The Joy of a Setback

Embrace your setbacks because eventually they become the obstacles you overcome. The first question you usually ask yourself in a difficult situation is, "Why me?". Or "What did I do to deserve this?". And the answer is usually "I don't know". But a very important word  can follow: yet. I don't know - yet. And suddenly, hope appears to guide you out of the forest and up the pathway to climbing the mountain placed before you.
There are all types of setbacks. Our son, Josh, had a big one this week on his bike. He is a timid and careful child which is good in some situations and frustrating in others. His learning to ride a bike was a bit like running a marathon - it took forever! But then one day, he just pushed off on his pedals and discovered the freedom of riding a bike. So, three weeks later, Josh and I head out on a journey to discover what leads down one of the greenways that run behind our house. We had biked a little over 1.5 miles and decided to take a drink break. A large hill loomed before us and I asked if he wanted to turn around or continue up the hill. He surprised me with, "Let's go up. It's always fun to discover new things - like an adventure.". As an English Minor, I probably should have picked that statement up as foreshadowing. We continued. At the top of the hill, Josh decided we should head home so we turned around and I asked if he wanted me to lead or follow and he answered, "Lead.".

I reminded him the hill was long, steep and curvy so he would need to use his breaks to monitor his speed. He nodded and off I went. I was totally in my own moment, coasting down the hill, wind cooling off my sweating body and silently singing, "Like a Rhinestone Cowboy" in my head (there is a family story there as well). All of the sudden, an out of control seven-year-old goes blazing by me, front wheel and handle bars wobbly and without thinking I shout, "BREAK!" and because Josh is an obedient child, he breaks hard and the back wheel skids to the left as his bike careens downward. In slow motion I watch the bike skid right and Josh tumble off and roll like a bowling ball down the paved greenway to the left. My heart and my bike stop. And a large noise fills my ears. But, then he stands up, with only a bloody knee and a tearful face. As I realize nothing is broken, I inhale deeply, pick up his bike, look deep into his beautiful brown eyes and quietly say, "You know, we have to get back on this bike. In a little bit." And I stroke his back as I try to quiet my heartbeat. Because if we walk home, the bike will stay parked in our garage, permanently. So in few minutes, we climb back on and make our way home. We had a few more bumps as we did not stop at a stop sign and bumped into Mom's bike but we arrived in tact, sweaty and bright red streaking down a tiny leg. As we pushed our bikes up our driveway, Josh said, "I did not like that bike ride at ALL!". I breathed. "Yeah?" I asked. "You think the next one will be better?" I squeaked out. "Yeah," Josh responded. "But I'll probably stick to smaller hills for a while.". A tiny setback but he did not quit. And way before I am ready, he will be zooming down big hills with ramps and doing tricks that make my stomach wish he were still inside my body, safe and snug. True, in the scope of our great, big world his fall was minor. He is not facing a life threatening illness. He is not left without a parent. He is not in a cast or surgery. But to his world, he learned taking risks sometimes hurt.
We face obstacles and hard lessons in every aspect of our life. Personally. Professionally. Faith based. We have lots of questions and not many answers - yet. Some years can be incredibly hard. You lose a job. You lose a loved one. You are blindsided with a medical diagnosis. You crash your car. You choose alcohol or drugs over your family and lose a lot. Your family makes you scratch your head or hurt your heart. You fail a test. You start a diet/exercise program only to stop. You swear in front of your Mother-in-Law. You end up three credits short of earning your degree. Your business is in financial stress. You are in financial stress. You can't zip your pants. You can't say I am sorry to someone. You can't say I forgive you. Your co-workers tell you an idea won't work. And quietly, with tears running down your face, your body slumped haphazardly on the floor, you ask, "Why me?". You might tremble in this position for a while or you might tremble violently and uncontrollably. At some point all of this loud, tiring, questioning, emotion stops as you raise the white flag, whispering, "I don't know" and then hope knocks as you hear "yet". In that sliver of an instant, in that tiny, molecular moment is your opportunity to start clearing all of the muck and yuck out of your life and start climbing the mountain of "Yes, I can!". Ok, so, you lost your job, yet you can start

following what makes your heart happy. You lost a loved one, but yet, you were loved deeply, truly and honestly and you carry that person forever. You fight an extraordinary disease, that maybe you will succumb to, yet you are the reason someone becomes a medical professional. You crash your car yet you still have your life. You made a bad choice but then chose rehab and you begin to feel and see life clearly and beautifully and you gently show others how to walk with you on the safe, sober, happy path.  You fail a test but ace the next one. You stop your health program only to jump back on board with better results because the change is for you. You slip up in front of your Mother-in-Law and she shares an embarrassing story with you that maybe, just maybe, makes you wet your pants a little, but also forges a bond that can only grow stronger. Eventually, after working tirelessly and hard, you have an opportunity to earn your last three credits paid for by your employer. Financially, you are broke, but you ultimately learn the best things in life are free. And they leave a huge deposit in your heart. Eventually, you zip into a smaller size or celebrate the breathtaking beauty of your real size. You utter "I am sorry" and you hear "You are forgiven.". Your co-workers celebrate the amazing outcome of an idea that you decided was worth a try. And in that sliver of an instant, in that tiny, molecular moment you understand you need to embrace your setbacks because eventually they become the obstacles you overcome knowing that the next hill, you can totally take because there is great joy in taking your setback on the new route of a comeback!

The ABC's of Motherhood

For all the amazing women in my life who are Moms - I love you and am grateful for each of you. There is no greater gift than a loving Mom!
Happy Mother's Day!

The ABC's of Motherhood....

A is for the affection you show your child each day
B is for the beauty you share along the way.
C is for the comfort of Mommy’s caring hugs
D is for the discussions of explaining little bugs.
E is for the emotion behind each “I love you!”
F is for the fun you put in everything you do.
G is for the goodness that lies deep within your heart,
H is for the happiness you bring from the very start.
I is for the ice that tend the bruises and the bumps,
J is for the joy that is bottled in tiny jumps.
K is for the tender kisses that mend most anything,
L is for the love that blossoms like the spring.
M is for Mommy, perhaps God’s greatest gift.
N is for the numerous times you calm a growing rift.
O is for the “Oh my!” moments where you have been caught,
P is for the patience that stretches longer than you thought.
Q is for the quiet times where special moments hide,
R is for your reading voice that brings smiles big and wide.
S is for the silly times that fill your heart and mind,
T is for the tickles that create a loving, laughing bind.
U is for the understanding words that comfort all the hurts,
V is for the voracious energy you find that comes in spurts.
W is for the wisdom that only mommyhood can bring,
X is for the x’s and o’s you sign on almost everything.
And Z is for the zany zoo that has become your loving family!

The Joy of a Reset Button

In a world where we have 24-hour-a-day access to information, we are in desperate need of a reset button. We need to relax. Recuperate. Rewind. Recharge. Reset our lives, our path, our emotional and physical states. Sometimes we have the opportunity

to redirect ourselves and other times external forces make the decision for us. Either way, it's time to make a decision to take care of you.
Our Lead Pastor talked with us a few weeks ago about the importance of keeping our emotional self well balanced so we are able to not only live our lives, but ENJOY our lives. Our current culture is forcing us to let our emotional well run dry. Ok, well, technically, we are making choices that make our wells become dangerously low. This never ending cycle of responsibility, financial burden and tending to needs that are not our own can cause use to become grumpy, grouchy, obstinate and down right testy. We feel like Stretch Armstrong and pretty soon we are going to snap. But maybe we do not go back to our former shape and find ourselves dangerously close to the discard box. We have to face facts that yes, there are things in life we have to deal with in our daily lives that we may not particularly enjoy. There may be a chatterbox cubicle coworker that does not understand the need for the new soundproof headphones you just purchased. Maybe you are raising teenagers. Maybe you are in the throws of toddler tantrums. Maybe you lost a loved one unexpectedly. Maybe your neighbor's dog sings love songs to the moon. Maybe your boss prattles on in meetings enjoying the sound of his/her voice while you are growing tenser by the minute as you hear your email inbox's continual dinging. Maybe your exams are incredibly hard. Maybe school is a miserable existance. Maybe your husband/wife loads the dishwasher in a way that boggles your ever loving mind. Maybe you put your underwear on backwards. Ok, that one you can fix pretty easily. But the other aggravating factors are going to force you to adapt one way or another. Simple survival, right? Um, not really.
One of my favorite excerpts from a TV show comes from The Office (I still miss the first four seasons of that show). Jim Halpert and Dwight Schrute have a love-hate office relationship. Ok, mostly hate. These two characters are wonderful examples of protagonist versus antagonist and every week, I pulled my chair right up to their constant inner office altercation buffet. I always left the table full. In one episode, Dwight purchases an Office Orb, a round ball to replace the traditional office chair. As Dwight explains the healthy aspects of his new office furniture, you watch Jim's patience dwindle rapidly until he finally decides to pop Dwight's bubble, permanently (you can catch the video here: https://vimeo.com/21800285.) We all feel that way from time to time, don't we? We have that secret wish to carry out a thoughtless, self gratifying act without any repercussion. But the truth is, Jim is the perfect example of our emotional self being out of balance and the actions that can sometimes follow. Great TV, though.
Our pastor recommended we make a list of things that bring us joy. Everyone's happy list will be different but here is the key point: this is YOUR happy list. Not your family's. Not your friends'. Not your significant other or spouse's. This is about what makes YOU happy. And of course, many of these people in your life may be involved in your chosen activities, but the fact is, in order to take care of your family, to meet your professional responsibilities, to stay true to your religious choices, to stay emotionally healthy - you need to take care of you.

And again, sometimes our society can make us very guilty about this notion, but sometimes you have to be selfish. Sometimes you have to fill your tank so you can fill someone else's when they need a little more sustenance. We are similar to a car - the lower your reserve, the lower you perform until finally you putter off to the side of the road and wait for someone to revive you. And sometimes that bill is incredibly expensive. If you think about it, personal monthly maintenance, ie: scheduling time for you, is just as important as healthy eating and regular exercise. You need to reset your agenda and make room in your schedule to include the elusive ME time. Otherwise, you may find yourself running wildly with scissors and that probably is not going to end well.
Our Pastor made a statement in his chat (I don't like the word sermon because he is much more informal in his delivery) that really resonated with me. He spoke of people coming to Jesus asking to be healed, asking to be saved, asking for miracles and Jesus stepped away from the crowd. Say that really slowly. Jesus. Stepped. Away. He did not turn his back on these requests, but he was acutely aware his emotional bucket was not full enough to take care of his flock. He prayed. He asked for sustenance from God and he walked alone with his thoughts. When he was emotionally full, he returned, tipped his bucket and his help flowed easily to others in great need. Even in his time of respite, Jesus was still teaching. We are meant to rest. We are meant to recuperate, relax, re-evaluate - we are meant to hit that reset button often and without hesitation.
If you have one goal this week, make a happy list. Next week, on your calendar, schedule 15 minutes for your happy place. And next week, add 15 more minutes and so on. Pretty soon, the happy becomes a habit and you are able to deal with the frustrations of life that can quickly drain our bucket. But you are one step ahead of the game because you have found the joy of a reset button. And you are joyfully running forward, with the scissors tucked safely in your desk drawer.

The Joy of Writing Honestly

Writing has always been a beautiful outlet for me. I have been known to stitch together a sentence quicker than a Singer sewing machine and perhaps include enough emotion to make someone laugh out loud or let a single tear teeter totter before rolling over an eyelid and down a reader's face. Writing comes easily and freely most days. And then there are occasions, like since January, where my thoughts stutter step like a Parkinson's patient's gait. But when I scrape away the adjectives, when I peel away the emotions, when I begin to take a long, hard look at my blank space, one word pops in over and over again: fear.
I have a history of writing. When I was in Fifth Grade, I was published in the Scholastic Newsletter for a brain teaser I had sent in with no hopes of a reply. But the next month, when I arrived at school, Mrs. Taylor had taped the newsletter to the haphazardly erased chalkboard. I had been published. The surge through my body was fast and strong, like an unexpected ocean wave that tumbles you into the hard sand. You come up sputtering, but you cannot wait for the next challenge, the next rush, the next time when you dive through the wave and come up on the other side of the foam.
I became a writer for our Middle School newspaper. A short mystery story was published. Again, I was overcome with this emotion of adulation. I liked it. I liked it a lot. My writing was being noticed by my Language Arts teachers and I remember reading if you want to become a great writer, you first needed to become a voracious reader. My cousin in Massachusetts became my pen pal and librarian as we shuffled silly letters and cannot-put-down books through the postal service. I was soaking up everything.
High school arrived. I think I was the only one in my class who loved Shakespeare and The Old Man and the Sea. I thought The Odyssey was brilliant. Greek Tragedies seemed familiar, I could not get enough of Mary Queen of Scots, the Diary of Anne Frank became a hallmark of my emotional self and when I devoured The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, I knew I was a Southerner at heart and would someday, stand in the stank, dark mud of the Mississippi River. At the same time, I longed to be Harriet Tubman, Hester Prynne, Jo March or any other woman who broke conventional rules. I understood the complexities of Dorian Gray and how his character was very much alive in my 1980-something high school life. I shivered when reading Edgar Allen Poe but yearned to learn more about his dark side. He was the ultimate Bad Boy. I hung on my English teachers' every word without ever showing interest - until I had to summarize a novel and then my cover was blown as they spoke the words in class I had scribbled the night before between scrimmages or a game. I signed up for Journalism my senior year. My Editor-in-Chief liked my stories, my peers liked my stories but my subject usually did not. Kerosene on a burning fire.
Fast forward to East Carolina University in Greenville, NC where I did a stint as a college reporter and garnered a few headlines and a few calls from the administration. Again, the bull rush of me beginning to understand words can have an impact on the social core when truthfully written. And here began my disassociation from journalism. I was a conservative in a liberal world and my literal voice was upsetting my professors. Yet, they still had to give me a passing grade because although they did not agree with my ideals, my essays were coaxing them to think in a different light that was uncomfortable and against the grain for their way of thinking. And here, at this point, because of my personal insecurities and my need for financial security after putting myself through college, I surrendered and gave up the one true thing that made me happy. Fear's tentacles were tightly wrapping themselves around me. I surrendered my craft and settled on a paycheck. And the next twenty years I began searching for a happy ending that would never be written. Because I chose not to follow God's purpose, I was completely, hopelessly adrift in a sea of chance professions and child rearing. Yet, eventually, I would end up back in the harbor where I felt safe and secure writing an off again, on again blog. And people would tell me I was a good writer - I should do more. Yet I was still too scared to throw over the anchor and plunge into the literary world. The voice inside my head, reeking of fear, once again, told me I was not good enough. And once again, I fell to my knees and succumbed to a safe choice.
If you read my blog, you know, my brother-in-law passed away unexpectedly during the holidays. Somehow, he has been a catalyst for a lot of people the past few months. I know people who have lost weight. I know people who have started exercising. I know people who have quit their jobs because of the stress and had the means to reassess their life. And then there is me. I have sat for the last three months and thought about my brother-in-law and sister-in-law who had read my blog about Sadie and asked point blank, "Why are you not doing something with this?". They asked me this question one year ago. I sit at this moment, typing these black keys with white etching and looking at a screen that is blurry with my own tears waiting to jump over my eyelids. And the honest answer is, "I am scared.". But I have watched my strong sister-in-law and my amazing nieces the past three months and I have to pony up. I have to take the chance of putting myself out there in an uncomfortable place with my words and my imagination. Because I need to let go of an image in my head and connect with the passion in my heart - the gift I was given by God. I need to write. It does not matter if my words do not get published. It does not matter if my words end up in a book that is dog-eared and underlined by a student trying to convey his/her thoughts to an English professor. It does not matter if I end up on the New York Times Bestseller list, if I garner an agent, if I fall along the lines of Gone With the Wind or The Help and end up with screen credits. What matters is I stayed true to my heart, took a chance and sent my fear to  time out. I need to listen to my inner voice, follow my joy and understand that the outcome may not be a fairy tale, but that for me, the writing, my writing, is my happily ever after. And who does not want to end up in their happy place?
Paul, after all this time, your voice is still loud in my head, pushing me to places I do not want to go. But I love you for that, brother, even when I cursed you for doing the same on Earth, albeit silently. The women you held to so tightly in your life are now shoving me down the river of my life with no life jacket, no life boat, and no excuses. I see them move forward every day, lassoing the unknown and putting fear out to pasture, saddling into a new life they never saw coming. I need to write. Honestly. I need to write. You joyfully, heartbreakingly, reminded me, I need to write. And so I shall. And if ever I write that novel that I know God has placed in my heart, I will dedicate it to you. And now readers, many or few, I am asking you to hold me to this task. Joyfully. Respectfully.  Honestly. Because sometimes The End is just The Beginning.

The Joy of Better

I am not sure I will wish anyone a Happy New Year again. I think I might go with Better New Year! Our family's life path was altered this holiday season as we had to say goodbye to my husband's brother at the young age of 52. We were decorating the Christmas tree when David listened to our sobbing niece spurting news that her Dad was in the CCU and David needed to come...immediately. Never again would our lives be the same.
Unexpected death is not a joyful topic. Your mind and body maneuvers through so many emotions. You kind of feel like a compass that has lost its center - just spinning and spinning and spinning. People come and go. Messages are left to be read and listened to when you have the energy. The luster goes out of everything and you just pray the next moment in your life will enable you to laugh or give you strength to take the next step. You are numb, empty, drained, lost and grasping for any sense of perspective to make this part of your life bearable. And you lean and hope you do not fall flat on your face. And this free fall, this unknown, unchartered territory of your life is where you will find the small sprouts of joy pushing through the drudgery that has clouded your derailed journey. There was no discussion, no planning, no talk that this loss would happen in our life. But every time a person is born and every time you fall in love, you face the risk of feeling your heart break like a china plate on a concrete floor. But it is important to remember, you were lucky enough to let this person love you. And there is great joy in those treasured moments. These memories are the ones that get you through the devastation, the unbridled grief, the pretense of strength, the anger surges, the exhaustion and the realization that part of you is forever gone. But then you realize, it's just the physical part - the spiritual part, the emotion that lives deep in your heart and lives in a continual loop in your brain - is going to slowly and I mean, S-L-O-W-L-Y, heal your heart.
We are infants in the grief process but there have been snippets of joy surrounding my brother-in-law's family. As Anne Frank wrote, "...because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”. So many blankets of comfort were thrown over the girls left behind. Random acts of kindness were delivered in bulk and many were left unsigned but with a full heart. Friends and family did not skip a beat huddling around a family trying to find the new normal, gently guiding and directing everyone on a new route. All the while, reminding them it's ok to be scared but you are safe with the people surrounding you. We are your impact bag.
The stories shared at the Memorial Service were poignant, emotional, and at times, down right belly laughing funny. Paul's high school friend and college roommate exposed nuances of Paul that made us giggle like school girls. All I can say to you is Paul enjoyed college very much. And it seems he followed that same sort of enthusiasm throughout his life: his love and pride for his wife and two daughters was uncontainable. He followed his East Carolina Pirates with an indescribable devotion - until they lost. The dance school his daughters delved into became a second family. A seemingly simple gathering soon became a blowout thanks to the encouragement and contagiousness caused by a family man who lived in Holly Springs.The stories shared all had a common theme: Paul was a passionate person who was taken from his family, his community, his friends while his candle was still burning incredibly bright. It's as if we are still looking at the wick with the orange ember, waiting and wondering if once again, it will flicker. Yet we all know the answer.
Paul left a mark on a lot of people. In time, people who are grieving his absence at the dinner table, on the phone, at reunions, in the office, around the neighborhood and at ECU tailgates will retell the stories we heard that dreary Saturday. They will discuss what Paul would have thought of the call on third and long. They will discuss his laugh, his strong opinions, his willingness to help and how proud he would be of his daughters' accomplishments. Yes, in a space of time no one can predict, the family fabric will reconstruct to a different fit and somehow, Paul will continue be the thread that hold so many together.
It's true, I cannot yet say Happy New Year but I can honestly wish you a Better New Year. I can pray that you find joy in the simple, every day tasks of life. I can hope you do not take kindness, friendship or generosity for granted, but you share these things with an open heart. And I can hope you continue to prove to the world that people are genuinely good - that random acts of kindness can be intentional and deliberate. And that love sometimes hurts, but love is also the ultimate healer. A friend of my in-laws sent a lovely note to the family with a passage from Wordsworth's Michael:
"There is a comfort in the strength of love;
'Twill make a thing endurable, which else
Would overset the brain, or break the heart."
Love is all around us, even in our hours of grief. It pokes and prods us, makes us cry and wail. Makes us shake and sometimes crumble. But yet love mends, tidies and cleans the wounds that pierced our heart until eventually, we will love our life, again. And somehow, things are truly - better.
"Where it's a First Down, Pirates!"

The Joy of a Hike in the Woods

This weekend, my family and I visited Umstead Park in Raleigh, NC for a hike off the beaten path. A Carolina blue sky domed the colorful fall trees as the sunlight poked through the small spaces creating dancing streams of light and dust. The air was crisp, like the fallen leaves beneath our feet. Acorns and pine cones littered the ground, inviting Anna, Josh and Sadie to play games only children and dogs can invent with inanimate objects. And the forest enveloped Mom and Dad in a much needed Mother Nature hug. We were disconnected. We were unplugged. We were unbelievably happy.
As we traipsed along the curved path with the tree roots trying to catch our shoes, we felt our neck and shoulder muscles loosen. We felt our breathing become slower and deeper. Our eyes were taking snapshots of beautiful landscapes designed by trees, water and rocks. And we shared our descriptive imagery in whispers instead of shouts and urgent gasps of speech. With each step further into the forest, we were shedding our busy world skin and slipping into the comfortable wardrobe only nature can provide.
Halfway through our hike, nestled at the bottom of a steep incline, we found a flowing stream slipping over rocks and dodging around fallen limbs. The splash and babble found it's way to our children's ears, asking them to visit for a while. So they did. Anna and Josh perched on the flat rocks, knees bent under their arms, bodies staying still, mouths staying quiet and their rhythms syncing to the cadence of the water. Sadie, however, was desperately trying to figure out how to cross the stream and meet a new friend on the other side. Perhaps, this was a good time to return to the path less traveled.
An hour later, we decided to perch on a fallen tree that showed the first signs of decay. We sipped water, nibbled on snacks and giggled about the unshirted runner who careened out of control past us a while back. We were grateful he did not end up literally hugging a tree or rocks or us. And we were grateful for the unexpected belly laugh that brought tears and a shortness of breath. We talked about the pleasantries of our hike, our time together and why we don't do this more often. We laughed at Sadie grabbing our walking sticks and proudly trotting off with her new natural toy. Then our youngest decided we should play a game of A-Z food. After our breather, we headed back the way we came, listing movies A-Z and revisiting our spot by the water. This time we tempted Sadie with sticks, but she still whimpered and paced, longing to be on the other side. Anna and Josh found a jungle gym of rocks, each time going a bit higher and the smile becoming a bit wider. At the very top, a declaration was made, "We should do this every weekend!". We, indeed, had been in a wonderland all afternoon. 
We crossed the stream by way of a green iron bridge perched high among the trees. For a moment, I was jealous of the birds and the squirrels that live in this constant playground every day. The view was spectacular and I noticed my feet were slowing down with each step. Not because I was tired, but because I was not ready to return to our busy life that waited for us at the top of the hill. I was not eager to leave the arms of Mother Nature just yet. 
And evidently, neither was the rest of my pack. Anna and Josh begged to make one more stop by the hill of rocks and Sadie pulled me toward a path that would finally lead her to the "other side". And David, well, he was letting nature call the shots instead of modern time. For the first time in quite a while, we were deliberately living in the moment - not before, not after, but this very instant of time that would slip by us way too quickly. We were listening to the ticks and tocks of the tree branches in the fall wind, the buzzing of insects and the chirps and twerps of the birds above us. Nature had totally trumped electronics and once again, reminded us the best "things" in life are never created by our hands but to be enjoyed by every sense of our being. Nature is an amazing teacher and an amazing healer and a place that yes, we should visit often. As I reflect on yesterday's outing, I remembered a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Adopt the pace of nature. Her secret is patience.". But somehow, I am not too sure we will be all that patient to be among nature once again. Will you?

The Joy of Autumn

"That old September feeling...of summer passing, vacation nearly done, 

obligations gathering, books and football in the air.

 Another fall, another turned page: there was something 

of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning 

as if last year's mistakes and failures 

had been wiped clean by summer."

Wallace Stegner, Angle of Repose

I love fall! I love the brazen colors that force you to notice their beauty. I love the sun sliding through the leaves and changing the colors as the rays stretch to the ground. I love the coolness in the air, telling you to grab a sweater as you prepare to leave your house. I love the crunch of fallen leaves under your feet. I love windows open allowing the sounds and smells of such a glorious season to waft through the screens. Curtains, lift and fall, with the cadence of the wind. I love shopping for school clothes and the smell of school supplies that have yet to be sullied by lessons of the day. I love seeing the fuzzy caterpillars scootch across nature's path, silently warning us of a cold winter ahead. I love acorns on the ground. I love the sweet bite of the fall's first apple, it's clear juice running down my chin. I love the anticipation of holidays looming ahead; their arrival bringing undaunted jubilation to family and friends. I love the various shades and sizes of pumpkins and squash decorating road sides, front porches and store entrances. I love the return of football and field hockey. I love the fullness of comfort foods and hearty stews. I love soft corduroys and tall, leather boots. I love layers. I love the smell of outdoors and sweat covering children as they bound into the house after a day of discovery and neighborhood adventure. I love that knowing soon I will hear, see and smell the season's first fire. I love that my daughter and I share a fall birthday. I love to hear children begin chattering about Halloween costumes in great detail. I love the million and one ways to flavor anything with pumpkin. I love seeing the collegiate tshirts color a tailgate gathering like the leaves on the trees. I love watching the steam of my coffee rise and disappear into the chilliness of a morning still removing her night fog covers. I love seeing candy corn adorn cupcakes, snacks, mason jars and goodie bags. I love caramel apples. Actually, I love caramel anything. I love seeing magazine covers that trick me into believing I can transform my house into an autumn sanctuary. And I Iove that every year, I try and quickly realize I cannot and laugh at my sincere attempts. I love apple butter and apple cider and apple pie with a scoop of real vanilla ice cream. I love that there are not enough words to describe my adoration of this season. And I love that each September, my love affair with Indian Summer grows deeper. Ah, fall - you are the joy in my seasonal heart and I thank you for unselfishly sharing your beauty with us.