Happy Birthday to our Angel Ari

At bedtime, my kids love to hear stories. I always tell them stories about me growing up or different people in my family. They love it and it gives me a chance to share their family history. Tonight, we told stories about Arianna Lane, my niece who passed away from cancer when she was three. I was surprised by how much they remembered. Today she would have turned 5.

One of the hardest questions I have ever been asked in my life was when my brother (her dad) called me shortly after she had passed. He asked, "Will you give Ari's eulogy?" My heart sank and I wanted to say I'll do anything but that. But I couldn't. Of course I said yes, but had no idea what to say or how to honor a three year old. I sincerely believe that Ari inspired me to write what I wrote. I know it didn't come from me. There is so much I could say about this. So many lessons to glean from her parents, her siblings, and her life. She touched a lot of people. Her full life journey is documented at www.prayforari.blogspot.com. I just wanted to share her eulogy, which is what I think is really a letter from her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Mom and Dad,

It’s me, Ari. My journey on Earth began in Washington, UT on October 26, 2007 where I was born at home. I loved a good joke from the day I was born and I thought it was so funny I had convinced you both that I was a boy. During your pregnancy, you thought I was a boy. And when I was born, I remember you and Dad kept saying that I looked exactly like my brother, Taylor. I just smiled when the midwife surprised you by telling you I was a girl. I was so happy to be here to receive my earthly body and to live my life so that I would return once again to my Father in Heaven. I still remember you holding me that day, and telling me I was too precious for this world. My birth was peaceful and painless for you, Mom. I knew that we would have plenty of pain in the future. It has been an incredible journey. I was so lucky to have lived the life I did.

Mom…Mother…those are very sacred words to a child. I learned just how special a mother is very early on. But I had no idea just how special my mother would be in my life. We shared something so amazing, so wonderful, I don’t even think it was of this world. You were my Mom, my friend, my sister, my protector…Mom, you were everything to me in my short life that I lived. I can’t even begin to thank you enough for how much of your life you sacrificed for me. I learned so much from you. 

Mom, you were the first one that sensed something was wrong with me. Even when I was a baby, I remember how many pictures you took of me. Your spirit somehow sensed that my time here would be very short. Just like so many things, your intuition was right. I can’t even begin to name the many acts of selfishness you did for me, Mom. I first started getting what everyone thought was cradle cap when I was just 16 months old. That was the beginning of the disease that would shorten my time on earth.

On 4^th of July weekend I woke up in the middle of the night incredibly thirsty. It seemed like after that, I just couldn’t get enough water. By September, I was drinking 2 gallons of water a day. My condition started to rapidly deteriorate. That was the first time I ended up in Primary Children’s hospital. The doctors said I had 3 days to live. They started aggressive chemotherapy in the hopes of saving me. That would be the first of many times, I would be close to death. The rest of my life, from that point forward, was spent in and out of Primary Children’s Hospital—mostly in and not enough out.

I cannot imagine how terrifying it must be to be a parent and to learn that your child may die. I had a feeling my condition was serious, but the one thing I admired most about you, Mom and Dad, was that you never got sad or upset. In fact, Dad, you were always joking with the nurses and doctors and trying to cheer everyone else up. I think they thought you were crazy because you didn’t get sad. But they don’t know what I know—that I have the most amazing parents—who through life’s greatest trials had peace in their hearts, a love for the Savior, and a desire to be happy even if it was just to let me know everything was going to be okay.

I remember another time I came close to death. My heart rate jumped to 228 beats per minute. My blood pressure was 42/14. Dad was right by my side as they rushed me to ICU. He kept asking me what I was mumbling, but I didn’t want to stop what I was saying. He finally figured out I was praying when he heard me say, “In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.” I prayed because that is what you taught me to do by word and deed.

I know you both always said I was such a fighter—and I was—I got that from both of you. You guys are pretty tough. Mom, remember when you decided to run a marathon even when you had spent the last two months lying in bed with me? You went with the intention of running only 8 or 10 miles, but you ended up finishing. I know you said it was because you kept thinking about how much pain I had endured and that you kept going because you knew you couldn’t complain about pain. I was so proud of you. Who’s Mom does that? My Mom, that’s who—because you are amazing, Mom.

Dad, I am so grateful that you were so funny all of the time. You could always make me laugh and that’s what I usually needed the most. My favorite video was what I called my “Daddy” movie. It was just a home video but it showed you doing so many funny things. I watched it over and over and laughed every time. I really am your biggest fan, Dad.

I can’t forget my brother or any of my sisters either. What a great family I came to. Kaley has been like a second Mother to me. I know I needed so much care that I actually needed a second Mom. Kaley, you were the best big sister a little girl could have asked for. You took such good care of me. I really trusted you, Kaley. You always tried to make sure I was having fun. You are such a great example to me and you have so many talents.

Taylor, you’re the best brother I have and you were my protector. You would always make sure I was safe and if you thought someone was being mean or going to cause me pain, you were the first person to my aid.

Alaina, my dear sweet sister, you were willing to give your life for me. When Mom and Dad had everyone tested for bone marrow so that I could have a transplant you thought you won the lottery because you were the only match. You didn’t care about the pain or the sacrifice. I was so touched when you told someone you were going to die so that I could have all of your bones and blood. You really were willing to give me your life so that I could live.

My little darling sister, Lilly. You are a special blessing to our family at this time. When Mom was pregnant with you, she would still stay in bed and hold me. I feel so close to you even though our lives on earth did not overlap much. You have such a sparkling personality and are so happy, I am so glad you have come at this time. You will be such a help to Mom and she will have you to dote on.

Mom and Dad, my journey on Earth was amazing. I know it was filled with a lot of pain, but I hope you don’t remember that because it was also filled with much joy and happiness. There are so many lessons I learned and I know you have too. I learned to love the Savior and have so much respect for His mission on Earth. He was with me throughout so much of my suffering. I know this without a doubt. I didn’t come here with the purpose to change people’s lives, I just wanted to be obedient and return to my Father in Heaven someday.

Mom, I know you’re hurting. I wish I could be there like you were there for me when I hurt so bad. I can’t hug you or hold you right now, but I know that Dad gives the best hugs in the world. And, that when he holds you, everything in the world seems right. He held me a lot when I was on Earth. So when you’re sad, just hug Daddy for me and I promise I’ll be there in every hug he gives you.

Dad, you’re amazing. You have always been so kind and patient. When I was in the hospital, you always had a smile on your face and tried to make everyone laugh. Your sense of humor and good attitude got me through a lot. No matter how much pain I was in, I knew you were there. You are so strong and I know you hurt when you couldn’t help me and I would cry out for you. But, I want you to know you helped me in so many ways. I am so proud that you were my Daddy.

Dad, I remember our trips to the gas station. You would buy me a baby coke and gummi bears. I really just liked to go out and spend time with my dad. When I got really sick I didn’t like to eat much, but you did and you would always take me with you. You would even let me order food even though you knew I was never going to eat it. I just had fun being with you and watching you eat.

Mom and Dad, I don’t want you to have any regrets. You did more than enough for me. You sacrificed so much and I learned so much when I was with you. All of us grew in our strength and testimony of our Savior Jesus Christ. Towards the end of my life, I kept hanging on. I wanted to go when you were ready for me to go. I don’t regret one minute of my life. I know that as you both knelt down and prayed in the hospital to let me go, that the Lord was with you. I know that my time on earth was up and that it was time for me to return to my Heavenly home.

I passed to the next life on January 23, 2011 at 9:20 pm while my mother held me in her arms and kept her hand over my heart until it quit beating. I came into this world with both of my parents anxiously awaiting my arrival…and I left peacefully with both of you there so say goodbye.

I cannot describe in words how much I love my family. I may not continue with you on Earth, but I promise each of you, I will be the first one waiting to greet you when it is your time to come. I will never be far away. I love you, Mom and Dad.

Love your daughter,

Arianna

Scariest elementary haunted house ever

The kids are so excited about Halloween. Since I have the kids for the holiday, I am obligated to buy their costumes. They wanted specific things: Captain America for Lane; Spider Monkey Alien from Ben 10 for Porter; and Madison wanted to be a Lady Bug. Of course, the divorce guilt always makes you want to get them what they want. Okay, it’s just the mom guilt I guess. I love seeing them happy, especially when it comes to make believe. I searched for the cheapest costumes I could find and low and behold Amazon had them 10 to 15 dollars cheaper than retail stores.

I had to wait til payday to order them and wasn’t sure just what bills I was going to have to juggle, but decided to throw down the dough. They came in two shipments--one for the twins and one for Lane. The twins’ package showed up on Thursday and was delivered to the office. Unfortunately, since my legal name change the office didn’t believe it was the right person so they sent it back with the driver. I don’t even want to go into the multitude of calls and lies given and taken from the delivery company. They couldn’t locate the driver, they couldn’t find the package, it was a nightmare. The package still has not come, but Amazon refunded one costume and sent me a replacement of the other. I can buy Porter’s in town—just ten bucks more.

I sat the kids down and explained we were going to have a Plan B as the costumes definitely weren’t going to be here by Saturday for their school Spooktacular. Bless their little hearts they dug through my costume box and found old costumes and dress up stuff. Madison put on her 49ers cheerleader outfit and Porter picked out a “ninja” costume. They were such good sports and didn’t complain at all, even when Lane’s cute little muscle man Captain America showed up. 

When we were walking to the school event, people were passing us and Lane said, “Mom, no one even recognizes me.” He was so pleased that he was such a convincing Captain America. I wanted to say that’s because no one would recognize you if you didn’t have your costume on, but I didn’t want to ruin his illusion that no one really believed he was the real Captain America.

We went to Spooktacular at their elementary school. I was so disappointed they were charging for breathing at the event. The kids really wanted to go to the Haunted house so we stood in line for 45 minutes waiting for that. And, it cost me 8 bucks for all of us. I only had 20 bucks with me so we had to budget, budget, budget. Halfway through the spook house, Madison had fallen to her knees in terror. Screaming, crying, and not moving one bit. We were holding onto a rope with a group of people and I could not get her to move. I had to pick her up and carry her.

Porter lasted almost until the end and then he had a break down. He usually gets upset if Madison is crying or hurt. She has no feelings when it’s happening to him. Both of the twins were frozen with fright and screaming at the top of their lungs. I’m trying to get them to keep moving. It’s impossible for me to hold both of them, plus I had Lane to worry about who was leisurely traipsing through the maze as if he were looking at art in a museum.

Somehow, we finally get to the end and have to exit out a door that happens to be close to the line of people that are waiting in line to go in. There were literally at least 100 people standing there when we came out so I’m guesstimating 200 hundred eyeballs were on us. I can’t walk—one has one leg and one has the other. They are STILL screaming in terror with tears running down their cheeks. It takes me awhile to get them to SHUT UP! I keep telling them we’re outta there so calm down. It’s over and I can’t believe I paid eight bucks for this. Lane is walking nonchalantly behind them as a little miniature Captain America with his palms face up saying, “What? What guys? It wasn’t that scary. It's even real.”

They vowed to never go to a haunted house again. Madison said, “I knew it was going to be scary, but I thought it was going to be like, ‘Boo!’ scary.” After that we bought shaved ice and they calmed down. With our remaining three tickets we bought two slices of pizza. The kids had more fun playing on the playground with their friends. Porter had to go to the bathroom and so I escorted him, but not before leaving strict instructions with Madison to watch Lane. Right before Porter was done, I was scanning the playground to check on my other two. I see Lane in an open area with a police officer squatted down next to him. Oh my gosh! I think. Lane is notorious for screaming, “Mom!” very loudly when he can’t find me. He’s not crying he just thinks if he yells loud enough I’ll hear him from China. I grab Porter’s arm and tell him I have to run to get Lane. I’m running through the playground and see another police officer show up. Now one of them is on the radio and they’re looking around for an irresponsible mother. 

In my marathon trek, I pass Madison leisurely sitting on the monkey bars with her friend watching the whole scene unfold. As I run by I yell, “Madison I told you to watch him!” I am watching him Mom, he’s right there. That girl.

I run up to the police officers and try to explain I was at the bathroom with one of my twins and saw him from afar. They were really cool about it and cancelled their call to Child Protective Services. I asked Lane what he said to them. He said nothing. Well what did they ask you? He said they wanted to know what my Mom’s name was. I told them, “Whizabith Lane.” And did they ask your name? Yea, I told them my name was Lane. Okay, so now they think his name is probably Lane Lane. He said, “I didn’t tell them your name was Mom because they wouldn’t know who that was.” He smiled smugly as if he was just that smart.

On the walk back to the car, Lane started singing his own version of Taylor Swift’s song:

And twins will never ever ever ever go to back to haunted houses again

Cause first she screamed and then he screamed and I just laughed

Oh we-ee-ee will never ever ever ever go back to there again

The twins were disgruntled and said, “Stop singing that song, Lane!” So he started the verse again.

God taught me a lesson today

Today, God gave me a lesson I didn’t even realize I needed.

I was driving back to the office from Target, windows down, letting the breeze cut through the stillness of my thoughts. The weather was perfect—the kind that makes you pause and actually notice life for a moment. As I slowed down, easing into the parking lot, a young woman called out, “Excuse me...”

Here we go, I thought. Another panhandler. I’ve been through this before: the awkward exchange, the inevitable “I don’t have any cash on me” because—truthfully—I don’t. I make it a point not to carry cash, always prepared with a reason not to give.

But this time, I stopped. She asked if I was parking there, and when I said yes, she surprised me. “Could I wash your windows for some money?” she asked. She held up a knapsack with cleaner and paper towels. She wasn’t asking for a handout; she was asking to work.

I looked at her. There was something in her eyes—something strong, something proud. She didn’t seem like someone used to being in a place like this, but here she was, humble enough to do what she needed to survive. She wasn’t beneath asking for money, but she wasn’t about to take it for free. And in her, I saw a reflection of myself.

I’ve been in places I never expected to be financially. I’ve worked jobs I never imagined I’d have to, sometimes juggling two at once just to keep the bills paid. Like her, I’ve felt the weight of needing to provide, of wondering if I was doing enough for my kids, of holding onto pride even when life stripped it bare.

And yet, I’ve complained. I’ve grumbled about my cramped living space, my car payments, my laundry piling up for trips to the complex laundromat. I’ve been annoyed by the broken TV that barely gets three channels and an air conditioner that can’t decide if it wants to freeze me or melt me. My loneliness in Vegas has been a constant hum in the background, amplified by the lack of time or energy to make new friends.

But this woman—this stranger washing windows to survive—made me see everything differently. She told me she lived under the tunnel down the road. I knew the place. Homeless people gather there, finding shelter where they can. She laughed about her worn-out shirt that barely covered her and said she needed food. Skinny but not frail, she looked like someone who spent her last pennies on survival, not indulgence.

My automatic response was ready: “I don’t carry cash.” But then I remembered something odd—something out of the ordinary. At Target, I’d asked for cash back. I rarely do that, but for some reason, I had that day. A few dollar bills sat tucked in my wallet, intended for the vending machine at the office.

“Wait,” I said, stopping myself mid-sentence. “I actually do have some money.” I gave her half of it, even though I’d skipped buying things for myself at Target to save money. As she began working on my windows, I handed her a bottle of water from my purse. She thanked me for the opportunity, her gratitude as genuine as her pride.

I walked towards the building, the weight of the moment settling over me. Fast-forward images flashed through my mind: my home, my car, my closet full of clothes, my cabinets stocked with food. My kids, who smother me with hugs and “I love you, Mom” notes taped to the walls. My job waiting for me inside, my friends cheering me on from afar, the simple luxuries I take for granted every single day.

And then there were the gifts I’d received just this past week: $20 from a friend, a $50 Chili’s gift card from a cousin, a handwritten letter full of encouragement and love. By the time I reached the door, I was ready to give her the shirt off my back—literally. I had a sweatshirt on over it and wouldn’t have thought twice about taking it off. But when I turned around, she was gone. My windows sparkled, and so did the realization settling into my heart.

I looked up at the sky and whispered, “Thank you. I got it. I really got it.” 

--------------------------------------------------------
By the way, this picture I found reminded me of her. The determined look and strength in her eyes. But, this picture is of Tyra Banks posing as a homeless person.

And they say Vegas isn't a safe place...

Woke up with the kids and we were headed out the door. While I was looking for the keys, the kids went out the front door and left it opened. There in the lock was my set of keys—apparently left from last night when we had returned home. The kids are in to wanting to use the keys to unlock the door. And, as I had my arms full of groceries, I never noticed the keys didn’t make it into the house.

Someone could have come in; someone could have figured out which car was mine and stolen it; someone could have just plain out stolen them. Thank goodness it wasn’t the night the crazy lady showed up at 2 a.m. I think we were lucky and definitely watched over by angels.

P.S. For anyone wanting to lecture me I already got chewed out my one of my besties. I mean up one side and down another chewed out. I know, I know, I know, I know...

Don't worry, be happy

You never know how divorce will affect your kids. Even though you hear it all the time how devastating it can be for them. I’ve been watching my own kids carefully to see if they are okay, or at least as “okay” as they can be with the circumstances. A fellow divorcee, told me his daughter didn’t start showing the effects of it until a couple of years after the divorce. She was a star student, and recently started failing in her classes. I have felt fortunate that my kids are so close in age (two 6, and one  4) that their bond with each other has helped them through a lot of this. And, no matter where they have been, they have been there together.

Porter, who is my sensitive child, has been getting upset easily lately. The past weekend when I brought them home with me he had a meltdown. He started getting really exasperated as he said, “Mom, I am so tired of people taking my bottle of Sprite and drinking it or throwing it away. I just want it to be where I left it!” All of this was said as he was breaking down in tears.

 I said,” Porter there is a whole fridge full of Sprite.”

He responded, “I know, but I AM the one who had to unscrew the lid!”

“Porter,” I said, “I put it back in the fridge. This isn’t a big deal.”

“Yes it is, Mom! You don’t understand,” he cried some more. “I’m just so tired of it.”

I told Porter I thought there was something else he may be upset about and asked him to come and talk with me. We propped ourselves up on some pillows and he fell into my arms. As we talked I ask him a lot of questions. I told him I felt like he was worried about everyone. He worried about his Dad, he worried about me, he worried about his Grandma, and he worried about his brother and his sister. He said he did and that he even worried about the kids at school.

I tried explaining to him that was a big burden for a six year old boy to be carrying around. He was only six and should be having fun like a six year old, not trying to take on the problems of the world. I explained that it was nice for him to care about all of these people, but it wasn’t his job to worry or try to fix their problems. He told me he tried to do nice things for everyone because he wanted everyone to be happy. I told him that he always looked so happy and had such a great smile. He said he did that because he was trying hard not to be sad inside.

Wow. That was a lot for me to take in. He essentially was trying to be the man of the house and take care of everyone in the only way he knew how. I asked him if he had been carrying this burden around for a long time. He said yes and started sobbing again. As gently as I could I told him, “Porter you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to carry all of this weight on your shoulders. Mom and Dad and everyone else have the opportunity to make their own choices and to fix their own problems. We all have Heavenly Father to help us with that too. That’s why we are here; to learn and to grow and to become better people. But we have to find our own way. Sometimes people in our lives are there to help us and support us but our lives are ours to own and be responsible for. You just have to worry about yourself and your life. And you always have Heavenly Father to talk to. He is only a prayer away and will be with you when no one else can.”

“So I don’t have to worry anymore?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “You can let it all go right now. In fact I’m going to pick it up off of your shoulders for you and smash it on the ground!” I pretended to lift something very heavy off of his back. He giggled when I did then this, and that was a welcome sound. If you are ever feeling like you are worrying too much I want you to remember something someone once told me. It is a phrase, “Let go, and let God.” It means that whenever you are worried about something you don’t have any control over or can’t fix you have to let it go. Then you can turn it over to God and let him and the other person take care of it. You don’t have to be the one to fix someone else’s problem. “You’re a pretty wise kid, buddy” I hugged him.

“I know,” he said.

I said, “ Do you know what that means?”

He said, “Yea, it means I’m really smart.”

I laughed, “I guess so.”

A few hours later, he was bouncing off the walls and smiling from ear to ear—a lot like the kid he used to be all of the time. I asked him “What got into you?” He jumped up on the bed and started bouncing on it like it was a trampoline and started shouting, “I don’t have to worry anymore!”

At the end of the day when we pray together, I asked each of the kids to say something they remember from the day that was good. Lane said, “Everything. I just like everything. I’m always happy.” True, true. Porter said, “I liked my talk I had with Mom.” Yes, it melted my heart. I’m so glad my son can talk to me. Madi said, “I still want to beat Oscar up for not letting Porter play with him. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about that!”  Oye vey!  She’s a whole other nut I’m not sure I know how to crack. Her anger is masking her feelings and she’s not easy to talk too….another chapter.

The next evening, a day later, the other kids had fallen asleep and Porter came and cuddled with me. He told me he wanted me to get married to a man that didn’t yell at me. And then there were three other things he thought I should have: 1) strong; 2) could play football really good; and 3) was rich. Hmmm….I thought, he wants to me to start dating NFL players. Alright, I’ll put that on my list of things to do.

Later in our conversation he said, “Mom if you knew that about me (referring to his worrying) why didn’t you tell me sooner? It has helped so much.”

I said, “Porter I didn’t know exactly what was wrong. I just could sense there was something and didn’t know for sure until after I talked to you.”

He said, “Boy, I wish you would have told me about that sooner.”

I asked, “So it’s been a big relief for you?”

“Yea,” he said, “I like being a six year old boy. I always wanted to grow up really fast so I could do big things.  I think kids always want to be grownups and I’ve noticed that grownups always say they wish they could be a kid again. Everyone wants the opposite, but right now I think I just want to be a kid.”

That’s what I want for him too. I’m grateful he talks to me and for his wisdom and insight. He is a tender hearted boy who has tried to step in and be the man in my life. I love who he is and know he will grow up to be an amazing man, but am heartbroken he has been put in this position. Let go, and let God.

I'm at a payphone

My kids love to hear me tell stories about when I was growing up. I've recently started telling them stories about the pizza parlor my parents owned when I was a kid. I never realized how many things I would have to explain and describe to them. Things they had never heard of--like the huge arcade games we had to pay a quarter to play. Or, what 45 RPM records were inside of a jukebox. And the payphone in the corner...it was too much. They can get all of three of those things in a little tiny cell phone now.

They could not for the life of them figure out why somebody would attach a phone to a wall. When I told them we had to put money in it to make a phone call, they thought that was the most absurd idea ever imagined. They looked at my phone and tried to figure out how someone was supposed to put quarters inside. I explained how bulky a payphone was. I told them there was a short cord attached to the handle so you couldn't walk away from this big, huge box.

I tried to share my teenage years of euphoria mastering arcade games including Ms. Pacman, Donkey Kong, and Centipede. They gave me blank stares. I sang, "I've gotta pocket full or quarters, and I'm headed to the arcade!" They said to stop singing so I never finished, "...I've got Pacman fever!" They asked what's with quarters in 1982? Everything needs a quarter. None of this absorbed into their 21st century minds. Machines that nearly touched the ceiling; manipulating a joystick to play or tapping buttons; and least understood of all—more quarters. They concluded that everything back then needed a quarter. 

It’s unbelievable that technology has advanced so much that my children have no frame of reference to understand what I am explaining. The only thing that made sense was Sandy the quarter horse. They got that. Those are still around. But, even Sandy asked for a quarter. Their favorite thing was the idea of a huge refrigerator a person could walk in to. And, an oven so big it could hold almost 40 pizzas. I haven't told them about the soda machine that poured endless multiple flavors of pure cavity causing bliss! That they would get.

Cow for sale

Two sisters lived next to each other. They both lived on farm. One sister bought a cow. Of course, they shared the milk. The sister, who owned the cow, experienced a financial hardship with her family. Her sister, who didn’t own the cow offered to buy the cow for $500. The cow stayed in the same place and they both shared the milk. Later, the sister who now owned the cow, needed help. The other sister decided to buy “her” cow back. This practice went on for years as they took turns giving to each other when they needed help.

Life seems to be that way for everyone. Sometimes you buy the cow, and sometimes you need to sell it. I have never wanted to be the one to sell my cow. The blessings of hardship are the many friends and family always willing to buy your cow. This experience has happened with me a lot. I can remember the years of surplus; when I was single and always had extra money. I was so thrifty I always seemed to be in a position to help someone else. I’ve bought a lot cows.

Unless you’re a socialist, you can’t possibly want a handout or someone else to take care of you. I’ve been very blessed to have people reach out to me and help. Someone gave me $40 bucks for gas yesterday; someone that previously I have loaned money to and helped them buy groceries when they didn’t have a dime. My pride didn’t want to take it, but my wallet was starving.

My best friend, whom I know would not like to be mentioned, has been buying so many cows lately she’s going to have a herd soon. There was an advertisement on television for a “cash giveaway.” My little son, Lane, who always seems to be so acutely aware of my financial circumstances it breaks my heart, said one day, “Mom, I really hope you get a cash giveaway.” Not much later, my friend had sent me a check. She wanted to buy a cow. It was for $200. I told Lane, “Hey, guess what buddy? We won the cash giveaway!” He was so thrilled and so happy for me just because he had wished it. The money bought much needed things for the kids.

I used to be the cow buyer. It’s hard to have to sell your cows. But I’ve realized that sometimes we are up and sometimes we are down. Without people around who love you and care for you, you’d be in a real bind sometimes. Whether it is karma or just kindness, I think it’s always good to give. I’ve had my turn giving and lately seem to be taking. I’m taking it in stride and overwhelming thankful but trying to buy back my cows. If you’ve got the money or the means, go buy a cow; there’s always someone that really needs to sell one.