Amazing Grace!

“God has chosen you for baptism.”

These words were first spoken to me a few weeks prior to Easter as I underwent my first scrutiny. The moment I heard them I was hit by the weight of the truth behind them. 

When I first announced that I wanted to be baptized into the Catholic Church, the general assumption of many people in my life was that my decision was in direct relation to my Catholic boyfriend of 8 years. They assumed that the reason he hadn’t proposed to me yet was that he wanted me to become Catholic first. They assumed that I had finally succumbed to the pressures of the so-called judgmental Catholics trying to convert the world. Of all the battles I have fought in the year leading up to my baptism, that one was the hardest and most frustrating. It was difficult because it couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

Within the first month of dating Andy, I told him quite bluntly that I would never become Catholic just because I married a Catholic or had children with a Catholic. To me, conversion to any religion for such reasons does a great dishonor to the faith. And I simply have too much respect for religion and faith of any denomination to do such a thing. 

Over the last few years though, I began recognizing God’s calling in me. But I waited until it felt right…..until I knew it was entirely my decision and that it was what God truly wanted for me. The feeling grew so strong that I could no longer ignore it. And from the moment I first approached Deb, the Director of Faith Formation at St. Mary’s, and told her I wanted to be baptized I grew more reassured of my decision and of God’s calling in me with each passing day.

The past 9 months or so of preparation for coming into full communion with the church have been some of the most humbling, reflective, and inspirational days of my life. Through weekly Mass and daily Bible readings on my own time, I came to realize that I have been trying to walk in Christ’s footsteps for much longer than I realized. My attempts to love unconditionally, forgive religiously, and give the very best of myself to everyone I meet…..even if those efforts are never reciprocated…are means of following Christ’s example on Earth. And the backlash I have often received from trying to live this way no longer deters me when I look at the immense suffering and death Christ endured for some of the same reasons. I have spent a great deal of my life feeling misunderstood and outcasted, but I found a welcoming home and place of belonging at St. Mary’s and within the Catholic faith.

From the day I first publically addressed the congregation of my desire for baptism in October, I was embraced with open arms by everyone. And as we moved into Lent, the love and sense of family I felt from the church only grew stronger. I had people come up to me after Mass to tell me that they were praying for me and thought what I was doing was so amazing, particularly because I was the only one who was to be baptized. For that reason, I worried early on that I would feel very alone in the process, but the church community kept that from happening. At the start of Holy Week, I received messages from several people telling me that they were thinking of and praying for me. I even had a co-worker send me a video of a beautiful Easter rendition of the song “Halleluiah.” I have never been so stunned in my entire life than I was by the immense compassion and love I received from the Catholic community in Helena as I neared the Easter Vigil. I was embraced and accepted completely and without hesitation. I have never before experienced such automatic acceptance by any one person, let alone an entire church community.

The night of the Easter Vigil, April 19, 2014, will always hold the place as the best night of my life. I have wanted to be baptized for a long time, but entering into that sacrament with complete certainty that it was what I wanted and knowing that I was answering God’s calling, made it that much more amazing. 

 When I first stepped into the font, everything and everyone around me disappeared. When Father pushed my head underwater, all I remember was hearing his words of “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” The water covered my face and head and with each plunge under I felt a greater sense of peace enter my heart. When I rose up after the third time, I kept my eyes closed and felt the water run down my face. I didn’t want to open my eyes because I wanted to breathe in and feel that moment for as long as possible. I am one of the privileged few who will be able to remember that moment of baptism when the Holy Spirit first descends upon them. When I did finally open my eyes, Father's hand was extended down to help me up. I didn't look up to see that it was Father's hand, and truthfully, a piece of me in that moment believed it was Jesus' hand outreached to help me up into my new life.

 

For the remainder of the Vigil after my baptism I felt nothing but immense freedom, peace, and joy. When I first walked down the aisle in my white rope after changing, I felt like a halo of light must’ve been surrounding me for all the happiness I felt. When Father anointed my head with oil and confirmed me, I felt like all of the scattered and broken pieces of my life were fused together in an unbreakable bond. When I went up and received the Eucharist for the first time, I finally felt the significance of that sacrament and was reminded in a profound way of what Christ did for me. Truly feeling His sacrifice makes me want to work so much harder in my own life now to prove to him that His sacrifice was worth it…..that giving His life so that I might live was worth it.

 The Vigil was a night that took me 27 years to get to…..and it was over much too quickly. When I finally got back home later that night about 1 a.m. I sat down and opened the dozens of cards and gifts that people had given me. There was so much generosity. After I posted on Facebook, “Baptized….Confirmed…Catholic,” I watched as over 70 of my friends liked my status and congratulated me over the next two days. And the astounding thing is, a lot of those people aren’t even Catholic. But their actions spoke volumes…..that faith in God or something greater than ourselves is a universal thing and anyone who is brave enough to walk in that divine light is someone to be admired and praised.

Being baptized and coming into full communion with the Church left me feeling so many things. I stood in front of my mirror at home later that night in my white dress for the longest time---just looking at myself and feeling the weight of the grace and forgiveness I had just received. For me, being baptized felt like God lifted away all of the burdens and brokenness from my life. It felt like He had built an impenetrable wall between where I was now standing and my past. He left me with a clean slate and a second chance to do better. I have spent so long dwelling on people and things that will likely never change. I have dwelled on my mistakes and inadequacies. But God constructed a wall during my baptism as a way of separating me from what I was and who I would become through His love. It felt like he was grabbing my hand and telling me it was time to move forward with my eyes focused on all that He still had planned for me. It is a journey I am ready to begin.

Upon learning that I had finally been baptized, a friend and fellow Catholic, told me, “Welcome Home.” If she only knew how much of a home it really feels like to me. I have found a home at St. Mary’s, with the universal church, and with Christ. I have finally entered into a home where I am accepted for who I am----flaws, sins and all. And knowing that has filled me with a light that will never be extinguished. 

I do believe that God foresaw this night and my communion with Him long ago. All of the blessings, and obstacles, and individuals He has brought into my life so far, He did so in order to guide me to this point. God alone called me to baptism. He alone carried me this far. And He alone will carry me until I arrive at His most perfect home and kingdom.

Gratitude

There are days when I think that wanting to be a writer is one of the stupidest ideas I've ever had. There are days where all of the hours spent interviewing/researching/writing one article that I'll only get paid maybe $50 for, don't seem worth it. There are days where my greatest fear is that no one actually reads anything that I write, or if they do, they don't care about my words and walk away from them unchanged and uninfluenced.

But every once in awhile I have a day that reminds me so strongly of why I do what I do. I am reminded that I really am making a difference.

For the past several months I have taught a writing class one morning a week to some 4th graders at one of the local elementary schools. There were only 5 students and I had a meager 30 minutes to instill in them some passion for writing. Most days I left feeling like all I had done was baby-sit some kids for a few minutes before school started. I felt certain that not only were my skills as a teacher lacking, but that it was hopeless to try and install a love for writing in kids that would rather be playing outside. My last class was a few weeks ago, and I honestly felt relieved. My kids had started dropping out from coming anyways so it seemed like it was time to be done. I had tried my best but I felt like I hadn't accomplished anything.

Then last week as I was leaving church I turned around to see one of my students, Madison, walking towards me with who I presumed was her mother. Her mom said that they had something to give me in their car. Apparently Madison had meant to give it to me at my last class but there was some confusion as to the date of the last class and she missed giving it to me. Madison and her mom went out to their car and came back in. Madison handed me a slip of paper with a poem written on it and a Starbucks gift card attached. It was her way of saying thank you for all I had done in the writing class. Her mother told me that Madison just loved me and was sad that there wouldn't be class anymore.

It was one of the few moments in my life where I was left nearly speechless. It was such a small gesture of gratitude, but it meant the world to me. It was recognition that I had made a difference, even if it was only to young Maddie. And the best part was that the gift included a poem she had written just for me. This left me knowing that Maddie did love writing and would continue to write with or without me giving her assignments each week. Passing on my love and passion for writing to someone, especially a child, is one of the only gifts I could ever ask for in return for the work I do.

One of the hardest parts about life, I think, is to find one's calling in life. While the discovery of it is possible for anyone, not everyone finds it. But even after finding it, one then has to find a way to make a difference in the world with it. To find a way to leave a lasting mark on the world through your calling. While I am still struggling to find out how to leave my unique mark, my gift from Maddie was a firm reminder that I am on the right path. 

Strong Women

In getting ready for the onset of summer, I purchased a new dirt bike a few weeks ago. Much to my father’s reluctance, as he was a Kawasaki and Suzuki dealer for over 30 years, he instructed me to buy a Honda CRF 230 as the next best step up from my KLX 140. And boy, oh boy did I take some serious heat for the purchase. Because my dad was a dealer all those years, I have only ever rode brands that he sold. And through his business I became well acquainted with a lot of MX racers in town. As soon as pictures of my new bike hit Facebook, so did the sarcastic comments and suggestions of disloyalty from all of these guys. It was all in good fun and I laughed it off saying that I was simply doing what I had to do to improve as a rider.

What I wanted to say was “shouldn’t the fact that I’m a girl and I ride be all that matters?” I mean how awesome and unconventional is that?

It has been my great privilege in the past few years to share in the company of several other ladies, such as myself, who aren’t afraid to do the same extreme sports as guys. We are certainly a rare breed….but one which is incredibly strong.

During my first few off-road races on my bike last summer, I lined up at the start alongside only a handful of other girls. I was scared as hell to say the least, but I took some comfort in looking on either side of me and knowing that I wasn’t in it alone. During one of my first races out at the track I witnessed something that made me incredibly proud to be a lady rider. I rode up on another girl trying to unwedge her bike from a giant muddy rut gouged into the track. Another girl was next to her helping push the bike while she gave it throttle. Like me, they were outnumbered in a male dominated event and struggling just to finish. But they were determined to take that checkered flag, and unlike the guys with trophy envy, they wanted to make sure that their fellow ladies finished as well. That takes some serious guts to pause and help another rider out and put their needs ahead of your desire to place.

When I started my second season of hockey this last fall, I was relieved to see there were two other girls joining me. On a novice league of over 20 guys, we were again outnumbered, but still ever determined to get out and play. I watched both girls take some nasty falls and crash into the boards trying to beat the guys to the puck. But they got right back up each time and kept skating …..and with a beaming smile on their face to boot! Even though they both played on the opposing team, I was never so happy as when I saw one of them score a goal or assist on one. I always tried to make sure I went out and gave them a fist pound afterwards, and they always did the same for me. It takes great courage to step out onto the ice and play in such a vicious sport, especially when the guys don’t hold back any just because you’re a girl. 

A few weeks ago, I missed our game and the inaugural game for a new girl. I was shocked and saddened to later hear that she fell during the game and suffered a concussion. She will be out for the rest of the season. It was an unfortunate accident, but according to her boyfriend who plays with us, she’ll be back next year. See that’s the thing about these types of women…..even when they get knocked out cold, they’re ready to go right back in again once revived.

My all ladies sled clinic with Dan Adams in February was another time of revelation for me on just how many strong women there are out there -----ready and willing to push themselves to the limit. Snowmobiling is a hard sport…..being a girl makes it even harder. I watched girls fall off and roll their sleds dozens of times. And each time they got back on their sleds, more pissed off and ready to try harder the next time. One of the girls’ sleds completely rolled over the top of her one time, but she still stuck the weekend out and managed to do an awesome sidehill maneuver the following day that I completely failed at. The amount of support and encouragement I found in that group of lady riders that weekend was overwhelming. And the best part was, we had all hauled our sleds to the middle of nowhere to ride with one of the top riders because we are that committed to the sport and to showing the men in our lives that we can ride just as well as them.

I was told once that I have “mismatched genetics” because I do so many activities that are non-traditional for girls. There was a time when I felt like that made me a bit of a freak. But the thing is, there are a lot of girls out there like me. I have rode and played beside them and they are by far the toughest chicks I know. They motivate me to keep going when I want to give up on something and they are changing the world as we know it by raising the bar for what women are capable of. 

They are strong women…..and I am proud to be one of them. 

“Strong women: May we know them. May we raise them. May we be them.”

 

My fellow Next Level ladies and I after completing our 2-day clinic!!

Salvation Lies Within

Yesterday afternoon, I went and saw The Shawshank Redemption at the movie theater. It is one of my all-time favorite movies, so when I found out they were doing a special showing of it on the big screen, I knew I had to go to it! I’ve seen the movie dozens of times and know it so well that I found myself reciting lines in my head right before they were said in the movie. But there were a couple of lines that stood out to me with more prevalence this time through.

At one point in the film, Warden Norton comes and inspects Andy’s prison cell. He notices Andy clutching a bible by his side and remarks that he is glad to see him reading it. Just as the Warden goes to leave, he reminds Andy that “salvation lies within”…..meaning within the bible. Of course the irony of this quote is revealed later when Norton discovers that Andy has been hiding the rock hammer he used to dig a tunnel out of his cell with inside the bible. But the phrase “salvation lies within” took on a different meaning for me. 

While I am preparing to be initiated into the Catholic church and do believe that salvation comes from God and his word, I also believe that it comes from within us. God created human beings and both blessed and burdened us with the gift of free will. All of the wisdom and holy words in the world can be preached to us, but at the end of the day, it is our choice whether we choose to believe in or follow those words and convictions. When we are confronted with challenges in life and everything we know and put trust in crumbles around us, many people put their faith in God. And sometimes that’s all you can do. But I don’t think enough people put trust in themselves.

Each of us is stronger than we will ever realize.  God might always be at our side, but He isn’t going to do all of the heavy lifting for us. That is our job.  We are the ones who have to fight through the difficult things, avoid the temptations, rise back up onto our feet after we’ve fallen. God is our sturdy foundation, but we are the house that must withstand what life throws against us. 

By being baptized at Easter I will be granted the promise of eternal life. But I had to first choose that that was what I wanted. That’s where the second key line of the film comes into play.

At the end of the film, Andy escapes Shawshank Prison and has to climb 500 yards inside the filth of a sewer pipe to reach freedom. He “crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side,” was the line that struck me at the end.

I would like to say that my decision to get baptized came out of some beautiful epiphanous moment involving rays of sunshine peeping through the clouds and something wonderful happening that made me realize that life is so much better than I ever imagined it could be. This was not the case. The reality is much more comparable to Andy’s  journey through a tunnel of shit water. 

My journey to getting closer to God involved moments of devastation, loss, heartache, failure, sin, and disappointment. Looking back now, every single one of those moments should’ve been something that pushed me away from God rather than pushing me towards Him. What made the difference was what lay inside me. I had to make the decision about how I wanted to walk away from certain situations and what attitude they left me with. I had to decide that I wasn’t going to let any of the bad things that happened break me. I had to choose to take the ugly things and make them beautiful. I had to see the difficult moments as tests from God and be an over-achiever on them like my school tests and not fail. God was at my side through all of that, but I had to choose to be saved. I had to do the suffering and believe that I would be better for it at the end. 

One day in my RCIA class, we were asked to pick a picture from a collage on the wall that best depicted our faith journey. I picked an elephant attempting to climb a very steep hill. If I had to pick again, I would choose the picture of Andy Dufresne after he climbs out of the sewage tunnel and throws his hands up into the air in the pouring rain. He crawled through a river of shit and found himself being cleansed by the rain on the other side. It is important to be a person of faith and trust that God will grant you salvation when you reach the other side. But first, you need to seek salvation in yourself so that God knows how much trust you put in His creation. 

An Authentic Sign

Ernest Hemingway wrote that “If a writer stops observing, he is finished.” One of the beautiful blessings about trying to constantly observe the world around me is that I often notice the little signs from God that most people---with their eyes hypnotized over their phone screens or elsewhere---miss. But even when you notice the signs, sometimes it takes a while before you understand their meaning.

In July 2010, I purchased my first home. It was brand new and no one had lived in it before. I had only lived there a few weeks when I noticed an interesting gouge in the wood of one of my kitchen cabinets. It was small and unremarkable, but bore the shape of a cross. It was unique and interesting but I didn’t think much about it.

Now, nearly 4 years later, that gouge in my wood bears much greater significance. 

This past Sunday I attended the Rite of Election at the St. Helena Cathedral where I publically expressed my desire to be baptized into the Catholic Church this coming Easter. After meeting the Bishop, I enrolled my name in the Book of the Elect and entered the final stage of my journey towards coming into full communion with the church. Technically, I have only been working towards this for 7 months or so. But in reality, it has been a journey years in the making. 

Earlier on Sunday before the rite at the Cathedral, I attended regular Mass. The homily given during it spoke a lot to me and echoed many of the big emotions I was feeling that day. Father Richard spoke about “authenticity” and what being an authentic person means in society today. He spoke of how Christ was authentic in his unyielding commitment to the words and will of God. Even when Christ was tempted by Satan in the desert, he chose to quote the words of his Father when he refused Satan.

It is not only rare to find a truly authentic person in today’s world, but it is a daily struggle to be one. It has taken me most of my 27 years to sort out who I am, what I believe, and how I want to live my life. One of those pieces—my faith—is one which has always been a dominant part of my life but was just never fully developed. This past summer, I finally felt God’s calling in my life to embrace my faith further and to formalize it by finally getting baptized. 

During the Bishop’s homily during the Rite of Election, he asked for us to all pause for a moment and reflect on those people who have knowingly or unknowingly assisted us in reaching this most pinnacle of moments. There were a lot of people who crossed my mind. And all of them not only assisted me in growing my faith but in helping me grow into the most authentic version of myself. They are the people who made me realize what my convictions are, how I want to treat all of the people I encounter in my life, and what kind of person I want to be at the end of the day. They are the people who set the standards for my life and see to it that I hold true to them. 

As I count down the days to Easter, I am overwhelmed daily with a sense of peace and wholeness knowing that my decision to be baptized is one of the most important ways I am staying true to my authentic self. Whether you decide to forgo college after high school and start your own business, come out of the closet and announce to everyone that you’re gay, choose to never get married and have children because you like your life the way it is, take a chance and leave everything you know for a new job opportunity across the country, or anything else you feel in your gut you need to do......do it. Stay true to what you believe and do what is best for you. Being an authentic person is hard because there will always be people trying to talk you out of doing things. And there will be countless roadblocks along the way that will make you want to turn back and give up. Staying truly authentic means saying to hell with all of that and pushing through. If you know in your heart that something is right for you and you follow through with it....you will never regret it. 

Looking back, my faith journey became much more serious right about the time I moved into my house. I didn’t know it, but that little cross-shaped gouge in my cabinet was a sign.....and perhaps a blessing....of all that would come to pass in the near future. It didn’t contribute in any way to the decision I made, but I look at it each day and smile with the belief that it may very well be a sign of reassurance from God on that decision---my decision to stay authentic to what I believe and who I am.

No Act of Kindness is Ever Wasted

Last week was an absolutely horrible week. Work was stressful and frustrating. I made a new friend that I was excited about only to lose him shortly afterwards to a job in another state. I lost another dear friend finally to the changing tides of life that I’ve fought hard against for years. I spent most of the week being reminded of all my failures and inadequacies. I felt utterly alone and in need of more love than I dared ask anyone to give. I try so hard to give everything I have to the people around me, but so often, I come home feeling empty inside and alone.

Last Wednesday was a particularly bad day and by the time I made it home from work I had spent half the day crying and the other half hating every single person and thing around me. I stopped to check my mail only to find that I had a birthday present from my best friend, Jamie. My birthday was still 5 days away but I wanted to be cheered up so desperately that I decided to open it early.

Jamie always gives me wonderful gifts....but when I opened this one I broke down crying harder than I have in months because it was so incredibly special and exactly what I needed in that moment. It was a framed sheet of paper listing 27 reasons why I am her best friend. I sat clutching the frame for several minutes while I got all of the crying out of my system. Every single reason she listed hit home so hard, and many of them were the same reasons she is my best friend.

Jamie lives in North Carolina, but in that moment, I felt more loved and cared for by someone over 2,000 miles away than by anyone living here. That is the true power of a best friend.

It was only a piece of paper with a few humble sentences printed on it, but it meant the world to me. I admire her for even trying to list out the reasons we are friends. I could fill hundreds of pages with all of my reasons and still not find an end.

I often wonder if the things I do for people really matter...really mean anything to them after the moment I do them. And for some people, they probably don’t. But Jamie is a testament to the fact that sometimes they do matter. You don’t maintain any kind of relationship with someone for 22 years unless you got a few things right. And the things is, Jamie is one of the people who has inspired me to keep giving, keep trying, keep loving even when things seem useless and impossible and hopeless. I try to be a better person every day because of her.

Aesop’s saying that “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted,” really is true. It will either help someone else.....or it will help you through the act of giving it. Trying to add up all of Jamie’s acts of kindness in my life would be like trying to count all the stars in the heavens. There are simply too many. But every one of them has mattered to me.

Jamie is my best friend and my sister. She is my partner in crime and is present in every single memory I have growing up. She has supported me at every twist and turn in life in every way a person can be supported. She has loved me unconditionally for 22 years and is the one person who would be right at my side even if I stood with hundreds against me. She is the one blessing God granted me that keeps making its presence known with each passing day.

“People are like stained glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within.” (Elisabeth Kubler-Ross). 

Jamie....you are the stained glass window of my life! Words can’t begin to tell you how much I love you or how thankful I am for you. 

Things I Love

I’ve never been much of a fan of Valentine’s Day. Whether romantic or otherwise, most relationships in life I’ve found to be fleeting and half hearted. But the word “LOVE” and all of the glorious elements in life that it can encompass---that is something I appreciate. It is hard—no—damn near impossible to find someone you love that will ever love you back with the same intensity and endurance. People and relationships fail us every single day. But the act of loving---be it a person or any other thing on this earth---is flawless. And the list of things worth loving in this life is infinite. So on this Valentine’s Day, I will spend it reveling in some of the things I love the very most......

I love the first snowflake of winter that lands on my nose. It feels like a kiss from heaven and a promise for a fresh start.

I love when someone texts me just to say good morning. It’s the perfect way to start a day.

I love rainbow sprinkles. Putting them on anything makes me feel like a kid again.

I love kisses on the forehead. There’s something so intimate and loving about those kind of kisses.

I love getting postcards in the mail and knowing that even when someone is far away on vacation, they are still thinking of me.

I love dancing around my house in the dark with my music turned up so loud it drowns out every thought in my head.

I love going for walks at night under a star-filled sky. Looking up reminds me that no matter how hard life seems sometimes, there really is a bigger plan out there for me.

I love sunflowers. I love their fearlessness to grow in the most unlikely of places, but just the places where a piece of beauty is needed.

I love full moons. I like to imagine that at the exact moment I look up and see one that the people I love most are also looking up at it....and that no matter where we all are in the world in that moment that we are connected by looking at the same moon.

I love handwritten letters. I love to write them and wish that others had the courage to write ones to me more often.

I love making snow angels and leaving my own mark on Mother Nature.

I love taking photographs and having photos taken of me. I want to look back in 60 years and remember the small moments and how much I truly lived.

I love the sound of motorcycle engines revving up. For me that is the sound of my youth and of my father.

I love wearing tutus....at inappropriate times and places. People never understand what you’re doing but they can’t help but smile at your boldness.

I love the smell of hairspray and static guard. It instantly transports me backstage to the dressing room where I prepared for all of my ballet performances.

I love splashing river water on my face. There’s no holy water in any cathedral font on earth that feels as purifying as that.

I love playing dress up. It is never too late to imagine what you might grow up to be.

I love giving gifts to people. It doesn’t matter if I ever get anything in return or if I could even afford the gift in the first place. Giving someone else 10 seconds of bliss leaves me happier than I can describe.

I love standing out in the middle of hard rainstorms with my face tilted to the sky. It feels like I’m washed clean of all my burdens for a moment.

I love when people say “no” to me. Those are the moments I know God is calling me to rise up and become an even greater version of myself.

I love going for long, aimless drives. They clear my head and bring peace back to my soul.

I love that I’ve had the same best friend since I was 5. And despite being an only child, she will always be my sister first and foremost.

I love making wishes every time I look at a clock and it reads 11:11. I secretly think these wishes will someday come true.

I love wearing onesies to bed. Because it’s impossible not to be happy when you’re wearing a onesie.

I love picking wild huckleberries and how your fingers are stained purple for days afterwards.

I love that my one true love is Montana. She will forever hold a spot in my heart that no man will ever overtake.

I love the overbearing silence of the mountains in winter. I love to close my eyes and listen to the pure sounds of nature emerge within it.

I love standing under street lights when it’s snowing and spinning around until I’m dizzy.

I love the song “My Way” by Elvis Presley. It is the song that best defines me and that I want played at my funeral someday.

I love that despite all of the pain, challenges, and ugliness life has thrown my way at times, that I still find something new to love about life with each passing day.

Happy Valentine’s Day.......go out and find something or someone to love today!