SO I meet this Rabbi and…

photo of person wearing converse all star sneakers
Photo by Hoang Loc on

it turns out he loves jokes! He also loves people…sincerely, and is changing the world–one person at a time! His success of adding love to the world has been achieved by turning the world of religion upside down, asking more questions than he answers, and starting a project —


I would like to introduce you to this young Rabbi and my dear friend–Rabbi Brian Zachary Mayer! He lives in Portland, Oregon and started an outreach like nothing else I have ever seen or experienced. I want to begin by telling you how I met him, June, 2019, just three years ago.


Three years ago, that question was my only question. Lord, to whom shall I go?

My spiritual life and path is the most important part of my existence. My legacy traditional path prior to meeting the Rabbi was rooted in Roman Catholicism. For many, this path is perfect. For me, it has been, at times, what I both needed and wanted — and then I changed. My transformation began in 2003 when I enrolled in theological studies which led to a Masters’ degree and an awakened new self. I tried negotiating my way with my new thoughts and understandings within the Roman Church. It proved troublesome. It seemed a female with scholarly wisdom and updated abilities to think and discern was threatening to the patriarchy of the well-established Roman Church institution. It became, what I now know, death of one self and birth of a new one. I hoped, naively, I could find somewhere to be authentically me and be welcomed as a thinking and searching and educated me. I was wrong. It took me years (2009-2019) to finally surrender to the realization that the belonging and community of like-minded folk I needed to continue to grow does not live in St. Louis.

One Phone Call- Changed Everything and Nothing

After a decade of shopping and seeking, I was ready to give up and felt sad, lonely, isolated, and defeated. I had found an organization online called Progressive Christianity that was wonderful but not local. One of the newsletters from this organization featured a podcast — the Bible Resistance Podcast, featuring Rabbi Brian Zachary Mayer. It struck a chord. I wish I could say that I heard that podcast and immediately called–I did not. What I did do was subscribe to his newsletter and watch him for several months. After a last-ditch effort to remain connected with my home tradition which, again, failed, I sat in my living room chair, hopeless. I turned to my husband and said, “Honey, there is this Rabbi in Portland”, “he says that if you call him he will answer his phone”. “He also says that if you email him, he will always write back”. “I don’t know what else to do”. June 24, 2019, I made a phone call and immediately I heard a voice, a real person, that picked up a call to talk to me. Remarkable-and terrifying. 

The wise Rabbi asked me if I wanted to schedule an introductory assessment session for the following day, June 25,2019. Without stalling to take time to talk myself out of the invitation, I said yes. And, that phone call changed everything and nothing. I was still going to have to confront the new me, learn to love the new me, and learn to trust that this Rabbi was real.


It is now June 9, 2022 and not only is the Rabbi very real, he is one of the “rock the world” game changers. I have learned that every story counts, all people count, and all deserve love-including me. Over many conversations and spiritual direction sessions, and phone calls and visits on zoom, and my attempts to quit, I am, without question, the best and most relaxed, loving, and authentic Josephine I have ever been. We have cried together, laughed often, challenged each other, grown to become dear friends and I will forever be grateful I made that phone call in 2019. 

Some concrete examples of what I was “then” as compared to “now” are in order. Let’s start with “before” the Rabbi. I was depressed, lonely, confused, beaten down by years of guilt and shame, compliments of organized religion, and somehow sensed the organized religion institutions were incomplete, at best, but had no idea what to do to find my way. I could study the bible in a scholarly manner. I could read books by other scholars. I could feel I was a misfit but did not understand why or what had created this dilemma. I knew truth was out there but I sure did not know how to connect with it much less with other humans who sought truth too. It was messy-I was messy. I had a truckload of tools and no knowledge or people to help me figure out what to do with those tools. I felt like Harry Potter in the closet before he went to Hogwarts and realized he was special. I was not special, I was broken. And I was. Broken.

Today, three years later, I continue humble growing yet know I am special and loved and beautiful and kind and lovely and loving-and fun. How did this Rabbi walk me to this place? The most important way he has accomplished this is be being honest-and I mean very honest. And-as importantly, he has not once, not one time, ever given up on me. Believe me when I say, I gave him lots of reasons to consider wanting to give up on me. I have asked deep and difficult questions. I have processed traumas and incredible hurts and I have railed against truth and resisted growth at times. I can be a stubborn little missy sometimes. And the Rabbi has never given up on me, especially when I have been more than ready to give up on myself. He would tell you, I am not magic. I just am me. In being “just me”, however, Brian Zachary Mayer is magic. Literally, he does magic as a magician. More importantly, though, he does magic with grace and patience and kindness and compassion towards others.

I recently tried to explain this to a friend who identifies as a biblical literalist and is struggling with my growth out of the cave of organized religion. I finally told her a story. I will tell you the same story.

Brian is active in standing up against the bullied and in support of the oppressed. One particular time, he was standing up against the bullies that promulgate Hitler’s Nazism. He was in the peaceful protesting group. There was also a raging hate-spitting group across the street. Brian, solo, went over to the raging group. It was a risky and potentially extremely dangerous decision. He had a conversation with one of the representatives of the hating crew. No, the person did not hug and welcome him, he rebuked him. Yet, Brian did not waver. And no, he did not convert the hater to join the peaceful group. What did happen, however, is that the hater did acknowledge Brian as a brother in the same cause. A “brother”! The significance of this is that this  is not, by any means, a singular story about Brian-this is the way he lives his life-all the time. No, he is not perfect. He is human like the rest of us. However, I believe he has been gifted and thus called to help adults learn to love and be their best selves. I am only one you are hearing from right now. However, check out and find out for yourself. My story is my most concrete way to share who this man is and yet, my story is not singular.

I don’t know where this story will end or how. What I do know, though, is that somewhere out here on this planet is this Rabbi or a version of him for you. We do not live on this planet alone. We are not meant to be solo. I know that now and I know I am worthy of the love of the Rabbi and and my family and my neighbors and most importantly, I am worthy of the love I give to myself.

What’s your love story? I would be exc


Dear Empaths, Care, AND…

accident black and white care catastrophe
Photo by Snapwire on

Hello dear Readers,

It has been a long time since we talked. I miss you! And I have been thinking much about many things. Today, I decided to stop thinking and renew writing.

Let me start with a story. It is November, 2019. I am traveling to Destin, Florida for a brief sabbatical vacation. Both to and on my return from Destin, I had a layover in Charlotte, North Carolina. I needed a lunch of some sort in Charlotte as I waited for my flight both out to Destin and on my return, back home to St. Louis.  I am mostly oblivious to the movement and conversations of others when I am 1.) hungry and 2.) on a time schedule to get on an airplane. However, something drew my attention almost against my will. Going to Destin, while waiting in Charlotte, I noticed a gathering of culturally diverse men clustered in a tight circle, speaking in their own vernacular and carrying quite a load of what I perceived as computers, maybe audio-visual equipment. But I am heading TO Destin at this point, so I notice but brush it away. I have the beach and the gorgeous Emerald Coastline on my mind.

My return flight was similar in that I had the layover in Charlotte, time to eat my lunch, and, time to observe people. There was again, a cluster of culturally diverse men, lots of technology equipment and much discussion between them. This time, however, a pilot sat down at a table directly to my right. The moment the pilot sat down, the group looked directly at the pilot. It seemed something about the pilot created a new topic of discussion for them. They pointed to the pilot directly, at one point, he attempted to acknowledge them, but received no response. At this point my sensors inside started a yellow,  and maybe edging towards red, blinking within. What was so important to the group about the pilot? The pilot was visibly uncomfortable. I now felt that same discomfort. Was this just a casual discussion about a pilot? Of course, I do not know because I understood not one word of the language the group was using to speak to each other. The pilot became so uneasy that he grabbed his lunch and moved out and onward further down the airport concourse. When the pilot left, I took his cue and left as well.

Within about a week of this incident, a dear friend texted me and said, “three conspiracy theorists all go into a bar together. Coincidence? I think not.”  I immediately asked, are you in an airport? In fact, yes, he was.

Are the two incidents connected? I do not know that either. What I do know is that what is now happening with Iran, Iraq, the United States, and now today, Canada and the Ukraine and bombings and crashed airplanes troubles me enough, in light of what I saw twice in Charlotte and my friend saw as well in a different airport location, to ignite my empath caring self and easily get frightened or overwhelmed.

Here is the problem for we empaths. It is in our nature and DNA autopilot response to care. When tragic things begin to happen on a worldwide landscape, my “empath button” not only turns on but, if unchecked, goes to an unhealthy level of involvement in problems too large for me to begin to solve and I head into what is called empathic distress. Empathic Distress occurs when we “carers” get overwhelmed by a barrage of bad news, we cannot solve any of it, and we become paralyzed to take any action. (Definition of Empathic Distress is referenced and created by Compassion Integrity Training, Life University).

So, what are we to do, we “empaths” who care, and can get swept into situations far beyond us to solve, but yet we worry about how to solve them anyway? And they will continue, in some form, to occur with or without our consent.

A wise Rabbi, Rabbi Tarfon said this,

“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”

My dear fellow empaths, I find this quote both appropriate and comforting. It speaks balance to my heart. No, I cannot do anything at a major political level to tell any of these countries what to do or not to do. I can never solve or rid the world of grief of its own creation. What I can do are simple acts of love and mercy every day in my little microcosm of the earth. I can smile at everyone. I can wave to neighbors. I can pray. I can sign petitions if I so desire. I can attend prayer vigils. I can send my hopes of goodwill and peace out into the universe and hope that those who believe violence solves problems might “catch” my waves of energy that say “please stop fighting”.

So, CARE, yes, absolutely CARE. And don’t abandon world grief because it needs our love. However, at the same time, don’t overwhelm and worry yourself with things that are or feel like enormities in this world and bring grief. These things are daunting and we need not be swallowed up by them.

Encourage, love, care, but do it in a way that keeps you healthy. Many people depend on you daily in your own corner of the world. Take care of them by taking care of you and maybe turn off the daily news reports! If something is going to happen to directly threaten you or your loved ones, I feel certain you will be notified without having to be exposed to terror and frightful world tragedy 4 to 5 times a day.

Care, yes, definitely care. Be your empathic self. I encourage you, as Rabbi Tarfon has said, to not allow yourself to be daunted or swallowed up by the enormity of the grief of the world and yet not abandon it nor abandon your beautiful empath gift. Find your balance between a response of mercy and love and getting so overwhelmed by world tragedy that you drowned in world grief.

With love to you all, I am,

Jo, Your blogger for the day.

Can One person make a difference?

My Dear Friends,

It has been far too long since sharing with you. Perhaps, like myself, you have been engulfed by the undertow of negativity and sadness and division that is so public and hurtful currently. Perhaps you are amidst life changes that have called your attention to tasks that are new and overwhelming. Maybe you are just busy and enjoying your world so completely that some everyday tasks have become obsolete and you are thoroughly immersed in your world of daily joy?

Whatever it is that holds your attention in the here and now, I wanted to break in briefly to say hello and see how you, how we, are all doing? And to propose a thought.

The thought is this: In answer to the question posed by the article title, can one person make a difference, I posit an absolute affirmative YES! To provide substance and encouragement this is true, I ask you this-what is your daily routine? Seriously, Jo, you want to know that? I do, in fact, want to know your daily routine. Stay with me here.

As a retired professional from two careers, (pharmacist and licensed professional counselor), I have been reflecting and pondering the question of “the difference of just one” all summer. Here is my daily routine: wake-up, get dressed, eat breakfast, check email, check texts, read something inspirational, “move”, (indoor walking or movement of any kind, but intentional movement), and then assess the “daily chore” list, and plunge in to laundry, maybe one spot of the house that needs organizing, checking in with my friends,( often the people that need what I have to give on any particular day either come to my mind or I come to their minds), and before I notice, the time is 12:48pm, time for lunch, a little break and then continuation with tasks begun earlier in the day.  Here is THE point. I have been known to say, I do nothing all day. That is simply not true. I propose it is not true for any of you either. I challenge you today to look at each moment of your awake time, without judgment or criticism. I ask you to look at your routine and notice, did I connect with “one” person, just one, in the course of my day today? I am going to go out on a limb here and say that every single one of us connect with at least one (mostly likely more) person every single day in some form. I am also going to predict that our connections make a difference. I propose the following hypothesis: Whatever we do, in what can be considered by some “our common everyday life experiences”, we affect change.

It is the Jimmy Stewart and It’s a Wonderful Life Christmas movie idea I am conceptualizing here. Regardless of how structured or relaxed your daily routine, I believe we all connect with someone, somehow. And if we are here, on earth, breathing and interacting, then pulling our contribution out of the life equation, whether small scale or large scale, will make a difference. Therefore, it is logical and easy to conclude our presence, yes ONE person, yes, EVERY person makes a difference to someone, somewhere every single day. EVERY SINGLE DAY!

YOU make a difference. GO and make a difference. YOU make a difference in this world. And so do I.



via The Greatest of these — heart beats live

Life in the Middle

How do you live between “need now” and “not yet”? I confess to not having a formula. I admit openly struggling with waiting in the middle. Waiting for anything requires patience, tolerating the uncomfortable, finding something “to do” while you wait, and a way to monitor your thoughts and alter your thinking to seek out ways to ponder the positive instead of drowning in the negative. The human brain is expertly geared towards negative thinking. Requesting the brain to operate outside of its common default system is work. The work of “changing your thoughts” is the work of learning to live life in the middle.

I am living in the middle right now, and I do not like it. I suspect none of us “like” it. What we tend to prefer, generally, are guarantees, “sure things”, absolutes, constancy, and a life that is predictable and secure. So, what do we do when some area of our life is none of those things? What can we do to ride the wave of uncertainty while in the middle of the storm? There are volumes of works by a variety of authors already written addressing how to wait, how to live with uncertainty, how to live life in the middle. I have read several. I am finding it much easier to read “about” living in the middle than I am actually doing the work of “living” in the middle. It is hard. It is uncomfortable. It is stretching my comfort zones in ways I have not felt before. I feel like a wet rag doll, who, after having survived the ravages of a good cleansing in the washing machine, is being stretched and yanked and plastered against a hard surface to insure I dry with all my parts properly aligned, ready to be fully functional when the wait and the drying is completed. It hurts at times. It is frustrating. It is not what I want, but it is what I have. Perhaps, within that thought is the clue to an answer-it is NOT what I want, but it IS what I have. What do I have? Let’s start there.

Instead of looking at what I do not have, what DO I have that can provide a sense of security in this time of unknowing? I have the security of an address, a bed, warmth, food, running water, a strong partner walking right by my side doing all he can to shorten the waiting in the middle timeline, daughters, sons-in-love, grandchildren, supportive and understanding friends, spirituality, prayer, a functioning mind and body, this computer, and a way to outlet the feelings by writing. I have a four-legged furry little man, Comet, who may be my best teacher right now. Comet is content. He is warm, fed, has the same address, access to the same supportive people, he has what he needs. Do I have what I need? Yes, currently I do. My discomfort is rooted in the “what if” that may never arrive. Comet lives fully and completely in the present moment which is, as of this writing, safe, secured, and real. I need to follow Comet’s example. Easier said than done you might say? I completely agree. Yet it does seem to be a path offering a true and reasonable way through the middle. Aha-another clue, “through”. I must be accepting of the fact that the way out will mean going “through”. The world in the USA of 2019, by and large, is no help to those who must go through. Our world today wants to resist through by any and all means possible. I am leaning in the direction of resistance and avoidance myself-and it is NOT working! So what can I do? I can choose, that is exactly what I can do. CHOOSE ! I can choose “the way of Mr Comet”, the Labrador Lane!

What does that look like in practical, realistic terms? It looks like a woman who gets up daily and spends time in quiet and stillness. It includes journal writing and blogging my way through. It means I reach out to those I can express emotions to without judgment. It means I look at the things I DO HAVE-the good ole attitude of gratitude. As cliche as that statement has become, it remains one of the most effective ways to renew perspective. It means, like Comet, resting in knowing the true needs of living are, in fact, met every day. I get up, I get fed, I am warm, I am loved, I have health, I have my own version of furry protection, and if my needs are met, that can be enough. I can choose to enjoy and be thankful for my needs being met. That is not true for so many-even in the USA. Getting what I NEED can be enough. Getting what I NEED will be enough. I will express sincere gratitude for being a human whose needs are being met each and every day. As I close today, I feel the grumblings of hunger telling me it is time for lunch. I have only to reach in my bag for the lunch I prepared and eat it for my hunger to be abated. It is what I need. It is what I have. And it is enough. Life in the middle, good or bad? Perhaps it is neither, it just is-and accepting it is my life right now looks like “the way of Comet”, the Labrador Lane. Life in the middle through the Labrador Lane-someone should write a book like that!

Until again,



AS THEY GROW- A Grandma’s Journey

She turned five today! FIVE ! I “know” how that happened, but I have NO IDEA how that happened. I am 100% certain it was yesterday when I cuddled her softly in my arms and fed her the 4pm bottle in her famous “cow” onesie pajamas.

Today, she is training me. Grandma, now this is the way you load this. Oh, and Grandma, I need to show you how to do that. Oh, and Grandma I really need to tell you something, it is very important!

She wears My Little Pony dresses along with Cinderella, Sophia, Elena, Elsa, Anna, Merida, Aurora, Snow White and more and lives in full character according to the costume choice of the day. She needs me less, I seem to need her more–ah, the paradox of the journey of life. First, we care for them. Then, gracefully, we slow down and they become our champions and victors. I realize this first big milestone and turning five seems small-yet the symbolic nature of the journey it launches feels enormous. My “baby” (who is 34 now and the precious momma of this doll ) had a “baby” five years ago and with this wonderful birth, I became a grandma. I joined the ranks of a vastly large number of women who have the honor and privilege of watching the life cycle happen outside of our own body. The first grandchild opens the door to a kind of love I have never known nor even suspected existed. The power of this love is transforming. It is magical. It is potent!

And now, the precious one that crowned me as a member of a generational honoree to the Grandma Club is changing not just my life, but so many others. She has friends of her own now. She is choosing, at this earliest first pass into adult living, what to wear, how to think, colors she likes, foods she refuses, who is God in her life and who she may grow up to become. It’s the most interesting, challenging, joyful, and heart strings yanking experience of my 60 years on earth thus far. I have begun to tell people, if you thought momma bears had claws, you should take a good long look at grandma bear claws! Be very afraid of grandma claws-they are twice as long and ten times more fierce! They protect with the fire of a furnace at full throttle, powered by years of motherhood exploding into a blaze of heat powered by a love that is deeper and wider than the Grand Canyon.

This child, who is still very much a child, is also wise in ways that are profound-she has converted me. She is teaching me. She is leading, I am merely following. And I am stunned into a shock I never saw coming due to the intense attachment and awe and compassion this five year old little lady calls me to dare to achieve. Her fresh, honest, innocent opinions are cunningly accurate. She sees with eyes not yet clouded by the harshness of the world. She sees life as it certainly can be and without doubt, IS, in fact, for her. She shakes me back into the present moment, the only moment, really, where life actually happens. She is free from hate and not yet scarred by too much hurt. She is optimistic and adventurous-yet coy and sometimes unsure.

The thing I am noticing most about her right now, though, is what feels like an instant burst of new independence. I can fix my car seat straps, Grandma. I can open that package, Grandma. I can use those scissors safely, Grandma. I can use the remote for the television, Grandma. I remember exactly where I left that piece of clothing, I will go get it, Grandma. She represents a new generation of human evolution that makes my head spin. She is smart, intuitive, clever, observant, and correct with many, many thoughts and decisions. She knows the geography she travels and remembers everything-and I mean everything.

This is why I am sad today. I am losing my new best friend to her own journey-a journey I long for her to take. At the same time, I miss the little things of the past five years. It was nice to be her “special” one before there were friends. It was a rush of joy to hear her squeal at first sight of awareness I had arrived. I miss the little girl who was-and adore the little girl who is. But I wonder, as she grows, who will I be? What role will “grandma” have in a world flooded with technology and toys and education that leaves me standing in the dust of yesteryear.

She is just five-and yet already becoming what she will eventually be. I can see it happening daily, sometimes hourly, and the pace of change is overwhelming. I once thought the notion of a generation “gap” was ridiculous. I have changed my mind. Not only does the gap exist, I fear it is greater today than ever due to the explosion of new ideas, beliefs, gadgets, information access and the speed at which life moves. She will need to move with this speed. I will become slower and slower at keeping up.

My prayer is that there will always remain a place for me in her heart. I pray that as I age and gray, she will remember the joy of our earliest times. I pray for her future. I pray for my daughter. I pray for me. I pray for generations of women to stick together and fight the fight of life as a team. I can see we don’t do that much in American anymore-we individuate-so much so that perhaps we leave behind wisdom and connections it would serve us better to maintain. Maybe her momma and her daughter and me can live connected. Life happens too fast for me these days. She is already five! And five has never looked so different to me than it does today. There is a generation gap and I live in it now. I pray for the ability to accept it with grace and embrace it with vitality. Because she is already five and I feel I am losing her to the world. I knew it was inevitable. What I did not expect was what it would cost. She is worth it all, though. She is worth it ALL.


adults black and white bushes care
Photo by Pixabay on

I ROSE: On the Third Day

Dear Readers,

When an author goes underground it can mean life is far too dramatic and chaotic to survive it and write about it at the same time.

2017 has been that kind of experience for me. I do not have a clue where to start, so I will start where I am.

It is the third day into the New Year, 2018. I rose, on this third day, from the ashes of a life that had to die. 2017 was the year of death of the relationships I “hoped” I had with “mother” B. and “sister” J. I emphasize “hoped” I had, because I have always known I think, but never wanted to “own”, the truth that relationship with these two has never existed in the Cinderella way I had imagined it to be. In my mind, in my soul, in the deepest place of longing within myself,  I always wanted to believe they cared-that relationship with them was not only real but meaningful. In the end, what I know from where I stand in reflection of 2017 is this, you cannot build a bridge alone. What I know from where I stand today is that genetics does not mean friendship. What I know from where I stand today, is that there are people that need to be “right” more than they need to be kind. What I know from where I stand today, is the hope I have held for relationship with mother and sister for 59 years is dead.

The hope died July 20, 2017. I have been involved in the process of transformation, officially, with professional assistance, since 1987. Unofficially, I think it is reasonable to conclude that self-awareness and growth is my nature-it is who I am, not just something I do. I have shared this with a particular friend I have known since 1975. We reconnected, thanks to the wonder of Facebook, and of course began with sharing the typical “what have you been doing all these years?” I told him how I had finally found my way to the professional counseling world after 35 plus very long years in the health care profession as a Pharmacist. His response was affirming and wonderful. He said, “Jo, you should have asked me what to be when you grew up. I could have told you in 1975 that your best destiny would be in counseling and caring for others.” Interesting, still to me, is how well others know us-better than we know ourselves. That is a story for another day. And it’s a rabbit hole of avoiding the subject at hand. Facing the death of hope is hard, really hard. I have found it more difficult than processing the physical death of my dear daddy in 2005. Some might call me naive. I have been accused of Polly Anna-ism. Perhaps both are true. It’s just hard to be sad, deeply sad. That’s how I have spent 2017-deeply sad.

On July 20, 2017, I made one of the more impact filled decisions I have ever made. I buried the hope of relationship with mother and sister at the cemetery at Jefferson Barracks where my dear daddy lies in state. That particular day was surprisingly easy and quick. I look back now and realize that is because I was in the first stage of grief-shock. Waking up was a bitch my friends. ( I apologize for the “b” word but it is the best word to express the “rest of the story”). The pain of reality was so overpowering that I had to take a solo sabbatical to Fort Myers, Florida for my birthday, August 27, 2017, to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. God, my daddy, and truth, found me in Fort Myers this summer. The trip was difficult, riddled with anxiety, and extremely effective. I came home changed. I returned with a sense of grounding. I would need this grounding to weather the monsoon of emotions the remainder of the year would present. Facing the reality of the death of hope is the deepest wrenching of my gut and spirit I have ever endured. My mind and heart were in two different places often. I had to talk  with dozens of phenomenal people, including my dear, incredible brother, over and over and over until what surfaced was the core belief that in order for me to be a good person, I had to make mother and sister like me. (I believe they do, as they can, love me but I know now that like and love are VERY different things). They have never “liked” me. Today I accept that is not my fault. It just is !

What I also know today is this:

I am NOT and NEVER have been responsible for other people’s words, ideas, mistakes, beliefs, choices of friends and relationships, actions (even towards me), and the consequences of those actions-including and especially mother and sister.

I know I cannot make people change or be anything different than who they are or who they want to be.

This applies to all people, both biologically and non-biologically connected. Accepting the reality of this truth and applying it to the reality of my situation with mother and sister has taken 32 long and consuming years of obsession with them. Those 32 years of longing and hoping for something that not only cannot be but, in truth, never was, has been an all-consuming and immense energy-requiring task for the record books.

THE GREAT NEWS IS THIS:  It is the third day of the New Year and I write today as a free individual, a good person, indulging the joy of the present and looking, with joy, into the future. The torment of 2017 has included death of hope with mother and sister. The torment of 2017 has also provided the ashes from which I rose to learn to glow in 2018.

I have many to thank for helping me survive 2017. I would not be breathing, I would have given in and given up, without ALL of you. I hope to list you all. Thank you God, Leo Joseph Appelbaum, Jr., Ken, Lauren, Brian, Addie, Lincoln, Carolyn, Brandon, Flynn, Leo, Linda, Kathy H., Colleen, Donna, Maureen, Jeanne, Steve, Paula, Dennis, Perri, Greg, Toni, Claudine, Ginger, Clarence, Karen, Larry, Fran, Jolene, Danu, Al- Anon, ACA, Bill A., Melinda, Beverly, Irene, Eileen, Cindy, Michelle, Michele, Alex, Krista, Becky, Jon, Debby, SCC Singers, Priscilla, Sierra, Beth, Frannie, Fr. Freddy, and anyone and everyone who has encouraged me to keep walking or even so much as smiled at me and brightened my day. I rose because of ALL OF YOU and I celebrate 2018 with all of you. An interesting special thanks goes to the lovely Salvation Army bell ringer( whose name I will never know) that sang Christmas Carols with me outside of Dierbergs this Christmas Season.

To anyone who listened, smiled, understood, loved, hugged, patted my back, grabbed my hand, survived their own muck as an example for me, to, MOST IMPORTANTLY, God-I owe you. I rose because of you. I stand on this cusp of this New Year loved because of ALL of YOU.

I rose and I stand where I am today because good people love me and I love good people. Family is not required to be biological. Family is the source from which your soul can drink. And my cup overflows thanks to all of you.

Love is what I need and God makes sure I get that gift. The sources God provides surprises me, and probably will continue to do so. I write to all of you today to extend my deepest gratitude and love.

Until Again,