Today, while talking with a lady about my book and how it had helped a loved one, she said, “We all have a story.” She continued by saying that if you’ve lived any length of time, you have something to say. I couldn’t agree more. While this blog tends to focus on Alzheimer’s, my story—and Mike’s story—is so much more than that. In my short 52 years, I have opened businesses, lost friends, lost my parents, watched my son do the impossible, laughed, loved, gotten angry, forgiven, celebrated, and mourned. My dad’s time was short—only 70 years—but he had traveled, lived, and fought in a war he rarely spoke about. He was married, raised kids, and lived and worked quietly and humbly. And then there was my mom, Bethel. She was larger than life, opinionated, and unapologetic, and I lost her way too soon.
But it leads me to ask: What’s my story? At 52, what is the main lesson I have learned? It’s not one single lesson. Each road I have traveled, and the people in each season of life, have taught me something about myself and the world around me. I have had friends come and go, some there just for a season, meant to get me through that particular moment in time. It doesn’t lessen the impact they had on my life; it just means they weren’t meant to be forever. I loved them for different reasons and am forever thankful for their impact on my world. My parents, of course, taught me the early lessons: my dad taught me to never quit and to always give 100%, even if I fail. My mom taught me to laugh when I can—to laugh big and loud, and not hold back—because it can change my whole mindset, and it’s contagious. In getting married, Paul taught me compromise. He taught me that I am not alone in the world and that the sun does not rise and set because of me, regardless of how I feel. Raising kids reinforced the need to laugh in the face of anything life might throw at me. Jordan taught me perseverance and that quitting is never an option. Michael taught me to dance like no one is watching and to live in the moment. And the grands remind me daily to just be in the moment. My hair, makeup, and outfit are not on their radar—just play, Lala… just play. And last, but most definitely not least, my relationship with Jesus has taught me that without Him, you’re just treading water.
So today, I encourage you to look back: What have you learned? Look forward: Who are you putting your faith and trust in? And remember, the trials are there to teach us the big stuff—but also remember to play hard, love big, and laugh loud.
