Lenten Reflections in Real time - Day 7
Today has been most sublime. Not all days have gone as such but this morning I woke at 4:45. But felt awake so I thought - I'll check the time. 4:45 indeed. Think I'll go back to bed. Which I did for all of five minutes. Maybe. Then I was up again. Because in some Bizarre dance of planets aligning I slept well. So, I felt READY and WORDY and gonna go worky outty. And all that.
Working out at 5 am is not particularly my goal because that is my time with the Divine if I make it. Which means I stumble to the coffee pot, make the dark brew as the dog Kevin calls it, and then sit somewhere. By the fire in the winter, on the porch in the Summer and say - Hey God. And if God's in the mood to talk I listen. Or try to at least be thankful for sunrise and birdchirp and still be alive when me and cousin Deb frequently say, Man! and the other will say, I know! all meaning can you believe we made it this far and that we aren't - gone on to the other side. Or that we weren't stupid enough to get into more trouble than we got into.
So jumping into some Zoom Zoom class that teaches high stepping round up is not my 5 am style. It's more librarian. Shhhhh. Let's just approach the dawn tip-toeing quietly shall we. Let us not startle the good earth awake.
Then I was able to write on some of this and some of that, on the novel and some interviews for Confessions. And then drive to the radio station in the studio and Interview the beautiful Kerry Madden Lumsford who is one of my favorite people on the planet and as soon as I got off, I was able to jump on the other shoe and being the interviewed guest for Shellie Rushing Tomlinson who is one of my favorite people on the planet and I think - I am ever so blessed to be in the company of good friends. Even on the radio. We simply conversate for the most part. Except Shellie go the giggles because of something I told her off the air and then I got the giggles and if you listen to the interview you will hear some giggling. Praises be indeed. Laughter is indeed good medicine.
I wanted to go downtown to a meeting but I felt like it was time to come home so Mom got a beer and got a glass of wine and we sat on the porch and talked about God and Guinness and old times. And Willie Nelson and some other stuff and the wind blew, picked up, banged the chimes. And coming home was the right decision for all the right reasons. The other thing will be there. Later sometime. Another day. When she has gone away. That may be forever or a day. And, I know that.
The dog pushed his sticky, matted self against my leg and I petted the part of him that is most pettable. His nose. Yes, I realize many things but Kevin has to be heavily medicated to be bathed and shaved. Medicated as in put out. Shaved and brushed in his sleep. His wolfy rescue wildness has not rubbed off. He loves me dearly but there are parts of his body I cannot touch to clean. And he is really serious about those. He takes it personal.
Glory be and glory days and I wish you had all been up on the porch with us. Felt night fall one thread draped around our shoulders at time. The soft snuggle down of evening.
Wishing you well from this hill. On this amazingly simple and simply impossible day of being kept in the company of friends.
Mama had a gorgeous photo on her phone and I asked her where that was? She said - the porch. Ahh, yes. The memories. Only a few short months ago and the bug lanterns were lit, the trees were green, the ferns were green and we were in our Summertime mode. Painting and planting. Dirt smells and cricket yells. Now the fog has rolled in and as Mama says we look like we are in old London Town.
Yesterday it hit 69 up on the hill. A stormy tropical balm settling in. Which meant I was pulling things out of the closet under the stairs and putting Momma's camp chair in there while the weather channel forecasted Tornado weather. That's my total prep. Mom's camp chair. (for her) Two old pillows. (for me) And a gallon of water. I had an emergency light with corroded batteries and began taking the batteries out and one got stuck and then I was off working on something else. So - that's about as far as I made it on my Emergency plan. Glad the storm passed or it was about to cozy. And dark.
The Charmings came over and spent the night. They were perfect right up until the time they weren't. We cooked pigs in a blanket mini style. They told school stories - which cracked us up because the four year old only answers questions with an angry the cops are questioning me mode tone. In other words he answers in ALL CAPS!!! The boys read books, watched puppy pals, and rocked with Nana. They called Kevin who ran up on the porch so happy they were here and rushed to get inside. Only Kevin had found something really SPECIAL to roll in that was strong enough Damon started gagging and saying, WHAT IS THAT SMELL??? And I said - that's a dog's happy place. And then we ran inside and locked the door in case he developed thumbs. They brushed teeth, put on pajamas. Got into bed. And then started cracking up and laughing and rolling out of bed, and changing places, until - ZAZA said - ENOUGH! And Happy New Year. Go to sleep! This morning we had pancakes and they had very, sleepy eyes. Their sleepy eyes do not compare with MY sleepy eyes.
When they went home I tried to go back to sleep. For the day. But I started thinking that the PULPWOOD QUEENS GIRLFRIEND GETAWAY WEEKEND AND BIG HAIR BALL book club event of the season is basically TWO WEEKS away and that I will be headed to Jefferson, TEXAS because they have made CONFESSIONS OF A CHRISTIAN MYSTIC as their April Book Club of the month. Ok, that's the official sounding reason. BUT I also get to be on a panel that is like a wish list before I die panel on Thursday (if you want to call it a panel because we are the entertainment) for one of the greatest events known as the AUTHOR DINNER. But get this - it's where the AUTHORS serve the BOOK CLUB MEMBERS AND Attendees DINNER. Imagine looking up to see Pat Conroy pouring your ice tea. Yes, this is the kind of event it is and so I will be there as a contributor to the Southern Writers on Writing Anthology and as the April book club author and more than that as a friend to the Pulpwood Queen book club members who have been with me since my very, first novel, The Gin Girl. It's an honor to be in the company of such great readers, the writers they support, and Kathy Murphy the wild woman who founded the whole thing. I hope if you have a way to clear your schedule and check on remaining tickets and treat yourself to a way to kick off your New Year in one of the most memorable ways possible.
All that to say - I got excited about Texas and thinking of the million things I needed to do before I got there and I couldn't go back to sleep. Perhaps, at some point today - a nap.
SIDENOTE SPIDER RANT: I just killed a spider the size of Texas in my kitchen. I THINK I brought him in on Kevin's food bowl. BUT - it is not a good thing to have a spider the size of TEXAS within five miles of your house much less in your kitchen. On the counter. I was on the phone with a good friend who was in Nashville for the night and apologizing for being ZAZA wiped out and that I couldn't meet her which is really just a crying shame and then suddenly I went crazy sailor on her began to explain at least she was safe from the spider. I could not find a sledgehammer to kill this massive beastive so I found an old can of RAID that had a smidgen of ant killer in it and then I sprayed it till it coughed twice. And picked up speed. Which is when I dropped the can and ran and found that old deep woods off from the porch summertime days and let go of a cloud that is still hanging around the kitchen downstairs as I write this. (Mama had managed to go back to sleep so she has been safe in her room during this entire show-down) I suspect that I will go down the stairs and the spider will have come to life and crawled away the way that sneaky scorpions do pretending to die but they do not so you have to cut them into little pieces. I am sorry if this offends you but if you have never been in a cabin that has become infested with scorpions when you are trying to complete a novel under deadline and have woken up with a scorpion ON YOUR PILLOW STARING AT YOU and one UNDER YOUR PILLOW WAITING FOR YOU - then you will not know the depths of my anti-scorpian behavior. You may be able to possibly search this blog and find reference to this chilling moments. (For the record. I stayed. I became Ramboette. I slept with my shoes on. Tied my hair in a scarf. Moved the bed to the middle of the room. And I killed Scorpions by the dozen daily. When you are a writer and you are serious about your deadlines you will do these things. ) Back to the spider. I once had a wolf spider walk under my arm while I was holding a hammer. He was just asking for it. This spider was asking for it because he came in my house. I have forty thousand acres of woods around my house. They can live there and I have no problem with them and their lifestyle choices. They may NOT come to my house and eat my grandchildren. End of story.
Everybody has been reflecting on the past year And I have been sick. When you are sick you are not good at reflecting. You don't care. I was so sick I didn't even watch tv. Watching tv when you are sick is a good thing because you don't feel like doing anything else. It gives you an official card - I CAN WATCH TV IF I WANT TO AND OLD EPISODES OF THE TWILIGHTZONE ARE JUST FINE. I just laid in bed and thought about how being sick was not fun. And that I was an immense admirer of all the brave strong souls that are fighting terrible diseases and overcoming cancer and carrying on in their lives to the best of their ability every single day. You guys are all awesome. And for people who are depressed and have trouble putting on both their shoes and walking out the door and they do anyway. All the people in the world who keep carrying on in the middle of what they are going through - this moment's for you. You deserve someone to say - atta girl, atta boy, - and Happy New Year to you to. I hope you get well, get healthy, get something special just for you.
Reflection: I kept Mama busy with those plants for awhile this summer. Well, really, that's the other way around. That was a lot of flower boxes and water and dirt. Mama says keeping stuff alive is not easy. I wanted to tell her yeah, well all this digging feels like it's killing me but it didn't and was probably a healthy thing in the long run. Except now. I don't have a green house. And I keep dragging plants in and out, in and out, and covering things up and I need grow lights and the ferns are looking puny and sad and like they wish I would just buy them a ticket to the south of somewhere. (PS - I have learned that I can grow ivy. Probably this means anyone can grow Ivy but me learning I can grow Ivy and not kill Ivy is a major surprise.) So this experience stands out to me.
Reflection from this year: My native hometown of Panama City was hit hard by Hurricane Michael and is still on the long road to recovery. My heart was heaviest this year over that loss and the burden its put on the Panhandle and so many friends and family. But it has amazed me to watch how they pulled together down there and without thought of political party or church affiliation - set out to be true neighbors. Showing up, sharing food, rescuing people from trapped houses. Making new friends for life when they didn't have power or water. What one writer called 'the new normal.' having a true view of the priorities in life that changes everything. That's something that I'm carrying with me into the New Year. Deciding what my 'new normal' will look like. Not accepting the limitations of my own preconceptions and prejudices to keep me locked in where I don't belong. Out there. We all belong out there. Helping each other.
News from the HILL: Cousin Deb of Cousin Deb fame was just here for Christmas. I was supposed to be happily selling books when she showed up so son picked her up from airport but I was home sick in bed. Ho Ho HO. Not a fun way to start your vacation. She picked up the mantle and took on the Christmas shopping and cooking. (There was a method to my madness of NOT telling her I was sick before she got on that plane) And Deb said - WOW - you can grow IVY!!!????
Then suddenly Christmas turned into New Years Eve and Reflections were in order. This past year a lot of great things happened. They happened one at a time, a little here and little there. One day rolled into the next without me counting them. Sometimes, my blessings snuck up on me while I was busy with something else. When I wasn't looking. Or I was focusing too hard on the wrong thing. Looking hard at where the glass was half full. Where my deadline wasn't finished. Funny that. And all the time here is the rain pouring down of blessing upon blessing upon blessing.
Confessions of a Christian Mystic was completed, edited, put to bed, and soon - and very soon - will find it's way to bookstores and readers. The advance praise has been astounding and I thank every single person who gave it an early read endorsement. You can now preorder the book here at all of your favorite stores. Hachette has tapped me to do the official audio and we begin recording next week. (I'm so excited!). That new novel set in Nashville is nearing completion finally! And a new top secret project is underway that I can't wait to announce to you in a few weeks. In the world of writing 2018 was a grand year but just a whisper compared to what's to come. (And TO ALL OF YOU who have been reading my words for years, cheering me on and waiting for more I LOVE YOU LIKE HAPPY CRAZY!!)
Reflection: Another year of teaching writing in small groups brought some great, new friends into my life by way of students. They have wowed me with their work, their love of the written word and their energy. It has been one of my greatest pleasures in watching them grow and succeed. It's something I love doing and as time and space and writer conference opportunities open up I'll continue to do more.
Reflection: So Many great things happened that it's only in listing them I realize how I've waisted a lot of time to the nonsense of worry, toil and trouble. My oldest son married his partner in time and I was able to travel with the youngest son (who showed his Mom a whole lot of patience on that trip) to celebrate the marriage in style on the beach. I was able to vacation with all the family as they hit PC (before the Hurricane) to visit with Nana. Most of all - this past year I counted my blessings of family and friends being safe and healthy and being able to spend time with them. (I've lost a few loved ones due to illness, I've cried over the loss of so many strangers to the fires of Paradise, California- but it does bring to mind to be thankful for our days - all of our days.)
I think it has a good ring to it. I think it holds some promise. Something good to come. This year I'll be on the road again, traveling to stores, meeting readers where they live and I hope to see you out there. In the meantime, my prayers are for you and all that hold dear. For all of us overcoming, growing, holding onto each other in process of our everyday lives and challenges. And remembering what it means to be human. In our most glorious, moments. I must leave you here with the words that Author Silas House posted on his Facebook page:
So, excerpts from T.S. Eliot’s “Little Gidding” to usher in the new year.
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
By the purification of the motive
In the ground of our beseeching...
For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice...
May we each find the voice we were gifted at birth, the one we need to use to carry into a New Year and in doing so bring a much needed light into the world.
Wishing you a year filled with Peace and Love,
Lots of news from the road and now that I have finally found a plug and set up somewhere that Seattle security will probably ask me to LEAVE and stop acting like I work at the airport -so I'm down to - fast and furious. Expect errors and detours. Gotta talk fast before their on to me.
If you saw the last few posts on Instagram or Facebook you know that I'm up to something. That something is what part of The Thread I'm holding onto. For many years, many, many years actually I have desperately had the overwhelming and powerful desire to get my MFA. But circumstances of various orders and gremlins and minions kept me off that path. VERY SPECIFICALLY - I have desired for ten years to get my MFA from the Seattle Pacific University Low-Residency program.
Last year as I was teaching one Saturday for the A Novel Idea program one of the incredible students showed me his recently published novel. When I opened to the dedication there was my name and some of the most beautiful words anyone could ever write about me and my teaching creative writing. Something about it hit my like an inspired rock. That day I picked up that thread that is my true life and applied without any knowledge of what to do but take the next step. And the one after that.
My acceptance into the program was one of the happiest days of my life and one of the defining moments of my life. The continuation of me taking the next step and the following one has been the result of a tremendous outpouring of support of all kinds from my family and special friends. (And more on that later and back to that special student in another blog.) And a shout out as well to my Parnassus Books 'family' for your enthusiastic support and understanding.
On other fronts some people have asked, River, when you're already a published author, have received accolades from readers and blessedly from some reviewers ( I tell my Mother all the time, 'You know, some of those novels were called 'masterpieces' by reviewers and that's not easy come by. (I jokingly add that she is not impressed but she has made this part of my life possible in more ways than one.) So in spite of that and Because . . . because . . . there is this thing, the thread. That cannot be ignored. Call it intuition. Call it spiritual inspiration. Or just call it the itch that will not be denied.
Let me offer the words of William Stafford as my greatest response.
The Way It Is
There's a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of that thread.
So that's my answer and I'm sticking to it. (Just had to answer some questions about baggage claim as I am potentially breaking some rules by setting up behind the unmanned info desk and airport model so that I can bogart power for the laptop from the only available plug in. The trick is to act like you belong, know what you are doing, and are very busy. Wearing glasses helps too. )
So - here comes that shuttle and I want to share with you a lot of things. I want to talk about the nice people I have met on this journey and the people on the plane and the mother in front of me that I wanted to hit with a magazine because she might just have gotten frustrated with her daughter and pinched her lips together to make her quit talking. Since I couldn't see through the chair in front of me I just leaned forward and asked if I could offer her a pen and paper for her daughter to draw or show her pictures. And she said - NO, she's just tired and should be asleep. - Then she loudly told the little girl that she was being a DISTURBANCE and bothering everyone on the plane and I decided I didn't like that woman and I haven't prayed for her but that might be a good thing to do. I did lean forward again through the crack and say NO, SHE is not being a disturbance. SHE is not bothering me.
And I prayed for a different lady on the plane who was nice (without her knowledge) and another (ditto) but - - (had to just stop and give out some information on shuttle locations. I'm getting really good at this. I could be Airport Answer Girl. PS - you can just make up anything. It makes people happy to get an answer from anyone.)
Update sidetrack - I stayed at a cheap by the airport kind of hotel for the night. I must! Share my hotel room view with you but it is on my Instagram if you check. The people at the desk were delightful in spite of the room or my lack of sleep. I made it to a Thai restaurant next door for dinner last night and brought the rest back to the desk clerk and asked her if she had had dinner or liked Thai food. She said she had never tasted Thai food. So, I gave her that food (I hadn't eaten off of for the record) and said you are in for a treat! And the reason for this is that as the world seems to get increasingly crazy, as politics in this country seem to be dividing us at the rate of insanity, I have determined my only way to combat this is to perform extra acts of kindness everyday of my life. To operate from a place of being absolutely determined to become more human, more understanding, more accepting. To offer to hold a screaming toddler for a mother to do her banking, or help someone load groceries when I'm already sick of dragging my bags around. I'll let people in in traffic and do a million other things that might normally cross my mind that I am too busy to do. The only thing I know to do to combat this tidal wave of hatred is to step up my kindness game.
So - off of rant and back to the moment -
She was still on duty this am and said it was one of the best things she has ever tasted. it was yellow curry chicken and potatoes.
Gotta dash. More soon as I can but I want you to know I started the day out celebrating the journey by doing Elaine's dance to the tune of Patti LaBelle's Neutron Dance. :)
Keep it real. Hold fast to your thread.
It's been all monumentally, simple moments up on the hill. Summer has basically come and almost gone while I wasn't looking.
The shutters are still a project. Lying half painted and waiting. I have to admit I'll give them credit they don't yell at me like other inanimate objects. Like my laptop. It whispers all the time. Words, words, words. The shutters wait with a quiet confidence that I'll return and they'll be all firecracker red in no time. The laptop, it sometimes shutters a little in fear. As if all of time will pass by and the words I was meant to write will rest inside of me for all time.
I'm listening in the quiet places. Somedays I live another life instead of writing. Somedays I fill the plastic pool and buy a watermelon and pick up the Charmings (the duo that makes up part of the wolf pack when all the littles are together.) and say HEY - WANT TO HAVE SOME ZAZA FUN? And they act like I walk on water, that I have superpowers, that I am someone really important. Higher ranking than any queen or diplomat. Then they climb in my car and I take them to the pool and cut the watermelon and they stand in one foot of water with watermelon slices, red juice running down their arms and grin at each other and nod their hands like - IS THIS NOT THE BEST LIFE EVER???? Zaza is fighting something and a little under the weather but they don't need to know this and in this moment - it is the best day ever. And then we watered flowers and drew pictures and played with trucks and lit sparklers on the front porch and watched a movie. And that was a very, good day.
Life still opens up slowly up on the hill. The fog lifts and changes shapes, finds the trees, climbs higher. On my better days I'm up in time to watch this show take place. It settles me and sets the tone. Breathe it says. Just breathe. And God says things. Like yes and I know. And, just breathe.
I'm on the road now which seems to be my natural state of being. Wheels moving across the asphalt where they can just keep on moving like we'll just drive into the hereafter if we don't slow down. I've snuck off to a coffee house because the house is still sleeping. Mama and cousins so as soon as I open my eyes and say thank you God I'm still breathing, the world is still spinning, gravity is not lost - I think COFFEE like I need an IV fix, pull on jeans a shirt I've worn three days running, grab laptop bag and find the closest coffee shop. It's a new one for me. I so long to head over the bridge and park in St. Andrews where writer friend Tony Simmons hangs but I'm sticking close to the family this am. So I'm at a new place. Finn's it's called. Attached to the old Mr. Surf's. A hangout of my teenage years.
There's a guy talking Jesus. I know this because he has said Jesus a few times and then mentioned Corinthians. I gotta say, he looks healthy. That kind of tan and juicing healthy that some people look. Not like vampires that have been up late singing King of the Road at Cousin Deb's backyard Karoke bar. I bet he went to bed at an earlier hour. Now I notice praise music is playing on the speakers. They have soy candles for sell and raw almonds and hemp seeds and bottles of wine for sale. This is good. All of it is good.
I put in earphones and play David Gray's Babylon. Again. It's my new over and over and over song.
And read a few pages of Always We Begin Again. The tiniest of books. Evidence that the weight of words isn't measured by the length of them. I make a note to read the meditation, Each Day on the air on Clearstory Radio next Wednesday. Being back on the air is like slipping on an old coat. One I've missed and get to remember brand new all over again. It's a strange little mixture of words and songs all celebrating living a creative life with soul.
The news. Greece hurt me. People driven to cliffs to try to find the sea, to escape. Families clinging to one another in a last embrace knowing they will die. Found that way. A thousand million words couldn't say more to me than that image in my heart which spoke volumes of all that we hold dear and love and the best of who we are. One last embrace.
Today is my friend Fran's Birthday. She happened to be mother to one of my best friends, grandmother to three gorgeous girls who continue to bless my life just by knowing them. But she was also a friend with open arms, a great supporter of so many authors. A lover of story, a compassionate, passionate person full wonder. She was - and still is - a part of the magic that makes up my life.
Today I hope you find the magic that makes your life worthy of every blessed minute we have here together. I'll be back soon.
Peace and promises,
I said I was gonna do this and that. Start Mama's Blog called Go Ask My Mama and publish my new Patreon page. I have not. For a few reasons. One being the shutters. I have been painting the shutters and the porch because Mama said -
It just looks so depressing.
To which I said -
It's not depressed. You're just depressed so you see it through depressed eyes.
(Me and Mama have conversations this way. So don't worry. We have been at this relationship for years. Not much has changed except I would say I think we laugh more. And that's a very good thing. We need it.)
So, Mama wanted me to paint the house. I can't afford to paint the house but I did want to please Mama so I stumbled across a house on Pinterest that looked liked mine but it had painted shutters and window-boxes. I sent that picture to cousin Deb and she said - WOW! What a difference. I had to write back that's not my house. But we did get paint for the shutters. It is called FIRECRACKER. We tried little tiny samples of red this and that and the only one that would POP is the FIRECRACKER. I never knew I wanted to have firecracker shutters but I have always known that I wanted to make Mama happy except for a few times that I was too mad to want to make her happy. One was when I was nineteen and the other might have been fifteen. OH, and two other times but outside of that Mama being happy has always been like a goal of mine. My Daddy was just happy. And he was easy to make happier. It didn't take much. A good day fishing whether we caught anything or not was a great day with Daddy. More on Daddy for fathers day.
Mama. Well making her happy was a good thing cause turns out she is right. An old brown house with brown shutters with a side of brown brick is a lot of brown. I would not survive on Survival Island. I've always thought I would but after painting yesterday for four hours in the middle of the day I realize I would be the first to go. The short straw. The weak link. People tell me you are supposed to drink water and not coffee to undertake these types of challenges. That and maybe not painting when it is 454 degrees in the shade. But I am determined. I do have that going for me. And then I have the tiniest little big of that thing where once you get into something like counting toothpicks you can't stop. So now it's all about MUST FINISH PAINTING THE SHUTTERS. Because the fact is it has picked up Mama's spirits considerably and I count that a great thing. Depression hurts at any age. And if happiness and a little relief from that can be had for the price of a gallon of paint and some muscle work on my part - I'm all in.
Now to the news at hand that has saddened my heart.
I'm not going to write much about Anthony Bourdain except for this because the news is full of it. But It's truly why I didn't post that blog yesterday. I didn't see that one coming. Just like Robin Williams who was someone else I admired immensely. One of my sons had been on the security detail for Robin Williams when he went to entertain the troops and I treasured a photo of them together. Like Robin I have been a true fan of Anthony Bourdain since the beginning of No Reservations. I have his shows recorded. I've loved his books which I own. The most important thing to me was his compassion and understanding of people from all walks of life and all cultures. Someone referred to him as a global ambassador and I thought that fit him perfectly.
Years ago I had a dream where I was hanging out with Anthony (or Tony as his friends called him.) We were eating and talking and laughing like old friends. Having the best time and the best conversation. And I think in the dream I actually called him Tony and told him I hated to go but that I had to be in New York the next day to speak so I had to catch a plane. To which he replied, Well, I'll just come with you. So that we could continue our conversation. It was something I always looked forward to as if I would actually meet him in person and we would just pick up that conversation and laughter where we left off.
My heart goes out to all who loved him, to all of his fans, and to those who are experiencing the darkness that drove him to such despair. I am posting a link here for an article written by my good friend author Kerry Madden which just ran in the L.A. Times about how Anthony's death resurrected her painful past with family members who died too young by their own hand.
Maybe, someday in the wide, strange world of the hereafter I could still pick up that conversation like we had never missed a beat. In the meantime, I'll take a deep breath, and rewatch his shows and keep painting those shutters for Mama while she's in this world.
Be ye kind to one another. And, be kind to yourself. This world so desperately needs a gentle touch if any of us are to carry on. And for those who struggle with the dark edges of a depression that leads you down the path of imaging your death here is the link to the National Suicide Hotline. It's NEVER too early to reach out and get help. And it's never something to be ashamed of. 1-800-273-8255
Peace to you and all you love from The Hill,
Thanks so much for reading, liking and sharing with friends.