Perspective

 I, like many of you, have watched for the last many years as tens of thousands cross our boarders illegally.  I have been frustrated and angry at the whole situation, like many of you may have been.  Recently I checked my perspective.  Well maybe it was checked for me.  

My step-son introduced us to his girlfriend of a year.  We have heard stories about her and their adventures together.  We really looked forward to meeting her.  Not sure who was more nervous - her, my step-son, or us LOL.  Anyway, it went very well and we liked her very much.  She was very smart, well spoken, kind, funny, and fit right in.  She is a hard worker and very goal oriented.  Throughout the night we shared stories and learned more about her, her family, and her life.  She is a beautiful Mexican woman.

She shared the stories of her parents' struggles and how they came here under the Reagan administration illegally and worked in Washington state in the fields, met, married, and began a family.  They worked hard - harder than most of us would work.  They are a Catholic family and raised their children in the faith.  As she shared her family's story, I was transported back in time to my young childhood when my parents owned a custom harvesting business and we traveled for 6 months out of the year from Texas to North Dakota harvesting wheat.  We had lots of equipment, trucks, combines, employees, and mobile living quarters.  We always knew we had beds, food, and shelter.  I remember being a very young child and playing in the fields of Texas as everyone worked and would make friends with children whose parents were working by hand in the next field over picking cabbage or other vegetables.  Yes their skin was darker than mine but as a child it never crossed my mind they were from another COUNTRY - what was a country?  They were migrant children and we played together.  After all we all looked alike by the end of the day in the hot sun and dirty fields LOL.  I don't remember their being a language barrier.  There might have been, but children find a way to communicate.  I remember the adults bringing produce they had picked over and selling it to us for more than they were getting paid from their employers.  

My perspective as a child was these are peers, friends, equals to me and we need to stay out of the way of the adults while they work.  

Flash forward a "few" years to when I lived in TN.  The illegal Mexican population was so "bad" that the state finally gave in and said everyone - legal or not- could acquire a drivers license / state ID just so they could try to keep track of the number of people.  I had to get my license changed from Illinois to Tennessee during that time and 6 HOURS it took me to get through the line.  Then they gave me grief about an Illinois CDL and I would have to come back blah blah....no thank you just give me an regular class D, I want to go home now.  I would drive by an area where every morning the workers would gather and needy blue collar contractors would come by and pick up hard workers to work for the day.  By this point in my life I had forgotten my perspective on life as a small child.  I had listened to the "news" and my perspective was shaped by those who probably had NO idea of the people they spoke about.  I never stopped and talked to any of them and I never learned their story.

My perspective was they were people who prolonged my day to get my driver's license changed and cause good hard working Americans to be out of jobs.  

Move forward a couple more years.  I was blessed to be a part of the Leadership Cheatham County program in Tennessee.  The month rolled around where Agriculture was our focus.  We visited a tobacco farm and watched how they harvested, dried, smoked, and packaged tobacco to send all around the world.  It was an awesome day to be a part of.  I remember someone asked the question - Why are you not hiring the people of this county who desperately need work.  The farmer answered in a "drop the mic" kind of way.  They don't want to work!  He said he hires legally through the agriculture department to bring migrant workers to Tennessee to help him.  He is required to place an ad in the local papers.  He said if he did get an answer they would only want to drive a tractor they didn't want to work with their hands that was too much work.  (WOW I could relate I was in trucking and I heard that all the time...I will drive but I am not touching any of the freight - I am a truck driver not a lumper)  Tobacco farming is not easy.  In fact it is very dangerous.  There are large sharp spikes the tobacco must by stuck onto to be placed on the trailer frame that the farmer is pulling through the field that then goes into the barn to be hung from the roof for smoking.  Those sharp sticks will go through a hand as easily as a tobacco leaf.  He also explained he must have approved housing for his workers with no more than 2 per bedroom.  He showed us his farm houses where his workers stayed.  He treated his workers well and they treated him well.  

My perspective was these migrant workers were doing a job "us hardworking Americans" were too lazy to do.  Simple as that.

A few years later we would move to an island in the middle of the Caribbean Sea.  There were no boarders to cross.  People from all over the world would sail in and out with the wind.  Some good - some not so much.  Life is different in the islands.  People often disappear.  Sometimes the legal system processes people through but other times people vanish.  They may sail away to another island, fly to the mainland, or just go missing.  I remember looking at moving to another island and it was explained to us this way, you are the law at your house.  Take care of the problem and feed the fish when you are done.  That was the answer when we asked what the crime rate was.  

My perspective was.....God gave us this world to live in harmony.

We moved back to the states and became bombarded with the noise of the political rhetoric once again.  Watching crime rates rise with illegal border crossings and frustrated with our own government for not controlling things.  Stop making America look like a free buffet line and things will stop!  - My perspective.

Back to meeting the girlfriend.  She shared how her father became an American Citizen but her mother never did.  How her mother was deported under later administrations and they lived with her in Mexico as her father moved to Texas to work and would cross the border to visit the family.  How they didn't know where they would be living or what they would be eating at times.  How they would come back and live with dad and mom would cross the Rio Grande to get here again.  How they moved to Missouri and created a stable home.  Mom and Dad have since returned to Mexico to care for grandma but 3 children (adults) are here.  The girlfriend is finishing her degree up and currently interning as a behavioral therapist in 3 county schools.  She plans to finish her degree up by the end of this year and continue to get her Behavioral Therapist license to practice.  

My perspective once again came back to that 3-6 year old child I once was.  These migrants have left EVERYTHING they know and have to be here.  They work harder than many Americans who want things given to them.  They have goals.  They appreciate opportunities.  They are Christians.  They are humans.  It does not matter what country they came from.  Yes there is a right and wrong way to be citizens.  Let's find out their story.  Let's show them compassion.  

I am not naïve, yes there are some who want to destroy this country or do us harm. BUT hey, we raise them here too!  Those are the ones we must identify and deal with accordingly.  

More perspective - let's not judge any book by the cover, movie by the trailer, or person by their skin color or heritage.  Let's open our hearts to start seeing people again for who they really are.  Let's quiet our minds and open our emotions up to the way we were when we were children, the way we were meant to be.  

The visit with my stepson's girlfriend helped to quiet the noise of the world so I could once again see the beauty around me.  Count your blessings, find your peace, love endlessly.

Hate By Association

Have you ever experienced a relationship of some kind that has dissolved and you are expected to hate someone just because your friend or family member hates someone? 
Yep, me too.  It is one of the dumbest things I have had to experience.  I have always treated people the way I want to be treated and occasionally treated them the way they DID treat me. 
I have recently been put on that situation.  You are either team A or team B.  If you don't publically hate team A, I will hate you because I am team B.  What? Why?
How about I am not on either team?  Maybe I am team AB or maybe I am team C.  See how crazy this is?
Let's take a classic friendly rivalry, Cubs vs Card.   The people who live between St Louis and Chicago are expected to pledge their loyalty to one of the two teams.  No you can not chose any other team you are team Cubs or Team Cards.  If you do not pledge your loyalty, then you are the enemy.  Simply not true for me.  I have been a long time Cards fan but when the Cubbies made it further in playoffs, then you cheer them on.  Just the way I work. 
Recently, I accepted a position on a board and was put in this place again.  No teams in my mind,  yet there are definate teams in the minds of others. 
One of the best compliments I have ever been given came from a parent at a board meeting while fighting for an overnight trip approval for the scholastic bowl team eho was headed to state conpetition.  The parent said, I have a student that really likes her and one not so much.  But she treats them both the same.  She holds them both to the same standard.  One is a starter for her and the other gets little playing time.   But she makes both feel equally valuable. 
That has stuck with me for many years.  Is there really a better complement?  Not for me.
So I have thought a lot about that since joining this board.  I am team AB.  That is all of us.  And actually I would say team ABC.  Team C being the people who are part time and don't know either team captain. 
This also happens in families.  Especially, during a divorce or death or lately, politics.  Families divide,  hate spills over, greed surfaces, and those in the wake are expected to pick a team.  AND of you don't completely agree with me I will hate you too. 
In the age of social media that spills over into blocking, unfriending, etc of people you love and care for. 
Recently I had to testify in a court case.  I temporarily unfriended some people and explained why I did.  I then requested thwm back after testimony, only to find they have now blocked me.  How silly is that?  Worst part?  They are family.
Now, while all of these situations have different emotions tied to them from me, I can handle them.  What prople in all these situations do not think about is the wake of hurt and heartache.  Those causght in the wake are children, life-long friendships, family members, neighbors, etc.  How completely unfair is it to them?
While I am sad about the hurt I see around me, I can do nothing to fix it. 
It all seems dumb to me, because I know the ultimate hurt and heartache. 
So on this Mother's Day wekend please be kind.   Extend an olive branch to try to mend a relationship. 

Easter at Grandma and Grandpa's House

Today is Easter Sunday.  There is turmoil in the family so my husband and I are spending the day together.  This time of year is always difficult on me anyways with Jared's birthday approaching.  I can't help but think back to carefree times in my childhood.  Cliche?  yes!  When times were simpler.  

I am reflecting on childhood Easter gatherings at my grandparents house. They lived on a farm in Central Illinois where hogs and cattle are not pets but future meals.  Gardening wasn't a hobby, rather a necessity.  When I was very young, I remember entering the stairs to their front door and down the entryway to the door into the living room.  The home was built in the 1800s and each room had a door to help with the heating and cooling of the rooms as needed. The house was not huge, yet our large family seemed to fit just fine. My grandparents each came from large families.  That is not uncommon in those days.  Hey - their parents had to stay warm in the winter you know!  (just kidding)  Gatherings included aunts and uncles from both sides.  Cousins - too many to count.  Friends, neighbors, it didn't matter there was always room at the table.
In the late 70s my grandparents home burnt due to a new fangled device called the wood burning stove. It was all the rage of the time to bring the smells and cheaper heat source into the homes.  My grandparents were proud of that stove.  I remember being put in our pickup truck and driving the hour to get to their house in the middle of the night.  Neighbors had already drug a camper trailer in for them to live in next to the house that had just burnt.  The farm must still be tended to.  In the hours and days to follow ladies came together from around the community and gathered items they could spare, bought new items and within a couple of days Grandma could again fix the delicious food she was known for.  The men did the same for Gramp.  A comfy chair was the first priority for any farmer for those after lunch naps before heading back to the fields.  Handmade quilts came in and gatherings took place complete with meals shared, stories from the past and plans were made to rebuild the neighbors home.  
I am not sure at what point in history we went from how are WE going to help you get this done, to what are YOU going to do now.  But within days a double wide modular home was put in the very place where their home had stood.  A "mud room" was built to connect the back door to the "smoke house" where all the canned items were stored and butchered farm animals were in the freezer.  
That home was smaller than what they had before but we still all managed to fit in there during gatherings. 
We knew the difference between our inside and outside voice. Pretty dresses and dressed up boys bounced around outside playing on rock piles, digging in dirt, riding tractors, shooting bb guns and playing games. No parent yelled at us because we were dirty, but we were directed to the "lavatory" to wash our hands for the meal. We were all welcomed back to the kitchen where chairs awaited us with sears catalogs stacked to the appropriate height to allow each of us each to sit to eat. The brightly colored metal glass had sweet tea in it. A blessing was given for the food we were about to eat followed by a unison Amen.  We all knew if we ate all the food we chose to take (but must try 1 spoon of everything) there was some amazing, beautifully decorated, made from scratch, desert that was waiting for us to devour before returning to the outdoors. Come to think of it....it was all from scratch!  Oh the good old days.
I miss my grandparents dearly. They were the glue for the family. Didn't matter if you were family by birth, marriage, adoption, or draft and choice, there was always room for you. Neighbors talked to one another, gathered for weekly updates, ladies had monthly birthday clubs, men had coffee hour and community meant something.  It meant we are a family by choice!
Times have changed for sure. Houses are so large you have to send a text message to your husband to come to dinner.  Your children at the age of 3 live in a different zip code.  We don't even know the names of our neighbors let alone talk to them.  We don't ask how we can lift up our community but rather how we can sit back and judge them being less than what we are.  We went from being US centered to ME centered.
Maybe it is time to go back to smaller houses, bigger tables, open hearts, and less judgement.

Labels

It has been a long while since I have been able to write on my blog. Tonight, I feel like I need to get back to that therapy. So I will start here. 
Labels
Have you ever thought about all the labels we are obsessed with handing out today? Some labels we strive to get and others we run from. Think about it. Maybe you want the label of popular or athletic or Transgender or upper-middle-class or snowbird. Maybe you run from the labels of poor, stupid, criminal, geek or "ex". Seems we have more labels today then ever before. I watched a news clip on how they have rewritten some history books in California to discuss historical figures sexual orientation. This made me think, do I care what they or anyone does in sexual preference? I mean I never really thought about Ben Franklin gave me some great inventions to make my life easier today....wonder if he was gay or transgender. Nope, never questioned that. Nor did I think, was he popular, cool, rich, a college graduate....nope didn't care. I did think, wow he has helped me and many others. They shared how women would dress as men to fight in the war so they must have been transgender. Ummmmm, no I don't agree with that. I was a tom boy and some girls just want to be included and help where they can without dealing with gender barriers. But again, never thought...hey is that soldier gay? Nope, not once. Likewise, we tend to label by color and religion. I recently heard a story that Jesus was Muslim and black. Ok, never once wondered or cared. I cared what he did/does and his actions. That made me analyze what I thought Jesus looks like...label him if you will. I guess I think he is a bit of all religions and non religions and a bit of every color. 
Well all of this then made me think back to history. For centuries we have fought against labels. We fought against the Scarlet A for those who participated in adultery....thank goodness or we would have everyone running around looking like Alvin the Chipmunk with a giant A on their shirts. We have fought against the labeling of class in transportation. We no longer travel by classes but we do choose to label ourselves by buying first class seating or suites on cruise ships and hotels. 
Why is it we don't want to be labeled, but then label ourselves......we are so confusing!
Do labels matter? Or is it what we do that matters, no matter how many labels we have behind our name? 
I know many very educated people with very impressive "labels" who never tell you about those labels, because they are humble and choose to show what they are as a person vs what the label says they are. Then I have known a few people who insist you call them by their label and can't do a darn thing, other than gloat about a label they have behind their name. The greatest label I have ever had is "mom". That is also the greatest I will ever have. 
I tell young adults all the time, it doesn't matter what you choose to do, just do it the very best you can and be proud of your work. 
I would love to see less labels. 
Like......Santa! He has fewer labels for us
He has just 2, naughty or nice....that is it! He did not ask my gender, sexuality, religion, nationality, political party, education level, income level, community I live in or anything else. Just was I naughty or nice. 
My wish for 2018......less labels.

Grandma

Well it has been quite a while since I last blogged.  Lots has changed with me and the world.  In the past week I have had stories about Grandma shared with me.  And I would like to share them with you.
Grandma Walters - Jared was born on her birthday in 1997 and she was 91 years old that day.  I took Jared to see her in the nursing home and she just thought he was great.  I don't really remember seeing her much as my Dad passed away when I was 8 and the family scattered like pool balls on a break.  In fact, I only remember 1 times ever going to her house as a child and I don't have any memories of her coming to our, although I know she did.  Recently I attended at funeral on my Dad's side of the family and heard stories.  My Dad's side was/is Catholic and winters in Illinois are cold, thus resulting in large families.  Several of the siblings told the same story at different times, almost identical.  How my Dad would come to their house and tell them how he wished their mom was his mom.  I thought to myself, haven't we all wished that at some point in childhood?  Well as the time went on more and more came out.  My Grandmother was cold to my Dad.  Didn't have much attention for more than one at a time.  Well that explained why my Catholic Grandmother only had 2 children.  She only had time for one son, and from what I understand that wasn't my Dad.
I began to put pieces of the family puzzle together and I have prayed about this and talked to God asking for some answers.  This is what I feel happened.  I think my father grew envious of his younger brother.  My father was known as Cookie, a nickname I understand from childhood and a girl involved...lol.   My uncle was known as Sprucy....you know why....spruced that hair back for the girls.  Well anyone that knew Cookie would tell you he had a way of knowing how to make lots of money.  They will also tell you he couldn't hold on to a penny of it.  He had a brilliant business mind, but lacked financial responsibility.  He also lacked self control with the booze and women.  I think all of this made my uncle envious of my Dad.  My Dad started a trucking company and my uncle followed by becoming a driver.  My Dad married a woman named Joann, and my uncle married a woman named Joann.  Of course my Dad divorced and married and divorced and married and was in the process of a divorce with my mother when he passed away.  I have learned that men who do these behaviors are seeking a love for themselves they never got from their mother.  Sidenote: that is why it drives me crazy right now to see all these women play the victim card about sexual harassment.  Not right, not saying that but why are they behaving that way?  Does it go back to longing for the love from a mother?  So, while I have struggled with my father's deplorable behavior when it came to women, I am now understanding it.  Don't like it, but understand it.  Grandma Walters lived a long life and her precious Sprucy was her apple in the eye.  So when my Dad would piss off his cousins by telling them he wished their mother was his mother, it was actually the best compliment he could have ever given them.  It was a child's way of saying your mom really loves you, wish mine loved me that way.  I also heard a story of one cousin letting the anger go when my father ran into their house and my great-aunt Rose held him tightly in her arms and he embraced her in a hug with no intentions of letting go.  That too was a way of a child saying, thank you for loving me - when I am not even your child.  Today my father, grandmother, and uncle all lie in the same cemetery, no where near one another.  Kind of ironic isn't it?  My father lies in the back of the cemetery near the timber flanked by friends and drinking buddies from days gone by.  My Grandmother rests next to her husband, who I never had the opportunity to meet but have a middle name in honor of him.  My uncle resides in a new part of the cemetery right up by the highway, not near the mother he had living in his home and was the favorite child of.
My Grandma DeLong - Oh Grandma DeLong was the one I knew the best and have so many memories and wisdom from.  Like the time she took me to church but I had no church clothes so she took the clothes off the Raggedy Ann Doll and dressed me in them - the Tomboy Debbie - in a dress, a Raggedy Ann dress off a doll.  I remember hiding under the pew in church where my grandparents always sat.  Next to the isle last row, so Grandpa could get to the door for greeting members.  Then that dreaded moment of children's time....off to the front pew I had to go....it was awful.  I am stilled scarred from it all.  Well since that time, I have learned a lot from that, you do with what you have and your respect the Lord's house.  So if a Raggedy Ann dress is all I have to wear today, I would do it.  Grandma came from a large family, mostly girls and one boy...feel sorry for him don't you?  Edith, Edna, Eva, Elsie, Esther, Jim.....ummmm yep that is the way it was.  My grandparent's home was always open.  You needed a place, you always knew you were welcome.  I remember one weekend when I was helping my grandmother clean her house (which I did for her every weekend after my grandfather had his stroke) and my grandmother sharing some wisdom with me.  Didn't know it was wisdom until I got older.  She said, "We can't pick our family,but we can pick the ones we claim."  GRANDMA????  My sweet, cookie baking, ornament sewing, sock darning, made from scratch everything grandma who nursed every creature possible back to health just said this?  Well flash forward many years.  I have had an appreciate for learning my family history and Jared enjoyed it as well.  In fact, I learned more through his investigations than my own.
Today I found a letter my Grandmother had written to one of her sisters who had been mean to another sister and telling lies to a doctor.  That letter was quite blunt with the way she felt and when she cursed she used _ _ _ _ _ to replace the letters...but you could tell what she was saying....lol  If the letter would be written today it would basically say you are bullying this sister with the help from that sister and the one being bullied has never said a bad word about any of you, she only cares for you and loves you all, yet you all treat her like this.  My Grandmother did not like people who would lie and she would call you out on it....even doing so to her own daughter - which is one of the reasons I have the feelings I do for her.  I saw too much first hand.
I have learned through the years all the hell my grandmother lived through.  She was raised by an uncle because her parents passed at a young age, lived a very hard life, loved my grandfather with her entire body, raised 2 children and after they were married had an - OMG moment and having a 3rd child.  I am chalking all 3 up to immaculate conception because I know my grandparents could have never had sex.  Especially when their children are grown!  She had surgeries on her legs and had to wear wraps on her legs for as long as I can remember.  It was unreal to me to see the wrappings off because her legs were so tiny and thin.  She had many health issues she battled and rarely complained.
Both my grandmothers lost a child, so we all 3 were/are Angel Moms.  Something I am sure none of us ever wanted to be.
I found this handwritten note from my grandmother to her "mean" sister and I will share it with you, and I hope it makes you think as much as I have today and find peace from it.

I Asked God "Why"

I asked God "Why did you send this cross, 

The hurt and pain and the bitter loss?"

And I found it hard not to complain,

As I sought for peace of soul again.

I asked God "why did you destine me

For such a special misery?"

And it seemed somehow that I heard Him say,

"Man does not walk an easy way.

It's the ones I love the most that I 

Send crosses to sorely try,

Remember this and know that there

Will come no grief you cannot bear.

Behold, I stand beside you in

Each sorrow 'till the very end,

Dear Little lamb stay close beside

your Shepherd 'till the eventide."

What blessed joy it was to find

His footprints ever close to mine.

He made the sadness disappear,

With words of comfort in my ear.

The pain of which I was afraid,

was lifted from me as I prayed,

Leaving such a light that I 

needed never doubt or question why.

Grace E. Easley

Burn the Cloak of Shame!

Recently a friend invited me over to share a glass of wine and catch up on life.   We had returned to her home after enjoying lunch at a local cafe feasting on southern style meat and 3 and our sweet tea all while sitting outside breathing in the sweet Tennessee air.  I am not sure we stopped talking from the moment we saw one another.  It was one of the most uplifting and somehow spiritual conversations I have had in a long time.  We spoke of the struggles a mutual friend of ours deals with from the suicide of her child.  That turned the conversation to the cloak of shame conversation.   As if it was Jared showing up to join in, a bird flew up and sat near us on the step, then in the tree next to us, followed by my 3 birds soaring high above.  Birds are, and have been, my spiritual connection to Jared since he passed.  My friend shared how she can't believe the way some people still react to us and how people's fear of suicide makes them act in rude and unnatural behaviors. 
I can't believe Jared will be gone 2 years tomorrow.  At times it is like I lost him yesterday, and other times it feels like forever. 
I looked back and I realized that each time someone has tried to put the cloak of shame on me (as if I am wearing the scarlet letter ) I have refused to put it on.  In some cases, I think I have put it on them, for shame on them for trying to make me be ashamed of my child.....like H&!! you will.  Maybe I have not allowed this because I acknowledge the only way to stop suicide is to talk about it and let people know there is a support system. 

For as long as I can remember, I would hear adults talk about suicide and everyone would chime in on the "why did it happen" theories.  You know what I am talking about.  Husband cheating, wife cheating, money problems, criminal problems, losing their house, blah blah.  What I have learned is that we are an instant, fix it now, generation.  If I can't find the answer on Google, I don't need it.  Remember the days you had to go to a library and use the card catalog to look stuff up?  WATCH IT, I AM NOT THAT OLD!  Seriously, that wasn't long ago.  If you haven't walked into a school library recently, you might just be shocked.  In fact, I walked into the "library" at my Alma Mater and it was now a lunch room.  No books, just tables and vending machines.  The librarians desk is used to house the popcorn machine.  Anyway, we want it now.  Remember when you were a child and you got hurt?  We weren't rushed to the ER our parents washed us off, wrapped it up, and kissed our booboo and off we went again. I still have scars to prove it.  Other times the solution was to rub dirt in it and keep going.  Dr Mom always had the answer.  Windows were open, so were front doors, and kids bounced between houses getting goodies along the way.  Candy from one, ice pop from the next, glass of Kool Aide from another.  Over the years, we have all learned to isolate ourselves.  Don't believe me?  Are your doors and windows open and can you hear nature?  Or are they sealed up tightly with your air conditioner running because you are hot?  Do you talk to people in person or do you text and chat online?  Do you sit on your front porch and visit with neighbors and family or in your LaZboy?  

Well most likely you sit in your house with your AC on high chatting with people electronically.  The right now approach.  After all, visiting would require planning of some kind, traveling for someone, and undivided attention.  

Well with suicide, there are no right here, right now answers.  Not when you are doing all you can to save a life.  Not when you are picking up the pieces left behind.  Not anytime.  Not about any part of it. It is a multi layer issue.  That is why most people want to look the other way rather than tackle the issue.  It is like trying to capture a cloud for most of us.  Just when you think you will capture it, it changes form, and it is impossible to capture.  Just as no two clouds are the same, neither are suicides.  

Suicide does not mean the person lost was not loved, or did not give love.  In fact, it is quite the reverse.  They often are surrounded by so much love and give so much love, that it is incomprehensible when they are lost to suicide.  How can that be?  They were such a happy person.  They were so loved.  Suicide has NOTHING to do with amount or lack of love, it is far deeper than that.

Suicide is a method of death.  Equal to all other forms of death.  What does separate it is it carries a HUGE stigma.  A stigma that is at times enlarged by culture, by color, by age, by socioeconomic class, by profession, just to name a few.  I live in the Caribbean and I have found that both culturally and in the black community, suicide carries a larger stigma than in the white community.  It carries a larger stigma than those in the Latino community but the Latino's here have a larger one than whites.  I have become close friends with a black lady here who lost her son a few years ago.  He was off at college in the states when he took his life.  She struggles because of the stigma associated form multiple directions.  She fights back each time someone tries to put that cloak of shame on her.

There is nothing to be ashamed of.  My child struggled with a disease that we could not find the root of.  A disease that was being treated.  He was a great kid/young adult.  Why should I be ashamed?  I should be ashamed because of their lack of education on the subject?  I should be ashamed because they are uncomfortable saying the words?  

So just try to put that cloak of shame on me again.  I will remove it from my shoulders each and every time.  I will give it back to you or burn it - be prepared.  I have enough weight to carry everyday in my grief, I don't need unnecessary weight from a stupid cloak.  

So if you happen to be around with the cloak of shame is given to someone.....stand with them as they refuse it.  If they are struggling, help them take it off.  

Last week, because a group of teens in Tennessee refused to wear the cloak of shame something great happened.  A bill was signed into law.  A bill that mandates more training for schools and now requires every employee of the school be trained in suicide prevention, intervention, and post-vention.  Schools must also have policies and procedures in place with a student reaches out for help or when an intervention needs to take place or for the wake of the aftermath.  This bill strengthened the Jason Flatt Act and was named Jared's Law #JaredsLaw.  Nashville took to supporting the law and lit a downtown bridge up red on Friday night of CMA fest, ironically Chris Stapleton was performing that night and had just received an award for his suicide awareness song, Fire Away.  

No matter the cause of death, I hope you never allow the cloak to be worn by anyone, ever again. #burnthecloak.

Below is photos of Nashville lit up Red and Governor Bill Haslam seated with Senator Kerry Roberts, AFSP Shannon Hall, TSPN Misty Leitsch, TSPN Executive Director Scott Ridgway, Jared's Keepers Student Ambassador Cameron Eanes, Jared's Keepers co-founder and Director of Student Outreach Kelsey Neeley, Mrs Dianne Roberts, Representative Mary Littleton

Life, It's Different Now

I am not sure what exactly has caused some of the changes in my life, but I am guessing it is a combination of losing Jared, moving to an island, getting older, and experiencing many things.  I was reading a book on the first leg of my trip today which then got me to reflecting on my own life.  Two things I no longer do is: wear a watch/worry about what time it is and start my day with news and weather. 
When we lived in Nashville, the TV was our first alarm.  It was programmed to come on with Channel 4 news.  We would wake up as we listened to weather and traffic reports.  Not anymore!  I will let it all be a surprise.  I really don't care if it rains, I find I love the smell.  Traffic, well goves me time to talk to God.
This goes hand in hand with time.  I no longer wear a watch, rarely look at my phone for time, and based on the attach of mosquitos I know it is time to fix dinner. 
I have come to appreciate every thing God gives me.  I laugh at things that used to make me angry......most of the time. 
Todays travels have been full of those.  Rich carried my suitcase out to the truck for me and was frustrated at the empty water jugs that I carry so I can stop and fill them.  To me it is easier to have them with me than trying to remember at that moment.  I acknowledge with child loss, memory also can go.  In his frustration, he sat his wallet and phone on the back of the truck......and forgot them.  We were about half way to the airport when he remembered.   I looked back and found his wallet was still there, I honestly don't know how, but no phone. ....his only lifeline to me traveling.  Our sweet neighbor went looking for it as I continuously call it and try to calm Rich down who is visibly upset and sick to his stomach.  As we pulled onto the airport someone answered hos phone....it was our neighbor, she had just found it. 
I have thought about this quite a bit.  Had he of just been calm about a silly thing that is a visual reminder to me to do an errand, he might not have had bigger frustrations with the phone.  Of course, any airport trip is adventurous and today was no different.  I met each one with a smile, chuckle, and sometimes a smile as I was shaking my head.....like at the young men who didn't want to pay for overweight bags so they thought they could carry on a duffle bag full of tools....FOR REAL pipe wrenches, hammers....not little household ones either.   Then onto boarding.....I laughed out loud with the gentleman next to me as half the flight stood to be preboarded needing assistance.   Well AA recently changed the policy to 1st Class and active military followed by AA credit card holders....woohoo my lucky day!
I laughed at each experience so far today and take things as they come.  I find I see blessings around me if I take my time and slow down a bit. 
Try this exercise, sit quietly for 30 minutes anywhere.   No phone, no technology, no tv, just sit.  What do you see that you don't notice every day when you occupy that same space?  Do you see a blemish on the wall not noticed?  How about a flower?  A bird you haven't seen in your yard?  Notice life around you, don't let it pass you by.