My friend DZ and I ran 3 miles.
Shortly before getting back to my house--we noticed a black backpack in the bushes.
It was clear that it was stolen and then pitched.
So we took it home to try and trace its owner.

Upon further examination, we realized that the bag belonged to a parole officer.
There were addresses and information on people that had some serious offenses,
surveillance logs, DNA testing training manuals etc.
So we googled his name and found that he had just been married a few months ago at a church about 29 miles away.
We called the church and asked the woman that answered the phone to help us get in touch with the owner of the bag.

When the parole officer came to retrieve his bag he told me that his bag was stolen out of his car trunk the previous day.
Get this--after he reported it stolen to the police and to his boss--he prayed that his bag would be somehow returned.
And then he got a call from the church, telling him that his backpack was found.
I instructed him to tell people about his answered prayer.

When I told Steve the story, he said that the parole officer must now:
"Pray it forward."
When I told DZ what Steve said, she came back with, "it's a pray on words."



It was a very full and beautiful day.
A run.
An answered prayer.
An absolutely delicious celebration at Umi.


Today The Girls Start Back Up

With their piano lessons.

Also today I sat and pondered while sitting on a leather sectional at a used furniture store.
Then I thought of an old friend that I had not seen nor spoke to in years, while sitting in the used furniture store.
Then, that friend walked in.
I was so shocked to see that friend, that I cried.
Yes, I cried while sitting and visiting with my friend on a leather sectional at a used furniture store.

It was a good cry.


A Monday In September

I shall bathe my dog. (and then I have some uncomfortable things to attend to)


Walden Pond-like

I stayed up here at the property by myself thursday night. (with Pax and the rabbit) This place heals me.


I Have Not Been Able To Publish Posts

Because I was busy juggling life while resisting the urge to cocoon.

I have been neck deep in G's volleyball season as the clock person, and assisting JB coach the middle school cross country team.
In the interest of keeping K from becoming a free-range teen, I have been hosting teen gatherings of girls and boys--almost on a weekly basis.

That is why I have been unable to publish posts, well that and because I was managing a bout of depression and have been focusing on furnishing the property.


Like Low Floating Clouds

Clouds close to the ground cast shadows
makes it hard to see.
The rain doesn't help.
Like in my head,
everything looks dark with foggy lenses.
Maybe I don't weep enough.
Like an unfamiliar roller coaster ride-
Twists, turns, falls and rises.
I keep wanting to know, wanting to brace myself, wanting to control,
not wanting the pain,
wanting to make correct decisions, wanting to be brave,
not wanting the shame.
Like a play.
Once the curtains open, I follow the script,  I improvise,  I work with the cast.
Each performance both energizes and drains my soul.
Acting is tiring.
I pray that I am more energized than drained.
I see a break in the clouds though.
This won't last forever.
It can't.
Plus, it is not leukemia,
nor an abnormal mammogram,
nor a husband moving me and my three young sons to Alabama and then asking for a divorce.



(What SL thinks we should do to Steve's deer head. She is funny.)



HS just graduated from University of Wisconsin and is now off to Chicago.
The day after she visited me, I texted her the photo we took.
She responded with: "I don't like it, I love it!"
(something I use to say to her when we met at the elementary school I worked at)
Then she texted me a picture her mom took of us when she was little.

Congratulations, HS: remember to: "ask a good question."
(that's what her mom always said to her at drop off)