# 149 LIVING MOMENT-BY-MOMENT

 I now have a new computer and am thrilled because my others had given me headaches when trying to write and post.

Things are changing in this part of my teeny world since I've finally purchased and am using my first MacBook Pro. I'm now on a steep learning curve and often veer off path as I try to figure out this new existence sans a PC.

As for living with Addison's, this year we've jumped back into traveling with an effort far bigger than a splash. I'll be sharing how we've experienced beautiful travels as Addison's is a concern along the way.

Nana & Pappy on another cruise to the Western Caribbean this summer.

No matter, for 2022, I've enjoyed beautiful days of immense adventure and other bed-ridden days where I'm content to binge some series on Netflix or Hulu. On the difficult days, I struggle, but I constantly make peace with my day-to-day physical limitation.

Adaptation is key to living a great life with Addison's or with any physical condition that demands your attention, whether it be sudden or a snowball sort of attention-grabbing health issues.

The days when there are only slight taps on the shoulder, "Excuse me, could you spare me a brief moment so we can avoid the brick wall ahead," are the best kinds. On those days, you're in tune with your body, and no sneaky-fox Addison's symptoms are pouncing upon you.

Here I am at the start of summer at 54. No makeup.

Just me with my art supplies.

Traveling can be a challenging time when you have Addison's, but I don't let it hold me back, until it actually pulls me down and my moment of choice has altered to a moment of adapting to what I MUST do to get through the worst of it.

I take decent care of myself, and I don't hold back seizing the day. And yes, that means confronting my health needs, being prepared, listening to my body, and knowing when to stop seizing and to instead wave the little white flag.

On the white flag days, I make a hasty retreat to climb into bed and allow my body to do the dance of calming rest.

I've lived with Addison's a long time and have had a rather joyful existence despite very critical times... a broken neck and other multiple surgeries that were about as high on a surgical-risk scale as you can get for a normal, healthy person, but I got through them with Addison's. 

There have been illnesses and heart-wrenching deaths of people I most loved, and I figured out how to get through it all... with Addison's pouncing on my devastated state of existence. Staying on top of my blood pressure, heart rate, medicine, and it can be a juggling act. Times of loss can make it extremely difficult to manage Addison's. 

We all walked to a special spot in Texas to spread my father's ashes. With my mother's.

That's Coco, his oldest great-grandchild walking in front of me.

In 2020, I lost my father, and I will admit that the year that followed his death put a strain upon my body as never before. His passing caused extreme stress, which made managing Addison's a warring time for my body.

There were many months when I had trouble walking... forget stairs... and I lived with nausea. I did take stress doses, but there is no easy way around the ups and downs that come with profound loss. It was an Addison's nightmare that I did my best to handle without adding stress upon others, but it was probably the most dangerous phase for me, other than my surgeries.

Dad is now with Mom who died in 2006 at 57-years-old due to breast cancer. Dad was 74, and I had selfishly wanted more time with him. He went to Italy shortly before he passed, spending a good deal of time there. I'm glad he did so much in life, but he's now moved to a new address in Heaven, again with so many people he loved. 

I'll write more about his passing later because my long-time readers know of my closeness with my father. I have been blessed.

My mom and dad when we lived in Scotland. I took this picture of them.

But the good days give me reason to savor each second of treasured vibrancy, whether it be from a sedentary position or with me dancing in celebration. I go with what I'm given. 

I barter with my body. I know, for the most part, about the precarious give-and-take relationship I share within it. If I don't listen to my body's needs as it carries a passenger I must address, then that passenger, Addison's, will rule the day... and perhaps more.

To get to my next best day, I've got to listen to the passenger inside. I have to stay on top of things to keep it quiet and satisfied. Sometimes it makes demands upon me that I cannot overrule, and this is when adapting is the key to living a great life. I refuse to hand over more than is absolutely necessary to this passenger.

That means I don't let Addison's own me. I refuse to let it hold my life hostage. When strong, energetic days are presented, I don't question it. On those days, I get into the highest gear allowed and tackle as much as I can for as long as I can.

Pappy with our two oldest grandsons & Nyms.

With Addison's, you never know how the next day might go, so when the good days come, you make it work for you. Those are often catch-up days. Those are the days when I am enthusiastic yet a microscopic part of me yearns for the pre-Addison days when I hadn't known high gear would become a rarity.

These days, I have leveled-out, for the most part. I do not have many high-gear days nor too many days of feeling dissolved, but both kinds of days do make their respective appearances here and there. 

The "walking through mud" sensation I began having when Addison's decided I was a prime vehicle for it to hitch a lifelong ride in... that sensation is still with me, more or less. Depending on the day, there is either thick mud I must press and battle to wade through with each step or there are energetic days when it's easier to move, but the mud then can fall upon me from the Heavens, threatening to press me to the ground. 

Having Addison's is indescribable, but when my blood pressure and electrolytes go out of whack, I can feel like a rag doll surrounded by mud. That's the best way I can describe it.

Sometimes my symptoms are in check with treatment and are barely noticeable, but I've never had a day when the disease is completely absent. And yes, I have to turn down more invitations than I'd like. I have to ration my energy. For me, it is more than a precious commodity.

If I want to show true love for my family, I've got to be real with my limitations yet not use the disease to bail out of life. The stressful things do take a toll, that's the entire nature of Addison's, yet I have to decide how much of a toll I can manage with medication.

On a recent cruise in May. At the "no choice" phase. I had to rest.

Sometimes I appear normal looking on the outside, and then I'll have a day when strangers reach out to ask if I'm okay or their eyes hesitate upon me for too long as their expressions reveal concern. Boy, I don't like those days.

My grown daughters understand that my body requires more rest than it once did, and they're totally onboard with normalizing my normal, and I love their own adaptability. I have daughters who are now amazing women, wonderful mothers, and we all treasure one another.

With my oldest daughter, Heather. 

I can't put into words what she means to my heart and soul.

We can never make it through photos without cracking up.

Regardless of what each day holds, I keep wading through the mud on the days when it is all but a brick wall, and I must battle to get to the bathroom. And like I said earlier, sometimes the mud moves from in front of me, changing consistency and coming at me from a new direction... falling upon me, like an invisible light rain that isn't actually light. It is pressing. It's a strange resistance when our body is affected by the worst of Addison's.

And as I age, now in my fabulous fifties, I find some things are harder because of Addison's, but the strange thing is that a lot of things are easier. Living with this passenger for over two decades has taught me valuable lessons. 

Me with my youngest son-in-law, Brice this summer.

This specific, unique disease has taught me specific, unique life-saving attitudes and behaviors. Those translate to prompt me to make the best actions for surviving the mud-slinging disease I've come to study, respect, and learn.

After all, my attitude is the best shovel one can own against this disease. Years and years ago, I thought Finding Lana would be easier after Addison's hailed me as its permanent ride when I was 33-years-old, but I've learned that finding my adaptable self is a lifelong journey. Addison's means various phases of life will require additional adapting to the disease... in many ways. I'll age into new issues, but Addison's always complicates matters, and I do not ignore that fact.

If you have Addison's or any other disease or condition that requires vigilant attention, I hope you never stop figuring out how to help yourself make it through days when the mud is packed around you.

This is a recent 24-hour time constraint charcoal

of my oldest daughter, from when she was a kid.

Take notice of your body and take NOTES. Figure out what makes days better and what makes them worse. Monitor your vitals, Juggle those medications to give yourself the best Addison's ever-changing self-treatment that you can muster.

I want others to know there are treasured lessons that come from great struggles, lessons healthy people are often ignorant in knowing. That's not a bad thing. But, living with such a struggle can provide rare Masterclass lessons in countless ways, giving you "new" eyes for seeing everything touched by life. 

My oldest grandchild, Coco.

My youngest daughter, Stefie, with her beautiful family.

My goofy husband to whom I've been married a LONG time.

We not killed each other, and the lack of bloodshed has been worth it!

If you can figure it out, tell me the good lessons - the surprising lessons - and the lessons you might not have learned without the boost from whatever it is that requires you to adapt.

Keep your inner shovel ready, but know when to set it aside and tune-out the world so you can endure the worst, whether the worst be minutes long or longer. How do you adapt and make life matter during those moments?

What matters to you? How do you provide self-care and self-nurturing.

For me, I take actions to make life worth living. I savor the small stuff for as long as possible and spit out the bitter as fast as I can. I make downtimes work for me, either through that tv binging, through writing, or through art. During those times, my passenger must stay seated and well-mannered because I'm still in charge.

Treating my in-laws to another late lunch.

How do you hand peace to your inner-self in spite of a raucous passenger? What is your distraction?

Live well, MOMENT-BY-MOMENT, no matter your speed!

***

PS: Leave a comment. I'll have to moderate it, but it will then post to the comments section for others to see and for me to respond to.

# 128 - Sharing the Soul

As a mom, I've diligently kept all of my daughters' art work from their childhood. Years ago, I made extra large-art portfolio holders by stapling two posterboards together, leaving the top open to slide in their artwork. This kept their work from being bent and creased.

In an easily accessible area, the portfolio was kept behind my china cabinet with the edge of the portfolio barely sticking out to make it easy to retrieve for adding new artwork to it.

Recently, I took a day to spread out some of their work and to simply gaze upon the beauty of each piece. I'm considering buying very large frames so that I can create a collage of framed artwork for each daughter; I plan to put these collages in the guest bedroom for everyone to enjoy.

I imagine, one day, when my children have children of their own, my visiting grandbabies will get a kick out of seeing their mommy's art, created when their mommy was a child. It will be a link from childhood to childhood.

Some of their work is abstract, other work is "still-art" and a few pieces reflect a historical event. Each one is precious to me.

 

 

Most moms love to get their child's artwork, but I can't express how excited I had been to get each drawing, each painting, each sculpture...I never wanted to buy any art because I had little artists living in my household.

To add to the art of my children, I have my own artwork throughout the house that I've produced for years and years, especially some larger pieces that came with studying Visual Arts and Design at the University of Houston. I've been blessed to work in the Arbor Building through many art classes and to have professors of great artistic standing be my teachers in specific art methods.

Obeying my own need to create art is a tremendous stress reducer for me. However, I had some serious health battles that would put a wall between me and my need to create art, especially the battle with being able to use my arms since they were not getting adequate blood flow. But, I had two major surgeries to better enable blood to get to my arms and hands, a two year process of surgical intervention that went into three-four years after they decided to remove my minor pectoral muscle on the right side since it was shredded by bone shards. Even if the major surgeries were horrific and came with critical complications, I'm happy that my left side works wonderfully, but my right side was never properly "decompressed" by the removal of my first rib along with the removal of the anterior and scalene muscles in my neck --- I also have artery clips along the thoracic arteries as well, both sides.

The surgeries had to be done a year apart. Each one required approximately one year recovery, mostly because of the collapse lung that each surgery left me to deal with --- because of a paralyzed diaphragm. The nerve in your body that is the "control wire" for the diaphragm, which controls the lung, well, this "control wire" was impacted by each surgery, so each side ended up with a collapsed lung following surgery. It would take about 9 months, each time, for me to again be able to inflate my lung. Let me tell you, everything done to me in the dice and chop operating room could not compare to the lung collapsing. It's not a good feeling when your lung collapses and you can feel the lung sticking to itself --- to inflate it, with each labored breath or with pulmonary rehabilitation causes tremendous agony.

My left side was surgically decompressed by this method in 2005 and the right side was done a year later, in 2006. Since I am still unable to freely use my right arm, it's an ongoing battle. Even the simple act of blogging can cause me trouble as the right arm goes numb and pain from the lack of bloodflow creates pain down the arm and a sensation of choking on the right side of my neck. It's a big price to pay, but I try to position myself the best way possible so that I can type, type, type. I can use my arm for a short time, but it's never felt the same since the days when I could use my arms without a second thought and that was ten years ago.

I guess this is another reason I've treasured my daughters' artwork. If anyone understands the desire to create art, to play instruments and to do things that are ordinary daily activities without a thought about anything other than "Which color to use next," or "Which key to play next?" -- I do understand having the burning desire to do such things, yet not be able to do them because of physical limitations. I also understand what it means to push past the pain, to keep going in spite of challenges. Sometimes I've paid heavily for those decisions, but I rarely regret it.

Good thing I have partial use of my right arm since the surgery, it is better than before surgery, but still not completely workable as is my left side. I can often work around my incomplete decompression. Maybe one day I'll have the luxury to have the right side fully decompressed so that I can do normal things again, like drive to see my daughter in Dallas without it being a huge undertaking that causes me major issues, such as being able to feel my arm. Driving requires limited mobility, a huge issue for me.

Yes, maybe you can see a little through my eyes as well that this artwork is more meaningful than I can express.

Living life as fully as you can means different things for different people. Some people are given every tool and every healthy benefit to be able to live a beautiful life, yet they still take it forgranted. My mindset feels that there are enough problems, day by day, for me to conquer; I certainly don't need to add any more problems to what I already face. For many, like me, just getting through their day is a personal battlefield that brings constant reminders that simple things can be great challenges.

Others seem to look for problems because it appears they need more drama in their life or they are not satisfied with having an "ordinary" life full of blessings that deserve focus instead of contrived issues stemming from owning an ungrateful heart. I've seen so many people create their own problems and these same people proceed to wonder why their life is full of problems?

Personally, if I have extra energy and physical capabilities, it must go toward the constant effort to keep my health balanced so that I may have that awesome day with a few minutes at the piano or to do simple basic tasks, such as the laundry and dusting the furniture. One thing I must say is that a good day for me can indeed be jam-packed; I've learned to fully take advantage of a good day, probably much better than a "regular" person without any health hurdles.

However, once my neck broke, in 2009, it required massive reconstruction and double-sided hardware to support the neck so it would not collapse again. To add to the thoracic artery issues, I found myself confronting more challenges on top of existing challenges. It felt like I was being sandwiched between major health assaults that I had no control over and I did feel squashed like a bug. For a while, I didn't feel very excited about the added loss of sensation in my hands due to a spinal cord injury. I didn't like the struggle to move my feet forward and to lift them to take a step...all of it took more effort than could be expressed, even to those closest around me.

The spinal cord was squished between two bones that had broken, so it damaged the spinal cord in a manner that could not be repaired. It created a large lesion on the C2 section of spinal cord that is still present and visible on MRI scans. Still, I regained more feeling and better use of my arms/hands and legs/feet than the doctors thought were possible. I've been given more than my fair share of miracles, even if I've been given more than my fair share of physical hurdles.

Through it all, I've learned there is something powerful about art --- it is a healing expression of humanity. I finally understood that for many people, especially for those who have suffered deeply from physical or emotional pain, a piece of art can seem to speak to you or for you. Art can capture a feeling, it can represent the best in you, the worst in you or it can bring hope beyond words.

For some dedicated artists, on any level, from novice to accomplished, there seems to be a sharing of the soul in some of the work produced by particular artists. Often, you can feel pulled into a piece of art. If you haven't had this experience yet, then I recommend that you view art differently. Try to search for a piece of art that truly SPEAKS to you with such depth that you feel knocked out of your shoes. It's out there, you might have just not found it yet, but when you do...you'll know it.

I have a few personal favorites that definitely evoke great emotion from within the well of my soul.

In fact, I'll be scanning a few pictures of historical art that have brought me great comfort and hope during times of great turmoil.

But, there is a certain peace, joy and innocence that comes with looking at a child's artwork. It's like looking out a window to see a different view of sunshine.

How many times have I been delighted by these works of art created by my children? I can't count. Even through difficult times of their own...my children created with bright goodness, always doing their best to get their mind's eye down on paper.

I love the effort. I love the result. I love the sharing of their souls.

# 109 - Longing for the Little Things

After I became very ill with Addison's Disease over a decade ago, I had deteriorated so seriously into decline that I found myself bed-ridden most of the time.

At a formerly robust, energetic, and non-stop 33 years of age, I felt despair at being trapped and with a loss of independence. I had gone from being fiercely active as abundant energy flowed through me, to being halted in my tracks...well...I could barely even make tracks any longer because I could not stand for long, at least not on my own. But, the truth was, I felt as if I had a need for independence that could not be negotiated. Doesn't everybody feel that way?

I certainly felt unstoppable, until I got stopped in my tracks, by Addison's disease.

There is a song by Tim McGraw, "Live Like You Were Dying" and the lyrics give the story of a man in his 40's after he's received bad medical news. He decides to live it up, so he went sky-diving, he went rocky mountain climbing, and he went two point seven seconds on a bull name Fumanchu.

I love this song. It sums up the burning urge you develop within yourself after medical professionals tell you that they are not so sure that you will make it. Your brain must suddenly learn to operate without the body as a partner; when the physical body fails you, you find that your brain begins to work over-time. Normally, the body would partly keep you busy...our auto-pilot for physical motions can be fascinating. But, as you are forced to lie in a hospital bed and are without your normal busy life to keep you distracted, your mind begins to expand as it never has been given the chance to do previously.

Being STILL, especially forcibly, for extended periods of time, can definitely CHANGE YOUR LIFE FOREVER.

I realize that some people become seriously ill, yet they still have the choice to do normal things for a while because their body is still cooperating. Hence the song by Tim McGraw with his main character still being able to ride a bull named Fumanchu. However, for me and for many others, an illness or sudden injury can mean that everything in your life has turned upside down and the option to sit on that bull on your own accord has passed by.

For me, I hear this song and I love it, but I think, MY GOODNESS, during my health downfall, I didn't have the choice to go skydiving, especially not with living precariously with Addison's Disease. For me and for others, finding yourself with a serious medical condition or tragic injury might not only mean that you couldn't go rocky mountain climbing, it means that the very simplistic things are unattainable. Forget the dramatic "I'm-Really-Living-Now" kind of moments, how about being so far gone that you are lying there longing to do the little things in life, the little things that had defined your very existence.

Just like the "Bucket List" demonstrates a person's deep-seated desire to "conquer the world" in their last days, a person can also have a "Bucket List" that is full of the desire to do very ordinary, common, little things. Once the ability to do those things is taken away from you, those sky-diving, rocky mountain climbing and riding the bull moments mean NOTHING because all you long to do is to be able to get to the bathroom and back by yourself or to read a book to your child or to go to the grocery store by yourself and push the cart without a thought or care as to the physical cooperation of your body.

Oh yes my friends, for some, that "Bucket List" and those moments where you "Live Like You Were Dying" might be rather humble moments that you long to have back.

During a few serious health battles, as I've had more than my fair share of being stuck in bed or in a recliner, the boring little things that I'd taken forgranted were suddenly being done by someone else, and it dug into the core of my soul that I could not do my simple "mommy" chores.

I wanted to keep being the pro-active mommy I'd always been. I purposefully had my children very young because I wanted to be THAT mom who could keep up with everything the kids did while they were being raised.

Around 1990 - I am holding Stefanie.

And I had been THAT mommy who was strong and on top of the world. Our family lived a life full of biking, hiking, camping, traveling, exploring and being outdoors. We lived with me being the one who drove my kids back and forth to school every day because I dreaded the thought of them riding the bus (but my kids would sometimes BEG to have a "bus" day to be with their friends and it was okay). The Mommy-Ride was always first choice in our house. Those trips back and forth to school every day was literally what I called "Sacred Time" with my children.

I owned a successful business that brought in major money, yet allowed me to attend every school function held during school hours. I didn't miss a beat with my kids. I sacrificed and orchestrated my world around my children. I took my mommy-business very serious, and I certainly didn't want someone filling in for me in this very treasured life position. But, I had no choice because my body was so sick that I had no choice but to linger in bed until my body "recovered."

Stronger again, volunteering at a car wash for the team.
I basically was a contributing photographer for the
team for end-of-year publishing.

During much of this time, I was miserable, sad and mourning the loss of being able to do these seemingly insignificant things for my daughters and for my husband. My faith in God got me through those very "alone" moments, even when people were around me, I was clearly "alone" because my condition separated me from everyone. For so long, I was sad that all of them could walk out of the room and away from the devastation while I remained stuck with it, as time ticked by, I could not escape my newfound jello body.

Even better days were to come after several huge hurdles,
such as this day at a Texas A&M game as I get
to play with her hair again!

At first, we didn't know I would recover, in and out of the hospital I would go, but I began to slowly regain strength and abilities to allow me to do the sweetest, most precious things for my daughters and husband. However, a mommy is a caregiver of the most treasured things she'll ever have...her children. Regaining enough health and strength to resume some of these mommy-things had been my Live-Like-You-Were-Dying moments to savor. I didn't need a trophy, an award, or accolades; I didn't need to run a marathon or lift weights: I didn't need to jump out of an airplane...I just needed to sweep the floor and re-organize their toys and pick them up from school.

As soon as possible, often while pushing myself too far and too fast, I began to again do the things that an ordinary mommy or parent does for their child, especially after she is held back from doing them for too long. And if I hadn't LOVED doing those mundane, daily things during the years BEFORE life dictated a different way of living for me, I sure learned to LOVE them afterward.

My oldest, Heather, with me at a football game to watch
her younger sister (Stefie) perform awesome, sporting dance
moves at half-time.

In a way, I feel strangely blessed and privileged to have learned this lesson while very young. Yes, that is a blessing indeed, to learn to appreciate all that you have on a higher level, that is an amazing gift.

This is a photo of the time-frame when I was beginning
to fall ill due to Addison's disease. My oldest and very tall gal is actually
only about 13 years and my youngest is around 10 years old.

So, I am going to take the liberty to rewrite the beginning and with the opening chorus of this song, according to my own experience that maybe some of you may relate to during a huge change in life due to illness, injury or whatever has kept you down against your will. Indulge me...because I've already lived like I was dying, and I never missed NOT having the chance to ride Fumanchu.

She said I was in my early thirties,
with a lot of life before me,
when a moment came that stopped me on a dime.
I spent too many precious days,
in a cloudy and confused haze
while talkin about the options
and talkin about sweet time
I asked her when it sank in and
this might be the really real end
I said how's it hit ya
when you get that kinda news?
Man, what'd ya do?
and she said,

I missed mommy things,
To listen to my daughters sing,
I longed to make my child's school lunch,
To simply hug both kids a bunch,
And I pulled my kids closer,
Longed to be the mommy-boaster,
And to do normal things just like I used to do,
And she said some day I hope you get the chance,
to live life that's anew.

TO LIVE LIFE THAT'S ANEW!!

# 104 - Making Beautiful Music Together

For years, I've wanted an acoustic guitar. Just a regular, old-fashioned guitar that I could learn to play.

As a young child through adulthood, I played the piano and was classically trained. Music Theory and technique while playing had been drilled into me with a bullish attitude. For years I took lessons. Even as an adult with my own children, I continued to take lessons and learned to play Operas.

But, deep down, I just wanted to play some good old country songs. I wanted to play some George Jones and Patsy Cline! I want to sit on the front porch of my future country home and do some guitar pickin.

To top it off...much of my life parallels lyrics of country songs, so I might as well play a few of those songs on the guitar and sing to them at the top of my lungs.

Practicing with Isaac in the Carpentry shop so that we could perform in front
of everyone at Cohen Houston at Rice University for our Christmas party.

I could play the guitar and sing about my man...my husband and I have made it through too many chaotic phases of being married; our selfish years are just about used up, and now we're onto the fun stuff...grown children and retirement. Where are those songs?

No sense ignoring the truth, the far side of youth has passed us by, and nowadays, we're too worn out to get into too much trouble. But, we've made it past 25 years of marriage, and sadly, so many couples never make it to this phase...most marriages crumble under the stress we've endured.

These days, after a lot of hard work, I've learned that any relationship can be found, at one time or another, traveling down the ugly block, but everything will be okay IF you have a willingness to be loving to each other and if you have hard times, that's when you should purposefully focus on the beauty you've created and shared. For us, there's been hardships, but the beauty has far outweighed everything else.

You can't get to the day of celebrating 25 years of marriage and beyond without some pretty stupid moments taking place. For those who have an "uneventful" 25 years of marriage, then we all know you were hiding out in a cave! We can't escape life. But, the reality is...expecting a smooth 25 years is like believing in a Fairy Tale...life itself is not always smooth. You can do your very best and have a tornado hit your house. Life happens. Life is not always fair; hence, country songs.

Just remember, a marriage made in Heaven is not necessarily Heavenly...a lasting, strong marriage takes hard work, compassion and excessive kindness. I've had moments when I've failed in all three areas...because I was taking a trip around the ugly block. I don't like it there; it's always nice to get back home.

And man, that sounds like the beginnings of a country song. If only I could play more than THREE notes on the guitar!

When expressing your emotions on a piano, you sit at the monster instrument and play. Indeed, it is a beautiful instrument with a lovely, timeless sound, However, one drawback to a piano in contrast to a guitar is that you can't take the piano with you so easily. My piano weighs about 500 pounds, it's not exactly a mobile instrument for practical purposes. It takes several men to move it. Still, I move that antique, upright grand piano from home to home throughout the years. It is my instrument to take care of throughout my life.

Over the years, my siblings got to pick their own instruments of choice...my brother played the trombone and my sister played the clarinet...both of those instruments cost much more than my old piano, but my chosen instrument, the old piano, that is the instrument that I still play very frequently, with joy.

But, once I married my husband at 18 years of age, something unplanned came between me and my piano...I followed my husband to Germany for a few years. The Air Force called my husband to duty in Europe and so we began our life together as man and wife, without my piano. And geesh...I had major separation anxiety from my piano.

On this day of our elopement, he knew that he acquired a wife and
an upright grand piano for all stateside residences.

In Germany I'd often lie in bed and play "air" piano because I was starved to play a few chords and to release my emotion through music. I felt stifled and choked without my piano. Many musicians understand...when you feel a different range of emotions, you can go to your musical instrument or use your voice to release the pent up feelings. Music gives us a beautiful form to express our inner-most feelings. If your instrument is taken from you, it's as if a part of your heart shuts down.

Once my husband and I were back in America, we moved the piano to our house. It had been falling into disrepair and my husband lovingly repaired it. Then, we called out an old-timer piano tuner and had the strings worked on and a couple of keys professionally repaired. It was worth every dime.

So, a few days ago, on this latest Christmas Eve, my husband and I were having a nice outing and he pulled into the Guitar Center. This is not unusual because we seem to end up in the Guitar Center every year for some Christmas shopping. We strolled back to the acoustic guitar section and I thought that we were going to simply take a look at some guitars for me to consider for some future date. And after I found one of the nicer beginner guitars and began discussing some guitar basics with the kiddo working there, my husband says, "Ring it up."

I looked up at him, shocked. I had no idea that we were going to be buying me a guitar on this day. Heck, I'd been waiting for years and years, I didn't think that the waiting was coming to an end so suddenly!

Here's my new Yamaha beauty!

My husband strolls out of the acoustic guitar area and he finds a guitar stand, a beginner's book and video, some picks and a strap. I felt overwhelmed.

At 43 years of age, I walked out of that store holding my husband's hand and had my own very first guitar.

Immediately, the music lessons that I'd learned in piano began swirling around in my head. I'd never dared to think about the guitar on a deep level because I didn't own a guitar to test out my theories. I just enjoyed watching people play. But, the moment we stepped out of that store, the questions began forming and an entire new world attached to this stringed instrument began to play with my mind.

After the deliriously fun shopping trip to find a guitar, Deputy Dave took me out to eat at an awesome seafood restaurant that we love and we spent some time that same day getting a bit of Christmas shopping done, then we headed home. Through it all, it was hard to focus on anything else but the guitar in the box, lying hidden in the backseat of our truck.

Blackened Catfish

Shrimp Cocktail Acapulco

The best Christmas gift came later that evening as we sat at home alone watching the beginner's video for guitar playing. I told my husband that I had to sit with my pen and notebook to study the lesson BEFORE I could attempt to play the guitar. So, he picked it up to play along with the video as I studied, as I'd always learned to do with music...first the lessons, then the playing. I still could not break my old music lesson patterns.

Theory first, then application. Man, I'm a stickler for old-fashioned classical learning habits.

However, it worked out beautifully. Deputy Dave shocked the crude out of me, and himself, by picking up all angles of music lessons so completely. Not everyone can do this. In ONE afternoon, he learned to tune the guitar to ITSELF (not with an electronic tuner), he learned to play several notes on the guitar, he learned to read the notes on sheet music and even more, he learned the count for a measure...AND learned whether the note is a quarter note, half note or whole note. He learned FAST. For any music buffs out there...you understand what this means.

Yes, he even took initiative to write the note name above the note, on his own. What? Don't they FORCE us to do this when studying music? This is usually drudgery, but he did it with delight. This is advanced stuff that the newbie normally doesn't just pick up on day ONE unless they are naturally gifted in music.

A bit of jealousy set in, I must admit.

I looked at my husband in awe. He'd been in choir as a child, but that guy should've been put into some kind of music lessons...probably guitar lessons. He is a natural.

It will only get better, I can only imagine how it will sound when we are harmonizing our voices together and reminding ourselves of The Judds --- while playing the guitar. Okay, I got carried away...Deputy Dave DOES have a deeper voice than Wynonna Judd. That means, we'll sound EVEN BETTER than The Judds!

So, my BEST Christmas present has been surprisingly that we are learning to play the guitar together. His technique at playing the guitar is automatically better than mine, but my music background is advantageous to both of us...so that makes us a great team. So far, we have THREE notes down!! Open "E", and E played on 1st fret to make "F" and E played on third fret to make "G." Wahoo!!

It's awesome!

I can already picture us in the country, on our land, playing the guitar for the birds and frogs and chickens to hear. Eventually, I am sure we'll get Deputy Dave a guitar so we can play side by side, but until then, it is beyond beautiful for us to be learning to play the same guitar together.

Here's our first captive audience. They don't mind the three note repetition practice sessions, especially when they are bribed with a few treats.

I always knew we made beautiful music together...only now...I actually get a chance to watch while another person practices and plays, so I am loving every minute of hearing Deputy Dave's home-grown music.

And the musician's curse has taken hold of him...for those of you who play music and write music and so on...Deputy Dave is now captive to all possibilities as the music infects his brain and spirit. As I said, he should've taken guitar lessons, starting at a young age, but here we are, and I can tell he'll go fast in his music training --- And knowing that my solitary instrument playing days are mostly over --- I'm going to have a music, guitar playing buddy, well this part has got to be the best part of my Christmas present!

#79 - My Comrade of 25 Years

COMRADE: is defined loosely as a person who is an intimate friend or a fellow soldier. A comrade is someone who shares the best and the worst with you and who is willing to help pull you through it all.
 
I can't believe it! Today is my 25th wedding anniversary. My husband and I grew up together and now have hit this huge milestone that speaks volumes about our level of commitment to each other.

25 Years ago, we eloped outside of San Antonio, Texas. We were kids.

Three months later, we were married in church. It still took another
month before we were finally able to live together for the first time.

This morning, I was thinking about so many moments during our many years together. So many good times and a few bad times, but overall, it has been an amazing marriage full of blessings.

In our 30's with downtown Houston in the background.

When I got sick with Addison's disease, my husband did more than stand by my side, he fought this disease with all his strength. He helped me to survive a long undiagnosed state of Addison's Crisis that caused me go into a Code Blue in the hospital at only 33 years of age. He helped me get through the worst of times. In fact, he would be my legs, my arms, my voice...he would literally carry me as he lived in exhaustion so that I might survive this disease that nearly took me out of this world.
 

 
Still, this man is my husband. He is the one I love with all my heart. He is the one I dedicated my loyalty to and my faithfulness to and my heart, body, mind and soul to, til death do us part. This kind of love is beautiful. Even on the rough days, it is a treasure.

Snorkeling at the reefs in Grand Cayman Island.

I didn't marry him for him to be my hero, but that's what he ended up being in my eyes. He fought his own battles while helping me win mine. So, together we triumphed. Yes, there were times when I wanted to choke him, but he never gave up on me, even when it would have been easier to just let me slip away and not make that 911 call. He always flew into action, doing everything he could to pull me through. And, I did. Even when I was so far gone that I couldn't respond any longer, but I could always hear his voice. During those times, I just wanted to touch him.
 
These days, my husband and I love spending time together. As we get older, we find that the ticking moments of time passing has become more precious and we want to be together for as many of those swiftly passing moments as we can.

Together at a Texas A&M football game. I am having a rough day, am
trying to camouflage my shirt after I had just fallen while carrying a
plate of food. I stumbled and fell against a door, hard. The food
went against my shirt. A mess. But, we still had an incredible time.

How often does a person have a love like this? I do not take it forgranted. One smile from my husband and I'm spinning inside; he lights me up, even after 25 years together.
 
I love this man because he's not only my husband, he's my best-friend. A true best-friend, not just in title. More than that...my husband is my comrade.

The day our oldest daughter received her Texas A&M
ring - a day of great celebration.

Just this weekend, I was taken on another unusual date by my husband as he signed us up for a glass fusion lesson. Together, we made jewelry. Since we'd already taken classes in stained glass years ago, this was like riding a bicycle. We were free to take as long as we wanted, so we sat in the stained glass art studio and created little beautiful works of art that would be fired in a kiln and melted together to created fused glass.

I'm in awe at the few pieces we created (works of others are mixed with our own).

This was an amazing date and I am always filled with huge love for my husband when he shares such fun moments with me. We are truly like kids together, still trying to find our way in the world and exploring as much as we can together whenever we get the chance.

I love and adore this man.

So, I am grateful to have a Heavenly Match here on earth. Together we've created a beautiful life. 

Happy Anniversary to the love of my life. My comrade. May we
be blessed to share another 25 years of excitement.