Debra Basham

Living and Loving

Author: Debra Basham

  • Angelic Axle Repair

    Folding chairs had to be moved from the funeral home, set up, and returned to the funeral home after the outdoor Blossomtime Blessing of the Blossoms ceremony held a few miles away. The trailer was rather old, and showing its age. One of the volunteer workers made a comment about the wheels and axles. The owner said the trailer had started out as a 1972 tent camper, and after many years when the camper part wore out, the frame was converted to a utility trailer. He said there would never be a problem with the wheels or axles because of a repair job many years before.


    Then he told the workers this story:

    One four-day weekend around 1977, my family decided to go camping at a Yogi Bear campground in Indiana. I had to work until noon on Saturday, so my wife would drive the camper to the campsite on Friday night. I would come down after work on Saturday.

    Everything went well until my wife drove over a railroad track in Plymouth. A weld on the trailer axle broke causing the wheel to rub the inner fender. A man following her in a pickup truck noticed the problem. After he alerted her, they both pulled into a parking lot where he introduced himself. My two younger daughters, and our fifteen year-old son were with her.

    The man in the pickup truck said he had the knowledge and tools needed to make the repairs and he knew of someone who would weld it back. He said our son would have to do the work, however, since the man had been involved in an accident a couple of weeks prior and could not help. Our son was mechanically inclined and was in machine shop classes in high school. Two jacks were taken from the man’s truck and the trailer was jacked up. The wheels and four bolts holding the axle on were removed, and the axle was placed in the man’s truck. The man and our son drove several blocks to a machine shop.

    Our son had related the following: They arrived at what appeared to be a new shop — modern, very nice, new black parking lot, freshly painted yellow parking stripes. They pulled up to the side door where they were met by another man who took the axle inside. The shop was brightly lit and full of the most modern tools and machines. The axle was placed on a welding table, pulled back into correct shape, checked to make sure the alignment was correct and welded back. The son told the welder to give him his name and address and the cost, that he would have his mother send a check. The welder replied, “I owe the man you are with a great deal. There will not be a charge.”

    The axle was taken back to the trailer and installed. Upon completion my wife pulled out her checkbook and asked the man for a price. He told her, “There is not a charge, but when you see someone broken down on the highway, stop and do whatever you can for them. When I was in that accident two weeks ago, if someone had not stopped to help me I would not be here today.”

    Our family went on to the campground and had an enjoyable weekend. After returning home my wife wanted to send a thank you card to the man who had helped them. She had his name but not an address, so she called the phone operator. She did not get a mailing address, but was given a phone number. She called the number and when a woman answered explained what had occurred and asked to speak to the man. The woman said, “That man was my husband. Unfortunately, he was killed in that accident two weeks ago. You are the second person who has called with such comments. Because of your phone calls, I now know where he is and that he is in good hands.”

    Note* Upon thinking about all that took place that day, it is obvious that ANGELS do walk among us and have remarkable powers and abilities. Apparently, the machine shop and tools were created by him for that very purpose.

    Photo Note** This “spare” on the trailer now is a 1972 original from when the wheels and tires were replaced in 2022, after five decades of service. We never had a problem with those tires and, although they did show cracks and had chunks missing, they continued to hold air while doing their job for 50 years.

  • Welcome Back To 24550

    Their home, along with the neighboring town of Hallam, had been flattened by an F-4 tornado that tore through multiple counties in southeast Nebraska during the evening hours of May 22, 2004. His brother came to help. Dan arrived quickly from Michigan. He brought with him not only badly needed skills but equally essential energy and optimism life-giving to all.

    Dan designed a t-shirt that was worn by hundreds of friends and neighbors and volunteers as they worked tirelessly side-by-side, dealing with devastated properties and broken hearts.

    Dan also ordered a custom-made address plaque to replace the one that had been by their front door. The words chosen carried a very special meaning:

    Welcome Back To 24550

    The plaque arrived the very day workers were coming to lay the bricks!

  • Howard and Karen

    My stomach’s rumbling reminded me it was almost dinner when I noticed a woman moving swiftly from door-to-door across the street from our home here in Glenaire. It caught my attention firstly because neither of the two houses are currently occupied. Directly across, friends are navigating health challenges that have prevented them thus far returning from their snow-bird location. And a new-build adjacent is yet to be purchased.

    I could see a vehicle parked in front of our house and a man came onto our porch but then quickly dashed away. Opening the door, I saw a handbill had been taped onto the glass. “There is no solicitation in the park,” I called out to him.

    “It is not a solicitation, it is a courtesy,” he called back.

    There was the logo of a roofing company, announcing they would be putting on a roof two doors down, apologizing for noise, saying it would be done in one day. The phone number of the company was at the bottom. “It looks a lot like solicitation to me,” I said while I went down the steps to return the paper. He muttered something about it looking however, and saying I could refuse the courtesy if I wanted to as he started walking quickly in the opposite direction.

    It was not a pleasant interaction so I decided to grab my phone and get the license plate. The woman had crossed the street by this time and she started hustling back my way calling loudly, “Karen!” I asked if she had gotten permission from the management, and when she called me Karen again, I asked why she kept calling me something other than my name. “Look it up, Karen!” she yelled, adding, “Don’t bother calling the manager, I am going there myself.”

    An internet search informed me “Karen” is a pejorative slang term used to describe a person—typically a middle-aged white woman—perceived as entitled, demanding, and overly indignant. The term is used to call out behavior that abuses privilege, such as demanding to “speak to the manager,” making racist or discriminatory remarks, or harassing others in public.

    Hmmm…. her behavior was certainly not very professional! I did call the park manager, and she had gotten to the office before my call. I clarified that her notifying the office of their “courtesy” only took place after my exchange with them. I asked him if he would have given them permission had they stopped before. He said he would have told them there was no solicitation allowed but he would notify the neighbors himself.

    I was shocked how dis-regulated my central nervous system was by the exchange. But the painful and the pleasant can be a dance duo.

    This morning, sharing text with my niece about the anniversary of my father’s (her grandfather’s) passing on May 7, 1992, we spoke our gratitude of his having found sobriety before my sisters and I had children. The grandchildren were spared. She wrote, “Mom and I both benefited from Neil T. Anderson’s work. One of the ways he summarized the Biblical principle of forgiveness/unforgiveness is how when we forgive, it lets that person off our hook (no more control or connection) but it doesn’t let them off the Lord’s hook (whatever unrepentant sin they have in their lives, they will be accountable for).” This shows up clearly in the teachings about karma. My dad’s active alcoholism was very unpleasant. His decades of sobriety before his death was very pleasant.

    A few days ago welcome warm air waffled into the house through the open windows as flies were also getting in. The pleasant and the unpleasant dance as a duo. After catching and releasing 4 flies (also seeing John kill one with the flyswatter) I looked up the spiritual meaning and read:

    The spiritual meaning of a fly combines contrasting themes of relentless persistence and survival with messages of decay, negativity, and spiritual impurity. It symbolizes the need to adapt, overcome obstacles, and examine one’s life for negativity.

    As my eyes and heart took the unpleasant and the pleasant in, what was revealed was grace and forgiveness. I recalled a time in my life when financial fears and genuine desire to help hurting people resulted in my seeing clients by circumventing the health insurance system. My actions, like this roofing company’s, were in a while-not-quite-illegal-definitely-not-fully-ethical manner.

    That neighbor’s new roof went on yesterday. How am I like this too? Awareness with non-judgment is healing….

  • A World of Our Own Making

    Grateful, Friday was an extraordinary day of shifts in perspective….

    I had been being drawn down a dim alley when our grand-daughter-in-love-to-be had not responded to text or email about their upcoming wedding ceremony. Thursday evening she and I had opportunity for a call that answered a lot of questions. As I rode my bike early the next morning, I was feeling a tremendous amount of love along with relief and gratitude for clearer understanding.

    Returning home from my ride, Barbara Brodsky’s email response to my request to share her recent journal post touched me in that soft spot as I read, “Thank you for loving the journal, Debra. Of course you may share it… anywhere…. I’m honored.”

    April Journal #7

    I sat in my hot tub at dawn looking with wonder at the tiny new maple leaves just emerging, that precious, vibrant pale green of spring; seeing the red buds on the crab apple tree; the lawn sprinkled with dandelions; garden filled with daffodils and tulips; tiny pale green cones emerging on the giant spruce tops, awed by the deep blue sky. Here is the wonder of life emerging into a new spring, a new season.

    I’m aware that I’ve been in internal winter, dormant and frozen. It’s time to emerge.

    Asking what has led to closure is a necessary step: it’s painful to become aware of body discomfort, anger and sadness, old habitual ways of dealing with physical and emotional pain. This is partially just the mammalian “fight, flight, freeze” reflex. For me one important step is just awareness that I’ve turned to “automatic,” and to remember my intention to be present and awake. I choose not to become a Tesla! I am driving this vehicle! That connects me to intentions: do no harm and I DO harm others by withdrawing. And harm myself. The flowers need the nourishment of rich soil, water and warm sunshine to flourish. Armoring myself, the sun cannot reach me.

    Aaron asks me gently, what do I fear? Aging, increasing personal feelings of diminishment and lack of any control in a world gone crazy! Sadness, really grief, that we are destroying ourselves, each other and the earth and I cannot do anything about it. I’m feeling the full weight of my years, running out of time to do anything positive. I see grief is predominant. The anger is an expression of the grief, and grief of the anger.

    Aaron: And what helps to resolve the causes for grief?
    Barbara: Joy, but how do I get to joy?
    A: Joy is inherent in you and will be experienced when the blockage releases.
    B: Are you saying I’m holding on to the blockage?
    A: Not consciously, with intention, but if you touch each of those places of pain within with gentle love and light, as a parent holds a frightened child, you will feel gradual opening. Then you will see the base for blockage. There must be intention for release to happen, and consciousness of the pain of continued closure.

    We leave off conversation here as I begin to meditate. “Breathing in, I touch my heart with love; breathing out, I choose to let go of old pain.”

    I see it like October leaves releasing from a tree.… no force, just releasing whatever chooses to go, and again… after a few minutes, mind settles into presence, with body, mind, breath, nothing sticking, opening into more spacious presence.

    Barbara closed her post with this precious photo of her youngest granddaughter swinging from the flowering crab apple tree planted from a seedling in 1974.


    My emotional load was certainly lighter as I headed to my sister’s to assist with some spring cleaning. We ended up doing her kitchen.

    As I began, she was sharing frustration with the messes made by her husband. I had already shared Barbara’s Journal #7 with her, and I had been sharing my insight and relief after the previous night’s call about the wedding. I stopped in the middle of cleaning and said, “It is frustrating to have the same messes over and over, but if you got a call saying he had died your heart would be broken and you would pray to be able to clean up after him again…. We are learning to hold all sides of our emotions.”

    We shared some tears and a hug as I whispered, “We live in a world of our own making giving our experiences their meaning.”

    As we worked our way around her entire kitchen she shared, “It feels so good in here now.”

    We both knew mammalian messes of our own made were also being deep cleaned as she and I worked side by side….

  • The Whole World Matters in the End

    Grateful John and I had an uneventful trip North. We sauntered along Georgia’s secondary roads to avoid Atlanta and stayed the night in Alabama before arriving in Smyrna on Thursday, March 26. We had a busy week of fun family time and an easy drive to Michigan on Monday, April 6. No one feels sorry for snowbirds who speak of the work of moving twice per year, and we get that, but it does take more energy every year.

    We loved our time on Lazy Lane and the fragrance of friendships forged still linger in our hearts. It is interesting to feel at home in so many places.

    There certainly are changes here. The neighbor whose porch light is left on. That person, and others, now “gone.” Another neighbor is now in assisted living. The evidence of impermanence is everywhere.

    Everything is presenting as precious and passing….

    A couple days ago the Daily Reflection Quote from Deep Spring seemed to have said it all: There are two ways in which one may experience God, the God without and that within. To experience the God without is to experience an expression of God. To experience the God within is to experience God directly. There is nothing in the drop of water that is not of the essence of the sea. There is nothing lacking for it to know the whole essence of the sea. When we enter into that divine-most essence of our being, it is a direct experience of God.

    I have stripped the bed and linens are in the dryer. My niece, Jen Marie, is bringing her mom’s cremains today and we will be meeting at the cemetery to determine if that will be their “final resting place.” Of course, we are not our cremains and the neighbors passed are still present in our hearts. What lasts? A very common question with not-so-common realizations.

    We are finally caught up with The Voice and as John and I were watching the final nine episode last night many times I had a catch in my throat. I love seeing those with so much passion receive recognition for what they do. And although the judges are competing against other judges and the contestants are competing against other contestants, genuine appreciation, admiration, and awe for all is palpable. That touches my heart.

    Last year when we came home from Florida, the haunting song I had heard at jams was “The Whole World” by Vince Gill.

    This year I come home with Dale Ann Bradley’s “In the End” resonating. This song was brought to us by our dear music friend, Kevin Mabry, and I previously posted those lyrics here on the Yellow Brick Road.

    What matters in the end? The whole world. There is nothing in the drop of water that is not of the essence of the sea.

  • Fox Squirrel

    One day when I was a kid I was outside our house and saw a fox squirrel in a tree. It was the only time I had ever seen a fox squirrel by our house.

    While I was watching the squirrel my mom came out and told me my grandpa had died. Grandpa loved his fox squirrels and even made houses for them!

    I knew that fox squirrel was my grandfather saying goodbye. He was just passing through though.

    I never saw another fox squirrel by our house.

    The morning following the passing of my dad, a lone Jake turkey visited our house. It was suddenly right outside the window while I was eating breakfast. Only the second time I’ve seen a turkey since we moved to this house. Then I remembered this visit by the fox squirrel when his own father had passed. This is the first time I have shared about that childhood happening. I am so grateful for the absolute knowing I had then and now.

    A squirrel’s quick and agile movements symbolize the ability to navigate complex, changing situations with grace and confidence.

  • A Special Guy Passed on Maundy Thursday

    She received a text from a friend early on Good Friday morning. “Dad passed away yesterday. We were all there with him. He was such a special guy. Extremely glad I got to spend so much time with him the last few years.”

    Maundy Thursday, falling in Holy Week before Good Friday, commemorates the Last Supper, where Jesus instituted Holy Communion (Eucharist) and washed his disciples’ feet to model service. It marks the new commandment for us to “love one another.”

    She expressed appreciation for having received the news. “We also feel so honored we share your view that he really was a special guy. The other side of the veil just gained one of the best. I am imagining one heck of a welcome party!!!!”

    Right after she sent that text message it came to her mind to share Thích Nhất Hạnh, No Death, No Fear, about his mother having died.

    The day my mother died I wrote in my journal, “A serious misfortune of my life has arrived.” I suffered for more than one year after the passing away of my mother. But one night, in the highlands of Vietnam, I was sleeping in the hut in my hermitage. I dreamed of my mother. I saw myself sitting with her, and we were having a wonderful talk. She looked young and beautiful, her hair flowing down. It was so pleasant to sit there and talk to her as if she had never died. When I woke up it was about two in the morning, and I felt very strongly that I had never lost my mother. The impression that my mother was still with me was very clear. I understood then that the idea of having lost my mother was just an idea. It was obvious in that moment that my mother is always alive in me.

    I opened the door and went outside. The entire hillside was bathed in moonlight. It was a hill covered with tea plants, and my hut was set behind the temple halfway up. Walking slowly in the moonlight through the rows of tea plants, I noticed my mother was still with me. She was the moonlight caressing me as she had done so often, very tender, very sweet… wonderful! Each time my feet touched the earth I knew my mother was there with me. I knew this body was not mine but a living continuation of my mother and my father and my grandparents and great-grandparents. Of all my ancestors. Those feet that I saw as “my” feet were actually “our” feet. Together my mother and I were leaving footprints in the damp soil.

    From that moment on, the idea that I had lost my mother no longer existed. All I had to do was look at the palm of my hand, feel the breeze on my face or the earth under my feet to remember that my mother is always with me, available at any time.

    Her friend wrote back, “I guess I’m lucky, because I felt he was in me as soon as he was gone. I looked at his body and it almost meant nothing to me. One thing I did do: The hospice nurse asked what clothes I wanted put on him. I went to my house and got his deer hunting clothes. He left dressed the way he was when he was happiest.”

    A bit later, she also received this news from her friend: “A lone Jake turkey visited our house this morning. It was suddenly right outside the window while I was eating breakfast. Only the second time I’ve seen a turkey since we moved to this house.”

    Adapted from AI: Loved one, including pets and human family, may appear as animals after death. These experiences are often considered spiritual visits or symbols of the afterlife. Some believe because animals are “high vibrational beings,” they can navigate between realms, allowing the spirits of our loved ones to visit through them. These visits are viewed as a way for deceased loved ones to show they are still part of the family’s journey, bringing peace and confirming that they have not truly left.


    Holy God, source of all love,
    on the night of his betrayal,
    Jesus gave us a new commandment,
    to love one another as he loves us.

  • Jingles and Hopeful 2026

    They were both still processing their son’s death and he was again retracing some of the trails they had hiked over 25 years ago, when Adam was eight years old. As her husband was leaving to hike this time, his wife told him, “Adam is going with you. I’m praying for signs and experiences for you to feel his presence.”

    He was once again on the Appalachian Trail in 2026 — fifteen years after he did the through-hike just as he had promised they would, but with his son in spirit. Norm Morris, whose trail name is Jingles, recounts his faith-affirming experience:

    While I was trying to find the parking lot for access to the trail where I was going, I got lost. I was out of the loop for about 15 minutes before another hiker came by in his car and I was able to follow him.

    I went to the location of the shelter where Adam and I had camped when he made me promise we would hike the whole trail together after I retired. And lo and behold, that shelter wasn’t there anymore! Our shelter had been replaced, due to the flood. This was a great shelter, but it wasn’t the memory I had. The lesson I got from it is that you have got to move on in life. Things change. So, as I’m walking back I see this old man sitting on the trail. He is wearing a Vietnam veteran hat and I am compelled to sit down and talk to him.

    The guy is 79 years old and he’s been hiking the trail on and off for years and years. I told him I had previously hiked the trail in 2011 and 2015. We figured out that while we had been on the trail at the same time in 2011, we had not seen one another because he had started later than I had. “It gives me hope that you can still hike at 79 because I am hoping to do another run when I am 80.”

    “Well, it’s funny you should say that because my trail name is Hopeful,” he told me before asking me my trail name.

    “I’m Jingles,” I tell him and continue, “and when I started out in 2011 I was so scared of the bears I had about 10 bear bells. They kept falling off.” Hopeful tells me his hiking buddies were finding bells along the trail. He had gotten upset because they were really neat and he never got one. I began mentioning names of other hikers I had met in 2011, asking him, “Did you know Swamp Dog or Rainbow?”

    “Wait a minute. You’re Jingles!!!” Hopeful bursts out, “All of those hikers are my buddies. We’re still buddies…. Circuit Rider told me the story of what happened to you when you hiked Mount Katahdin. He came back for you and hiked back up and did a prayer service for you when you spread your son’s ashes.”

    I am shocked. “I can’t believe that you know about that!”

    Hopeful exclaims, “Yeah, I know about it. And Circuit Rider is here. If you stand right here and just wait with me, he is going to be coming up the trail.” Sure enough, 10 minutes later, Circuit Rider, the minister I met on Mount Katahdin that did the service for Adam is standing in front of me and we greet each other. I couldn’t believe it. I was crying because it was such an emotional thing back then. And to see him now, I only knew — I knew I was in the presence of God. Circuit Rider was here!

    We spent some time and caught up with each other. It was just fabulous seeing him.
    Because how could it be that he had been there on Mount Katahdin to do the prayer for Adam and now our being here in the same place at the same time after having met him 180 months ago? I realized that must have been the reason I got lost. And I don’t know how I got lost because I had really good directions. But if I wouldn’t have gotten lost, I wouldn’t have met up with Hopeful and Circuit Rider.

    I knew what I wanted to do for Hopeful. “I don’t have any more bear bells, but I have my special Japanese prayer bell that was given to me by my best friend. And I’m going to give it to you. I want you to have it because it’s going to keep you safe on your travels on the trail.” Circuit Rider took our photo.

    After I got home from the trail I had a vague sense of recall of a hiker with the trail name Hopeful. Might we have been on the same team? Sure enough, Hopeful and I had been together on Team Indecision in 2011….

    For us to be in the same place now at the exact moment and meeting up with Circuit Rider confirmed for me: it could only be God and Adam’s doing. One of the things I remember saying to Circuit Rider when I was just hugging him and thanking him is, “You gave me back my faith in God.” My faith in God was reinforced. My faith in God had never been lost. Just as our son Adam had never been lost….

    “Jingle’s Promise: Asking for a Sign” was posted on Yellow Brick Road February 16, 2023.

    (ALL PROCEEDS FROM THE SALE OF Jingles’ Promise: A Father’s Quest for Truth on the Appalachian Trail WILL BE DONATED TO HELP PEOPLE RECOVERING FROM TRAUMA AND LOSS.)

  • Holland Window

    She was visiting her daughter and family out of state when they delivered a love-meal to a family welcoming a new baby into their home. “I want you to come in so you can see the Holland window,” her daughter insisted, “because you will love it and the story about it’s significance.” The following “Story Time about the new house” was published on her Facebook page by the grandmother of this new baby. Both the story and the photo are being shared as a Sacred Story with her permission:

    There is a short essay that circulates in the community of families whose children are diagnosed with a special healthcare need or disability called “Welcome to Holland.” I will post it below so you can read it. I was sent this essay when I shared publicly for the first time about our daughter Charlotte’s diagnosis at age 5 months, and I have passed it along to other mothers over the past 16 years. Of course no two people experience life altering news the same, so the essay may not be so healing to everyone, but it has been a tremendous piece of comfort and encouragement to me and to many who read it.

    We had looked at this house online SO many times over the past year, and had dismissed it as out of our price range. It sat on the market and the price kept coming down and on a whim one Sunday we drove by and stopped in at an open house…”just to see it in person.” I was stunned by the beauty of the space and loved hearing the story of the man who had custom built the home. He was an antiques dealer and historian, and traveled the world to curate pieces for his shop but also to put in his home. This stained glass window was breathtaking – I’ve never seen anything like it. I just stood and imagined how it could feel to enjoy it every day and also share it with others.

    The realtor showing us the house shared a document about all the details of the fixtures in the house. When I looked down and read that this stained glass window had been brought back for the house from a trip to HOLLAND, deep inside I knew this was supposed to be our house. Of all the countries in the world…in all the houses in Rutherford County… what are the chances? WELCOME. TO. HOLLAND!

    We thank God for this new home that we love already, though we are still covered in boxes to unpack and have a bathroom renovation to tackle soon. I can’t wait for this to be a place where friends and family gather, where we pray for each other and study God’s word, where we multiply joys and divide sorrows. Glory to God for the gift of this home.


    Welcome to Holland
    ©1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of the author.

    I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this……

    When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.

    After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The flight attendant comes in and says, “Welcome to Holland.”

    “Holland?!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.”

    But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.

    The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.

    So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

    It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…. and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills….and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

    But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy… and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”

    And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away… because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

    But… if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things … about Holland.

  • Wrapping Up Winter 2026

    We were blessed to enjoy a visit with our granddaughter, Courtney. She is mom of our great grandson, Jackson, and it is tax season at work for Jackson’s G-ma, Stacey. It took a lot to get Courtney here, and we loved being able to spoil her while she was here.

    Our central theme was karaoke! She sang at the American Legion out on Pine Island, then here at Lazy Days in North Fort Myers, and finished her run with her favorite Karaoke DJ, Bobby Mann, at the VFW back out on Pine Island.

    She played shuffleboard with her Gampie and puzzled with me. Whether here at the house or out-on-the-town we fed her a few of her favorite things. We enjoyed watching 25 Words or Less, finished the current season of Virgin River on Netflix, and were all thankful she had time to read and nap. She and I often found ourselves in deep conversations about the most mundane subjects.

    Her flight home was delayed and delayed, stranding her at the airport from 4 to 9 pm, until she finally got home safely sometime after midnight!

    It had been exactly 7 years since she was here for a winter visit with us, and so much has changed. Her previous visit was pre-Covid for our world, pre-Quadruple Bypass Surgery for Gampie, and pre-Jackson for all of us. But life is about change. In fact, it is said that change is the only constant.

    It has certainly been an unusual season for John and me: (1) Not co-housing with or being within easy walking distance to Linda and Larry (2) Colder than ever for longer than ever temps (3) Learning curve with a new residence and area (4) Meeting and loving new people where we are.

    Gene, one of our new neighbors and friends, underwent open heart surgery while we were here. Jim and Mary, homeowners of our beloved Blue House we shared in Punta Gorda have listed their home with the hope of moving to the northeast coast of Florida. We did not get to see several of our Pine Island friends. Davey and Eli are in Canada navigating her health situation. We are grateful for and already missing our new homeowners, Jimmy and Renee. We have loved our time spent with Florida music friends! And the relationship with Travis and Brenda has been such a shared journey.

    We are grateful for all the friends we were able to spend time with! Now, packing has begun in earnest, with some loading already happening. We are leaving things here with the intention of being back in this space next season. With every passing day, this beloved home is feeling and looking less and less like our home and we are now earnest about eating our way out of the freezer and back to other people and spaces we love.

    This morning’s “Daily Reflection Quote” from Deep Spring speaks to the truth of the heart with life’s constant comings and goings and shines a light onto what is truth beyond thought and belief. Yes, there is truth that exists even beyond our own perceived experience!

    “You’re on a boat,” he said. “The boat is riding too low on the water and there are waves. You’ve got to toss one person out. In the boat are a loved one, a person about whom you feel neutral, a person who is a difficult person, and yourself. You’re the one to decide: which one are you going to cast into the water?”

    She thought about it a while and said, “There are no grounds for decision.” He just smiled and bowed and indicated that the interview was over.

    “Did I get it right?” she wondered.

    But of course, when you get to that place where you understand your interrelationship with all beings, there are no grounds for decision. You cannot cast yourself into the shark-infested sea to save others, nor can you throw others in to save yourself.

    ~Aaron

    John’s brother, Jack, is back in the hospital again with Cindy’s heroic plans in place to get him safely home to Michigan from Florida early next week. Asking for prayers for them and for everyone and everything in the way your heart earnestly prays.

    “May all be at peace” is a universal, compassionate wish often associated with the Buddhist Metta Sutta (Loving-Kindness prayer), aiming for all beings to be free from suffering, happy, and safe. It is a mindfulness practice used to cultivate, promote inner peace, and foster well-being across the world, including, and without, exception.

    May all be at peace. Here, we are wrapping up winter….