I come from an awkward generation in the body of faith.

Tucked between the stalwarts who created the idea of women’s ministries and moved beyond casseroles and quiet, and the messies who brought passion and problems to light.

The who came before had values I aligned with, but conversations that bored me.

Those who came after had conversations that engaged me, but values that frustrated me.

Time has a way of changing things.

It seemingly boils down to the ones who came before me were on the political right.

The ones who came after, on the left.

Now it is the people on the left who cannot have civil conversations. They have kicked the old guard off The Moral High Ground of Sanctimony, planted their flags, and made themselves comfy.

The old friends who no longer want to get together for lunch, the kids who no longer talk to their parents, the strangers who call names on social media (in my world) are the people on the left who find things intolerable, and people who disagree with them disposable.

***********************

Life has a way of shifting.

In many circles on the right conversations have gotten more real. Heartache, social media, and life in general chipped away at the desire to look polished. Sometimes reality makes polish impossible, while connection (genuine connection) demands reality.

Searching for a life in the midst of those pulling truths is tricky because people are hard.

I have recently started attending another Bible Study. I have even more recently decided not to attend that Bible Study.

I could say it was about the controversial statement the teacher/pastor said about Jesus, but I also could have just left after the coffee nearly blistered my mouth and the same teacher/pastor said, “That’s above my pay grade,” and walked away.

If you have ever seen me drink a cup of coffee you know that I actually drink creamer, with coffee added. It literally looks like melted coffee ice cream in a cup and on a really good day it tastes like one as well. If the coffee torches my mouth, it is really, really hot.

I could not have paid him to care less.

Anyhow, the truth is: I am sick of condescension, which I found him to be when I asked about his controversial statement. He verbally patted me on the head from the front of the class.

I am sick of it even if I am the condescending one, WHICH, I often am.

Sometimes I just have to get over myself.

********************

I wait tables at a local restaurant for two reasons:

1. We are asset-fine, but cash poor. We own a bit of property; not enough to be wealthy, but certainly enough to say we have worked hard in our lives. However, the balance in our checking accounts was not enough for me feel safe but was enough for my hubby NOT to do anything differently. We are two very different people.
2. I have my precious little peanut, who is taller than I am. When I knew I needed to work to get cash, I originally applied in the non-profit industry. The closer I got to getting a job, the further I got from wanting to be away from her 40 prime-middle-of-the-day hours a week. Waiting tables offered me both cash and a flexible schedule.

Since I began working I made myself available 7 days a week. This meant, in large part, that my calendar in life was dependent upon my calendar at work.

As things at work shifted it became more and more clear to me that schedule was no longer working. I was treading water (mostly) and moving forward (in some areas) slowly. I started ferociously dreading going to work (often) and got frustrated with my life (daily).

One night at work, I had an epiphany. I texted my hubby and said, “I know what I am going to do. I am taking my availability down to three days a week, and I am going to REALLY start focusing on Ryan.”

She is not happy about the changes. Daddy does McDonalds. Mommy does homeschool.

She prefers to spend her days lounging in bed scrolling the internet. So do I, and when I was randomly tired from an inconsistent schedule, that option was acceptable way. too. often.

But I am tired of a life I don’t love.

I believe it will take 3 to 6 months to get her to thrive. Establishing new habits and norms will mean fits very much like the one she is throwing right now. Finding out the internet is off is painful.

Giving up on a severely special needs person learning and growing is easy to do. Shifting from getting by and having fun to developing and growing will take more discipline than I have shown prior to now.

I’m ready.

So far, so good.

How will I know if she is thriving?

This is an important conversation I have with myself.

The first thing I keep in my mind is that outcomes are the Lord’s business. I am not in control of results. If she has far fewer hours on her iPad and more hours outside and doing art , that is a huge win.

I believe that her sinuses give her problems sometimes NOT because she is sick, but because her facial muscles are weak from eating mostly soft foods.

I don’t judge us. As an infant she had severe esophageal dysmotility and choked a lot. It’s natural to adapt.

Eating whole apples, jaw exercises, chewing gum, lip exercises, and crunchy foods may very well help with this. When I make that part of our homeschool day, she gets the victory of another card moved; I get the victory of improved facial muscles.

She is extremely duck-footed. Dealing with it–or not–is a source of conflict between my hubby and me. I will start with things that don’t require any confrontation between us like standing on the vibration board with feet and hips straight. I also bought a therapeutic balance board created by a panel of Occupational Therapists, and we will use that each morning.

Soon I will order insoles. Perhaps I will also need to get her a new pair of shoes–ones we only use during homeschool. That way, if she whines, I am the one to deal with it. But can she start walking heal to toe, rather than shuffling? And can those big toes move in? Maybe. But not if she never wears the shoes because she doesn’t like them.

Daddy really, really likes her to be happy. We can make room for that AND for the possibility of change.

We will also work on writing and try to move on the direction of reading. She really has no understanding of numerical value, so day after day after day, maybe she can learn?

There will no doubt be more fruits and veggies and water. If I succeed, her skin will have more color and her posture will improve.

Mostly our life has just gotten mushy and needs more vitality.

Making changes does not guarantee success, but doing nothing guarantees failure.

Here’s to hope.

I begin each year thinking to myself, “This is the year that I will really write, a lot.”

2026 is no different.

I have my new calendar, my stack of colored pens, and hope.

I ended 2025, mostly, in a better place than I began it. I felt more organized than I have in a long time–possibly ever.

I loved my Christmas decorations. They held both old treasures and new things.

Ryan and I made salt dough ornaments and painted them all gold. They looked beautiful and were such fun to do…to actually DO them, rather than just thinking about making them and never quite getting around to it.

*********************

My family is, quite frankly, nowhere close to what I’d like. My counselor is walking me through letting go of Norman Rockwell images–images that I do NOT have 100% control over–and encouraging me to accept what is.

For years I did a huge share of the holiday work, but it was always my parents who were the magnet, drawing people in. With them gone, the attraction is gone as well.

A few weeks before Christmas I suggested to my hubby that rather than sitting around staring at each other and making a huge meal for three people, we leave Christmas morning and go to Tennessee.

He immediately agreed.

*************************

I had to work the lunch shift; Carl and Ryan served as greeters at our old church. We did Christmas Eve Dinner at Texas De Brazil–a Brazilian steakhouse that is scrumptious and expensive. It is a delightfully festive atmosphere for the holiday.

We woke up, let Ryan open a few presents, had breakfast, packed a picnic lunch, and drove away in our rented car.

I had booked us into (what looked like) a beautiful hotel in Birmingham, Alabama. Driving all the way to Chattanooga is do-able. But grueling.

We stumbled across a beautiful college in Mississippi where we stopped to eat our lunch.

*****************

We moved from California to Texas 8 1/2 years ago for a fresh start we never got.

In those 8 1/2 years have been the biggest losses, worst seasons in my marriage, and hardest parenting times we’ve ever had.

It’s certainly NOT the state’s fault, but that fresh start I longed for still hasn’t come and I am itching for it.

Tennessee may be the place we go to find it.

****************

In those areas of my life where the relationships gap, I find myself in an awkward chasm, flanked on one side be the reality that things are not what I want them to be, and on the other side by the anticipation that (at least) they will no longer be what they were.

When one is sitting in a space they genuinely don’t want to be in, getting up and moving is the only way to change the environment. Change almost always has some measure of grief with it, but it is also the largest vessel of hope: The hope that I can do/be better than have I have done/have been in the past is real.

Not because I am a martyr, bellowing, “Poor me.”

Because I understand that while I may have done the best I could then, I have worked to make my best better now. It is both an agony and a gift.

Grieving the agony was the only door I could find to give me access to the gift.

And so I am gearing up and getting ready.

Ready to do today better than I did yesterday.

Ready to be better prepared tomorrow for the day after.

Ready for what God has in store and ready to see what God will restore…

Grateful.

Sometimes living life feels like trying to compete in the World Series and Super Bowl at the exact same time.

They are different games. They function with wildly different rules. Keeping score for one looks absolutely nothing like keeping score for the other.

You can hit a grand slam in the 9th inning of game 7, and those on the football field–losing at half-time– couldn’t care less.

“We won!” you say.

“We are losing,” they respond.

“Did you see how great that was?” you ask, enthusiastically.

“We were busy,” they say, “waiting for you. You haven’t helped us at all.”

Turns out you can win AND lose at exactly the same time; and the winners and the losers each have feelings that are real and true. Feelings which can weigh down the reality of relationships.

*******************

Over in the World Series of my life, we had a great week–my precious little peanut and I.

She loves to “work” with me at Texas Roadhouse, and my boss is very supportive. He encourages me to bring her with me to community events. On Sunday, we handed out candy to adorably costumed kids for hours at the Caldwell Zoo.

On Monday, we participated in the Texas Roadhouse Trunk or Treat.

I chose a Wizard of Oz theme, and made a thing out of it.

We read the book. We painted the yellow brick road.

We paper mache-ed boxes and painted them green with glitter.

There was a house with lollipops to be pulled out–courtesy of the lollipop guild.

Ryan was an adorable Dorothy and a delightful helper.

Our display was much better at night…

Kind of like my life, the scrutiny of broad daylight displays many of the imperfections.

****************

Meanwhile, over at the Super Bowl, failure abounds.

I think I signed up to be the quarterback. I can’t really remember.

But now, I am realizing my quarterback days are over. I should really be a cheerleader.

My desire and inclination to choose the play and throw the ball isn’t actually beneficial or appropriate.

I’m old. That particular season is over.

But sometimes I miss it desperately.

***************

And so I sit back down on the couch–the one that has welcomed me dozens and dozens of times, seeking clarity and wisdom.

Perspective is illuminated. Guidance equals hope. Change comes slowly.

My life seems to shift in degrees.

At 211 degrees water is very hot. At 212, it boils. One degree makes all the difference.

And so I keep trying and working to shift the degrees in a positive direction.

***************

There are areas of my world that are clearly better. Things have eased. Progress is slow, but sure.

And other areas of my life that bring me to my knees.

I have been centered on Psalm 37:3: “Trust in the Lord and do good. Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness.”

In those areas of life that are going well, this verse has settled me and helped with decision making.

In those other areas, where struggle is still at the forefront, I am clinging to Joel 2:25: “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten…”

I am praying this for so many people I love, myself included.

And in the praying, believing starts to appear…one degree at a time.

The New Year has dawned.

A full year with both my parents in heaven. The majority of a year back to work in the restaurant business, the cash from which has softened many hard edges in life. The work has also brought tired muscles and sore feet.

Life is inevitably a series of trade-offs.

The New Year brings both new and familiar sights: More money in the checking and savings accounts than a year prior; a new planner, colored pens, and lists; exhaustion in several areas.

Yet again, I plop down on the couch–the one that has welcomed me (now) over a hundred times–and wonder what the future holds.

What are the options when you have tried your best and failed?

***********

“I’d encourage you to be careful of the word ‘fail'” my counselor says.

He’s gentle. He wants self-awareness, not self-flagellation.

“I’m not on the outside looking in longingly,” I explain. “I genuinely do not want what’s in there.”

He gets it.

And the whirlpool swirls around as I try to figure out: What do I want?

************

A life-long bestie sends me a video. It is very short and succinctly sums up what hours on the couch have helped me wrestle with. The woman in the video explains her three rules about people:

1. If they wanted to, and they could, they would.
2. You cannot make anyone else change.
3. STOP being mad at people for not being who you want them to be.

And I know it is exactly what I need to hear.

And I also know it doesn’t automatically erase the pain that they don’t want to.

I know because it still hurts.

I order the video woman’s book to add to my pile.

***********

I show the counselor the video. He agrees with all the points and I wonder if I will find the courage to use this tool to move forward.

I long for a life with more color and beauty. I want emotional health and resilience for the people I love.

I miss Brighten A Corner and purpose.

**********

Relationships are hard. They are often unstable and fractured.

Some fractures require bandages and time to heal; others are infected and need to be removed.

I feverishly pound the keyboard adding pleas to my prayer journal. I want to know the right things to do. I want healing for me–for them–for us.

Which takes me back to the equally painful and enlightening truths that if they wanted to and they could, they would. And, no matter how desperate I may be or how good my intentions are, I cannot change anyone.

It was the only time I really remember my parents having a party.

(Aside from a few political gatherings when I was very, very young.)

There was food. And laughter. And people sitting on floors and chairs and couches.

There was a chart for betting. A quarter per space which led to no-so-very-large-winnings. For some reason, it seems like Karen Burnett always won.

***************

Today is Yesterday was The day before yesterday was the first Superbowl since my Dad died, and his beloved 49ers are were in it.

I was raised a Niners fan–back in the glory days of Joe Montana–but faltered in the shadow of taking a knee.

Today seems like It was a good day to go home; to root for the old team and remember my Dad and parties and fun.

***************

Life is constantly shifting.

Fault lines heave under the weight they carry. In the relief of burden, there are often cracks that remain a permanent part of the landscape.

I find myself wondering if those cracks–the ones that are too large to be ignored and demand that they be navigated in order to remain safe–will help my world to be smaller. And, I continue to ponder, will that small-er-ness lead to a better maintained, more likely to thrive, personal world?

Please?

****************

I am ready for the work. Or to work. Or to accept that terrible reality that life requires more work than I actually want it to, and no matter how hard I hold the covers over my head in denial, the world rolls on– demanding work.

My son used to say to me, “The ‘F’ word, Mom. I don’t. Do. Effort.”

And I would howl with laughter because he is just so funny to me. And because I get it–I don’t want to, either.

Except, I don’t actually love a life that reflects a glaring unwilllingness to try.

****************

And pee-wee football coaches around the nation were shouting from their couches, “BENCH HIM!”

I often remind myself that most of us do not have our worst moments displayed for the world to see.

And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

Note to self: Behave.

**************

The sun is shining, and the air is crisp.

Sitting on that couch–the one that has welcomed me dozens and dozens of times–I recount the unpleasantries I have accepted about my life. I phrase them like bullet points in a Sunday sermon, and that clarity helps to end some wrestling.

“Do you feel peace now that you know?” he asks me, gently smiling.

I do.

And I know what to do, now that I know.

Maybe, just maybe, that will mean that today really is the first day of the rest of my life.

The month is almost now over.

My father-in-law used to say that once you let January in, the year was nearly finished. Fresh starts weren’t really his thing.

I love them.

I need them. Never more than now.

**********************

This year is off to a less-than-perfect start. There is so. much. conflict. in my little world.

My hopes and my attempts to carve out peace have failed.

So far.

**********************

I was chatting with a precious friend who I adore. Life has gone off the rails for her, and jail is a real possibility.

“If they are going to send you to jail,” I said, “just go now and get it over with.”

It seemed so obvious as I was saying it, but then the words marinated. And the image of all the things I don’t just “face and get it over with” started soaking into my thoughts. The flavor of my life shifted.

So many emotional and practical jails surround me. Maybe they don’t have bars–and I could choose to walk out at any time–but that feeling of constriction that is my daily companion must be (by definition) more comfortable than change.

By definition, because I haven’t actually changed.

**********************

A week later I sit on that couch; the one which has welcomed me dozens and dozens of times. My hubby sits on the couch next to it because I have asked him to come along.

I tell my story about the friend and the jail and my epiphany. I say I need to start having some of the conversations I am afraid to have.

By the end of the session I am mad at both of them–my husband and my counselor–and I feel like change was a stupid hope.

**********************

But, God.

**********************

In doing the things I know to do–Bible Study, my prayer journal, sticky notes reminding me to pray–I am leaving room for God to move and working to notice.

There are often themes that chase me. The sermons at church will be similar to the Bible Study I chose, which will just happen to have the same topic as the book that person suggested.

All these years into the journey, I recognize it as the hand of God getting my attention.

Right now, that theme is the SPIRITUL BATTLE.

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms–Ephesians 6:12

This changes how I pray. I pray for strength in the fight, and for endurance. I rebuke Satan and all his demons and ask, in Jesus’ name, they be removed from my life, and my family, and my home.

I ask boldly for victory in the spiritual realms I do not see. I ask for HIS MIGHTY HAND in battle.

And I remind myself over and over and over again that the victory is HIS. My job is obedience.

****************

I notice tiny little green shoots in my front yard. Those seeds I spread weeks ago are actually producing blades of grass.

It doesn’t make my yard look better. In fact, the hodge-podge of green is emphasized. Baby grass here, weeds there, and mature lawn on the other side make for an odd combination.

None of that bothers me, however, because the new seeds grew new lawn. I just need to keep at it.

I tell myself the same thing is true in my life…I just need to keep at it.

*****************

In my life with God, a funny thing starts to happen…the seeds I once spread start to sprout.

What that actually looks like in my life is typically one of two things:

• I “coincidentally” come across new information that I see clearly applies to a problem I am wrestling with. That information gives me tools to either help fix the situation or put it in perspective so that I am not emotionally combobulated by it. -OR-
• I come up with an idea to address the situation. IF THAT IDEA IS FOR SOMEONE ELSE’S BENEFIT (AND NOT MINE), I ASSUME IT IS FROM THE LORD. I can come up with selfish strategies all on my own.

I devise a way to continue a contentious conversation that leads to a bit more understanding.

I think of a gift to buy that might bridge a gap in a relationship.

I see a spiritual truth that overwhelms a really sad and really hard situation, and I feel more peace.

I sit back down on the couch (the one that has welcomed me dozens and dozens of times), say that I am mad, and he smiles. “I don’t always get it right,” he says. And we keep talking…helping me to understand myself and God’s grace just a little bit better.

It forces me to face the things in my life that rub my hope raw.

Nearly a decade and a half of supervising care for parents served as a distraction, and reason, for never quite getting to the things in the pile named “undone”.

Now the excuses (real and imagined) are gone. Facing that heap fills me with dread.

*************

“If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of mine; and you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” John 8:31-32

I know this, intellectually. My life is peppered with seasons when I have done the work of continuing in His word–instinctively.

But that day is not today.

************

My Bible is open. My current study right here. There are sticky notes and highlighter pens of various colors, yet there is nothing that compels me to connect one to the other. I know myself well enough to know this won’t last forever. The grief numbs for now, but it won’t numb forever.

I miss my parents.

I miss having my Mom to watch my daughter for a few hours or overnight; one who loved to buy a ridiculous number of Christmas presents for everyone. It turns out there is no one to fill her shoes.

I miss playing bridge with my Dad, and not having to even think about “the estate” or “the trust” or (heavy sigh) having to talk about it with family.

************

There is an undeniable movement toward ease in the normal pressure of life, and I am certain it will be appreciated…eventually.

I don’t panic if my phone is forgotten or the battery is dead.

Homeschool can meander because there are no appointments that must be gotten to.

I’d rather be at the appointments–I wasn’t ready for my Dad to pass away yet–but I also recognize the potential of simplicity, and I do trust the Lord’s timing.

Even when I don’t understand it.

************

I love to sit out front and drink my coffee in the morning.

The blue sky and fresh air seem like good ideas.

And, of course, the green–the green of the grass, that actually isn’t. Grass, that is.

The blade of Fescue to weed ratio isn’t good. I justify myself by remembering that unless you look closely, the green is what is most noticable. Except, without interference, the weeds will survive and thrive and overwhelm the grass. I cannot avoid that reality.

(This is my life. I feel like the weeds are overwhelming the grass of my life.)

I have some bags of grass seed waiting.

I have so many good excuses for not using the seed. I tell myself:

It might not work. If you actually pull the weeds it will look worse. My husband isn’t particularly supportive of doing anything to make it better.

And the other reason, which is actually true, to do the job REALLY well would cost around ten thousand dollars. This is ten thousand dollars that I do not have and would not actually spend on THIS if I did have it.

I am setting all that aside to wrestle with two questions:

• Am I ready to let go of the hope that the lawn can be any better than it is RIGHT. THIS. MINUTE.?
• Do I believe the bags of grass seed, sitting against the house in the rain and wind and sun, might become unusable if I wait?

No. And, yes.

**********

Today, my grass has been attended to.

I took the first of several steps. Hundred of weeds have been pulled and thousands of seeds spread. Surprisingly, it doesn’t look worse for the wear.

The bags of grass seed were already starting to turn. They had molded into a pile of dirt at the bottom of the bag, with a wall of sod up the side. A large portion of it, however, was still just seed and now it is in the ground. The only option if an improved lawn is my real hope.

I expect it will take four more bags of seed; four more times pulling weeds, raking dirt, and sprinkling wishes. If that is done with any measure of success, once spring arrives I might be able to “weed and seed” my lawn.

When you “weed and seed” grass that is mostly not grass, the results aren’t great.

************

Grief is hard.

Life is hard.

One of the most difficult, painful, grueling realities is there are lessons in life that can only be learned in the going through of the hard things.

I get to the end of the road almost desperate to go back to the beginning with the knowledge I acquired traveling, but that is not an available option. Letting go of that control is often heartbreaking for me. Being convinced you could make things better for people you love (and for yourself) if you had another chance is agonizing.

I’m not good at it. Opening my hands and leaving the stones of regret at the foot of the cross does. not. come. naturally. But it’s my only hope.

I bow my head, take a deep breath and ask, “How do I use this in obedience to YOU going forward?”

**********

Then I sit back down on the same couch. The one that has welcomed me dozens and dozens of times, with the trusted counselor in his chair. He’ll smile, and nod, in total agreement that going forward is the singular option that is actually available.

Sometimes, never as often as I intended, but occasionally, I would link up with my online friend, Heather, for her once a month SHARE FOUR SOMETHINGS gathering.

I think about writing much more than I actually write, but my life is simplifying. Excuses might just be fading into the distance behind me. Link-ups serve as a welcome anchor. so when Heather decided to step back and Jennifer decided to step up, I put the thought in the back of my mind to participate.

Then forgot.

Today, the final Saturday in March, I remembered…and so I am sitting down at the computer to type things out for just that reason: TO REMEMBER.

I’m grateful to be pondering the four somethings this new-to-me host has chosen: Something LOVED, Something READ, Something LEARNED, and Something FED.

(Actually, it is something ATE, but decades of reading Dr. Suess compels me to rhyme.)

Something Loved

I loved the city of Chattanooga.

I have a friend who lives in the beautiful neighborhood of Lookout Mountain just outside Chattanooga, and I have visited her twice with an old long-time Bible Study friends.

My husband and I were looking into real estate investments for my father and potentially my special needs daughter. For reasons that are boring, we needed to look outside of East Texas and I felt the connections I had in Tennessee would give me a good place to start.

We decided on a Wednesday night to go look, began driving Thursday morning, and pulled in late Thursday night.

We’re not fast.

It’s a delightful city. We saw historic sites, looked through several neighborhoods, and ate scores of delicious food. I can’t wait to go back.

Something Read

I finished ATLAS SHRUGGED several months ago, but find myself thinking about it often. I will probably re-read it again soon.

I want to live in Galt’s Gulch.

It’s a slog of a book…for a person like me who doesn’t read a whole lot of fiction, it took me longer to read than I anticipated. It is, however, a must-read, ESPECIALLY for the times we live in.

Beth Moore’s memoir, ALL MY KNOTTED UP LIFE, however, is not hard to read. I zipped through it.

She’s a great story teller and has lived a very complicated and colorful life. I often want more of the story than she wants to give, but enjoyed the book anyhow. She gets to be the boss of her own memoir.

Something Learned

I learned that I am still difficult.

This is a surprise to no one who knows me, but I find myself a tad bit disappointed that it is still true.

For multiple reasons, that are kind of dull, I haven’t been to Bible Study in many months. So, when the church we think about going to but never actually go to (having a special needs child who is now too old for children’s church has complicated things for us) was starting a spring study, I signed up.

I love studying the Bible.

But when one of the other ladies asked about a verse, and someone gave their answer, I completely disagreed. And, of course, my brain wouldn’t just leave it at that.

Noooooo. That would be easy.

Instead, my brain created the ESTHER 8:17 Evangelism Strategy in the drive between Bible Study and counseling–my Wednesday routine. Someday, I’m sure, it will be a big hit.

Something Fed

A few weeks ago I hosted a CARE DAY For The CAREGIVERS.

My 85 year old father requires round the clock care. He is in Assisted Living, but also has private caregivers 24 hours a day. It is hard and holy work.

Taking care of them takes care of him, and I have grown fond of them, so I made arrangements at a local spa for a private event.

They began at a ESCAPE ROOM for a team challenge, then joined me at the spa. They got vitamin IV infusions, a massage, and a choice of several other spa treatments.

I made signs hoping that 2023 is a year of HEALTH and HAPPINESS. For the HEALTH portion I had homemade veggie juice, fruit kabobs, and a delicious salad. For the HAPPINESS portion I had lobster Mac and cheese, steak, bread, and dessert. I made a citrus cake with blackberry curd filling.

It was all delicious. It was made with so much love for people who make my life and caring for my father work.

It’s a gift to be able to say THANK YOU. It’s a gift to take the time to recognize and remember…so thank you to all4boys for giving me the moment to do so.