gem in his soul that shines the brightest is his faith. Capital F- Faith. Faith that the sun will rise even if it’s overcast and gloomy, and papers are due and midterms are overruling his trail-building time. He has Faith in God and country, and even in today’s world of division and rupture, he has the most remarkable Faith in people.
Which leads me here…
Last night he sent us a picture of his broken bike rack and said it had been hit by a truck. “I know who did it. I was in the bike center and some friends saw the truck and the guy.”
Of course, I reacted instead of slowly sipping his story word by word.
“Well, let’s just order the part, don’t make anyone mad and just wait until there is clear evidence of who did it.” As I was writing this profound and bossy text, he sent us a link to the part he needed. Click, click, and click. “I’ll order now”. I texted back.
The phone rang and as I picked up Dexter said, “Please don’t order that part. The reason I told you about my bike rack is because it is something relevant that is happening right now and I like to keep you updated on my life. I know how to handle this.”
“Wait – what?” I said, trying to sound cool, as my son just went full “adult” on me. I rebounded knowing how darn blessed I am that my kids even care to tell us anything.
I swear, in college, I remember distinctly saying out loud, “The less my parents know, the less they worry.” So, man, I knew something rare was happening. I was like a child on Christmas morning – a big box waiting by the tree and when I ripped it open it was filled with honesty and faith.
“Okay,” I said treading lightly in an attempt to not ruin the moment and jeopardize my chance of him sharing the next “relevant” thing happening in his life.
“Just be careful – remember, it’s just stuff.” I reminded him, leaving my hand in the pot just enough to give it one more stir.
“He has a mullet and a truck, Mama, I think we have a lot more in common than you think. He’s probably a nice guy. I just know what I would do, and maybe he can help me buy the part I need. I know it was 100% an accident.”
After about ten minutes had passed, Dexter called and said he met the guy, they actually went to the same high school. He said the guy felt really bad and paid him for the damage.
This kid has an unscathed faith in people. He sees a mountain and rides right over it, doesn’t skirt around it to find the easiest route. Conquers it, gets to the other side, and coasts to the next.
What I learned:
Trust your kid’s judgment. Have faith in people, and realize as Dexter said, “We’re probably more alike than you think”. Of course, we are. We are all broken and stunned, scared and guilty, chosen and welcome. But no matter what, we are not alone.
As one of my favorite country songs says, “I believe most people are good”. Thanks for restoring my Faith in people, Dexter.
Here are some of the lyrics by Luke Bryan:
I believe kids oughta stay kids
As long as they can
Turn off the screen, go climb a tree
Get dirt on their hands
I believe we gotta forgive and make amends
‘Cause nobody gets a second chance
To make new old friends
I believe in working hard for what you’ve got
Even if it don’t add up to a hell of a lot
I believe most people are good
And most Mama’s oughta qualify for sainthood
I believe most Friday nights
Look better under neon or stadium lights
I believe you love who you love
Ain’t nothing you should ever be ashamed of
I believe this world ain’t half as bad as it looks
#8 Lenten Reflections – Throwback Thursday – On Gratitude
I worked in a sports bar in DC for years. Managers came and went as they did, hoping to climb the exhausting service industry ladder or better yet, open their own establishment. Like most bosses, some had a lasting impact, others shuffled through so quickly, that I barely recall their names. But like most workplaces, life lessons came from teammates, supervisors, customers, and experience.
After working at a non-profit health organization from 9-5, I knew when I arrived at the bar, I had to wipe the day’s slate clean. During the day, I managed various health programs including a smoking cessation project for Hispanic youth. Ironically, I would then schlep over to a bar with a cigarette machine and a cigar bar upstairs. Needless to say, when I swiped into the time clock, I REALLY had to stop thinking about my day’s work and focus on service.
As in most jobs, there are always complainers, and I’m no different. Inside this smoky bar where I spent so many hours, there was one manager named Daryl who did not tolerate moaning. When anyone griped about the minutia – rolling silverware, making a pot of decaf, bussing an extra table, he would always say,
“Step off the wood, Jesus needs the cross”.
His words sent an instant reminder to quit complaining about first-world problems and be grateful for the work we were doing. It certainly squelched a lot of my own grievances and others. It helped all of us realize a bad day didn’t have to tether us but rather guide us to what makes us happy.
So today, be grateful. Grateful for what you can do, grateful for who you have around you, and especially grateful to Jesus for carrying that cross for us. Even when things are at their worst, nothing compares to His sacrifice. Step off the wood, be thankful, and make every day better than the last.
Pray for those you love, those who drive you a little nuts, but mostly pray for a life where you are present and awake and paying attention and being kind to yourselves.
I love music. Everything about it. In college, I worked at a restaurant called Black Bart’s Steakhouse, Saloon, & Musical Review in Flagstaff, AZ. Most nights I carried five plates on my arm filled with T-bone steaks and slung colorful cocktails called things like the “Arizona Sunset” and the “Singapore Sling”. On the half-hour, the staff would stop and we’d all belt out a few Broadway tunes – then as the “Saints Went Marching In” or a favorite “Phantom” song ended with harmony bouncing off the knotty pine walls, it was business as usual. Throughout the night servers would jump on stage to sing assigned solos which were listed on the back of the swinging kitchen door. It was the best job. I sang alongside phenomenally talented people who have gone on to direct movies, sing in operas throughout the world, and work at NPR. Some of us teach and blog. Well, that might just be me, but I’ve got some priceless memories and really cool friends.
I am always hunting for fun music that I can connect with, so when I was reading the “Deamon Deacon” a fantastic, daily blog put out at my daughter’s university, I stumbled upon a recommendation for a soulful song by 20-year-old Aimee Carty that blew me away.
Aimee Carty is a young Irish singer/songwriter who is a master of storytelling. Each song is laden with wonderfully catchy lyrics that sound like a journal entry. “Two Days into College” is one of those songs I want to memorize, analyze, and share. Today I walked the dogs and listened to it five times. Possibly seven. I couldn’t stop listening. Carty’s voice is absolutely delightful and heartwarming and as she sits at the piano singing, you just want to be in the room with her and hang out.
One evening while we were washing dishes, I played “Two Days into College” in the kitchen and heard my son singing along. Turns out he had already heard it on TikTok. You see, sports and music are his main feed, so although he had seen Carty sing the song herself, he had recently seen Duke basketball player, Jared McCain singing the introduction to “Two Days into College” on TikTok. Turns out I’m not the only one who memorized the lovely and honest lyrics. It went viral. McCain boosted her name, it was so sweet.
The lyrics read like prose…a story she jotted in her journal or just told her friend on the phone. She talks about her first two days of college, being behind (already), worrying about doing too much or not enough, messy rooms, and a boy she named Collin who doesn’t play guitar.
Carty makes it effortless to relate to her song…as those two days could be the first of anything: a new job, a first date, the first moments of grief or joy or wonder.
And isn’t it so, that every day we are on the cusp of sorrow or stress, bliss or the unknown, maybe we should take two days at a time and reflect like Aimee Carty.
I’ll leave you with her healing, wise words:
God, I know The one thing that’s important above everything else Is to learn not to put all this heavy pressure on myself I try believe it when I say “If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen anyway I’ll be fine”
I’ve got time I’ve got time That’s where I’m at, to be honest Just two days Two days into college
Note: I have no idea why everything above is in italics. I pressed something after midnight and couldn’t “undo” it. Even after saying a few choice words. Some things are just meant to be I guess. Have a happy day.
“The greatness of a community is most accurately measured by the compassionate actions of its members.” – Coretta Scott King
Since you all are on this daily journey with me, I wanted to give you an update on the baseball equipment that was stolen from my son’s locker room over the weekend. Unfortunately, the items were not found, nor were the culprits.
However, what was revealed was priceless. In less than 24 hours — numerous baseball teams, alumni, neighbors, and families reached out and donated equipment and money to help get the team ready for our Monday night game.
So thanks to the love and generosity of our community, we were back in business! And who knows, the gloves and bats may turn up someday…
Coincidentally, I stumbled upon a fascinating article about a couple who frequented a Goodwill Superstore in Florida. One day the wife glanced at some sports equipment on a shelf, and staring right at her was her son’s baseball glove he had lost 40 years ago and 1,000 miles away.
Apparently, he left it on a baseball field in Ohio after a Little League All-Star game. He had hustled over on his bike the following morning to try and find it, but no luck. Until 40 years later! His mom bought it for $1.49.
So who knows, maybe years from now these boys will get their well-worn baseball gloves back, but for now, they will be just fine. After all, they are surrounded by a loving, kind, and generous community – what a blessing.
Thanks for joining me,
~Lucretia
Quotes I love:
For every soul, seeing Him in her own way, doubtless communicates that unique vision to all the rest. That, says an old author, is why the Seraphim in Isaiah’s vision are crying “Holy, Holy, Holy” to one another (Isaiah 6:3). The more we thus share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall have.” – C.S. Lewis
Before our son left for baseball this morning, a huge hawk landed on the fence (his high school mascot is a Hawk). She sat there calmly as hawks do waiting motionless for a squirrel or maybe the rasckly rabbit that uses our yard as a port-a-potty. I turned away for a second and she was gone. Off to hunt or build or perch.
I thought back to an early summer morning at the ball field where I watched a hawk skillfully carry a large stick to the tippy top of one of the tall baseball lights surrounding the baseball facility. She and Mr. Hawk were building their nest stick by stick carrying pine needles, pieces of bark, and twigs crafting a wide home with an amazing bird’s eye view (pun intended) of four different baseball fields. For the next hour, I watched them work tirelessly as parents do to set up a safe, sturdy home. Apparently, hawks are big fans of fixer upers so it may be that they refurbished the nest – ah…very green, forward thinkers.
I read that once the hatchlings are ready to leave, the whole family picks up and abandons the nest. Wow – I thought – our nest is nearly empty, but given the cost of housing right now, we may not vacate our little home right away. Luckily our brood knows how to find their way back home and to the laundry room. One of Dexter’s favorite facts to proclaim when he comes home is “I’m just a guest!” This is his lame attempt at weaseling his way out of clearing the dish rack or helping with dinner. None of us fall for it.
What does it mean if I see a hawk?
The symbolism of the hawk is vast. Some view the hawk as a symbol of strength and protection. Other theories say seeing a hawk can be a sign from the universe that it’s time for you to grow spiritually, and intellectually and seek your true potential. They can inspire and guide you in decision-making and keep you poised and focused in the process.
I’m going to say it’s like having a bunch of 3-pound, striped-bellied, red-tailed life coaches waiting to help us along our journey. Maybe give us a little nudge towards hope. Let’s be clear, hawks can’t necessarily help you decide whether you should make pasta or use DoorDash for dinner and they won’t guide you to buying Bitcoin or push you into an IRA. They can, however, be a source of connection and joy.
“Raptor guys” they called themselves (sounds like superhero brothers fighting crime).
Turns out, they are all-knowing “Birders” who found joy, solace, and brotherhood in the osprey, Cooper Hawk, and the Red-tailed…they knew them all. They discussed them all. They delighted in them all…up until their last moments together and beyond.
In the article, one brother says:
“We talked about owls and osprey and eagles and kites and falcons and other raptors, too. But mostly we talked about hawks because we knew hawks and saw hawks every day and had always both been addled and thrilled by hawks and we always would be, even after one of us was ashes in a stone box under an oak tree.”
Hawks. Such a miraculous and healing bird. (Go Hawks!)
Thanks for joining me,
~Lucretia
Word of the day:
Addled: adjective- unable to think clearly; confused
When Zavier was 2, he rode his Zebra fiercely down the sidewalk with quick Flinstone feet, always looking backward. “Look in front of you!” I’d yell – worried he’d crash into his brother on his scooter or sister immersed in her Babysitter Club book on the grass. What could possibly be so interesting behind him?
As I was reading the book Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, essentially a foraging of oneself along a path littered with suffering, surrender, and serenity…I thought of Zavier’s rearview mirror gaze. I thought about how I am guilty of looking back, and wishing things were the way they used to be instead of how they are, right here, right now – embracing who I am: tired eyes, post-50 love handles and gray roots – even though the little box of color said “6 weeks of color”.
In the story, following an exchange with Buddha, Siddhartha continues his journey in search of where he belongs, wrestling with every decision. “At that moment, when the world around him melted away, when he stood alone like a star in the heavens, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of icy despair, but he was more firmly himself than ever. That was the last shudder of his awakening, the last pains of birth. Immediately he moved on again and began to walk quickly and impatiently, no longer homewards, no longer to his father, no longer looking backwards.” As Siddhartha searches for the Self, he finds the struggle comes from fear of himself and running away from his truth.
I thought about our old dog Misty, who would constantly glance back when she ran with me and I let her off the leash. She would bolt ahead, only to stop and make sure I was still behind her. I was always leery to let her run off-leash thinking she’d decide to really catch the squirrel this time – once I thought I’d lost her, but on that snow-white day in Maryland, she was out running with deer in a field, an unmitigated sanctuary. She saw me and came right back. The elation she showed when flying down a hill, herding another dog during a game of fetch, or jumping in the water was priceless. Had I restricted her or squelched her natural courage, she would have lost all of those moments dogs need to thrive and be alive. We all need off-leash moments. A time to let go of the tethers in life and push forward on our own accord.
What I learned:
Whether you’re on a tricycle navigating your way down the sidewalk, going for a run with your dog, or reading an enlightening book like Siddhartha, give yourself some grace as you push all the messiness away, the worry of what people think of us, the battle for botox or not, the misconception that more stuff equals more happiness.
Don’t overthink, act. Take steps, take risks, take time. Love yourself.
Quotes I love:
“Here’s how I became myself: mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake’s line that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love.
Oh, yeah, and whenever I could, for as long as I could, I threw away the scales and the sugar.”
#4 Lenten Reflections – Losing a baseball glove is like losing a good friend
Our son’s High School Baseball Team’s locker room was robbed Friday night. Thousands of dollars of equipment was stolen. Bats, gloves, sunglasses, and bags.
Zavier’s glove is gone.
Let me explain Zavier. He’s just a cool kid. Huge smile, dazzling green eyes, and not a frivolous or pretentious bone in his body. Simply Zavier. What you see is what you get.
Unlike our other kiddos, who worked like crazy to save money for a car or truck, Zavier opted to buy his sister’s old car for a portion of the money he made working over the summer and save the rest for baseball gear.
So yesterday morning when Zavier returned from the batting cages, I asked how everything went and he replied, “Interesting”. Not hearing his signature, “Good” I knew something was wrong.
He went on, “We were robbed…bats, gloves, sunglasses, bags”. All gone. “Only my glove is gone”.
That is so Zavier. “Only my glove”. No stress, just the facts.
“Coach will send an email about everything,” he said.
Here’s what I know about baseball gloves:
Most people know every player has a special relationship with their glove. The hours spent breaking in a glove are endless. They start out stiff, uncomfortable, and awkward (kind of like I felt going back to work after being a stay-at-home mom). Poor gloves.
For the last two years, Zavier has worked on breaking in his Rawlings Heart of the Hide 11.5 glove. Countless catches and snags have molded its every crease and seam. He rubs oil on it when needed, doesn’t let anyone touch it (although his brother teases constantly), and in the off-season, he sets it in the same spot on the kitchen island for safekeeping. He has spent endless hours with that glove – and it was poised and ready for his senior year on the Varsity baseball team. Now it’s gone. And the season just started.
I look at this senseless and cowardly act of stealing as just sad. Not only did the thieves take the equipment, but they took the coveted commodity of time. The hours these boys spent molding their gloves, getting the bat tape just right on their bats, and caring for their baseball gear were also stolen.
So today Zavier dug up his old glove and is oiling it up as I type. Looks like it’s back in business. One thing Zavier still has is loads of love and care to give to his old Rawlings and hopefully a new glove sometime soon. For now, we’ll just move forward and (somewhat angrily) pray for the people who must have needed the equipment more than the team.
What I learned:
When I heard Zavier say “We” in “We were robbed” I immediately thought of the collective word. Usually “we” referred to our immediate family – and this time it was about his family, his beloved baseball family. These are the guys he spends hours with – every day. Working out, throwing, catching, hitting, fielding, laughing, discussing books, cleaning the field, keeping each other motivated, and maybe most importantly, seeing who can do the best impersonation of their Coach’s – long-drawn-out, calm yet stern voice. I would assume there are bonus points if you can remember his classic quotes like “You were running to the ball like a blind dog in a meat market.” That’s his “We”. His baseball family.
Like all families, there are wins and losses, joys and tragedies.
This time equipment was lost. It’s just gone. But it is just “stuff”. It can be replaced. And honestly, their spirit and love of the sport weren’t taken, and we all know sometimes in life that’s all you need to keep you going. Love.
The best news is they are all healthy and ready to play.
Final thought:
Moments like this bust me into being grateful for the day…a reminder that every morning we are at a new trailhead and can either take baby steps or big loud stomps on our day’s journey. None of us know what’s going to happen next. We can recognize the moments we loathe – saggy necks, clothes that don’t fit, baseball gloves being stolen, but we don’t need to sit in the grave with all the bad. We have a choice to look up. Look up at the sky and drink in the beauty of the day one deep breath at a time.
Tonight I dialed my parent’s cell phone to check in. As the youngest and furthest away from them I have few tasks other than feeling guilty that I am so far away. So tonight it was my job to make sure they ate their dinner. My sister had sent a picture of the roast, potatoes, and carrots she had left and all I had to do was remind them to eat. The first attempt to call ended with a lot of ringing and no response. Then I called the land line knowing out of nostalgia and habit, they usually pick this one up. Dad with a cheery, “Hola!” or “Howdy!” hoping whoever is calling has a lot of time to chat, or Mom with a stern “Hello” – an edge in her voice that says – I may be older, but don’t you dare try to scam me into giving you any personal information or money!
“¡Hola!” dad bellowed. “Luc-did you just call Mom’s little iPad? She was playing Solitaire and we heard it ringing.”
“I did!” I said loudly, joining Dad’s energetic banter.
“Can you call it again?” Dad asked. “Sure thing Dad”. “Thanks!” He said. I called again and there they were – well all I could see was the top of Mom’s freshly permed white hair and half of Dad’s face. But I loved it.
Dad started in, “Wow! Look at that picture! Nice and big! How did you call the iPad? Luc, can I pick up the cell phone and use that for the call too?” Dad was curious, always trying to figure out how things worked, and loving the fact that they could see a big picture. “It’s all connected” I explained. “All the devices will respond when someone calls if you’re using them.” He seemed satisfied with my not-so-technical answer and continued, “So what’s going on there? How’s your weather?”
I caught them up on the kids – the boys popped into the room to say hi to them and they commented on Zavier’s curly hair. Mom said, “You used to have hair like that Dad!” Dad chimed in, “When I HAD hair!” Then I pointed out Dexter’s new mustache. “He’s already shaving?” asked Dad. “He’s 19,” I told him. “Hmm, was I shaving at 19?” He asked himself.
We went back and forth for a bit and I asked if they ate. “Did we eat, Dad?” Mom asked. “We ate a late lunch.” He confirmed. “And you know mom, she eats 5,000 bowls of cereal in the morning. Then we eat a big lunch and snack for dinner.” Mom confirmed. “Yes, Lucretia, I guess we already ate.”
“Okay, well I’m in charge of reminding you to eat dinner. I have a picture of what you have to eat.” Dad jumped in, “What is it?” I pulled up the picture – “looks like roast, potatoes, and carrots…yum!”
“Okay,” Dad said, “Just tell the girls we ate. Maybe we’ll have some Cheerios.” Mom jumped in, “Yes! Dad just discovered he loves the Honey Nut Cheerios so now I have to share.” They went on to tell a story about a bent-up box of Cheerios they got at the Commissary for $2.00. My hubby Justin suggested they might want to “bend” some other boxes and try and get them at a discount also. Dad said he was thinking the same thing. Mom interjected saying, “Well we were planning on going to heaven, but I’m not sure about it if we will now.” We all chuckled and Mom said her stomach would be sore from all the laughing.
Always melancholy at the end of our conversations, I said – “Alright, don’t forget to eat! And Dad, take your medicine. (Dad tends to put all the medicine in his shirt pocket and carry them around all day, considering this his way of “taking them”.)
You need your multivitamin, your eye stuff, and the baby Aspirin. Always the jokester Dad said, “I can’t hear her anymore, can you Mom?”
“Daaaad! You stinker!” I said laughing.
We signed off, “Love you mija, time to light the fireplace.” Dad said.
“Love you, say hi to everyone,” Mom said calmly.
“Bye guys, I love you.” – I blew a kiss and made a loud kissing sound hoping somehow they felt my love for them coming through that little iPad that not only can be used for Solitaire but also talking to us. I’ll remind them again the next time they answer my call on it, as I always do. I sat back on the couch praying there would be many more calls ahead. Because every day is better after talking to them.
What I learned:
I share this story because this is my takeaway from the day. This conversation. Yes, out of the 1,440 minutes in one day, the 30 minutes on the phone with Mom and Dad will keep me optimistic and give me comfort knowing I have these two people still out there rooting for me, laughing with me, and even though they are forgetting to drink their Pedialyte and can’t remember their neighbor’s name, they still know who I am, their youngest gal. What a blessing they are.
It is so worth it to take the time to talk, listen, and share with people. Especially the ones who make you feel loved.
Also, take the time to pray. For yourself. For everyone. Pray for the family who just lost their son to a freak accident on the football field, pray for the second grader who just found out her little sister has leukemia, pray for the single mom who just lost her job and is starting from scratch, pray for the guy driving the Camaro who cut you off this morning, pray for those who appear to be happy but you just know that somewhere in their heart they are ailing.
Remember to take at least 30 minutes today (out of 1440) and exercise, pray, and connect.
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