She’s out of this world. I’m struggling a little bit today, but it’s better than yesterday. I can talk most of the time without the lump in my throat stopping my voice. I have found that when the pressure in my head gets to be too painful and tight, that I need to stop, remember her, and cry. It releases the pressure.

I had therapy yesterday and my amazing therapist spent the whole time helping me cry, talk, and realize I am not dumb for feeling this way.

I was able to call a few people this morning and talk on the phone and even laugh. There are times I catch myself smiling at a memory, and other times I am sobbing uncontrollably.

I was walking through the house that feels so empty and talking on the phone when I noticed them. A cardinal pair that visits our feeders were out there. But they seemed to be on a mission. I saw them through the kitchen window while making my coffee. Then, as I was gathering my clothes to get dressed, I saw the female at the front window, staring into the house. I had to stop and notice her. I also saw her last night, she was up at the barn in the lilac bush, so close to me that I could reach out and touch her. I do understand that many would say it’s not possible, but there is an old wives’ tale that a cardinal sighting is a visit from someone who has passed. My brain wants to deny that as a reality, but heart whispers “It’s a God thing, he is letting you know she’s okay by allowing her to send you a cardinal.”

I continued with going up to the barn for chores, my heart both heavy and light. Spring is in the air and today I would have had Lainey with me. She loves this kind of weather; the mud is a delight to her and the horse poop is finally thawed enough that she can have a good snack. It’s also a day I will be riding, and she would have been trotting along with me.

My head slowly started to build up pressure, it feels like it will explode. I turned to the sound of Mary’s bus coming in. My eyes traveled to the patio door, which I have been avoiding looking at. You see, Lainey will sit at the back door to ask me to let her out to join me. I just couldn’t look at that door! The bus made me look, and I saw a black and white muzzle. I kept blinking and thinking that my eyes were playing tricks on me. I asked Kristin if she could see it, and she said yes! But look its Bella.

I waited for Mary’s bus to leave and slowly walked to the house, my head pounding with pressure and tears starting to leak out of my eyes. Bella was standing there, her eyes never leaving my face and a gentle look of love in her eyes. I opened the door to let her out, thinking she needed to go potty. She didn’t move past me; she kept her eyes focused on my face in the same manner Lainey always did. I leaned down, and she put her muzzle up to my face, I slowly lowered my head to hers and the tears streamed down my face. I dropped to my knee and hugged her neck, never losing contact with her head. The pressure in my head eased the tears slowed down, Bella shifted, and our contact broke. She kept her eyes on my face as I asked her one again if she needed to go potty. She slowly turned and faced the door and walked back into the house. How did she know I needed a hug?

Riding with Mary was a bit hard, facing the house was harder, but we got though the lesson. Sassy and Nora were rockstars and followed all that Mary and I asked of them. I was able to finish my morning at the barn, but noticed it was icy up at the barn entrance.

I walked down to the house to get the ice melt, and I saw this…. Lainey in the gelding’s pasture, watching me like she always does. Head turned towards me, eyes never leaving my face. She’s In another world, but still in my heart. Thank you, dear Father, for this. For these glimpses and bringing peace to my heart when I need it.

I wouldn’t trade the last 17 years for anything. It has been such an honor to be loved by her, and an honor that God, my animals, and people in my life are all are taking care of my wounded heart and helping me put it back together again. Today I realized that she may not be in this physical world any longer, but she is always going to be a part of who I am and live in my heart forever.

The shells on this beach will be here tomorrow, next week, next month and even years from today. The election won’t change the shells, the sand on the beach, or the waves in the ocean.

It also won’t affect the love I have for my family, my friends or my life. And I hope it doesn’t change your life and your relationships.

Let’s just keep loving those we love, living the life we made for ourselves and remember that God has us, He has the election. He has plans for us and he died for us to live life to the fullest.

I wish we could fast forward to two weeks down the road. Or maybe just fall asleep for awhile so we don’t have to listen and be aware of all that will happen in the next few days.

Since I can’t just fall asleep and hibernate I’m going to try to ignore the news, ignore the mess they make of it, and work hard at it not letting it affect my life.

None of us voted the way we did because we want to do harm, we all voted the way we did because we think it was the best way to vote. Whether you voted for him or her, it mattered that you cared enough about this country to vote.

Let’s smile at a stranger, hug a friend that needs it, don’t post mean things about each other, and remember it’s the people in your life that have your back, not a politician that you will never meet.

I for one am grateful that I’m not an oblivious shell on the beach, even if it means I have to get through another election.

I walk into Nick and Kate’s house and look up the stairs. Right there in front of me is my granddaughter, Collins.

She’s 10 months old now and she brings so much joy into our lives, with just a smile and a hug.

The other day I was babysitting for the kids and decided to take her outside to explore the backyard. Watching her touch the trees with a gentle hand, staring up at the leaves with a look of wonder, seeing her lean into the gentle breeze and turn her face towards it, makes me do the same thing. She can take an ordinary sight and turn it into something I’m “seeing” for the first time.

The bark of the tree has so many dimensions, some of it is rougher and appears peaked like a mountain range, while there are other sections filled with holes and small branches with tiny leaves making their appearance.

I set Collins down on the basketball court and she is fascinated by the black ants scurrying about their business. She tries to touch them, but they’re too fast and her frustration makes me laugh out loud. It startles her, my laughter in the quiet, but then she looks up, her eyes meet mine and they start to twinkle and I see Nick in that moment and she laughs with me.

We move over to the grass and she sees the dandelions. Oh she loves the dandelions, she picks one and I do as well. I touch her cheek with it and she laughs a little because it tickles. I touch her nose with it and I remember being little and playing with dandelions myself. Do you remember them? What they felt like, tasted like, and the yellow that came off of them onto our faces?

Having Collins in my life has been such a great adventure. She is showing me how beautiful the world really is. The miracles of spring, the new life out there, the beauty of the dandelions and the sensation of the warm breeze and sun on my face.

I thank God that He gives us a second chance at living through a child again in our “later” years.

Being a Grandma is such a blessing and I am so grateful at this stage in my life I get to slow down and soak it all in without the worry of a schedule. Collins and I just get to live in the moment as we explore this wonderful world together and it is good, very very good.

There she is, she’s standing there looking at me, her body swaying with tremors, her eyes a bit dull with age, and her hearing, well, it’s almost nonexistent. She’s my dog, she’s my friend, and sometimes she is my baby. She has been by my side for 16 years; she has helped me train unruly horses. She has ridden in the saddle with me, she’s been riding shotgun in the truck since she was just a pup and has even traveled on a plane under the seat in front of me.

She is little but mighty, her heart is the biggest heart I’ve known, her stamina has always matched and surpassed mine, until recently. She stands there swaying, she loses her balance at times, and refuses to eat. I see her and my heart squeezes with pain. I want to grab the days and slow them down, but the harder I try to hold them the faster they seem to slip through my fingers. I know it’s getting closer to the time she will leave. I know that’s why she’s pulling away, she’s helping me say goodbye, to get used to not seeing her trotting next to me as I do chores and looking up at me to see what we’re going to do next. She is starting to prepare to move on, and this time we won’t be together. I don’t know when it will be…. today? tomorrow? a year from now? or could I really possibly get a couple years? I don’t know, but one thing I can tell you is that I would do it all over again. Having her in my life is worth the pain of losing her.

I sometimes wonder if God gave her to me just to show me what unconditional love looks like. We humans are flawed in our ability to love, we add strings, we ask for performance, but she never has, she just loves me for who I am each and every day. I can lay around the house, or clean, or do chores, or even just spend the entire day knitting, she doesn’t care, and doesn’t judge. Her relationship with me reminds me of God. Because like God, she loved me first, for who I am, 100 percent.

She is love, companionship, and security and I am blessed by her.

Well, here it goes. It’s been hard to be positive lately. I don’t know if you all ever struggle with sadness, or hopelessness, or that if you would disappear, no one will even notice, but I sure do. I don’t think I have a hard life; I don’t mean that at all, but there are times when it seems like I’m walking through mud, each footstep is hard, and there is a little voice in my head (sometimes it’s a very big voice) that says, “Why? Why do you do it every single day? Is it really worth it? The same thing, day in and day out….” I hate that voice, it’s the voice that tries to tell me that life here on earth has no point, I mean really, do I even make a difference? I feed horses every day, I clean up after them, I do a little bit of training, and a smattering of lessons here and there. The winter is coming, I hate the winter, the dark and dreary days, the cold that hurts in such a way there is no escape. If I have to take off a glove, my fingers curl into a ball and it’s painful to find the screw I just dropped but need to finish fixing something or another. Winter in Minnesota can be brutal for those of us that work outside.

But…… the sun does come out, it’s stunning on the snow, the glitter takes my breath away and it never seems to feel dark even on the darkest night there is a glimmer of light in the snow and the sunsets are absolutely amazing.

The smell of coffee, the warmth of hot chocolate, or a shot of bourbon can make the cold fall away. The bathtub is filled with hot water, and I can soak my coldness away while sipping a glass of wine and reading a good book.

My friends call, we start knitting together, my body slows down, I take naps when I can and the winter starts to become my friend, it’s a time of slowing down, no pressure for lessons, for training, or anything other than caring for the horses. They let me into their herd, they let me feel their warmth. Their heartbeats settle my panicking heart, their slow breathing makes me take a deep breath. I feel God in that moment, I look up into the cloudless night sky and the stars twinkle down at me and I wonder if the stars that looked over Jesus are looking over me. I feel Jesus in my herd, his leadership and that way he will leave the 99 to come looking for the lost one. I am that lost one. I need Him to hold me in the dark days of winter, and he does. Sometimes it feels hard to find Him, and the challenge for me is to keep it up until I do, because when I do finally find Him, I realize He was the on looking for me.