Remembering Grandma

What a week we just had! Last Thursday, May 19, my grandma passed away. This came just as we were getting ready for 3 graduations over the weekend - but that is another blog. Today I want to share with you my grandma. I was privileged to give the Eulogy followed by more words about growing up with grandma from my cousin Tammie. No need to invent the wheel, these are the words I wrote and presented to a full room of family and friends that gathered to remember Grandma.

Good morning. I’m Lori Rankin, the oldest Granddaughter of Vivian Smith, the daughter of Gloria. The family would like to thank you for joining us as we remember our wife, mom, grandma, and great-grandma – and hopefully hear some new stories or even things you never knew about Vivian along the way. As you all know Grandma lived a full, long life. There is a lot to share – so settle in, this may take awhile.

Vivian Vernice Adams was born November 30, 1924 to Harold and Josie Adams. She is a descendant of some of Pratt Counties Early Settlers, the Williams, Baumgartners, McFarlands, and Adams, who began arriving as early as 1884 .

Vivian lived her entire life in Pratt County. She grew up North of Cullison in the Sand Hills.

In addition to her immediate family, Vivian is survived by the favorite Uncle, Ivan Adams, aged 99.

Vivian was preceded in death by her three beloved brothers. Morris was accidentally killed in 1942, shortly before graduation his senior year. Tommy was killed after the war in 1948. He was stationed in North Carolina where he was in a training exercise when the plane he was piloting crashed. Most recently, her brother Larry passed away in 2004. She had the most time with Larry, and enjoyed traveling to see him and his wife Melba on trips to Arizona where they had retired.

Vivian attended Cullison Schools 1-12th, the same schools her mother, aunts and uncles had attended, and later her own children.

She had fond memories of going to picnics and school activities at the Turkey Creek YMCA Camp. She loved playing at the Hughes home, a neighbor family down the road. There she met their cousin, Avola and enjoyed playing with her as well. A short time ago she became neighbors of Avola at Parkwood and was able to spend some time reminiscing.

She played the clarinet in band, was a member of the Girls Athletic Association, Salutatorian, and SR class vice president to Anfred’s Class president.

After high school, she went to school in Missouri, returning to Pratt and working at the Peoples Bank.

While she and Anfred were HS classmates, they were not sweet hearts. Anfred says he didn’t realize she existed until about 3 weeks before they graduated. After they began dating, Vivian didn’t think Anfred would ever kiss her. Anfred reckons he surely must have, finally. I should also tell you, as we were preparing for today, Grandpa heard some of us whispering and giggling and warned we better not share too much. I might be in trouble later.

Grandma wrote in Grandpa’s 1943 yearbook, “Anfred, It’s been nice to know you these four years in high school. Keep on smiling and you will get out of all your troubles.” Two years later she became a war bride when she married Grandpa during a leave from the Navy. He was actually to have come home sooner, but did not show up. There was a period of time when no one knew why he wasn’t there. They finally heard word that he had Scarlett Fever. After he had recuperated, he was able to come home and finally marry Vivian.

Vivian joined Anfred in California where he was stationed in the Navy. She attended the commissioning of the US McCafferty, a destroyer escort ship that Anfred served on.

During that time, Anfred’s brother and sister-in-law were in California as well. Virginia Smith once shared with me that when Anfred went overseas in the Navy, Vivian was pregnant and rode back to Kansas with her and Marvin. It was so Hot, and Vivian was so miserable on that trip. They had to make stops to go into stores to cool off. She said they realized then what a strong, loving person Vivian was.

Grandma attended the Wellsford church from 1948-1965. She told me one time that when she was pregnant with Uncle Morris, she fell in the hall of the church one day, and did the splits. What a sight that must have been. After 1965, she and Anfred were active members of the Free Methodist church in Pratt.

Grandma shared with us that in hindsight, her happiest years were when her kids were small. She liked to tell stories about her children. Uncle Morris did not like school. In fact, he would run crying from the bus when it came to pick him up. The bus would wait while she went to find him. She talked often of trying to get Aunt Jan to wear a dress, not an easy task. And she taught my mom many things about cooking and cleaning, as mom preferred to help inside the house.

Grandma was a farm wife, which meant she was a worker. She fed harvest crews and helped wherever needed. One time Anfred got a truck stuck in the trench silo. While trying to get it out, he got a 2nd truck stuck, eventually getting a tractor stuck, too. Finally, Vivian had to go with him late at night after the ground had frozen to help drive as they pulled everything out with a combine.

Aunt Jan shared a story of being on the farm where there wasn’t a basement to go to in bad weather. Instead you went to the cellar. Not only was the cellar a shelter against the weather, but it stored the many canned foods that were put up each summer, along with a variety of spiders and snakes. One particular evening, Vivian found herself trapped in the cellar with her children, and Anfred nowhere near home. When it was all clear, no matter how hard they tried, they could not get that cellar door open. They were resigned to having to wait for Anfred to get home and help them. Finally, they were able to force the cellar door open, escaping back into the house.

Grandma was a great housewife. She made their clothes. She gardened, canning green beans and tomatoes. For a time she churned her own butter. She was a great cook, although my mom, Gloria remembers the time grandma tried making cottage cheese and it was awful! One of the best things was being in the kitchen when she was baking. Grandma didn’t just make your average homemade bread. She made truly homemade bread, from getting the wheat out of the grainery and grinding it, to kneading and baking it. And there was always homemade Sandhill Plum Jelly to top it off. Not everything was homemade, as Allen found out. Allen asked Grandma to please share her Cream Corn recipe with his mom, he loved that cream corn. It took awhile, but she finally confessed her cream corn recipe involved a can and a can opener.

I know that Grandma liked to have a good time. This was evident in all of the old 8mm film that had been taken over the years. She would climb up into the attic and pull down the projector and let us watch all of the old movies of family events and vacations (not to mention Hopalong Cassidy). In those films, you got to know family and family friends that enjoyed her company. There were camping trips to Colorado with Delpha and Glen Clarkson and their children. There were family gatherings with parents, grandparents, children, aunts and uncles. The funnest to watch were our parents when they were little playing on the homemade merry-go-round with their cousins Delpha, Donita, Carol, Marlee, and Cathy. I think that must have been before Cousin Mark was big enough to play.

Grandma was also adventurous, and spent time traveling all over America and into foreign countries with Grandpa. In 1979, she accompanied Grandpa and his brother, Lawrence, to Washington DC during the Tractorcade. Uncle Lawrence drove the tractor, Vivian and Anfred followed with an RV as members of the American Agriculture Movement. She also went with Grandpa on 3 mission trips to Honduras, Mexico City, and Arizona where they helped build a school and visited Mission Stations to check on the activities of the missionaries the church was supporting. She even put her sewing skills to good use making drapes once. She also cut fabric squares for missions in Africa. The other night some of us decided that only God knew just how many squares she has cut over the years.

They continued their adventures in retirement, making numerous trips out west and to the Northwest to see their brothers. Lawrence, Uncle Lloyd, and Aunt Dorine went along to visit Uncle Marvin and Aunt Virginia in Washington one year. And Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Dorine, along with the Leeks, ventured to Arizona visiting Uncle Larry and Aunt Melba along the way. Just as in their younger years, they had a grand time being with their friends and family.

Even though Grandma was a child of the depression, she was not afraid to embrace the new world that grew around her. If you wanted to watch a video at Grandma’s you didn’t ask Grandpa, you went to Grandma for instructions on how to work their VCR and later their DVD player. She kept their accounts balanced with the help of spreadsheets on the computer. She embraced the internet, enjoying keeping in touch with her family through email initially, and with her own Facebook Account in her later years.

Grandma also enjoyed crafts. My cousin Tammie refers to her as a Folk Artist, and I agree. She was talented in many areas and loved to create. Among many things, she painted, and cross stitched, but is probably most famous for her wheat weaving expertise. She would go out to the field and harvest her own wheat straw every June. Grandpa always teased her that she took the best wheat, leaving him with the leftovers. She was asked to consult on a wheat weaving craft book that was written by another Kansas Wheat Weaver. She was interviewed for the Pratt Tribune in June of 1986 for an article on wheat weaving. But most importantly, she patiently shared her talents with her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, teaching them how to wheat weave. I can still smell the wheat straw as it soaked up water from the trays she placed them into, making them pliable. And I can feel the cool water as it dripped down the stalks onto my bear feet as I sat in a chair, weaving a candle stick or a wreath. I think we all loved going to Greensburg with Grandma and taking a new supply of treasures to the Big Well to be sold in the gift shop. Teresa loved to go in the craft room off the kitchen at the farm. She remembers that Grandma would let us make anything. And she would. Kristy expressed it best when she said she taught us to not be afraid to try things. Once Kristy reupholstered a rocking chair and Grandma helped advise her when needed, as Grandma had reupholstered several pieces of furniture over the years.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention perhaps the most cherished craft that Grandma gave us. Over the years, she made Christmas stockings for every child, grandchild, and almost every great grandchild, as well as their spouses. They are a family treasure.

Many of the stories from today were shared with me as I made a scrapbook for Grandma and Grandpa one long ago Christmas. Many family and friends contributed stories to share. I think Tammie and Teresa best summed it up for all of the grandchildren when they shared “I do not think we could have a better set of Grandparents. We always knew we were important.” I would go on to say, each of us knew we were the favorite Grandchild, and that is how it should be.

Grandma lived a long, productive, happy life. There were few regrets. She did express that she was reluctant to leave and would not see all of her great grandchildren grow up. Tammie shared with me that right after grandma died, she thought to herself, “a part of me is gone.” That is also what is so great about having a grandma like we did. We have a part of her that will always be in us. This part of her that lives on in each of us is the legacy that she leaves for her great-grandchildren.

I would like to close with a special memory that each of her grandchildren shared with her. You couldn’t go to Grandma’s when you were little and not have her read a book to you at bed time. I won’t make you all sit through the entire book, but will share with you the final page of the story most often read.

So off to the palace went Cinderella in the King’s own coach, with the happy Grand duke by her side. The Prince was delighted to see her again. And so was his father the King. So was everyone. For this sweet, and beautiful girl won the hearts of all who met her. Soon she was Princess of the land. And she and her husband, the charming Prince, rode to their palace in a golden coach to live Happily Ever After!

The End.

Great cuddling weather...

I sit here this morning, gazing out of our picture window in the family room. The world is white and calm. It reminds me of many childhood memories, playing in the snow. Who am I kidding; I slept until almost 9:00, and stayed in bed for 2 ½ hours reading a great book my boss loaned me. I only finally set it aside as guilt began to overcome me – I knew I had laundry that could be done, and should really take care of feeding my children.


I waited impatiently last night for the call to come. Gone are the days of anxiously waiting for our schools name to come across the bottom of the screen, or listening for the name to be read on the radio. We are in a new age of technology. Today, someone at the school sets up an auto dialer to contact all of the staff and families from our district. As the T.V. has continuous coverage of the “storm of the decade”, I wait anxiously for the telephone to ring. Early in the day, a local university has already called classes for the day. McConnell Air Force Base has already called for a 2 hour delay the next day. Ten O’clock approaches, schools are falling left and right. Mulvane, Goddard, Derby…and then the papa of all schools. The school that sets the bar for school closings. It could be argued successfully in a debate that they never call of school. And there it is; Wichita schools closed, February 1. Nothing from our beloved Maize. Uggghhh.

I find myself consoling my kid’s friends on Facebook. “They’re just making sure this storm really comes in.” Am I convincing them, or myself? One of Cameron’s friends implores me to use my influence to get school cancelled. Of course it was followed by a ha ha, knowing people in the office have no pull. I went to bed convincing myself that they wouldn’t make us go to school the next day. But just enough doubt was there, poisoning my thoughts about an otherwise competent administration. Would they really make us go to school? Were they concerned because we have parent teacher conferences later this week and the kids are already scheduled to be out of school Thursday and Friday?

A few short hours later I found myself wide awake, listening to the howling wind. I began to speculate just where the wind chill must be at by now. I kept glancing at the clock, 5:00, 5:15, 5:30 – no call. (Now you know why I was impatiently waiting for the call to come the night before. Who wants to be awake at 5 in the morning waiting for the no school call to come!? It is much handier when it comes the night before and all of the alarm clocks can be turned off!) I find myself drifting off. 5:53 – and I am jolted awake by Dancing Queen blaring in my ear. There it is - the coveted call – SNOW DAY!!! The district has come through. As sweet thoughts of gratefulness fill my head, my husband simply says, “you suck”. A few minutes later, he crawls out of bed to start his day. I roll over, pull the dog close to snuggle, and pull the warm blankets up to my chin.

SNOW DAY!!!!!!!!!

Traditions and Other Life Experiences

This week my family said good-bye to a very special women in our lives. To me, she was Aunt Dorine - maker of hugemongous popcorn balls and a most gracious women who always had a smile for you and a kind word. She would have been 93 years old this year, and was approaching her 70th wedding anniversary. She was the wife of one of my favorite people, my Uncle Lloyd. They farmed not far from my grandparents. When I visited during harvest, the majority of my time was spent attached to my grandmother. I do recall stopping by one of Uncle Lloyd's fields to see how things were going, and finding Aunt Dorine in the field in the heat of summer. I will never forget the image of her in shorts and cowboy boots! This amused me greatly. Maybe because I could never imagine my own grandmother dressed for the field like this. But mostly because this was in such contrast to how Aunt Dorine looked the rest of the year when I would have the chance to visit her. I believe she was not only  gracious, but confident, smart, and practical.

After the funeral, we made our way to the cemetary to lay her to rest. As we traveled to the small cemetary in a nearby tiny, country town, it reminded of the last time I traveled Highway 54 to this same cemetary. That time, we were saying goodbye to my beloved Great-Grandmother Josie. As we made our way East out of Greensburg, we traveled along Highway 54 just as we traveled West along the same highway for Aunt Dorine. In Kansas, there is a tradition of pulling over to allow funeral processions to pass. Even on this major highway through Western Kansas, people pulled over. I don't really know how this began. Perhaps it was for safety, in some states I believe it is a law, but in others you don't see this at all. I think it is a sign of respect. It meant so much to see even the busy truck drivers pull their 18-wheelers over as we passed, many removing their hats. My grandmother deserved that. As did Aunt Dorine.

I witnessed the same thing all these years later on Friday. I can safely say that not everyone stopped, however. I hope that this is not a sign that this will be another simple show of respect that goes by the wayside because we are all so consumed with our own lives and how busy we are. I hope we never allow ourselves to be so consumed that we can't take a few minutes for this simple show of compassion.

I was also blessed to see my Uncle Lloyd the last two days. I have to be honest and say this was hard on many levels. Just as my grandparents are forever in their 40's in my mind, so is Uncle Lloyd (we won't go into how old I am now!). I can recall many a time growing up experiencing his honeriness first hand. Sometimes it was teasing, sometimes he would grab my knee and squeeze to set me gigling. Needless to say, Uncle Lloyd is not in his 40's anymore, in fact he will soon turn 95. Age has caught up with him, as his mind has slipped and now his body is weakening. He doesn't remember many things any longer, including who I am. As I sat next to him in the nursing home today, though, I saw a glimpse of who he has always been as he winked at me. And as he squeezed my hand - hard! This is the man he will always be to me.

This weekend is yet another reminder to not let opportunities pass. Although the days weren't always easy, I cherish being able to see my uncle and to say good-bye to a most special aunt. I am greatful that I was able to spend time with my grandparents, and other family members.

Make memories that will last a lifetime. They are much more important than a mopped floor, or a folded basket of socks.

Capture the Glint

Ironically, my last blog was titled "Oh for the days when life was simple" - nearly 4 months ago! Needless to say, life has definitely not been simple these last months. Nothing I couldn't handle, because obviously I have, but nevertheless the words busy, complicated, crisis could all be applied. I'm sure I could come up with some more adjectives if I took a few more minutes.

Nevertheless, as the New Year 2011 awaits just around the corner, I sit here reflecting on what 2010 held for my family. I remember, of all things, a trip to Walmart this past fall. I pulled into the turn lane and glanced to my right. Next to me was an older gentleman. He sat somberly at the light, eyes forward. A moment later, a restored hot rod pulled along the other side of his vehicle. As it came to a stop, I watched a glint form in the man's eyes as a smile spread wide across his face. He seized that moment to enjoy something as simple as a beautiful car.

After the light turned, I peeled off to the West and made my way into the parking lot. This small, seemingly insignificant scene left me feeling so full of joy that I paused for a moment to record what I had seen. I knew I wanted to tell all of you about it on this blog. Now if only I knew where that notebook is, I could have just typed my recollections directly from it! But it impacted me so much, here I am several months later and I can still see the joy on that man's face and don't need those words.

Undoubtedly, many of you are wondering what in the world did she see in that traffic lot stop? The picture that was painted in my head that day is how important it is to take time in life to notice the small things. Find the joy that surrounds us every day. Even if it is something as simple as a beautiful car.

As this year closes out, I have found myself surrounded with memories that are not all fun. But I can also think of many memories that bring joy. I remember watching Cameron make his first catch in a high school football game. I remember the look on Ashley's face as her grandpa tickled her just as he did when she was five years old. I remember Roger's smile when he came home from racing after a good night. I recall the twinkle return to Kenny's eye when he finally got a job! And I remember the excitement that Jessica exubed when she came home a red head. While seemingly insignificant, these are the moments that come quickly to my mind and quickly overshadow some of the more somber memories of the year. These are the memories that will bring joy to my heart in the years to come and remind me to look for the joy that fills life.

My hope for you all this year is that it is a year full of joys! Happy New Year!!

Oh for the days when life was simple...

Unfortunately, we are not created wise. Wisdom comes with experience, trials, and tribulations. Those are the times that grow us into who we become. The good, the bad, and the ugly. As a parent of 4 teenagers and one 21 year old, I can attest that it is good to remember those times. I know you will find this hard to believe, but I was not born perfect. I made A LOT of mistakes growing up. While I would like to make things easier for my kids, and just jump them through to the wiser stages in life, it would only be detrimental to their character, to their wisdom. It is good for me to be there when asked, not bail them out at the drop of a hat, but allow them to go through their own experiences. And it is good for me to remember making mistakes, and understanding what they are going through.

It wasn't that many years ago when I thought I was so old, had to get married, and wanted to set up house. (Ok, maybe it has been a few more than "not that many years ago".) My husband was 22 and I was 25 when we got married, we had dated for 3 1/2 years, and I thought I was surely going to be an old maid before he decided to take the plunge. Looking back you would have thought we were in our 40's! (In case you don't know, we are now in our 40's!) Of course I recognize now how young we really were. Roger was (wait for it) a teenager when we started dating. A mere 19, the same age as son #2. Hindsight tells me I would have done things differently had I been wiser. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret that time, I would have just handled a few things differently. But if I could change things I wouldn't; those decisions grew us into the people we have become and developed our relationship into what it is.

I don't have any regrets, but I do miss many things about those early years. I miss being alone. At the same time I miss having the house full of my husband's friends on the weekends, tuning race cars, and feeding them all. I miss driving around on a cool, fall night with the sun roof open and the radio cranked. How excited we were to get a built in CD player! I miss having a house full on Friday nights for bible study, then dinner out and maybe a dollar movie at The Palace. I miss only having to worry about myself and my husband. Life was simple.

Twenty years later, I can see things shifting again. Many more evenings are spent in a quiet house, as the kids are running around with friends. The rumble of a race car once again permeates the house, as an engine is tuned to perfection. And sometimes we find our way out into a cool, fall night; the windows are rolled down, music is playing, and stops at red lights are filled with stolen kisses.

Maybe 20 years from now I will still be blogging. There is a chance that I will be telling you about plans for retirement and travel. I may speak about quiet evenings spent reading the latest novel at the top of the best seller list. In reality, I will probably reflect about when days were so full I couldn't find a moment to myself...

The times, they are a changin'...

I have a confession, (I seem to be doing that a lot!), I am a Facebook junkie. It's true, I need to check my Facebook to see what is going on in the world around me. Who would have thought 20 years ago that their would be something called a social network? Who thought 5 years ago that an online site called Facebook would bring so many people together?

I currently have just over 300 friends on Facebook. I have known some my whole life, some since I was 5, friends from college, and new friends that I have known a short time. I find it amazing that I am able to share my life with my grandma, keep up with friends from Kindergarten, and hear about what is going on in the lives of my children's friends. I am also able to connect with distant relatives on a level I would never have been able to otherwise. This is perhaps my favorite type of friend.

Recently I noticed a difference in the age groups that I Facebook with. I find that several of my older friends still use a greeting and/or a complimentary closing (love, sincerely) in their status updates. My young friends on the other hand use texteese (my word for texting language, c wht I mne). I often wonder what my grandma thinks of things my kids post, and if she can read their language. What a blessing that they are able to have this type of connection.

A few weeks ago I spent some time sorting through some old letters I had kept. The majority were from high school, but there were some from college and when I was much younger. What possessed me to save some of them I do not know. There were stories of boys, boys, and did I mention boys? But there were also letters from my great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother. I find tears in my eyes as I hold the paper that was held by my grandmother, and goosebumps at the site of her hand writing. They are all treasured.

I worry about what my children will have in this age of technology and the keyboarded word. They definitely will not have as many handwritten letters as I do. Fortunately there have been some teachers in their lives that still understand the importance of the written word, specifically letters. As assignments, they have been asked to write to a relative. I have made sure to save them for their scrapbooks. One special letter was from my grandmother to my youngest son. I also have the letter he wrote to her first, that my grandmother had saved. It is wonderful reading both sides of the story. She tells him about when her brother died at a very young age, his senior year in high school. More recently my youngest son came home from church camp. He pulled some paper from his pocket. It was a letter from my mom he had received that week. It had survived camp, and made its way home. It was something treasured. It is tucked away safe until I can put it in his scrapbook.

Letter writing is a dying art. I don't think it can be totally saved in the form it once had. But I definitely think it is worth a shot. Write a letter to someone you love this week. Really write it, go buy a stamp, and send it in the mail.  Slip a note onto the pillow of your spouse, or into the lunch box of your child. Create those memories that can be treasured.

August = CRAZY!

I'm back to work at the school and it has been a CRAZY week, but I survived with flying colors! I am in the middle of my third year in this position. I can see the rewards of all the work I have done re-organizing my office to suit my style. We just finished the third year with a new demographic software, and we have pretty much all of the kinks worked out. Those we don't, we are aware of and know how to fix when they pop up. All of this, along with some really great co-workers, makes for a good work environment. I am so thankful to be able to go to work and feel good about so many things.

That said, let me take you back to my first day in this position. It was the first day after Christmas Break. Although I had helped the person who had the position prior to me; she left because it was too stressful, there was an incredible amount of duties I had never touched. I mentioned earlier that this week was CRAZY-that first day was a nightmare! At the time, I do not believe I had EVER felt that overwhelmed before in my life. I cannot express to you enough how tight my chest was, how bad I wanted to throw up, and how many times the thought "what did I get myself into" popped into my head. Let's just say I did not just want to cry a good portion of the day, I wanted to BAWL!

As a young person I tended to self-sabotage myself. This happens to a person that is reacting to a stressful situation. There are many forms of self-sabotage. For me I would often ignore the situation, or even do things to take myself out of the situation. Often this was a huge mistake that showed my immaturity.

My sophomore year in college comes to mind immediately as I think about this. The prior two years had been full of changes. My parents got divorced. My mom struggled. I graduated from high school. I had a summer romance. I went off to college, away from home. My life was full of friends, classes, and all of the typical teenage drama you might remember. My sophomore year I was appointed Yearbook Editor and I was so excited. And scared. Than my mom called to tell me my dad was coming back home. Of course I didn't recognize it at the time, but I was in a stressful situation. I will spare you all of the boring details, besides some of you reading this already know them, but I was kicked out of college for drinking. Now there is more involved to this story, but those are just details. You get the idea, stress led me to subconsciously make purposeful choices that I believe I knew would remove me from some of the situations.

Being only 19, my frontal lobe had not fully developed yet. My mind was not thinking about the long term consequences of those actions. I could not psychologically deal with the situation or even the actions that resulted. Thankfully I had family support during this time, especially from my Aunt, whom I love dearly. I had closed myself off from my parents, and she stepped in. That time in my life comes to mind often as  my days are filled with the minds of teenagers in my own home, and all of the struggles that they face. I can see my mom bite her tongue to keep from reminding me of my own struggles as I deal with my children. She doesn't have to remind me, I just don't like to admit I remember.

I do remember though. Sometimes I have to remind myself to remember! Teenage years are a struggle under normal circumstances. When we remember our years, we can invoke compassion. Not something that is easy to do when facing a hormonal teen, but something that is essential. Something that I need to practice more of.

As a young person, I found myself in stressful situations that I did not handle well. Over the years I have learned to push through those moments, and make the choices that make sense. Some of this has come with the development of my frontal lobe, some has come with very conscientious practice. I have learned over the years that I have tendencies to self-sabotage. I can watch for this, and push through and make the right choice.

That first day of my position, I wanted to quit. That was the old self-sabotage person peeking out. But the older, wiser me pushed through. What do I need to do to get through this? How can I make this work out for my benefit? My first instinct was I can't. I have to let God. And that is what I did. I prayed to him that night before I left. I gave it up to him. "God, I can't do this. I need your help." I immediately felt the comfort of knowing that there were only so many hours in a day, and I could only do some much in a day. I needed to just take things one crisis, project, and phone call at a time. Let me say, this is totally against my nature! Because I allow God into my life, I am able to do this. Some days are easier than others, but this is exactly how I have gotten through the last 2 1/2 years. And now, I love my job! I love the challenge. I love the people. I love the new opportunities that I am presented with each year.