Journey Out of Pink

This past weekend, we had a lovely getaway to the mountains. We always enjoy going to North Georgia at the end of Summer or the beginning of Fall. This year, we went a little earlier than usual, so the trees hadn't started turning yet. It's always so pretty when the bright reds, oranges, and yellows of the leaves dot the mountainside with color. Even though the mountains were just covered in greenery, it was still pretty and we enjoyed the peacefulness. It's amazing what going days without hearing any traffic does for the soul.  If I had my way, we'd live in the mountains in a little log cabin. I've always wanted to live in one and so has my sweet hubby. But as we grow older, we've realized we have to let some of our dreams go and err on the side of practicality. We need to be around family and all of the kids live in the city.  Next year, we'll be making some big decisions on where we want to be for the remainder of our lives. We have no idea where God will

Olivia Newton-John When news outlets announced the death of one of my favorite singers, Olivia Newton John, I wasn’t prepared for the gamut of emotions I’d face. At first, I was shocked. I knew she’d been fighting breast cancer for many years and had done my best to keep up with her story. I’d been interested in her use of marijuana and had been surprised to learn she and her husband had been growing their own for medicinal use. As I continued reading about her death, I became overcome with feelings of deep sadness. Ms. Newton-John had been initially diagnosed with breast cancer in 1992 and had faced a recurrence in 2012 when cancer was discovered in her shoulder, then in 2014, it had moved into her spine. She’d spoken openly over the years about breast cancer and had seemed to stay positive and upbeat. I’d admired her tenacity. I first fell in love with Olivia Newton-John in the early 70s when she released her song, “I honestly love you.” In fact, I had that song played at my we

When I was a young girl, hula hooping was a big craze. I wanted a hula hoop so badly and begged my mother for one. Finally, after much nagging on my part, she gave in and bought me a beautiful red and yellow hoop. I was so proud of it and although I had no idea how to use it, I spent hours trying to figure it out. Slipping the large, plastic hoop over my head, I worked it down toward my little hips. Holding it on each side, I began to shimmy my body side to side. The hoop circled once or twice before falling to the ground. Frustrated, I tried again and again until finally, I mastered it. From that day forward, I spent hours entertaining myself with that simple ring of joy. Today, as I think back on that hula hoop, I remember how I felt to be inside it. It was a safe zone. A place where I could be me and do what I enjoyed doing, even if I was only moving side to side. Fast forward to today, I often wish I were inside a hula hoop again, enjoying the simple pleasures of life. But as I’ve