Grateful

Grateful

Every day I’ve become aware of the word “grateful” in my thoughts or conversations. Ruth and I are so appreciative of your overwhelming support of Trust Your Journey. We see the results of the seeds you’ve sown in the form of readers on our website, emails we receive from folks thanking us for sharing TYJ, and stories that come to us weekly of individuals dealing with their own life challenges.

I have said from Day 1 that Trust Your Journey is about you. TYJ was always meant to be that little reminder that gets you over the bumps in your day while making you grateful for what you have and, more importantly, mindful of what you can become. Ruth and I believe in you and look forward to sharing the journey with you on an ongoing basis. Thanks so much for being a part of our journey. Needless to say, we’re grateful to have been asked to be a part of yours.

“We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.”
--Cynthia Ozick (1928-)

I thought it was only me

I thought it was only me

The other night I was watching a Nova special on PBS about women in Ethiopia who had developed very severe injuries, fistulae, from obstructed labor during childbirth. Many of these women are teenagers whose lives are changed forever by this condition. There’s a wonderful hospital in Ethiopia’s capital, the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital, working hard to restore the lives of as many women as possible. I encourage you to watch this touching special yourself on pbs.org. The title of the program is A Walk to Beautiful. During an interview with one of the injured women, she made a statement that I had heard earlier in the week: “I thought it was only me.” Most of these women are so isolated from family, friends and any type of medical attention that they think they are the only ones with these injuries, which are in reality quite common in Ethiopia.

As I was getting my hair cut recently I asked my stylist the most common theme, so to speak, of conversations by women who come in to get their hair done. It was the same as the young woman in Ethiopia—I thought it was only me. If I could reach out to all these women, I would reassure them that they are never alone facing life’s problems and dilemmas. There are always others traveling the same road seeking answers, direction and solutions. You might be lonely at times, but you’re never alone. Our journey is unique, but thankfully it intersects with others often enough for us to realize that there are many similarities from which we can learn and gain hope and strength.

“Ever notice that Soup for One is eight aisles away from Party Mix?”-- Elayne Boosler (1952- )

Click on "Comments" below to share your thoughts or opinion.

My Dad

My Dad

Father’s Day is just around the corner, and what a great day to recognize these wonderful persons who have taught us many lessons about life, supported our families, and constantly given of themselves.

My Dad died in 1999 at the young age of 71. There’s a picture on my desk of my sister and me sitting on his Honda 350 motorcycle while he stood beside us. I, of course, have the helmet on. I was probably no more than 10, but you can tell I was destined to have my own motorcycle one day. My Dad always gave me unconditional support. If there was ever an argument over my first bb gun, my first mini bike, or my first car, it was probably between my Mom and my Dad—never between my Dad and me. In his eyes I was never too young and even if I was, there was always the opportunity to learn a valuable lesson. Thank goodness responsibility was the key lesson my Dad taught me in my younger years.

Dads deserve their own special day and, in my book, that should be every day. They are a part of our journey from day one. My Dad might have exited his life here on earth nine years ago but not without leaving a big impression upon my heart. For that I’ll always be grateful.

“Those who trust us educate us.” --T.S. Eliot (1888 – 1965)


Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there this weekend. We kids appreciate you!

Please Click on "Comments" below to share your opinion or thoughts.

First Pick

First Pick

I have many fond memories of my childhood: my best friend Butch, living outside until we were called home by our parents, and playing any sport that was the neighborhood flavor of the day.

I was fortunate to have an older brother who often let me participate in his football, basketball, and baseball games with the boys. I loved sports and cherished the chance to be a player. Most of the time I was only allowed to be a bat girl or watch my brother’s team practice while I sat with a pile of football equipment, wearing a team jersey and chewing on a mouthpiece. But when the time was right for a “pick up” game, I was always allowed to play.

When it came time to pick teams, my brother would almost always pick me first. At that time of my life, I was already full of confidence and thought he was making a great first pick. But as I got older I realized that he was probably risking a loss by having me on his team. I’ll be forever grateful to him for having supported my sense of confidence at such a young age.

“As we grew up, my brother acted like he didn't care, but I always knew he looked out for me and was there!”-- Catherine Pulsifer

Click on "Comments" below to share your thoughts or opinion.