Miracles Still Happen

The most difficult moments in life most often occur when you fear for your children and feel helpless to do anything about it. Thankfully I have not had to experience this type of event many times in my life. However, on the 6Th of March one of those fearful moments did happen.

My youngest daughter, who is attending Southern Utah University in Cedar City, Utah, was traveling home to see her brother promenade at his junior prom (which is a HUGE event in Moab). She had only traveled about 40 miles on the interstate and it was beginning to snow quite a bit. Valerie lost control and spun off the road into the median. We aren't sure how many times she spun or what happened before she left the interstate but she entered the median going sideways, (we can tell this from the distance of the wheel path). She skidded about 200 feet before the car flipped and ended upside down.





Thankfully she always wears her seat belt. Other travelers witnessed what happened and rushed to help. She was able to get out of the car and realized that, MIRACULOUSLY, she was not injured. This is something that most often doesn't happen. It is hard to explain the anguish and fear that I felt waiting to hear her voice and know that she was OK. Of course there was a couple of days of sore muscles and fitful sleep. Thankfully she had wonderful friends around her that took great care of her until we were able to get to her.


I know that she was blessed to have survived such an event at all let alone uninjured. Valerie's spring break was this past week and she spent it at home with the family. It was so nice to have her here. I realized how much I have missed her while she has been at school. I am truly grateful to my Heavenly Father for granting us this evidence of modern day miracles

I Feel Like Dancin'

I enter the dance studio with my clogging in hand, taps jingling. I feel a little silly coming here. This is a place usually filled with girls from about three years to about 15. It is clear that I am not a part of that grouping. Though I have spent many years inside my share of dance studios, it was always as a spectator. I enjoyed the many hours watching and encouraging my own daughters as they worked to learn the various tap, ballet and clogging routines. Secretly, I always wished I had been able to participate. This is something that was not a part of my childhood.

So here I am. A little nervous, afraid of looking stupid, and feeling a little self-conscious. I look around at the other adults who have decided to take the clogging class as well. I size them up. Most of them are at least 20 years younger and at least that many pounds lighter. Some of them I recognize but cannot place a name with the face. Strangers! Then I see a face I know. A friend. Merrie! Finally, someone I can relate to. Someone in my age group! She shows no signs of fear and so I find courage, and gather my resolve to do this. I put on my white clogging shoes and find a place beside Merrie. We begin learning the basic steps and it all seems fairly simple. As the music begins, we hear the sounds of "Don't Tell Me" by Madonna coming through the speakers. Suddenly it seems that the music is too fast and I don't think that it is possible to do these dance steps at that rate of speed. As it turns out I was right.

However, about seven weeks have passed since I began this new adventure. Some of the younger students have excelled and others have dropped out. I am somewhere in between the two. We have learned all the steps in the routine and continue to get better each week. The music doesn't seem as fast but the routine seems to get longer as we approach the end of the class. I continually find myself trying to keep straight in my mind the difference between a "Double" and a "Fancy Double", the "Donkey" and the "Outhouse", and the "Rocking Horse" and the "Karate kick". When the class ends there is excitement that we made it through the entire routine. It feels good.

At the end of the class we watch the young dancers begin to leave and Merrie and I head to the back of the studio. We laugh at how much fun it is, talk about our accomplishment and then take a minute to rest!

Feeling Blue!

I still remember the first time I saw a truly blue sky. I was 19 years old and made my first trip to Moab to see Rusty and meet his family. I thought how unbelievable the sky was. It reminded me of a crayon picture drawn by a small child, you know the one with the house and the tree in the yard with really green grass and a blue sky. It is the same one all kids draw. I never understood why we all chose that same color blue because I know that I had never seen a sky that color, until that spring day. After nearly twenty nine years it still amazes me.

It is the 4Th of February, still officially winter. As I venture out to walk/jog my daily three miles, I am welcomed again by the beauty that surrounds me in my own little corner of the world. I am again reminded why the world is drawn to come here in search of the beauty that greets us everyday and we most often take for granted. I find myself slowing my pace and pause to gaze at the intensity and beauty of God's creations. Feeling certain that this is the only place with a sky this blue and grateful that this is home, I continue on looking upward and with a much lighter step.

With the passing of years and the inability to to stop the aging process which is being thrust upon me, I am drawn to find sources which will prove my youthfulness. As a result I have given into the need for speed and daring recklessness. After much longing and window shopping I finally took the leap into the world of speed on two wheels!

Oh, the thrill of speeding by the tourist bikers and joggers, the little kids staring in awe and the seniors wishing they would've had the courage to take the leap. I love to feel the power as I cruise along on my scooter with the Raspberry Ice Metallic color glistening as I ride off into the sunset.