Tag: blessing

Confessions of a Spoiled Wife

I’ve hesitated to write this because “spoiled” is such a loaded word. It conjures images of entitlement, diamonds tossed aside, and someone complaining because their coffee wasn’t hot enough the third time. That’s not me.

But if we’re being honest—and this is a confessions post—I am spoiled.

Not in the flashy, reality-TV sense. I don’t live a life of excess or luxury for the sake of it. I’m spoiled in the quiet, everyday ways that don’t make for Instagram reels but absolutely shape how safe, supported, and loved I feel.

I’m spoiled because my husband notices things.

He notices when I’m overwhelmed before I say it out loud. He notices when my patience is thin, when my shoulders are tense, when I’m carrying more than I should. And instead of telling me to “relax,” he steps in. Sometimes that looks like attacking the never ending to do list we share between us. Sometimes it’s ordering dinner. Sometimes it’s just letting me be cranky without fixing me.

I’m spoiled because he encourages me to rest—even when I’m not very good at it.

I’m wired to keep going, to push through, to feel like there’s always one more thing that needs to be done. Rest doesn’t come naturally to me, and slowing down often feels uncomfortable. He sees that. And instead of rushing me or getting frustrated, he gently nudges me toward pause.

Sometimes that looks like reminding me it’s okay to sit down. Sometimes it’s handling things so I don’t feel the pressure to keep moving. And sometimes it’s just being patient while I learn how to stop without feeling guilty.

That kind of steady encouragement—the kind that doesn’t demand or expect anything in return—is its own kind of care.

I’m spoiled because my opinions matter.

I’ve always prided myself on being independent. I didn’t need help. I didn’t rely on anyone. I handled things myself, carried my own weight, and wore self-sufficiency like a badge of honor. Depending on someone felt risky—like giving up control.

And then there’s my husband.

He never asked me to be smaller or less capable. He just made it safe to lean. Little by little, he made dependence feel less like weakness and more like trust. Being able to say “I’ve got this” and “I need you” without shame has been unexpectedly freeing. He makes room for both versions of me—the strong one and the tired one—and somehow makes both feel equally valued.

Not just on the big stuff, but on the boring, everyday decisions. The tone of our life together isn’t dictated—it’s a compromise we work on all the time. I’m heard. I’m considered. I’m respected even when we disagree. Especially then.

And yes, sometimes I’m spoiled in the more obvious ways too.

Thoughtful surprises that say, I was thinking about you when you weren’t in the room. Surprise Stanleys (when we all know I don’t need any more). Over the top thoughtful gifts on the gifting occasions. Not only putting up with but encouraging my hobbies. Those things add up. They soften the edges of hard days.

But here’s the part that matters most: being spoiled doesn’t mean I don’t give back.

This isn’t a one-way street where I take and take and call it love. I show up. I carry weight. I contribute. I fight for us. I love loudly and protect fiercely. Being spoiled isn’t about imbalance—it’s about care being mutual and intentional.

I’m spoiled because my marriage is safe.

Safe to be honest. Safe to be imperfect. Safe to grow and change without fear of being punished for it.

If calling myself a spoiled wife makes someone uncomfortable, I’m okay with that. I didn’t stumble into this life by accident. I chose a partner who treats me well, and I choose him back every day.

So yes – I confess.

I’m spoiled.

And I’m incredibly grateful.

Blessings y’all – Amy

The Joys of Being a Brand-New Mimi

I’ve only been a Mimi for a short time—just four months—but somehow it already feels like a part of me that’s always existed.

Being a brand-new Mimi is a quiet kind of joy. It’s the joy of learning her rhythms, her sounds, the way her face lights up when she recognizes me. It’s lighting up like I won the lottery when a text comes in with a new video or picture. It’s realizing that even at four months old when I visit she knows exactly who I am—and that I am safe, familiar, and love her beyond measure.

There is something incredibly grounding about holding a baby who fits perfectly in the crook of your arm. About rocking her while the world slows down just enough to breathe again. In those moments, nothing else matters—not the noise, not the stress, not the endless mental lists. Just her steady breathing and the way her tiny fingers curl around mine.

At four months, everything is new. Her curiosity is wide open, and I love my front-row seat to the wonder. I get to hear the first belly laughs, the wide-eyed fascination with ordinary things, the serious concentration as she studies the world around her. Being her Mimi means I get to marvel alongside her.

This season comes with a beautiful freedom. I don’t carry the weight of being her parent—but I carry the privilege of loving her deeply. I get to support, to soothe, to show up without pressure. I get to be present in a way that feels both intentional and light. I get to watch my kids thrive as parents and be so proud of how they love and shape this little person.

There is also something unexpectedly healing about this role. Becoming a Mimi has softened parts of me I didn’t realize were still holding tension. It has reminded me that love doesn’t have to be earned or managed—it can simply be given.

I know this stage will pass quickly. Four months will turn into crawling, then walking, then running. But right now, in this small and fleeting season, I’m soaking it in—the weight of her in my arms, the sound of her laugh, the way being her Mimi feels like a gift wrapped in the quiet moments.

Being a brand-new Mimi has already changed me. And I have a feeling this joy is only just beginning. 

Blessing Y’all – Amy

Confessions of A Seasoned Cruiser

After 30+ cruises, I can tell you there’s a big difference between your first time stepping on a ship and your thirtieth. The first time, you’re wide-eyed at everything—the glittering atrium, the sheer size of the ship, the endless food options. By the time you’ve cruised dozens of times, you still appreciate the beauty, but you also know where the best coffee is without consulting the deck plan, which elevator banks actually move faster, and which quiet corner is perfect for reading when the pool deck is packed.

Boarding Day: No Panic Necessary

New cruisers often bolt onto the ship the second boarding opens, racing to squeeze in every minute. Seasoned cruisers know better. I’ve learned the art of the late arrival—letting the initial rush die down before strolling aboard without stress. The ship won’t sail without me, and sometimes the best move is to head straight for that tucked-away lounge instead of fighting the buffet line with half the passenger list.

Packing Like a Pro

On my first cruise, I packed half my closet. By cruise thirty, I’ve mastered the art of less. Packing for the Caribbean means keeping it light—swimsuits, sundresses, sandals, and easy layers that don’t take up much space. For a leaf-peeping cruise, it’s an entirely different approach. The mornings are crisp, the afternoons warm, and the evenings chilly enough for a sweater and scarf. My suitcase shifts from flip-flops to sturdy shoes, from cover-ups to cozy layers. The key is versatility and always having a carry-on ready with what I’ll need that first day, whether it’s a swimsuit for tropical waters or a fleece pullover for watching fall leaves roll by from the deck.

Skipping the Crowds

After so many cruises, I know when to join the excitement and when to duck away. First-timers chase every trivia contest and poolside game. I’ve learned the joy of finding the hidden decks no one bothers with, slipping into the spa pool when most passengers are in port, and savoring specialty dining instead of fighting buffet lines. It’s not about doing it all—it’s about knowing what fills your cup.

Loving the Rituals

Even after thirty sailings, there are traditions I never miss. The sailaway moment—drink in hand, wind whipping my hair—as the ship pulls away from port. The late-night stroll under starlight when the decks are quiet. That first coffee of the day with nothing but ocean stretched ahead. These rituals are the heartbeat of cruising, and they’ve never lost their magic.

Why I Keep Coming Back

Being a seasoned cruiser doesn’t mean the excitement has faded. If anything, it’s richer now. I no longer stress over what to pack or whether I’ll “miss something.” I know what I love, what I can skip, and how to pace myself. Every ship has its own personality, every itinerary its own surprises, and every voyage still feels like an escape.

After 30+ cruises, I’ve learned this: the sea always gives you something new, whether it’s a sunrise you’ve never seen, a flavor you’ve never tasted, or a memory you’ll carry home. That’s why I keep boarding—because cruising, at its best, is never about the count. It’s about the journey.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Lessons to Learn From Sea Turtles

Let’s be real—if there’s any creature on Earth that knows how to vibe, it’s the sea turtle. These chill, flippered dudes have been cruising the oceans, minding their own business, gliding through the gorgeous waters like they’re late for absolutely nothing. And maybe that’s the first lesson the sea turtle has for me: Relax. You’ll get there. (I have a hard time with that one sometimes!) But beyond their perpetually unbothered expressions and graceful moves, I’ve found that sea turtles carry a surprising amount of symbolic swag.

Ever feel like the world is in a rush and you’re the only one not moving at lightning speed? Definitely—especially on my commute every day! I’ve come to appreciate that turtles are the poster children for “slow and steady wins the race.” I mean, they literally starred in that fable with the hare. (Okay, fine—it was a land turtle, but same energy.)

Lesson learned: Sea turtles remind me that life isn’t a sprint. It’s a long, winding, saltwater-drenched journey. I try to pace myself, breathe, and take snack breaks.

Sea turtles hatch on a beach, immediately dodge a buffet of hungry predators, then swim thousands of miles… only to return years later to the exact same beach to lay their own eggs. GPS? Magic? Sea turtle sorcery? Who knows. But I think it’s pretty impressive.

Lesson learned: I’m learning to trust my instincts. Even when I feel totally lost, I like to believe there’s a little sea turtle inside me that knows the way home. (And by “home,” I mean wherever I feel most like myself—especially if that’s a white sandy beach surrounded by turquoise waters.)

That shell? It’s not just fashionable—it’s functional. It’s protection, armor, and a mobile home all in one. Sea turtles don’t carry stress. They carry boundaries. And I’m trying to do the same.

Lesson learned: It’s okay to go inward sometimes. I’ve learned to withdraw, recharge, and protect my peace when I need to. My shell = my safe space. (And yes, I fully support decorating it with stickers.)

Some sea turtles live to be over 100 years old. That’s a lot of wisdom tucked behind those sleepy eyes. In many cultures, they represent ancient knowledge, patience, and those cosmic, chill-grandparent vibes. I mean, if anyone’s got it figured out, it’s a sea turtle.

Lesson learned: I try not to underestimate my quiet wisdom. I’m learning to speak when it matters, observe more than I react, and if someone asks me for advice, I offer a knowing head nod and my best Dory-inspired: “Just keep swimming.”

Let’s be honest—if I could be reincarnated as anything, a sea turtle would be top-tier. Living at the beach, eating jellyfish like noodles, napping in coral coves, and wearing a permanent smile? That’s the dream.

Lesson learned: I try to embrace my inner beach bum. Life’s way too short to forget sunscreen or stress about tides I can’t control. So I remind myself to ride the waves. Float a little. And also remind myself: be a sea turtle in a sea of jellyfish.

So the next time I feel overwhelmed by the pace of life, I picture a sea turtle. Unbothered. Smooth. Unhurried. Full of ancient wisdom and absolutely zero regrets. They’re my spirit animal when I need to slow down, reconnect, or just float through life with a bit more grace—and a lot more fun. And I try to remember: the sea turtle doesn’t rush… but it always arrives.

Now go forth, and turtle on. Blessings y’all – Amy

Hawaii Stole My Heart

From the sun-kissed sand that sparkles both onshore and beneath the waves, to the breathtaking sunrises and sunsets—and every unforgettable moment in between—I’m pretty sure I left a piece of my soul in Hawaii. I honestly can’t remember ever falling so completely in love with a place. There were a few moments when I think Tim wasn’t entirely sure he’d get me on the plane to come home! Truth be told, I seriously considered finding a local realtor while we were there. I may have just discovered my retirement destination. I’m fairly confident Tim and I could work out a schedule like the whales—summers in Alaska, and the rest of the year in paradise.

We stayed at the Royal Hawaiian in Waikiki, and for our first trip, it was absolutely perfect. Everything was within walking distance, and there was never a shortage of things to do. That said, I think next time we might opt for somewhere a bit more remote—maybe the North Shore—for a different pace and feel. We had intentionally left some gaps in our itinerary so we could go with the flow when the mood struck, but we also made sure to plan a few dedicated beach days, even going so far as to pre-rent umbrellas in the hotel’s reserved beach section.

I think the days I spent playing in the water were probably my favorite—though the day our private guide took us to a hidden local beach might top the list. That’s where I sat and watched my beloved sea turtles until Tim finally made us leave because I was burning in the sun. You all know I’ve always been obsessed with sea turtles, but seeing them in their natural habitat was absolutely magical. Watching them effortlessly move with the ocean’s rhythm—their sheer size, their grace—it took my breath away. That moment is forever etched in my memory. Honestly, I think we could all learn a thing or two from sea turtles about how to roll with the waves of life.

I’ve never really been one to spend much time playing in the sand and surf, even with my lifelong love for the ocean. In the back of my mind, I’m always aware that I’m not a strong swimmer—and just how powerful the ocean really is. But the water at our hotel was something else. I could walk way out and still only be in water up to my hips. The ocean was, of course, salty—I told Tim I needed a margarita to go with all that salt while we were splashing around—but it was so incredibly clear. And in the afternoons, when the sand got stirred up, it sparkled beneath the surface like glitter. Absolute magic.

View from the water looking back at our hotel

Of course, we met some truly kind souls at the hotel bar—because you know me, I never go anywhere without picking up a new friend or two. Despite the volume of guests they serve every day, each of the bartenders made us feel genuinely welcome and right at home. I also discovered that Mai Tais aren’t really my thing… but a blended coconut mojito? Absolutely my jam. And definitely a certified nap inducer!

I had some fish tacos that were surprisingly delicious—especially considering how far we were from the South—and I’m pretty sure I ate my weight in pineapple over the course of the week. I’ve never had pineapple that good in my life. It got to the point where I was asking for a plate of it as my breakfast side every morning. And funnily enough, despite eating and drinking whatever I wanted, I came home a few pounds lighter. Tim says it’s because we were so active… but I think it’s more likely my body was just in its happy place. LOL.

Tim’s promised we’ll go back—and soon—but for now, I’m content to channel a little Hawaiian magic into some corner of the house and keep dreaming about the day we return. If you haven’t been yet, do yourself a favor: book the plane ticket. It’s truly a magical place.

Blessings y’all – Amy

At The Intersection of Joy & Grief

I made a decision about a month or so ago that I was slowly going to come off the anti-depressants I’ve been on since PawPaw died. That we maxed out after Fred died and had to change completely during COVID because they weren’t working. I’ve reached a chapter in my life where I have such a strong support system and I’ve done so much work in counseling I felt like it was time.

But it’s that time of year again. The month or so I spend holding my breath each day as I open TimeHop and each time I talk to my kids. The memories of him that are in my oldest daughter’s smile, in my son’s laugh, or in my youngest daughter’s tender heart. The anniversary of Fred’s passing is today and, as this new season of my life progresses, the time of year I am so besieged with emotions I can barely sort them.

Guilt is constant because I have found joy again. I wouldn’t ever want the kids to think I’ve forgotten the life we had with their dad. Yet I made a promise to Fred that I wouldn’t be sad too long and that I would marry again. Grief because no matter what I still miss him. Confusion over missing him when I have a man in my life now that loves me to a depth that is indescribable. Sadness because he’s missing out on momentous occasions in my children’s lives. Our first grandchild will make an appearance in September and I know his presence will be missed even more than it already is.

I know that it’s been long enough since he’s been gone that most days I choose joy. I choose to thank God each morning when I do my prayers for the life I have now and the blessings he’s given me. On days like today I feel like I’m standing at an intersection of joy and grief and while I know I need to choose joy more today than any other day the sadness of grief is so deep it’s hard not to give in to it.

Trying to focus on joy I think back to that last “perfect” Lanford Saturday we shared with Fred. It was May 20, 2017 and Fred had been home from the hospital for about a month. It was one of those days where none of us could sit still and were so joyous from having gotten Fred through rehab and home that we just wanted to be out in the world. It was still spring and the weather was gorgeous. We spend the day doing some of our most favorite things. We went to Grapevine and had wine and snacks on Main Street. It was Main Street days in downtown Grapevine and we wandered around different booths for quite a while. The kids each got to have a cast made of their hand holding their dads. Something we didn’t know how very soon would be an irreplaceable treasure from the day. We finished in Grapevine around 3 pm and by 6 pm were back out headed to go see live music at The Truck Yard. With Tigre in tow.

Those are the days I look back on and remember how very much he lived during his time on earth. Those are the days I hope bring a smile to each of my kids when they are sad. And that is the Fred I remember with a heavy heart on the days I am sad. He was a good man. He gave me my family and for that I will forever be grateful.

If you have a favorite Fred memory I’d love to hear it today.

Blessings – Amy

Reflections on a Holiday Season

Another Christmas Eve is here. As I sit and reflect on how this year’s holiday season has gone I realize progress was made this year. For the first time in years Christmas wasn’t something just to be survived and gotten through!

I’ve spent numerous of the years past turning myself inside out trying to survive the holidays. That or exhausting myself alternating between trying to avoid them wishing away pain and memories or trying to make them perfect. Somehow this year in just letting go it was actually a very enjoyable season.

Did I get Christmas cards out this year? Nope. Get everything on the list of things I wanted to get for people I love? Not even close. Did I find a new favorite Christmas album that I wore out every commute back and forth to work for a month? Yep. (Thank you Cher.) Bake cookies and treats until I was exhausted but happy? Yep.

Tomorrow we are shucking the traditional Christmas menu and replacing it with tamales (brought in through contacts at work) and easy sides. No 5 am turkey shenanigans for me. Short of jumping on a ship I don’t remember another year we’ve dropped traditional Christmas dinner. What’s more? Everyone is pretty darn excited about it!

2024 was a year of huge changes. If you had asked me at this time last year if I’d be living anywhere other than Irving where I’d spent the last 20 years I’d have told you that you were smoking something. But if this year has taught me anything it’s that unlike what life has shown me the last decade or so change can also be good. So I guess it shouldn’t really surprise me that Christmas this year would be different! 🎄

Merry Christmas y’all!

Amy

Put Your Life In Boxes

Wanna know where you fall in the pack rat/hoarder scale in life? Pack your house. Clean out every nook. Every cranny. Attic. Shed. Garage. Put it in boxes. You’ll find that “I should hang onto this for _____” thing that we all do? Goes away real fast. Pretty sure my trash man hates me. Also pretty sure my kids are tired of the text “do you want this”. I’ve lost count of the number of trash bags, boxes, rolls of tape, markers, lists, copies of floor plans, ideas, room shuffles, crying sessions, sleepless nights, etc etc etc. Moving ain’t for the faint of heart.

But on the flip side? When you get just about to the finish line. When your list of things to go through shrinks down to just a couple of things left the sense of peace that starts to come allows air in places inside you that haven’t seen light in a long time. Yesterday we finally got the attic emptied. I slept seven hours in a row last night. Seven hard almost dreamless hours. The two are definitely connected. From the attic I opened boxes with memories that made me smile, some that made me want to weep, and some that just reminded me of treasured times in my life. Pulled out items that made my daughter laugh and some that reminded me of just how small she used to be.

What they don’t tell us when we are in our 20’s and 30’s is that there will come a time in our life when the kids will move on and all we will have left of them is those tiny shirts and treasured pictures. For the generations coming behind us less and less of those printed pictures because so much is digital (which after cleaning out an attic recently might not be entirely a bad thing). My counselor tells me all the time the memories aren’t in the “stuff” but man there were memories that came to the surface last night that I couldn’t have willingly recalled without sticking my nose in a shirt collar or thumbing through an album. There has to be a balance somewhere between having hundreds of boxes and expecting our tired aging brains to recall it all. Don’t you think?

Early in Tim and I’s relationship we just sort of accepted that we wouldn’t move for at least a decade. I remember phrases like “too much work with 6 dogs” and “too many people need us here”. We laid there last night and talked about where we are in this journey. The excitement we both feel each time we walk in the new house. The very foreign concept for me of doing this thing that is for us first and everyone else second. The fact that I haven’t lived outside of Irving in over 20 years. The negative emotions have been forefront for several weeks keeping me from really enjoying this process. When I say I married the greatest man ever I ain’t joking. The way he has put up with the roller coaster I have been on and still just loved me through it? No words. If anything we’ve grown stronger in who we are together. Pretty heady stuff.

I realize now that while I thought Turtle Summit was the peak of my mountain (and why I named it Summit) it was only the mid-line. God never intends us to stop growing. We’re almost through the hardest part of the work and I’m freaking excited. I’ve got a blank slate of a house to make my own. My dogs will have a yard they can run and play in. I’ll be part of watching a neighborhood fill in around me. I’ll be pushed outside of my box and my routine and have to learn new things. I won’t be able to run on autopilot for the last half of my life. I’m just not done living. Why I thought I was I have no idea.

So pack your life up. Even if it’s one closet at a time. Purge. Organize. There is an intangible that comes with that that kick-starts your soul and reminds you there is more to life than the day to day of surviving. God intends us to do more than just survive. I just need to have that tattooed on my damn forehead some days apparently.

Blessings ya’ll – Amy

The Weary Traveler

Have you ever just watched what is going on around you when you travel? I mean notice the people flying past you because they cut it a little too close for their flight. Or the tired mom who has a kid strapped to her, one in the stroller, and is dragging a carry on? What about the harassed TSA worker who people treat them like they personally made the security rules just to harass them?

I think with the different legs of this trip the oddities of the human race has struck me more than it usually does. It is sad to me how often a smile, “please”, and “thank you” catches people off guard. I’ve had people look at me like “what do you want” and people whose whole face lit up when they returned the gesture. It takes so little to be just a little bit kind but I can tell from watching those around me that kindness is drifting farther and farther away. Having spent many hours with crew members and watching airport workers this last week I have huge respect for what they put up with on a daily basis.

I realize it’s a sign of the times but the amount of people we ran into with zero self awareness – of others’ personal space or of their own volume – left me with ringing ears and a very intense fight or flight response (more flight than anything). I realize that with alcohol involved that is not uncommon but sheesh. I’ve been elbowed out of the way for food, had my suitcase run into when the person coming at me had six feet on the other side of them and I was walking along a wall, and been run out of my seat because the person next to me or behind me was yelling like they were at a sporting event to a person sitting less than a foot from them. I’ve seen a crew member cleaning up puke in a sink in the bathroom when a toilet was literally a foot away. I’ve talked to a lady who had to go change her shorts after sitting at a slot machine where someone opted to pee in the chair rather than go to the bathroom.

I realize this echos my last post about will kindness ever come back in fashion but how have we evolved so far from the compassionate loving creatures that God created us to be. How have we all become so focused on what WE want and what makes US feel good that we can’t extend care and compassion to those around us whose circumstances may be dramatically different than ours? What gives us the right to treat workers at airports, restaurants, and cruise ships like they are lesser than us just because they make their living in a service industry? Have you ever stopped and thought about how bad the job market must be in these Eastern European countries that they have to come here and deal with us in order to take care of their parents or children? Have we really drifted that far in the human race? To not realize that a series of different choices or factors out of our control could have placed us in the exact same position?

I miss the genteel way my grandma raised me to behave – do unto others as you would have done to you – being present in the world as a whole. Where you said please, thank you, and bless you, where ladies covered what God blessed them with, hats came off at the table, and you’d never wear pajamas to the airport or a swimsuit in the dining room at a restaurant. I’ll never ever regret traveling and I’m not perfect at kindness by any stretch of the imagination. I have my days where I literally just want to get from point a to point b at my speed and on my timeline without dealing with anyone. But when I stop and think about it I can chill.

How easily it could be me that was dependent on the kindness of others in order to keep my lights on or feed my children.

So for those of you who will read this when scrolling killing time at the airport or on a cruise ship or on the bus – say hello and smile to the person next to you. Or to the person taking your food order or sweeping the bathroom. That one kindness may wind up being the highlight of their day.

Blessings y’all – Amy

The Circle of Life

I can remember being in my late teens and early 20’s when 40 was “old”. I can remember being young enough to not recognize maturity and wisdom when it was handed to me as my elders tried to prevent me from repeating the past. I can remember being young enough to be fearless of the choices I was making (though never as adventurous as I wanted to be). That fearlessness is what makes us leap to be parents. To fall in love, to buy a home, to move cross country, or to choose a career off the beaten path.

Then we hit empty nest season. Most of the time that season starts in our 40’s. Now as we have free time we have the maturity and wisdom to know things we aren’t blessed with knowing in our 20’s (nor willing to listen to). Moving makes us think twice, three times, and then decide we don’t have the desire to start over. This is the time of life we start losing celebrities we grew up on or people close to us that have always been there like parents or grandparents.

Things start to hurt, ache, our bodies become a stumbling block rather than an aid. Our minds are still sharp, we want to DO something with this time of life, but aren’t always able to reconcile mind with body. Now is the time we get what I call the “birds eye view” of the circle of life. We begin to face the inevitability that our children will have to carry on someday without us the same as we learned to live with the hole in our heart left when our elders left us.

We begin to learn how precious time is. Things that incited us in our 20-30’s no longer seem worth the energy of getting mad. We tend to hold onto things that bring us fond memories and nostalgia is our constant friend. We begin to call our kids’ music “noise” and miss the days we could understand the lyrics in a song and not get a headache from listening to the radio. We also realize we aren’t invincible. Bones break. Muscles ache. We forget things. We choose comfort over beauty. We start to look forward to retirement more than going to work and dealing with the grind everyday.

I am convinced that if we had the wisdom in our 20’s-30’s that the latter half of life brings us the world would be a different place. Less anger. More appreciation for each other and our paths. Maybe that is just fanciful thinking of an aging woman.

I first heard the phrase “Circle of Life” in the Lion King (didn’t most of us?). Not sure I ever really appreciated what it meant until I got to this phase of life. Would I change any part of my 20’s & 30’s? Absolutely not. I learned how to love, I grew up, I raised a family. Those years were hard – harder than they probably should have been – but those years gave me a deep appreciation for love and family. Those days make me treasure moments with my children and never take my husband for granted.

Someday my kids will be 45. Hopefully I’ll still be here and not an ache in their heart the way my grandparents are in mine. Hopefully they’ll be as blessed as I was with them and as full of memories as I am. More than anything I want that for them. And that, my friends, is what I think the true circle of life is. ❤️

Blessings Y’all – Amy