Our Back Porch

Our Porch

Every single morning, year-round, as soon as I wake up and I make my coffee, I go out and sit on our back porch. 

We have lived in our Bushfork home since 2015, and the enclosed porch has become a refuge for my soul. Whether it's spring or summer with the water fountain running, or late fall and winter with the space heater on and me bundled up, I spend an hour or two there every single morning without fail.

I spend the first few minutes settling in, appreciating, and thanking the Lord for this day, this life, and this space. After offering my praise, I quiet my heart to listen - then listen more deeply through His Word.

This time on my porch has become a large part of me. It is woven into my being and my soul. My time on the porch is filled with every sweet and precious memory I carry in my heart..

It's the sweet scent of Honeysuckle filling the air while in Arkansas in April..

sleeping in our Cheshire house with the windows open and listening to the rain gently falling on the leaves..

the beautiful sunrises in Key West..

hearing the mantle clock softly tick and chime while sleeping at our Vo'Vo and Feety's house while growing up..

watching mom play the piano with her grandchildren..

picking and eating the big, ripe raspberries straight from the shrub in the backyard of my New Britain apartment..

the man behind me at Aldi's who was dancing because it was his 87th birthday and he was going to have a big party that day..

the little girl at the Boiling Springs library with the pink cowboy boots singing "It's a Small World After All" again and again and again..

looking out the window in the early morning haze in Rhode Island and seeing my Dad gracefully move through his Tai Chi routine..

being at my sister Leah's house and looking out the kitchen window and watching her tend to her flower garden knowing how much peace it brings her..

being on the receiving end of Bill's love every single day..

being in Turkey during a training exercise and looking up and seeing all the stars - the millions and millions of stars..

the beautiful, flowing brook that ran along the side of our house in Bristol..

lying in bed and hearing Missy next to me snoring..

the precious little girl at CVS paying for her greeting card with money she took out of her little purple plastic purse..

swinging on the tree swing Bill made for me.. 

watching my Dad blow bubbles in the back yard with Morgan..  

after a rainstorm, seeing the full double rainbow while in Fort Jackson..

all the mornings sitting on the front porch with Emil and Missy watching the day slowly begin..

the cheese 'skirt' you get when you make grilled cheese sandwiches..😊

being at the Baltimore Airport and being blessed to see an Honor Flight returning and coming off the plane..

playing in the canal, creeks and woods when I was a little girl growing up in Wallingford, Ct..

dogs in cars, always dogs in cars..

when Glenn Holland walks into the auditorium at the end of "Mr. Holland's Opus" to see the impact he truly had on everyone's life..

The Sound of Music..

the older gentleman at the Flea Market "helping me" back up into a spot..

the full moon. The half moon. The crescent moons. All the moons..

all the time I spent with my dear friend Ms. Ruth in the six years I knew her..

sending, getting and saving handwritten notes..

seeing the first daffodils of spring..

and waking each day to witness the Lord's mercy, goodness, love and glory again and again.

This is what sitting on my back porch feels like to me. 💖

A HUG

The last time I was in CT, we went to dinner with my family. It was such a great time with everyone, and as we were getting ready to leave, Dalia, my brother Bernie’s 11-year-old daughter, came up to give me a hug. I love hugs, but this was a HUG. She wrapped her little arms around my waist, rested her head on my chest, and held on tight. And it wasn’t a quick hug—Dalia held firm, going well beyond the usual embrace. In those few extra seconds, I felt the pure love and kindness of this tender-hearted little girl, all the goodness and true affection she had to give. I’ve probably gotten hundreds of hugs in the past year, but this one from Dalia stays in my heart, a memory I revisit whenever I want to feel truly seen and loved. Thank you Dalia, I love you. 

I pray that you are often on the receiving end of such a HUG and that you are a giver of them as well.  

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The Little Things

"Appreciate the little things". You've probably heard that hundreds of times, and it's good, solid advice. May I show you why it truly is important to pay attention and value those "little" things.

* * * *

My good friend Tibb has ALS. For the past two plus years, she hasn’t been able to move anything below her neck, and about nine months ago, she lost the ability to speak entirely. Tibb operates a device attached to her right foot that moves a cursor so she can communicate. The tip of her right foot is literally all she can move. 

I visit her nearly every day, and I have never heard her complain — not even once. She’s still quick-witted, attentive, and her faith is stronger than ever. The only thing she's ever typed to me was "Everything is being taken away from me" and it wasn't a complaint - it was simply the truth. 

Even though Tibb can’t move her fingers, she still has feeling in them and they hurt. I’ve started squeezing her fingers and hands, which feels good to her, and I make sure to do both hands almost every time I visit. Sunday, I gently took her heavy, motionless hand from beneath the blanket and began squeezing her fingers as usual. About two minutes later, Piper, her cat, jumped up onto her lap, and Tibb gave a HUGE smile.

I gently lifted Tibb’s hand and guided it to pet Piper. One of those “little” things, right? Yes, but not really. Tibb instantly began to sob, her face a blend of joy and heartbreak. It had been over two years since she’d been able to show love to her cats Piper and Roberta. I continued helping her stroke Piper, speaking softly to her as I did. I placed her hand on Piper's head, and she felt the cat's tongue lick her. I guided her hand to Piper’s chest and stomach, where she could hear and feel the steady, motor-like purr, as she continued to sob.

We stayed like that for about five or six minutes until Piper hopped off her lap. I looked at Tibb and said, "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Tibb mouthed, "Thank you" and "I love you". I stroked her cheek, rested my head next to hers, and told her she was welcome and that I loved her too.

Petting a cat. Just one of those "little" things.

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Sharing Joy

read prior blog: Joy

Since I started making and giving out my quilted heart Joy tags, I’ve handed out more than 475. They’re simple fabric hearts with the word “JOY” stamped on them. Some tags went to people I met while out and about—those who looked like they could use a little joy or given to those who brought joy to me. Friends have also asked for tags to share and they have become joy givers too!

Before I give a tag, I always ask first if it’s okay to give them something, and while they often seem a bit hesitant, the moment I hand them a tag, their expression instantly shifts to happiness. I knew that I would feel joy in giving them to others, but I’ve been genuinely touched and blessed by the reactions of those who received them.

Several people have asked, “You’re just giving this to me?” or “You made this?” I reply, “Yes, I do make them and I keep them in my bag and give them to kind people who have blessed me.” Sometimes I get a hug in return, but I always receive a heartfelt thank you.  The reactions are different, but every single one has been a blessing. Knowing that I am reaching out and making a difference in someone's day has inspired me to make and share more of them. I started a notebook to record every time I gave out a tag, knowing that while sharing joy was a blessing, I wanted to relive that feeling over and over. From there, I created a Facebook page called "Sharing Joy" and began posting some of those experiences. 

Now, I’d like to offer the Joy heart tags to anyone who wants to join me in sharing Joy. If you’re interested in receiving some tags to hand out to people, send me your address (in a private message) and I’ll mail them to you! All I ask is that you pay the shipping (approx $8 for 10 tags).  The tags themselves are a gift and a blessing for you to share.

Share your address and help spread joy! Don’t forget to like the "Sharing Joy" page and post your stories of giving tags or share other acts of kindness you’ve given or received. The Facebook page was created to be a comforting space where people can turn when they feel overwhelmed and need the reassurance of the Lord’s love. Please feel free to contribute as much and as often as you like. 💗

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Tender Heart

I had a follow-up appointment with the hand specialist on Monday and was in the waiting room with a few others. A few minutes after I arrived, an older man came in wheeling his frail wife, who was clearly in distress. Once he got her in place, he sat beside her, gently brushing away the thin, gray strands of hair that had fallen onto her face. One hand was over her hands, clasped in her lap while the other gently stroked her cheek as he quietly assuring her that everything would be okay—that she would be okay.

It took a little bit, but she seemed to be noticeably calmer after his efforts. Leaning back in his chair, he glanced up, saw me watching with tears in my eyes and offered me the sweetest smile. There was so much in his smile and eyes that brought me into his world. In that moment, I saw a man who loved his wife deeply and truly meant it when he vowed to stay by her side through it all. 

I have a tender heart and moments like this really move me. People often say that I’m “too sensitive,” and honestly, they’re right—I feel everything deeply. But if feeling this deeply is the cost of having a tender heart, it’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.

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After

It’s been three months since we said goodbye to Missy. I knew it would be tough—she was such a huge presence in our home, and I miss her countless times every single day. What I didn’t realize was just how huge the hole in my heart would be, left behind by a little 21-pound dog.

In the past months, we’ve donated many of her things to a local rescue and passed along other items to friends who also have dogs. We held on to her favorite toys, even though she hadn’t played with them in over a year—we just couldn’t let them go. They still sit in the basket in the living room.

I don’t see her hair on my Swiffer or in the vacuum anymore, though now and then I still spot a stray strand on blankets or comforters, and even those are becoming rare. I’m afraid soon there won’t be any left. Her nose smudges still stain the bathroom and bedroom doors, from when she’d burst in to make sure she wasn’t missing out on anything fun. I’m not sure I want to wipe them away—at least not yet.

Some days, the sadness feels overwhelming, mostly because I can’t shake the feeling that I failed her. I feel I let her down, and if I had just held on a bit longer and been stronger, maybe she could have enjoyed more good days. I’ve been a supporter of the Senior Dog Sanctuary in Mount Juliet, TN, for many years, always having a soft spot for sweet frosty-faced senior dogs, and yet I felt I let down my own senior girl. 

When I look at the pictures of Missy from our last week with her, I can see it—the pain, the anxiety—and it hurts to see it now. At the time, watching her suffer, I knew in my heart we were doing the right thing, giving her a dignified passing and sparing her from more pain than she deserved. I knew it then, but now, with my heart missing her so deeply, I can’t help but feel remorse. I absolutely did not want her last day to be her worst day, but I sometimes feel I deprived her of good days too. 

I miss her, and I miss the version of myself I was when I was with her. She was a silly little dog, and I was just as silly with her. I love people, but deep down, I’m an introvert, and Missy had a way of pulling me out of my shell and out of the house. Missy adored people, and the way she would run to greet them made it easier for me to connect with others too. I miss that and I needed that.

I know in my heart we did the right thing, sparing her from more pain and suffering, but there are moments when missing her hurts so much I second-guess my decision. She depended on me for everything her whole life, and I wanted to make the best decision for her. I know, in time, the pain will settle into a different place and missing her won't hurt so bad. Eventually, my heart will heal and be filled with the silly, goofy little Missy moments that brought so much joy to our lives. 

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My Friend Tibb

  

I've known Tibb for about 10 years. She and Robert moved to Bushfork in October 2017. I noticed that for about a week after they moved in, the builder still had not removed the porta potty in front of their house, so I called the builder to complain, and that’s how I met the Grays. 😊

Tibb came by my house a few times in those early years. She loved the teapot wind chime hanging in my yard and asked me to show her how to make them. Over a few visits, she made three—one for herself and one for each of her two daughters. I learned that Tibb has a strong sense of color and style, with definite likes and dislikes. Back then, she was a charge nurse on the third shift, so we didn’t see each other much. I’d usually run into her when I was out walking Missy and she was in the yard with her three grandchildren. I’d stop by, and we’d chat on her front porch for a while. We shared that easygoing friendship for seven or eight years.

Fast forward to the fall of 2023, Tibb underwent major surgery and stayed at a rehabilitation facility for about 30 days. I visited her a few times there and again after she returned home. Then, in February 2024, she received a diagnosis that would change her life. Tibb is unable to move anything below her neck except for the top of her right foot. She moves the top of her foot to activate a mouse-like device which operates a screen/laptop device. As her vocal cords weakened, speaking became more difficult until she could no longer communicate verbally. 

During this season of Tibb’s life, she’s been surrounded by the support of her husband, family, friends, and a special group of Hope Church volunteers. Living just two houses down from Tibb and Robert, I visit her often and have come to know the Hospice care team, the family, and the volunteers—some of whom I am now blessed to call friends too.  From the very start of her diagnosis, I spent so much time with her that I noticed every gradual change, and we formed a special, deep bond through simple eye movements, glances, and nods. She taught me how she needs to be positioned in her chair and how to make the small adjustments to keep her comfortable. 

        

Tibb has two cats, Roberta and Piper. They are sweet cats and Tibb absolutely adores them. At first, they were shy, and I barely saw them, but now they greet me every time I visit. Roberta has this quirky habit of licking my elbow or forearm, while Piper insists on sitting or lying on my phone no matter where I place it. Tibb loves watching every forensic, crime, emergency and rescue show on TV.  I always turn away from the gory parts, but Tibb just laughs at me and my delicateness and remains completely unfazed.

One day I came over and Tibb was watching a video on pimple popping, and I was completely grossed out and Tibb thought this was the funniest thing ever.  The more I went on about how disgusting it was, the more she laughed.  She likes these types of shows, and she enjoys how much I don't. 

The next day I came in, she was watching a YouTube video on pimple popping, again. Roberta came over and immediately started licking my left elbow, while Piper plopped her butt right on my phone beside me. With exaggerated and feigned frustration, I said, “This whole house is nuts—your cat licks my elbow, the other leaves butt marks on my phone, and their mom watches revolting abscesses oozing. Y’all are crazy.” Then I added after a moment, “And yet I keep coming back.” Tibb laughed and laughed, which got me laughing too, and we kept it going for a long time. "And yet you keep coming back" soon became another inside joke we share. 

I try to visit for a little while each day, and lately, we've been sitting together watching TV and having small "talk and type" conversations as the muscles in her foot allows.  I didn't know Tibb very well when she first moved in, but I am so blessed to have this relationship with her now.  Sometimes you treasure the moments spent talking with friends and family, and other times, when the bond is strong enough, you can be comfortable to sit together in silence.  My dear and treasured friend Tibb, you have blessed me, supported me and nurtured me in ways I can never fully repay. I love you, my friend, and you can be sure I’ll keep coming back.

Side note: Tibb has always been a huge supporter of my writing, and when I started again, I’d share each new blog with her. I told her I planned to write one about her, and she rewarded me with one of her signature "Tibb" smiles. I read this to her while it was still in draft form, and it made us both cry. There were a few edits I had to make but she is pleased with it. 💗

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Older than my Father

On January 8, 1999, just 60 days after Bernie Pech, my dad, turned 62 years old, he passed away during an Angioplasty procedure.  

I was 37 then, and 62 seemed so far away from where I was in life. Now, having lived beyond the age my dad reached, I am filled with a mix of emotions and reflections. 

Lately, I’ve been carrying a sense of unease and sadness I can’t quite explain. I’ve had a bad fall, bruised some ribs, aggravated my three compression fractures, we were dealing with Missy’s decline and eventual passing, and watching close friends face serious illnesses. But this sadness felt different somehow, and I couldn’t figure out why.

When I stopped to listen and pray, I realized what was causing my sadness—I am older than my dad ever was. I didn’t feel this way at 63, so why does turning 64—already past his age—feel so different? I've tried many times to get to the core of my feelings and what I have discovered is that my feelings had to do with me and my life. 

My father spent a great portion of his life dealing with inner turmoil.  It wasn't until his mid-fifties that he began making small but important changes. After retiring as a lieutenant colonel from the Army National Guard, he took a part time job at Barnes & Noble and found his niche. He loved reading and was surrounded by people, both young and old, who shared his passion for books, and he was in his element and making friends. 

One of the most significant changes in my father's life came when he began practicing Tai Chi. It brought him the inner peace and serenity he had been searching for. The discipline and patience of Tai Chi challenged him and also fulfilled him, and it was wonderful to see. As for me, it took me a while as well, but I found my joy in the Lord, who gave me the peace and contentment I had been missing for so long. 

I wish my father had lived longer to enjoy this newfound place of contentment. Lately, I have found myself thinking and worrying that I'm not living the years he never had in a way that truly honors him, and I'll always wish he'd had more time to experience his life in this new way. 

My father deserved a better daughter than I was back then. I wish he could have known the person I've become. Now that I'm older - older than he ever was - I realize what a blessing it is to be here and live a joy filled life. I just wish I could have shared that with him.

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Newspaper + Dog = Friendship

In 2011 we moved from CT to Duncan, SC.  We had our dog Ginger with us, and soon after we moved in, I began walking her on the street in front of our house.  Our realtor told us that the elderly woman who lived across the street once owned the property our home was built on.  I had not yet met her, but I noticed she also received the morning newspaper, and the walk to the end of the gravel driveway was about 75 feet long. I was worried about her walking alone on the gravel with her cane, so I stopped by one afternoon and introduced myself.  I told her that I was out early every morning with my dog Ginger and I offered to bring her paper to her door. She told me her name was Ruth Pearson, and she said supposed that would be alright. 

Not too long after, we had lost Ginger to an aggressive cancer, but I kept bringing the paper to her door. It didn't take long for Miss Ruth and me to become friends. Soon, I was bringing her cookies, she was making me Pound Cake - real honest to goodness Southern Pound Cake - and I was coming by for visits.  Most days we'd sit and talked, or crack pecans at her kitchen table - she had a beautiful pecan tree in her front yard which produced a lot of pecans!

Soon, I was taking Miss Ruth to the library—she was an avid reader like me—as well as to the doctor’s, the hairdressers, and the grocery store. We remained good friends until she passed away in 2015 at the age of 91. This treasured friendship began with a newspaper and a dog.

In 2015, we moved to Inman, SC, and had welcomed Missy into our home a few years earlier. We lived in a community of 75 homes with six cul-de-sacs, making it a wonderful place to walk. I’d take Missy out for a stroll in the morning and later go for a faster-paced walk on my own.  

I’d heard about an elderly man who lived on the next street down. He had moved here from Florida with his wife, but just a week later, she suddenly passed away. I'd never been formally introduced to him, yet my heart went out to him.  I noticed he also received the morning paper and though his driveway wasn't long, the slight hill concerned me. So, I began bringing the newspaper to his front door. 

For months I delivered the newspaper without ever meeting him, until one afternoon when I was out with Missy and saw him coming out of his house.  I walked over to introduce myself and Missy, and that's when he told me his name was Emil.  I told him I was the one bringing the newspaper to his door. Apparently, all this time he thought it was the carrier, so he said he always gave him a generous tip!  We had a good laugh about that! 

I had told Emil we lived just up the hill and to let us know if he needed anything. Emil said he was fine, didn't need anything, but he thanked me very much. The next day, I left the paper, some chocolate chip cookies, and my phone number. I didn't see Emil for a few weeks after that, but one day he was waiting for me and Missy to walk by.  He thanked me for the cookies but said that next time he'd prefer them without nuts. And just like that - instant friends. 

I've written blogs about my cherished friendship with Emil (and Ruth)*. He truly was a dear, dear friend, and we always looked out for each other.  Almost every morning, we would sit on his front porch and wave to the people going by. Those are some of my fondest memories, this quiet, peaceful time with my friend Emil and Missy. 

We enjoyed our friendship for about four years before Emil had a mild stroke and moved to the VA hospital.  During COVID, visitors were not allowed except for family, but his son Richard would call me during his visits and hold the phone up to Emil's ear so I could talk to him. Richard always told me that Emil made facial expressions to show that he recognized my voice. Emil passed away in November of 2020. This treasured friendship also began with a newspaper and a dog. 

I felt lost without Emil.  Nurturing has been a deep part of who I am, and after losing Miss Ruth and now Emil, it felt like I had also lost my purpose too. I believed God put me in Duncan to be there for Miss Ruth and then moved us to Inman to be there for Emil. I still trusted that my gift for nurturing would find its place again. I knew it wouldn't come through a newspaper - they don't deliver them anymore - and it wouldn't happen while walking a dog, but I believed it would be revealed to me soon.

Since then, the Lord has blessed me with many dear friends - some I've cared for, and others who've been there for me when I needed looking after. I know with absolute certainty that I've found my purpose and my center - a center grounded in the joy of nurturing and the joy of the Lord. 

* Additional Blogs:  Ruth Jan 2015  /  Emil Dec 2020  /  Emil and Missy Sept 2020  /  Emil, Missy and "Will-Powers" Aug 2020

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Stand by Me - Ben E. King

The song "Stand by Me" was recorded and released by Ben E. King in 1961 when he was 23 years old. At this point there is nothing that I can say about this classic that would be new or different - this song is simply timeless.  Ben E. King 1961

Every time I hear this song, I stop and listen, giving it my full attention.  I love the whole song, but the violin and cellos in the middle are by far my absolute favorite part of the song. 

This 2007 live performance is the one I watch over and over again. At 69, King has likely sung this song countless times, yet the lyrics clearly hold meaning for him. He sings it with the ease of a seasoned artist and the comfort and warmth of returning to an old friend. It’s a wonderful performance.  King sings this song with the respect and admiration it deserves, neither over- nor under- performing it. The expressions on the orchestra members' faces reflect their dedication and respect as well.  Ben E. King 2007

Seeing King in the 1961 video and then again in his 2007 performance, you see a man who has found contentment in life. There’s a quiet yet powerful sense of confidence and peace about him that time has nurtured. He went on to live another seven years, and I pray that those years were filled with the same peace he radiates here.

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People Watching / Airports / Heaven

Earlier this month, my mom and brother flew in from Connecticut for a long weekend visit. Bill dropped me off at the airport, and I waited for Nora and Bernie in the chairs at the bottom of the escalator along with the others. This spot is where everyone exits the airport and goes to pick up their luggage from baggage claim. Since I’d arrived early, I passed the time doing one of my favorite activities—people-watching. It’s always fun, but there’s something especially fascinating about people-watching in an airport. (I also love to watch dogs in cars too and wrote a blog about it, Missy Makes Me Laugh: "Wait for it")

As I sat there, watching people pass by, I'd smile if someone glanced my way, and most of the time I was blessed with a smile in return. I can't say I represent all of Upstate South Carolina, but I hope they remember the stranger who smiled at them and thought, "Wow!  This sure is a friendly state!".

My favorite part of people-watching at the airport is spotting those waiting for someone to arrive. I look for the person in the crowd; eyes fixed on the area where their loved one will appear. I can't get enough of that moment of recognition - both faces lighting up with pure joy and love as they rush to connect and hug.  

I probably watch more than what's considered socially acceptable, but I can't help it. I want to witness it all - the long hugs, the happy tears and the pure joy of people being reunited with someone they love. 

We're not meant to know how we will be welcomed Home this side of Heaven, but I know that the Bible says we will recognize our loved ones. I may not know where I will be waiting, but that's okay, I trust that God has everything planned out.  He will guide me to the place where I can witness the reunions, the homecomings, and all the love and joy that Heaven holds for all of eternity. 

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Dust

If you’re reading this, thank you!  Honestly, if I came across a blog called “Dust,” it wouldn’t exactly be on my must-read list. But that’s just me—I can’t stand dust. More precisely, I can’t stand to dust.

If you’ve been to my house, you can probably guess why. I have countless collections, plenty of treasures, and lots and lots of dust collectors.

Just to be clear, I’m a very tidy person—I vacuum, do laundry, scrub the shower, toilet, and sink—everything. Except dusting. I just don’t like to dust. Bill and I have always moved into a new house about every seven years, so I really never had to worry about dusting.  We would just move. Ha! Why should I bother dusting if we’re going to be moving soon—it felt like something that could wait.😉

I've dusted every way you can think of - a can of Pledge and a rag, using my vacuum with the soft brush attachment, those Swiffer Dusters and even compressed air a few times - I still disliked dusting. Then Bill found these "Dust Gloves" a few weeks back, brought them home and I heard angels sing.

I truly believed these gloves would be life-changing. Why, I just might even enjoy dusting now. Maybe this was all I needed to become a "Duster". Just imagine, I can simply slip on a glove and dust during commercials. I could already picture myself strolling through a room, casually swiping my hand across any surface. Oh yes, I had big plans for me and my Dust Gloves.

This photo on the left was taken when the gloves entered the Alden home on April 13th, and the photo on the right was taken this morning.  As you can see, they are still on my kitchen stool and the tag is still attached. I did pick them up, but not in any way that involved dusting.

After some deep self-reflection, I realized that it is not the lack of having the right equipment that's been keeping me from dusting - I really just don't like to dust.  I'm 63 years and 9 months old and I've decided that dusting just isn't going be my thing. But that's okay, I have plenty of good qualities.  Have you tasted my cookies?!😊 

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Joy

Joy. A three-letter word filled with meaning, hope and peace. Joy, such a wonderful word and feeling. Happiness is also a great feeling, but it's often fleeting, tied to external circumstances. Joy, on the other hand, comes from within, routed in purpose and faith. The word "joy," along with variations like "rejoice" or "joyful," is mentioned over 400 times in the Bible, depending on the source. Happiness fades, but joy endures. 

It wasn't until I focused on "joy" that I felt a true sense of calm - a steady, peaceful feeling inside. Joy and happiness aren't an either-or experience; they can exist side by side. But it is joy that stays in your heart, that place where you can rest and simply be. Once I stopped focusing on whether I was "happy" or "sad", joy was able to fill my heart

I've been making cards for a long time and when it was time to get a personalized stamp, I knew what I wanted it to say: "Created with Love & Joy".

And when I started making quilts, I signed them the same way too.  Whatever I created, I wanted it to be crafted and filled with love and joy.  

This past Christmas, I made small fabric tree tags from quilt scraps, then started creating heart tags with the word "Joy" on them.  I began carrying the tags in my pocketbook with me. I wanted to spread joy with others and to thank and recognize those who had brought joy into my day.  

Since January, I have given away more than 127 Joy tags. They've gone to cashiers with kind smiles, helpful receptionists, little girls with pretty pink bows, friendly security guards and the kind woman at HomeGoods who found me crying in the Pet section just 5 days after Missy passed. When someone brings me joy, or I sense that they could use some, I give them a tag.  

The first Joy tag I gave away was on January 12th at a Publix. A woman was wearing a stunning blue wool coat, and I complimented her on it.  What followed was such a delightful conversation and experience that I knew - this is what I need to do.  This is what I am meant to do at this time in my life; share joy.  When I got home, I started a notebook to record my encounters, because while sharing the joy is wonderful, I also want to remember it.

Before long, I had more than a dozen Joy "carriers" - friends who also carry Joy tags to give away. I've made over 190 tags for them to share, with just one request; that they tell me their stories. I always want to hear the stories.  💖

It's such a simple thing really - noticing someone, appreciating someone's kindness toward you or realizing that someone could use a little kindness. 

Joy is what connects us on a deeper level, and it truly is a wonderful thing to share.

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Bringing Missy Home

Our house is quiet. Whenever the family dynamics changes, it leaves an emptiness. It feels different and I know it will feel this way for a while. You can't lose a sweet dog with such a big personality as Missy without feeling an absence. 

After Missy had passed and Dr. Springs had given us some time with her; she returned with a beautiful basket lined with soft fleece. She and Bill gently lifted Missy into the basket laying her head on the soft white lace-trimmed pillow and adjusting her before covering her with a small gray blanket. 

Bill carried Missy out the front door and gently placed her in the front seat of Dr. Springs' car.  Seeing her laying there in that peaceful surroundings both broke my heart and brought me comfort.  Everything about that day was peaceful and exactly how we prayed it would be as we said goodbye to our sweet girl. 

Since then, the days have also has been filled with so much kindness.  We've received countless beautiful comments on the "Missy Alden" blog, as well as on Facebook and Instagram.  In remembrance of Missy, we received many thoughtful phone calls, cards and gifts - flowers, plants, customized wind chimes, plaques, a tree planted in her name in a US National Forest and a handmade wooden heart. One especially tender-hearted friend brought me warm soup, along with a bag of berries and yogurt knowing I wasn't taking care of myself. It's amazing how a 17-pound bundle of love and wiggles touched so many hearts. 

We got the call from Inman Animal Hospital letting us know that Missy's ashes were there. Dr Tyler Vaughn and all the vets at Inman Animal Hospital had taken such good care of Missy over the past 12 years, handling everything from baths and shots to boarding, annual checkups and everything in between as we worked to manage her increasing pain and anxiety. We got to know them very well over the years and liked and trusted them all.  

The morning we were picking up her ashes, I baked Chocolate Chip Cookies. I often baked for the staff to thank them, and they always enjoyed and appreciated the treats. The cookies were meant to go along with the other things I was bringing, and I wanted them to be warm when we arrived.

I knew that I would be an emotional mess walking into the office and seeing all the staff, and I was. Once again, there was so much kindness, so many hugs and love for us and for the joy that Missy brought them every time she visited. 

We brought Missy home through the front door to complete the circle, and placed her ashes and pawprint in her room, on her bed bathed in the morning sun that she loved so much. 

Lap of Love has locations and veterinarians in 48 states, offering 24/7 support to guide you through the entire process of this difficult and heartbreaking decision. We worked with Dr. Carol Springs, and she was truly an angel.  

https://www.lapoflove.com

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Jennifer Gray

I visited Jennifer at Spartanburg Regional Hospital on the morning of Tuesday, September 9th. Even though it was not yet 9am, her husband Sam, her sister Jill, a nephew and a brother were already there, with many more family members on their way from near and far.  

Jennifer was a devout Christian, and during an earlier visit she shared that she had peace with the diagnosis and decision and simply wanted to go home.  Jennifer came home Wednesday, the next day. On Friday evening, Sam called to let me know that the hospice nurse had just left their home and to give me update me - Jennifer had about a week to live. 

The next morning, I visited with Jennifer in her home and it would be the last real conversation we'd have. After that, I would visit every morning and sit by her side, praying, speaking softly, and caressing her beautiful skin and cheek. They had started giving her strong doses of pain medication to keep her comfortable and she slept deeply with little reaction to noise or touch. 

That Saturday morning, I told her I had written something and I asked if I could share it with her.  She quietly replied, "Please do". This is what I wrote and shared with her that morning: 

"You won't see Jennifer out in the neighborhood - she and Sam don't own a dog, and Jennifer doesn't drive - but if you attended the annual block party, you definitely saw her.  She was the sparkling, smiling gal carrying a platter piled high with fish cakes. 

Always sparkling and smiling, I can't recall a time when she wasn't doing both. She loves her glitter, rhinestones and all things glitzy. Her hat, her nails, her phone case, her shirts, her house slippers, her water bottle - you name it, she added some shine. Sparkle is her favorite "color" and it suits her.  Jennifer radiates faith, joy, kindness and goodness. 

Jennifer and Sam created a cozy and inviting home.  Each visit brought a new discovery - a framed photo, a memento from a trip, or plaque with an inspiring verse.  Jennifer wanted people to feel welcome and comfortable, and I certainly always did. 

If Jennifer calls you a friend, consider yourself truly blessed.  You could be confident knowing she would be a true and loyal friend. Jennifer welcomes you in, cares deeply, listens with her heart and loves openly, all the while sharing her faith and leaving you feeling heard, loved and blessed. 

I feel blessed for all the moments I shared with Jennifer and the many ways she helped me. Not just in the easy conversations, but through the tough ones as well.  She listened and loved with the right balance of compassion and guidance, always rooted in the Word and grounded in love."

I finished up with, "Jennifer, my friend, my dear and treasured friend, I feel proud, honored, and truly blessed to have had you in my life these past four years.  I am grateful for all you've done for me and for others and I love you my precious friend."

Jennifer was crying as I read this to her, as was I. When I finished, we sat in silence for a few moments, me just caressing the beautiful soft skin on her face and hand and loving on her.  I thought she had fallen asleep, but then in a soft whisper she said, "Read it again, gather everyone around and read it again". The family members, about 15 or so, gathered close around the bed and Jennifer softly said, "Janet wrote this for me". 

I read it again for the family. Jennifer was crying, I was crying and several family members were crying as well. When I finished, people came up to me, hugged me, and thanked me.  They thanked me.  Here I was blessed with this beautiful gift of friendship and love from their beloved "Jenny", and it will always be me who will be thankful.  

Jennifer passed September 18th around 9:30pm with Sam and Jill by her side. 

Jennifer, may God, who watches over us and hears us when we pray, grant you eternal rest - you are Home. 

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