I made a lot of attempts to market Running With Angels myself, but I could not make any headway. Nobody was interested. My publisher, Ladybug Books, was as helpful as possible but was limited to getting the book to shows and putting it on Amazon. The marketing was up to me and I couldn’t do it. So I gave up and handed the book to someone else to sell. She tried hard too but found that in the publishing world the AUTHOR has to be the one who speaks for the book. So I put my one copy on the shelf and walked away.

I decided to write a different book, one that I would publish but I wouldn’t necessarily try to sell. I’m working on it now and enjoying every minute of the writing process. This one probably doesn’t offer any compelling messages except to me, and I’m good with that. I’ll decide when it’s done what I’ll do with it. No pressure, just pleasure!

But that book already on my shelf wouldn’t shut up! I got the same spirit message over and over, that Angels was worthy of more effort from me. So I decided to get back in the game, three years late but a little less naieve about the business. Books just don’t sell themselves, and I’m going to have to put myself out there and do the work.

So I’ve started by finding a reputable PR firm. Annie Jennings PR, based in New Jersey, has a good reputation and track record, so I’m signing with her. She’s offering a “Jump Start” program for first-time authors at a cost of $1500. I will have a coaching session and then the firm will book me for eight telephone interviews on high-quality radio talk shows. The idea is a little daunting to me, but I’m determined to do my best.

My contact phone interview with Annie was interesting. She was most enthusiastic about the fact that Running With Angels has a message, and less interested in the actual story. She said that even though it is fiction it should be marketed almost as non-fiction, dwelling on the fact that it is socially relevant in today’s world, relevant to what is often in the news about child abuse, etc. I like being socially relevant! She asked me what in my background qualified me to write such a book, and I said that I am a parent, grandparent, and a retired teacher, retired foster parent, retired social worker with CPS. I must say she was nearly ecstatic that I am an educated and experienced person in the field, with some expertise to offer. She seemed to think interviewers would like that. She said that if it was a book I’d written about my own child’s story, or the daughter of a friend, that would be one level of relevancy, but that, because of my background, mine was at a higher level.

I guess that was a little ego boost, and I’m allowing myself to enjoy it. Once you are retired you don’t have a lot of opportunities to be considered as still relevant and professional and educated, as still having something to offer. I’m liking it a little bit.

So today I went and had a PR picture done. It will go on Amazon soon, and I don’t know yet how else it will be used. I’ve discovered some people at Curves who want a book, and I’m going to see if I can sell at the metaphysical store that has become my second home. Here’s the bargain: the price on Amazon is $12.95, but if you buy from me personally it’s only ten bucks for a signed copy. The bad news is that all my friends and family already have copies, so no more business there. But if you know anyone who might be interested . . . .

Blessings

I’m not talking about chores that need me to do them. Those don’t count. I’m a pitiful housekeeper, get by with the simplest minimum of effort on that front, and mentally grumble and suffer through every moment of it. And of course I endure periods of anguished guilt over all that, but it’s not painful enough to improve me.

No, I mean I need to be doing something CREATIVE.

For a couple of years I found a lot of joy in being a potter, but when I knew I’d reached the upper limit of my ability, I wandered away. There was great fun and satisfaction in writing a book, but when it was done I didn’t have anything else to say. Well, except what I say in these sporadic blog posts, of course.

I thought I’d like to do beautiful needlework, and sent all the way to England for a kit and an instruction book, only to find that I’m not capable of understanding the clearly written instructions that are accompanied by even clearer illustrations. I’m actually afraid to thread up the needle and get started because I paid a lot for the stuff and I’ll probably ruin it. So it sits on my dresser, mocking me. I’ll be glad to ship it off to you if you’d like to give it a try, at no cost to you. Just let me know. You’ll end up with a really nice red pillow for your couch.

So finally it occurred to me to ask for some spiritual guidance–DUH.

About ten days or so ago, in the middle of a restless semi-sleepless night, someone came to talk to me. I don’t know who it was from the spirit realm, but we had quite a detailed and satisfying conversation. He said I should get started on Book Two. I said, “Huh?! No way, mister!” Sometimes I appear to be lacking in respect for those on the Other Side, but it’s okay because they totally get me, and love me anyway.

See, I already wrote Book One, about three years ago now. It was an awesome experience and a pretty good book, but I failed in every attempt to market it and get it out there. Writing could count as a strength of mine, but selling definitely does not. I ended up feeling frustrated, discouraged, and like a big dodohead. I don’t like feeling like a dodohead, so I quit on Book One.

My night visitor had no sympathy or patience for my dodo-ness. He said just write a book and don’t worry at all about the rest of it. You are the writer, so write. Maybe it will be just for you, maybe it will be for others too. It doesn’t matter, but the writing of it is important to you.

I tried to explain that I have no ideas for Book Two, and you have to have good ideas if you’re going to write a book. I think he probably sighed and rolled his eyes, but he said okay, here’s the title.

CONNECTED
A Seriously Lighthearted Spiritual Memoir
by
Robbie Haden

I have to admit I liked it right away. He followed up by showing me a long list of all the people, events, and experiences that have made up my personal spiritual journey over the last fifty years or so. He said it could be divided into two parts– Part One: Early On and Part Two: Later On. I could immediately see how perfectly that divides my story. I could also see how entertaining it would be to write it. And he seemed to be saying that it’s worthy even if I’m the only reader it ever entertains. I can’t see a thing to worry about, so I’m hooked in pretty quickly.

As an added bonus, he even showed me where I could work in some of the blog material I’ve put on this site. Win!

So I’m counting this blog as a statement of intention, and we all know how powerful intention is. It may take me a year to do it, but I’m definitely signed on to write Book Two. If you need me, I’ll be at my computer, writing.

Blessings.

In January I began taking a once-a-month mediumship class under an excellent instructor, and I was immediately hooked on exploring this new, um, skill, I guess you’d call it. Or maybe gift would be a better word, but I think wording hardly matters here.

Instructor D is careful to make sure we understand the difference between channeling, with which I am quite familiar, and mediumship. In channeling you allow energetics to settle in and speak through you. In mediumship you invite those who have crossed over from this side to the other to come and sit with you in Spirit. And then if they trust you, they may give you a message for a living loved one, a message which you then have the honor of delivering.

Have you ever seen John Edward on TV? It’s like that. I never pictured myself being anything like John Edward, though I’ve always liked to watch him work.

I had my second class with D just this last Thursday evening, and I’m going to tell you how it went.

D starts our class of 10-12 people with chakra clearing, grounding, and a short guided meditation. He’s very good and I knew that I had responded well and gone into the relaxed state in which I am most receptive to whatever is going to happen. The rest of the class time would be devoted to members volunteering to share what they were getting, if anything. I immediately became aware of someone with me, but I’d be darned if I’d be the first volunteer–not my style!

So I was the second volunteer. Here’s how the dialogue went between student (me) and teacher (D), as well as I can recall it.
______________________________________________
D: Who do you have with you?

Me: I have a young woman.

D: Can you describe her appearance?

Me: Yes. She’s wearing a white top and blue jeans and is barefoot. She has long dark hair which at first hid her face, but now she has let me see her fully. She is seated cross-legged in the grass.

D: Can anyone in the class take this as someone you recognize, or might recognize with more information? (no response from class)

D: All right, ask for more evidence (information).

Me: She says that she was a wild child and caused much heartache in her family.

D: Anybody? Okay, keep going.

Me: She says that there is some question about how or why she died. She wants her family to know that her death was accidental, not on purpose. She did not choose to die.

D: Ask her how she died.

Me: She says there were two things, drugs and bang! a sudden crash. (Still no one in the class can claim her.)

D: Ask her how old she was when she died.

Me: Out of her teens, but not much.

D: Ask her what her relationship is to the person she intends to get her message.

Me: It feels like maybe brother, but not really a brother, oh maybe a step. I don’t know.

D: Anything else?

Me: I am feeling sadness and regret. She says that she left something very valuable behind, I think it might be a child, and she is so sorry. She says she wants her family to know that, and that she has a very different view of things now.

D: Good work. Now I will tell you that this message was for me, and I can fill in the details. This is Tanya, and I am not her brother but am her step-uncle. I recognized her early on because your description of her sitting barefoot in the grass was so her. Tanya was a wild child, did do drugs, was killed in a car crash at age 21 or 22. She left behind two children who are being raised by her mother.

I will share Tanya’s message with my family members, who will be moved and grateful to hear it. Thank you for bringing it through.
_______________________________________________

D then spoke about the timing of how spirit works. In December his mother died and he traveled home for her funeral, where he reconnected with many family members he hadn’t seen in a long time, including Tanya’s family. He felt that opened the way for her to come through now.

So now I can hardly wait until next month to do it again and learn more.

Blessings.

Channeling simply means that I have learned to step backward in my own body and allow another being to come in and speak if they wish to. I have some regulars who help me when I do readings in a psychic fair setting; among them are Mother Mary and Mary Magdalene, and there are more. I have learned to be comfortable with channeling, and consider it an honor and an ethical responsibility. Receiving insight from a spiritual source, given THROUGH me but not BY me, is helpful to the individuals who come to me for a reading. This is my work now. I channel less obviously throughout any day of normal activity, maintaining connection to Spirit most of the time. You wouldn’t particularly notice it, though. I’m pretty sure.

For the last couple of months I have had the pleasure and the frustration of channeling a new sort of Spirit. She calls herself DeLight, and she is all that. When I allow her through in our channeling class, her greeting is loud and rambunctious. “HELLO HUMANS!!!!, she yells. “NOW YOU SAY HELLO DeLIGHT!!!!” If the group isn’t enthusiastic enough, she grins big and demands “SAY IT AGAIN!!! And they are delighted to comply.

DeLight loves humans, and is endlessly curious about them. She is a child-like entity who has never incarnated on earth but who is way way eager to do so. Apparently I and my group of close crazy channeling friends, are assigned to help her prepare for that. And she, in turn, is meant to teach us humans as well.

DeLight is pure love, pure joy, pure play. She says, “I am from the Light, I am Spirit Girl.” She calls everyone she meets Human Girl or Human Boy, not distinguishing age differences. Except for me, whom she now refers to as Mama. She said, “Humans say mama, right?” and I couldn’t refuse permission.

DeLight loves flowers, sparkly things, painted toe nails, bright colors. She wishes that I would wear ribbons and flowers in my hair, which I have so far resisted as not exactly my style. My friends know when I have let her choose something to wear, for it will be the brightest thing I own. She laughs and claps and giggles and jokes and teases and asks personal questions, also not exactly my style, but since she borrows my body I am seen and heard as doing these things as well. It has taken some effort for me to get over feeling embarrassed by DeLight.

In fact, I have received a message from my spirit guides regarding this. I am to stop feeling that she is sometimes a burden and an embarrassment and remember instead that she is an honor and a privilege and a responsibility, for which I and my group have been chosen, at least for a while. Relax and enjoy the fun! they say.

DeLight is getting what she is being taught about human good behavior. She entertains the group when she says things like, “Mama says not so loud. Shh!” or “Mama says give it back!” or “Mama says say goodbye” followed by silence and then a mischievous “But I’m still herrrre!” Giggle and clap, then over and out. I am conscious when I channel (not in trance) but I very soon forget details. The group loves to report DeLight’s antics to me, and I suspect they embellish the truth just to see me cringe a bit. Oh well, relax and enjoy the fun!

When she visits, DeLight never fails to say to her human audience, “You are so beautiful. Do you know how beautiful you are?” She is so pure in her admiration that the humans around her can’t help but change their view of themselves. When we glimpse ourselves through DeLight’s perception, we are indeed beautiful in every way. She is helping me change a lifetime of negative thought about myself, even at this late date. I know she is influencing others as well.

DeLight seems to be beloved by all who experience her energy. They call her out to play because she lightens a room, raises the energy, and everyone benefits. We’ve learned also that there are situations that are not appropriate for DeLight, such as a recent fair. The energy created by all those psychics and mediums in one room was way to much for her to handle, and she pretty much misbehaved loudly. “Mama” was a bit humiliated. So my Spirit Girl won’t be appearing at any more fairs.

Does it sound like parenting all over again? It’s exactly like that. The goal is to maintain her “DeLight-fulness” while teaching her something about being a civilized human being. And that’s parenting, right? And don’t we learn mighty lessons about ourselves from our children? Well, that’s certainly parenting DeLight.

Blessings.

First of all, the world is not ending, so I do advise you not to sell your belongings and head for a mountain-top to await The End. But it is likely that we will feel an increased intensity in what we were already experiencing, a greater feeling that the world is in chaos. This will be the result of great changes occurring in all areas of life on earth–for individuals, families, governments, religions, probably all human institutions upon which we have relied until now. Throw in weird weather and unusual natural disasters and at times it will feel like a really scary roller-coaster ride.

It will be a year of cycles, of endings and new beginnings, endings and new beginnings, again for both individuals and institutions. It will be important to seek balance and stability tempered with flexibility in all areas of our lives. We must accept responsibility for ourselves and others.

Early on, there may be something unpleasant, an exposure perhaps, going on with a company which will affect many. This may be found to be linked to politics in some way. It will be important to pick our battles in the business world.

But then, remarkably, we will begin to see a marked increase in spiritual awareness in all areas world-wide. The biggest surprise may be that we will see this particularly in the business/financial world, even at the corporate level. Yes! By June, we may even see rebuilding begin, led by a mature businessman. Let’s watch for him!

Individuals will experience spiritual awakening as well. Many groups of like individuals will form, creating “families” to love, care, and support one another, to deal with the perceived chaos. Intuition may be seen as a helpful and reliable tool. There will be hard work for everyone in the rebuilding.

The core of this session was really aimed directly at those of us, our group and other like groups, who have moved to stand in the light to prepare for these events, which we have anticipated and awaited for a long time.

Our instructions were clear. We are to be spiritual warriors, standing in our power and and always being our true selves in expressing our spirituality. We are the healers. We must always approach others with the divine love that comes fully from our heart chakras. We are to know our truth and speak it. We are here to help, and to that we are to be fully dedicated.

If you’re thinking a year will be long enough, think again, but by perhaps 2015 changes for the better may be very noticeable. I’m going to be working as hard as I can to do my part, and I sure hope I stick around long enough to see some great results.

Speaking of sticking around, there will be some souls on earth who don’t wish to have this 2012+ experience, and that is their choice. We may see an increasing number of unexpected deaths, or deaths that occur in disasters, etc. It’s okay, again it’s a choice.

So, I hope you will wake up and tune in, as 2012 looks to be an inevitably fantastically unusually remarkably meaningful year.

Blessings.

The show has kind of an odd format that alternates musical guest entertainers with personal adoption stories. Families have been picked to showcase and they each have a taped segment that tells their heartwarming tale of children finding parents and parents finding children. These families are shown in the audience as well, all dressed up and shiny, proving that adoption is a happily-ever-after totally satisfying event. Much is made of the large number of families who are inspired to adopt after each Christmas broadcast. It’s a wonderful thing, of course.

I have spent many years on the inside of the process of adopting foster children, first as a foster mother and then as a CPS caseworker in the foster/adopt division. Here’s what I know: not all (or perhaps even most) of these adoptions are perfect matches with perfect outcomes, as shown on TV.

Remember that I said that something horrendous has happened in the life of every child available for adoption out of foster care? Through my own very personal experience I have seen cases, over and over again, of children who are victims of sexual assault, the breaking of bones, the bashing of heads, the submersion in boiling water, the stabbing of an infant, exposure to drugs in utero, emotional abuse beyond imagining, abandonment, and so on. Just think of something illegal and cruel and painful and stupid, and know that people are doing it to kids in your city right now. Oh, and there’s neglect. This one doesn’t get the press of the others, but chronic neglect probably does the deepest psychological hurt of all because it is ongoing, not an event that occurs within the context of better times.

So the truth is these children, even the infants, have suffered severe damage that will be part of who they are for their entire lifetime. They cannot help but bring it all with them when they are placed in their much dreamed of “forever family.” That courageous family will be called upon to deal with the difficulties that accompany the child, such as extreme anger and other acting-out behaviors, attachment disorders, running away, psychiatric treament/hospitalization, failure in school, testing of boundaries and love, genetic susceptibility to drugs and alcohol, threats of physical harm to family members, and on and on. And it seems that every developmental stage of the child reveals new evidence of the damage done.

Some families have the exceptional strength and devotion and perseverance and endurance and love to see it through. Others don’t, and adoptions fail. A failed adoption, in which the state agency may be forced to take back conservatorship of the child, is nobody’s fault, but everybody feels the shame and the blame and the deep sadness. More damage is done, of course.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that adoptions can be spectacularly successful, and they make great and hopeful stories. With all my heart, I want all foster kids to be blessed with that. But the truth is, if one of my adult children were to ask me about the wisdom of adopting a foster child themselves, I would strongly advise against it. How sad is that for everybody?

I know what I know and I so wish that I didn’t.

Blessings.

I know THWAM is a believer, since he has spent a certain percentage of our lengthy marriage literally steering me from one place to another. I’m not even a very good reader of maps, so he has learned that if HE looks at the map and then translates directions into written words and puts them on a sticky note, I’m probably good to go. The return trip is a whole different set of circumstances, since logic says just do it backwards, but my brain sees it as an entirely new and unrelated problem. I’m pretty good now at the “turn around and go the other way” solution when I finally recognize that nothing looks familiar.

I’ve been going to a Lewisville metaphysical store called Miracles of Joy on a weekly basis for the last 1.5 years. It’s about 23 miles from my house. In the beginning, THWAM wrote out directions for me, omitting LBJ and 35E knowing my preference to avoid major highways at the 6:00PM hour (or any hour, really). The route goes out of Richardson, through Plano, and into Lewisville. He even rode along on a test drive with me, just to be sure. In Lewisville you end up on Main Street, then left on Old Orchard, and you’re there. Perfectly reliable, and I am so happy and so comfortable with that.

Yesterday, as I approached my intersection to turn into town, there was a big electric sign announcing this: MAIN STREET CLOSED 12-10-11. DETOUR AHEAD. “Detour” illicits immediate mild panic, but then I remind myself that there will be detour signs to follow and surely I can do that.

Well, Shirley, it turns out that I can’t. I don’t know where it all went terribly wrong, but those detour signs were never in my freakin’ sight. The next 45 minutes will probably remain with me forever. Lost, lost, so very very lost.

I make every effort to think this through logically, picturing where I’ve come from and where I want to go. I make a plan and execute it beautifully, and it takes me nowhere except to a deadend, a train yard, a shopping center, twice back to highway 121, into the countryside, and so forth. Every wrong turn that I take feels EXACTLY right and I think I will reach my destination at any moment, proud that I’ve gotten myself out of a pickle. But the pickle just gets pickle-ier.

If you know me at all, you know I rely on heavenly help, depending on Spirit to bail me out when I need it. So of course I got to the point of asking. “Help me!” I yelled right out loud there in the car, adding, “um, please.” And I got such a clear answer. “Nope,” they said. “You need to figure this out yourself.” WTF!? Well, alrighty then.

So I decide that I need to get on 35E, get off at the Main Street exit and try again to hook up with those stupid detour signs. I’m on 35 and I cross the Lake Lewisville bridge, and I see a sign that says Justin 19 miles ahead. Wait a minute! I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go to Justin. It’s time for the “turn around and go the other way” thing. I do get to the Main Street exit, I do not see any closure or detour signs, and I easily arrive at Miracles of Joy only 45 minutes late and just a little bit frazzled.

Was Main Street really closed at any point? The return trip home was perfectly normal. Was Spirit teaching me something about problem-solving, self-reliance, confidence, faith in creating a good outcome, staying in the moment? Could be. Or how about this–getting into your “dis-comfort” zone is seldom fatal?

Blessings.

This truly is a Very Big Book, 726 pages, 8.5 x 11, spiral-bound. It’s got some physical heft to it, as well as a hefty price. It might very well turn out to be worth the money, or maybe not. I haven’t decided yet.

The author began in the fifties and sixties as a clinical psychologist, and over the years he gathered a wealth of experience treating all sorts of mental/psychological disorders, including everything from emotionally disturbed children to murderers, psychotics, suicides, and so on in a very wide and diverse spectrum. His work was innovative and respected in the field.

Eventually, he says, he received a message from the “Cosmos” that he should become a “turban-wearing American Sikh.” This led him to develop a profound understanding of the sacred and Cosmic realm. He calls all of the work that came after this his “sacred teacher” destiny.

I have long believed that we have the ability to heal ourselves, and have even had some limited success for myself. I believe the Universe is a source, available to all, of Divine healing energy. So Dr. Lincoln’s book has caught my interest. He brings the psychology to the spiritual.

He is sharing his belief that understanding the psychological source of our disease allows us to change how we perceive ourselves and thus achieve “wholeness” or healing. I’m going to quote three paragraphs here that particularly resonate with me and sum up the core of what I think this really big book is about.

“…things like reverence of self, faith in one’s ability and right to survive, thrive and heal, self-love and self-acceptance, a sense of the goodness of the self, self-commitment, trust in the operations of the Cosmos, commitment to the community, etc., are all highly effective preventatives and correctives for illnesses.”

“In addition, such activities as selfless service, using knowledge to help others and thereby to increase one’s own knowledge, caring for others, being a part of a social support system, developing and maintaining a God-connection, relaxation exercises, and self-hypnosis greatly strengthen the immune system and generate physical health.”

“Healing is ‘wholing’–manifesting all of our potentials and becoming one with All That Is. It is restoring the integrated and flowing manifestational process of being ‘at one with’ the Cosmos in your consciousness and in your way of being.”

Okay, I get that, I really do.

Most of the book is what he calls a “Dictionary” of physical conditions and diseases. For each entry there are listed many many possible psychological causes. It is up to you to sift through and find what most applies to you. Recognition of yourself leads to insight.

I picked four physical ailments of my own to investigate in the dictionary: high blood pressure, leg cramps, diabetes, obesity. Then I set out to see what I could glean. I did indeed find myself among the many possible causes listed for each of my ailments. I’ll show you what I mean:

High blood pressure: they are hyper-responsible…tend to overeat and be over-weight…they were never given the message that who they are is enough and that what they accomplished filled the bill…abandoned at an early age…perfection expecting…dread of failure…”achieveaholic”…perfectionistically disappointed in themselves. Yep, that’s me.

Leg cramps: hyper-vigilant…unable to relax and let go…willful and stubborn…having to confront issues they have been putting off for some time (perhaps lifetimes.) Yep again.

Diabetes type II: desperate longing to belong…believing that they don’t deserve any better…turned to self-maintaining love-substitutes such as carbohydrates, sugars. Oh yeah.

Obesity: insecurity…fearfulness and a need for “protection”…self-medication in the form of food intake for “filling the hole inside”…anger-absorber..a way to avoid vulnerability…reflects insecurity and self-rejection,feelings of deprivation, scarcity and loss. Most interesting–Grounding and protection. It can represent a process of keeping the person here and safer when they are channeling Cosmic or “other realm” energies or entities. Yes, and yes.

I know that the long-lasting, deep-seated negative beliefs about self that I have held so long are totally false. Bunkum. Lies. Garbage. Now that I’ve seen them in print and recognized them, it’s time to dump them. The author pretty much cites our early life in our family of origin as the source of the problems, and I’d have to agree with that.

I’m giving myself much better messages now than what I got back then, and I absolutely believe in these truths: I am a worthy human being, I am loveable, I am perfect as I am, and I am shining my light in my life. That’s it.

Will it help with the physical symptoms? I don’t know, but it sure can’t hurt.

So, if you want to borrow my Very Big Book to learn something about yourself, I’m happy to share.

Blessings.

They are all doing a phenomenal job, but I can’t help but notice the profound differences between their parenting style and mine.  (Yes, we were a parenting unit, but I’m going to make this one about me.)

Thinking back, I seem to have valued the fostering of their independence above all else.  I felt that if a child was capable of doing something for himself, he should be expected to do it.  Now I wonder if I overdid that; for instance, should a six-year-old ride his wee little ten-speed bike across a busy street to get himself to swim-team practice and back?  He did it without disaster, but was it right?  Should the last kindergartner have had to walk himself home alone, a lot of blocks and also across a busy street?  In both cases, I gave them instruction and then turned them loose, and I’m sure this was typical of many of their experiences.  Did it make them feel unprotected, vulnerable, not cared for?  Geez, what was I thinking?

Back then I thought that childhood should bring with it a lot of freedom–to play according to your imagination, to roam within your neighborhood, to hang with the friends you chose yourself, to read books you were too young to read, to be respected for your opinions, to make your own decisions and suffer the consequences, good or bad.  All within your level of maturity, of course.  But in hindsight, did I dish out a little too much freedom?

Take religion, for instance.  In adulthood, the kids have expressed regret that they were not raised in a specific church, saying that this would have given them something to believe in and rely on, perhaps even something to rebel against.  They say it just would have made growing up easier.  I was very interested in raising good caring compassionate citizens, but did not feel loyal to any one spiritual denomination.  My intention was to give them the freedom to choose, but I may have given them only confusion instead.

The desire to allow my children freedom also spilled into their school lives.  For some reason the fact that I was a teacher myself made me hesitant to do anything that might be seen as interfering at school.  Consequently I did not become friends with the kids’ teachers, did not volunteer in their classrooms beyond baking the occasional cookie, did not communicate closely with teachers to track my child’s progress.  I did attend scheduled conferences and any special events or performances, and lots and lots of swim meets, soccer and baseball games, and Scout events.  Even fairly early on I think that I thought school was largely their own business, that they were pretty much in charge of their own success or failure.  (It must be noted that they were all very capable scholastically.)  This approach seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, but maybe it was expecting too much?  Did they feel unsupported and did it seem to them that I just didn’t care?

Did my children know I loved them?  One girlfriend of one son did convince him that he had suffered a profound lack of hugging in his childhood.  As they grew older,  maybe I wasn’t as openly demonstrative as I might have been, which came from my relationship with my own parents, who offered little in the way of affectionate touching.  The truth is, I loved them deeply, then and now.

Don’t get the idea that this is a guilty confession of regrets or an apology or anything like that. I am fine with knowing that I was a thoughtful parent who did my best. My kids are spectacular adults and great parents, and I am beyond proud of them.  But I think my grandkids are benefitting from the differences in style, for they are growing up in such warm environments with such explicitly expressed deep love and support and interest, they are simply bound to be exceptionally well-prepared to cope with the world they are inheriting.

Good job, guys!

Blessings.

Late in 1967 I was a single teacher turning 29, thinking about 30, and just about out of patience with my solitary life.  I’d done everything I wanted to do–live independently, travel, move from Oregon to Colorado–except one.  My biggest desires were to marry and to have a family, but it wasn’t happening.  I needed some practical help fast, because back then the medical folks warned that having a baby after 30 was really risky.  (Imagine that–today, I could probably have a baby at 72 if I really wanted to.  I DON’T really want to.)

Back in the day electronic match-ups didn’t exist.  But the Denver Post ran a little ad in their Sunday paper for a company that did make matches.  I wish I could remember the name of it, but it’s gone.  For weeks that ad blinked at me until it was practically flashing neon lights, but I dismissed it every time.  Until I didn’t.  I called the number in the ad and asked for the paperwork.  This move was so far out of the realm of normal for me that I still can’t believe I did it. I have no recall of how much this service cost, but I doubt that it was over $25, if that much.

I received a fairly thorough questionaire in the mail, filled it out, and mailed it back.  In due time, I received the names of three men who “matched” and who might or might not call me.  I do vaguely remember that two called, and we did meet.  One had a huge interest in Sherlock Holmes; I had little to contribute to the conversation.  The other left my door disappointed because he wasn’t invited in after our one and only date; he angrily declared me to be a “Little BoPeep”, by which I guess he meant I was annoyingly childish. Surprisingly, I didn’t give up and awaited the next list of 3 possible suitors.

In the meantime THWAM, on the opposite side of Denver, was having a similar experience.  He was freshly divorced, had custody of his 4-year-old daughter and 7-year-old son, and had just returned to Colorado from San Diego, out of the Navy on a hardship discharge because he had the kids.  He was looking for a way to get a social life started, definitely NOT interested in any serious relationship. (Ha!) That ad in the Denver Post was blinking at him just as it was at me, and just as amazing was the fact that he responded to it, totally against his nature.

THWAM was the first to call me on my new list of three.  I don’t remember if either of the other two called, but I do know that once I met THWAM the game was over for me.  He showed up at the door of my basement studio apartment on the evening of Feb.3, 1968, wearing a suit and tie and an OVERCOAT.  I am totally a sucker for a guy in an overcoat, to this day.  The minute I opened that door, I totally recognized him, although I’d never seen him before.  He just felt like someone I knew.  Apparently, he was having a similar experience about me.

The courtship was short, but it included the important elements.  He took me out, first to a club he remembered but didn’t know it’s entertainment had gone topless.  I was enchanted but he was embarrassed.  We saw “our movie” (Camelot) which included “our song” (If Ever I Should Leave You).  We went on a weekend ski trip on a bus with a group. That was the weekend he dared to tell me he had two kids; he was scared to say it, but I of course was thrilled.  He brought the kids to my little place for our first meeting, and he was so nervous and had them so dressed up and slicked up, and I just loved them.

So we got married on March 30, 1968.  The wedding was spectacular, in a church, with me in a white dress off the rack at Penney’s, and him in his suit and tie.  His brother, two friends, and the kids stood up us, with the 4-year-old hanging on my leg as 4′s are wont to do.  It was perfect.  We had a three-day off-season honeymoon in Estes Park, Colo.  It was the weekend that President Lyndon Johnson announced that he would not run for re-election.  I’ve never known what that had to do with anything, but I always remember it.

So thus began the last 43.5 years of a life together, thanks to the non-technological match-up company found in the Sunday paper.   Quite a coincidence that we both saw that ad as 1967 drew to a close, and we both acted upon it, isn’t it?

No, of course not.  Things that are meant to happen, happen.

Blessings.