One Day At A Time

September 14, 2025
So the last time I wrote anything to you was July 5th. Summer had just started and people went on vacations and kids went to camp. People had outdoor parties with grilled food and potato salad. Rabbits and squirrels and birds enjoying the beautiful green lawns and gardens against blue skies with puffy white clouds.

I would ask the question, " Where has summer gone?", but I know where it went. Packing and loading boxes and heavy things unto trucks. Wonderful people showed up for us and did what we can no longer do. Its a two-sided sword where you feel your age and must accept help, but at the same time you find priceless treasures in friends who jump in to do whatever they can. And even better these friends called on the strong young people they knew who willingly showed up bright and early.

After the moving our life's worth of stuff came the unpacking which truthfully is not completely finished. Every day I find little surprises here and there that show up where somebody packed them. I was thinking it fell off a truck and was lying in a ditch somewhere when I found my Pampered Chef measuring cup yesterday. You don't know how much you take the little things for granted!

In between all the chaos my children's book was published and now I'm following up on feedback from the press releases. Once more I'm entering into uncharted territory trying to wade through things I know nothing about. I'm doing research and taking and making calls to people I've never met. I asked the smartest people I know what do they think, and the reality is I'm on my own. Nobody has the answers to my questions, so I either give up and say no thank you, or I figure out what I can and trust God to guide me.

My mom turned 90 and most of the family was able to make it to the get-together for a nice supper. She refused to let any if us call it a party and insisted on no gifts. As I tried to say something nice about her, I got choked up when I realized there was one word to describe this crumbled up woman whom I've loved, argued with, talked about in therapy, forgave her, needed her, accepted her, watched her rise over and over, even after losing her husband of over 50 years, and coming full circle to loving her again, and realizing that I'd never actually stopped. The word I searched for and found for my mother: HOME. For someone with my history of moving, she is my home.

So that's where my summer went. From moving to finding home. I'm just grateful that my God in heaven gave me enough time to figure it out.