Mary, Queen of Peace, Where Are You??

Do you ever wonder why

social change takes so long?

PEOPLE AWARE OF AN INJUSTICE

THOSE WHO CARE ABOUT IT

THOSE WHO SPEAK UP ABOUT IT

THOSE WHO GIVE MONEY

THOSE WHO GIVE TIME

THOSE WHO TAKE INITIATIVE

Be an ally.

*****

Mary, Queen of Peace, where are you??

Today is the first day of school and Chris doesn't get to start Kindergarten.

Why??

At your school, with your name, with your strength and wisdom and history of miracles,

they said no.

Even though he was there in the prekindergarten last year.

Chris, it turns out, has a little too much Down Syndrome.

"He's severely effected."

Which, by the way, isn't even a thing.

People with Down Syndrome either have it or they don't.

They are all learners.

They all have hopes and dreams.

Some might be more delayed but that doesn't mean they aren't learning.

What's going on in kindergarten that a child with Down Syndrome can't participate in?

Is it the social skills?

Well, let's be honest, Chris won't be the only one who needs to work on that.

Is it the academics?

Pretty sure that Chris ins't the only one who could use some extra help there.

Is it the idea that every single one of us is holy and sacred and made in God's image?

**That's a core belief of Catholicism and one of Mary's shining lights.**

Is Chris not holy enough? 

Sacred enough?

Is he broken??

No.

Hell no.

He is made in God's image, exactly as God intended.

He is beautiful.

He is irreplaceable.

He is miraculous.

Mary, Queen of Peace, yes, she knows this.

Mary, Queen of Peace, the school, near St. Louis, Missouri, 

is apparently still trying to figure it out.

We need bravery.

We need courage.

We need a whole crew of people to step up and shout that Chris deserves to be there.

Right alongside their own kid.

Learning and growing.

We need voices.

We need action.

We need to live social justice and not just talk about it.

Come on.

Mary, Queen of Peace, the school, the faculty, the parents, the students, the priests, the parish...where are you??

Do you even know this is happening?

How much do you believe in Mary, Queen of Peace?

She makes miracles happen.

She comforts.

She leads.

She defends and protects.

Let her show you the way.

Trust her.

Watch what happens with a little faith and effort.

I know because I've lived it.

My own son, Patrick, who also has Down Syndrome, went to kindergarten at St. James Catholic School in Davis, California.

He actually went to first and second and third and fourth and fifth and sixth and seventh and yes, even eighth grade there.

He just graduated this year.

Was it perfect?

Nope.

Did we learn a lot?

Yep.

Was it worth it?

Most definitely.

Could we help you??

Of course!!

I've got not just one kindergarten teacher but two that would be willing to help.

(Heck, I've even got a couple of principals who would talk to you!)

They are amazing teachers and yes, they believe that Chris can learn 

alongside of his classmates.

In fact, they know he will read and write and learn his math facts just like the rest.

It might take some more repetition.  It might take several different ways.

But it will happen.

In Chris's way. In his timing.

And it will be exactly right.

And, I'd love to have an excuse to visit you near St Louis and introduce you to Patrick...

I'd love to do an inservice for your teachers and share what we've learned.

I work with beginning teachers as my job with our local university, UC Davis.

I can send you a resume.

And guess what?

We have the educational research to help you.

We know what to do.

We know the teaching techniques that work.

We know what apps work.

We know how to use technology to help learners like Chris

...and here's the good part...

that research, that technology, those teaching techniques won't just help Chris, 

they will help all of your struggling learners...

and let's not pretend that Chris is the only student who struggles.

There's a guaranteed  10% that struggle.

In every classroom.

Your entire school will benefit with Chris's inclusion, both academically and socially.

This has been documented time and again with research and 

this is what we've seen at St. James.

Here's another mind-blower:

In the entire United Kingdom, it is standard practice to place every child with 

Down Syndrome into their neighborhood school fully included with support in kindergarten.  

If it's good enough for the UK, don't you think Mary, Queen of Peace could try?

I know you want to do what's best for Chris 

and the rest of the students who attend your school.

I know you care.

What's best for Chris (and the entire student body) is creating an environment that allows Chris to learn at the same school as his sister.

What's best for Chris (and the entire student body) is the message that he is valuable.

And worthy.

And good enough.

That's the message you want to send.

Stop being afraid.

Stop thinking you can't do this.

Open your heart to Mary, Queen of Peace, to the Holy Spirit, and to Jesus Christ and 

let it all unfold.

Do you think it's an accident that Chris's mom and I crossed paths?

I don't.

I know it's what God intended.

I can see God's hand in all of this.

Your school's name is no accident.

Patrick's kindergarten teacher 

(who wasn't too sure about Patrick going to kindergarten there)

signed every letter she wrote home to the parents with this phrase:

"With God, all things are possible."

Once I saw that, I knew we had a chance.

And we did.

Here is Patrick on his graduation day, May 30th, 2014.

Yep, miracles do come true.

Believe it.

Doing Without

So, my family and I went up to one of our favorite family spots.

I wrote about it a couple of years ago: here.

It's called Silver Lake.

It should be called Sliver Lake....since it's just a tiny spot...a sliver in the woods.

Found in 1938 by my husband's grandmother, Mary Goni.

There's a cliff made of giant boulders.

A blue lake fed entirely by snowpack.

Pine trees, crown blue jays, chipmunks, bats that feast on the bugs at dusk and osprey.

Those osprey soar all over the lake, high up, searching for their perfect tasty morsel and then scoop that unsuspecting fish right out of the lake with the most amazing no-shirk-grip talons you've ever seen.

I've seen those birds snatch up their dinner many times and each time I'm the one who's unsuspecting...

wanting to yell, at somebody, anybody, "Did you just see that??!!"

A bird plucked a fish straight out of the lake!!

Can the bird get a standing O right now?

I feel like the guy from Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom...full front row seat.

Breathless.

Visiting Silver Lake takes some concessions.

You have to be able to let go of the internet.

There's no cell reception.at.all.

Off the grid.

This is both an endearing quality and a maddening one.

You have to let go of electricity.

None.

You live by candlelight and roaring fires and get in the rhythm of the natural light.

I feel both Amish and woodsy in a Little House on the Prairie way that just works.

Don't mind it at all.

You have to let go of plumbing.

You use an outhouse at Silver Lake and it's actually completely fine.

Yes, you're in a house.  Yes, there are bathrooms and showers.

But, they just don't get used.

(Exceptions are made for very young children. Read: babies. But that's it.)

But this time...this time the well was dry.

Bone dry.

Not one single drip came out of the kitchen sink faucet.

Nothin.

It was eerie.

It was comical. (at first)

It was one more rung on the doing without ladder...and I wasn't expecting it.

True. California is in a severe drought.

True. We have always brought up a couple gallons of water just to be safe.

True. People stayed at the cabin before us and that doesn't usually happen.

Spoiler alert: I should have known better.

So, my family spent four days and used six gallons of water.

Total.

Six people and a dog.

6 gallons.

I developed wizarding skills that could rival Hermione in my dishwashing ability.

We got creative...and miserly...and downright scavengerish.

I even looked at Buddy's water bowl in a whole new way...resentfully.

(and I'm one of those crazy dog-loving people!)

Funny what a little deprivation feels like.

In truth, we had plenty to drink and eat.

We stayed in a house that sleeps 12.

It's just that it had no water.

It had a gorgeous lake to swim and canoe and kayak and play in.

It had rocks to climb.

Hikes to take.

Wildlife to watch.

Best of all, we were together.all.of.us.

Candlelight monopoly games.

Talking and laughing and just being together.

Sleepy mornings and fireside s'mores.

It's truthfully a little slice of heaven...

just without any water.

So, I watched my kids deal...and no complaints came.

The eight year old loved Silver Lake with even more abandon and wonder than last time.

The 15 year old was more worried about the lack of electricity for his Iphone.

The 19 year old was freaking out about trying the gigantic huge rope swing...steeling herself for the moment of truth.

The 21 year old...well, he got it.

#welcometoadulthood

It cut our time short.

It made me focus on something that's been in my peripheral vision for quite awhile.

I've been taking water for granted for far too long.

Mostly, it made me a sister to the millions of mothers who must walk to clean drinking water 

and carry it home.

Only for me, I knew I was a car ride away from that craziness,

 a long car ride, 

but still.

So tonight I am grateful for a faucet that runs...

grateful for a hot shower...

and a flushing toilet inside my home.

But mostly I'm grateful for those five people and one dog that graced my days at Silver Lake.

Sure, we weren't expecting to play a real life game of Survivor.

Sure, our kitchenware didn't win any cleanliness awards and 

we used way too many disposable dishes.

But we were together...

unplugged and in the candlelight...

it doesn't get any better.

Thank you Mary Goni.

Those kids don't even look thirsty!
#waytoomanycokesthistrip

Hanging Out With Eagles

Today was another one of those hold-your-breath-its-really-happening days.

I've been letting Patrick hang out on his own at home.

Just like with typical kids, there's no manual for kids with Down Syndrome.

No rule book.  No cheat sheet.

I really wish there was, trust me, because most of the time my parenting tactic is: 

guess --> see what happens and hold your breath --> adjust.

I try not to be too crazy cautious with Patrick.

That alone is a leap of faith...and a generous reliance on the rest of humanity 

out there in the big, bad world, 

and it's oh so hard.

Not hard for him by the way...just hard for me.

Anyway, he's been on his own at home, probably watching too much TV but learning to have independence.

Today I had to run around and do errands and thought that might be a good chance for Patrick to hang out on his own.

Every other time I've left him, I've found him watching TV or on the computer when I get home.

Today I found him cooking.

He made his lunch.

It was a gourmet sandwich of tuna and turkey. 

He found some tortilla chips and some cream cheese and thought that might be a good combo as well.

When I got back, he had that smile on his face that feels so great to see.

The I-did-it-and-I'm-awesome smile.

As a parent, there is nothing better.

When they're toddlers or preschoolers, you see that look all the time.

As a school age child, occasionally you see it and boy, does it feel amazing.

As your kid gets older and older, it's like a rare sighting of Sasquatch,  you're not even sure if you've seen it...many, many times, their eyes are down and they are smiling to themselves...sometimes there's a perfect moment and your eyes catch each other and you telepathically high five -- with a goofy grin across your face.

Maybe it's because every single step forward is hard won for Patrick, 

or maybe it's because I just don't have any reference points on my trail...

no cute pile of three rocks showing me I've made it to the next spot,

for some reason, the most basic steps forward to independence are marvels and wonders.

Every time, it makes me value my own independence.

It's pretty amazing I can live on my own, navigate the world, pursue my dreams and help my kids and John to work toward theirs.

I don't need much support...but maybe that's because I've been allowed to hang out with eagles my whole life...

there was no question I would fly.

But when you're born with a disability, people want you to hang out with the chickens...

they want you to earn your way to the eagle's nest.

You need to prove your worthiness.

*****

Sometimes, you don't even get to hang out with chickens...you are thrown away, discarded and worst of all disregarded.

Here's a real life example of what just happened to a baby that had the audacity to be born with Down Syndrome while his twin sister did not.

*****

So today, Patrick made his lunch, watched the clock, got his stuff together and 

headed off on his bike to camp.

I hounded him to make sure and text me when he got there.

He promised he would,

and he did.

Later he texted me this costume pic...technology is amazing.

...another trail marker...

three pretty rocks.

Presume competence.

Offer supports.

And then,

...hang out with the eagles, my boy...

Fly, Patrick, Fly.

Dear Benjamin Netanyahu

Dear Mr. Netanyahu,

I know it's crazy...this idea of a mom from California...just a teacher and mom presuming to talk to you...but somebody's got to.

Have you noticed what's happening?

Is it working out well?

You getting attacked...and you attacking back.

It's timeless.

It's pointless.

It's clearly not working.

You know the definition of insanity, right?  Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

Let's back track:  your strategy isn't working.

Hamas continues to bomb and Israeli soldiers continue to die -- not to mention a whole bunch of children and mothers and fathers and people who have the sheer bad luck of being stuck right there at ground zero.

So...what can be done?

Well, you can continue doing what you're doing and it can continue not to work...or you can think outside the box.

You can be radical.

Radical for peace.

Imagine how powerful it would be to have Hamas launch rockets at Israel and to have Israel respond with silence...
how about with prayer?

How about if the entire state of Israel spent a day in prayer...deep in prayer all day long?

All of the businesses shut down...all of the schools closed...all of the vacationers paused...
paused in prayerful peace.

Would the world take note?

Would your enemies?

Last week, we had a horrific crime happen in a neighboring city.  Three guys robbed a bank and took three hostages and then proceeded to drive all over the city shooting to kill.  The mother of a 12 year old who was taken hostage was killed...while her 12 year old waited in their car at the bank...killed for no reason.

Guess what her sister chose to do?

In a terrible moment of grief, with a bald head from cancer treatment, the sister of the woman killed ask for people to pray for her and for her family...and then she asked that the crowd pray for the robbers and for their families too.

Incredible.

It takes two to fight -- that's what I tell my kids all day long -- two.

What if Israel just chose not to fight and instead chose peace.

Over and over again.

It might feel like the weakest thing you've ever done as a leader but in fact it would be the most powerful act you have ever done.

(I call this the Yoga Yield -- it's counter-intuitive -- but the moment when you yield when you really really want to push and force it, is the moment it yields and becomes right.)

We've seen what peace can do --

and it's a whole lot more powerful than weapons.

We know this.

You know this.

Be radical.

Think outside the box.

Stay silent in prayer.

Use your Iron Dome...you're protected.

But change it up...let your enemies be shocked.

And let the world see your goodness.

Let the world see you working for peace.

Make peace your goal.

Make peace your prayer.

Never stop believing in its possibility.

And watch what happens.

Give peace a chance.

You can be a hero for the ages -- like Nelson Mandela -- or you can be just another world leader who has missed his chance....and played an old game.

You choose.

Hint:  Choose peace.

Sincerely, Beth Foraker -- mom, wife, sister, daughter, Catholic, ignorant of so much  -- but a citizen of the world praying for peace.

To Thine Own Self Be True

The guy likes Shakespeare.

I've told you that before...over here.

He walks around with a beat up MacBeth book in his hand and yes, he has huge chunks of it memorized.

For his birthday, his wise and thoughtful aunt got him a similar version of Hamlet.

It's called Shakespeare Made Easy.

On the left hand side of the page is the original text.  

On the right hand side is the translation or an easier version.

So, he's been walking around for a few weeks with Hamlet in hand...in restaurants, carrying it to speech,  thrown into my bike basket.  I had a friend who saw him in the waiting room at speech reading Hamlet come up to me and kind of ask out loud if this was real.

Did he like Hamlet?

YES.

He does...really.

As soon as she thought it was real, she turned to Patrick and started to dish...

who was his favorite character?  

What did he think of Hamlet?

We had stumbled onto another lover of the British playwright.

I think that as a way to diffuse, explode and crack away the myth that people with Down Syndrome are stupid, we should just have them carry around some texts of Shakespeare.

It blows people's minds.

Like looking in a fun house mirror they just aren't sure of what they see.

We like to place people in tiny, little, immovable boxes.

It's more comfortable that way...

but sometimes they don't fit in.

Sometimes the stereotype cracks.

People have to stop and rethink certain givens that they've trusted their whole life.

And if they stop and rethink that one, who knows, maybe there are a whole bunch of other certainties that just aren't that certain any more.

Powerful stuff.

But only if you're given the chance...

only if the opportunity is seized.

So, we took a chance and signed Patrick up with other teen-age Shakespeare fans for a two week camp.

It was all day long with typical kids and real actors and directors who are staging some Shakespeare for a festival in our town.

He got up each day energized and excited to go...but wouldn't tell us too much.

He didn't get the script for Much Ado About Nothing until midweek of the second week.

What had they been up to all this time??

Patrick got the part of Benedick for Act I and Don Pedro for Act II.

That, right there, was something he'd never considered before...

he fiddled with that idea, resisted it for a few days, but gradually came to know that you could play two parts.

The play of Much Ado About Nothing was going to be presented on Friday, 

just two days after getting the script.

Patrick began memorizing, repeating and rehearsing in his room...

but he didn't have enough time.

Thursday night he was worried.

He was used to knowing his lines (and everybody else's) -- he couldn't believe he wouldn't be ready.

But the joy of being a part of the play and a part of this group motivated him to accept the truth and just use the script when needed.

So today at 3pm, Caroline and I showed up for a little Shakespeare.

I'm always on pins and needles at things like this...you just never know how it's going to go.

But this was a group who shared a passion.

A group where he spoke the language.

A group where he belonged.

He didn't have to earn his way in...he just had to love Shakespeare and that was good enough.

The little play was a whole lot more...it had improv, movement, singing some explanation of who Shakespeare was as a person...and yes the entirety of 

Much Ado About Nothing.

Patrick was a part of everything.

Before my very eyes I watched a metamorphosis of unsure junior high kid into full high schooler...

confident and true to himself.

I was teary thinking of my friends with young children with Down Syndrome who continue to be denied entrance into this world of acceptance and inclusion.

If only those naysayers could have seen the improv!

I'm so grateful to a group of actors who have created a sanctuary for kids who love Shakespeare and allowed each teen the freedom to come as you are and take away all that you can.

For costumes for the show the kids were supposed to wear black.

We missed the memo.

Patrick came home the night before the show and created the costume he thought would work.

It wasn't black...

but I got no last minute phone call...

no rescuing the situation...

no tweaking or freaking out.

It didn't matter.

No one seemed to care, 

and the production went off without a hitch...

so refreshing.

Shakespeare with a chill pill.

And after the play came this quote,  "You can go now.  I'll meet you at home."

Full teen.

Tonight, I am grateful to the Davis Shakespeare Ensemble.

I'm grateful to this group of actors, directors and musicians who share their passion and work to make Shakespeare come alive.

Grateful for their hard work and ability to engage with teens of all sorts.

I'm grateful to live in a town that is accepting and tolerant and inclusive.

I'm grateful to an 8th grade teacher who taught Shakespeare to an entire group of middle schoolers, never dumbing it down or diluting it, thrilling them with the action and the language...

and lighting a fire.

Most especially, I am grateful to the Bard of Avon...

the witty, the insightful, the tragic and comic Shakespeare...

who has touched the heart and soul of my son hundreds of years later.

There's no doubt that Shakespeare has shaped my son...who would have guessed?

In Praise Of Those Pesky Dandelions In The Middle Of Our Manicured Lawns...and Other Thoughts On The Pursuit Of Pefection

Stop for a moment and take a look at this...

weed?

piece of perfection?

natural mystery?

perpetual propeller?

We pass it by every day.

Sometimes we are annoyed with the dandelion fluff as it teases us, even mocks us, as it stands so tall among the well-behaved blades of grass...daring you to try to remove it.

Good luck!

Just by the very action of plucking it, you spread its seeds...such a clever mode of transportation.

Maybe you could pick it and make a wish...transporting yourself to a more carefree chapter in time.

Or you can wish it didn't exist with its bold brand of yellow...wish it away...and there's always the option of raining down a little poison.  

Round Up Ready.

So much of our life is just like this...

trashing the miracle...

wishing it away...

trying to change it...

and pouring on the poison.

We poison ourselves with the pursuit of the perfect lawn, the perfect abs, the perfect wrinkle-free skin and see no joy in any of these gifts.

As I watch all of my neighbors kill their lawns because of our severe drought, I sure wouldn't mind a lawn or two with dandelions.

As I notice people with so many health problems, I'm pretty happy with my abs of imperfection.

As I slather on the sunscreen around my eyes, I can't help but feel those laugh lines as they get deeper and more pronounced...almost everyday I wonder what I've been laughing about.

Too many good memories.

So fun to imagine which joke, which comedy, which unexpected joy made those lines.

I must have been having one heck of a time along the way.

Perfection is a hollow pursuit.

We know this.

In our heart  of hearts we feel its truth.

Yet, still we let the illusion allow us to abort babies that we wanted but have suddenly been identified with an extra chromosome.

No longer satisfied with ordinary seeds we literally add toxins to the DNA of seeds to resist the pesticides and call them natural.  We praise genetic engineering while pouring on even more pesticides on our crops.

Not good enough.

We berate ourselves internally for our "muffin tops", our "wobbly thighs", our age spots, our gray hair...never cherishing the stories behind each of these changes.

We can't have our houses clean enough, our clothes pressed enough, our children well-behaved enough or our spouse sexy enough.

We are always asking for more.

Me included.

Which brings me back to the dandelion.

Thank God for them.

Thank God for mine.

I'm done with the poisonous lies.

Done with the fractions of truths.

Done with it.

Today, I was reintroduced to a piece of art that I learned about in 2006.

It's called "Sam and The Perfect World" by Peter Lentz.

In 2006, it won the National Portrait Gallery's Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition.

Here are Peter Lentz's words:

"My wife Rosemarie had just given birth to our son Sam, and although he appeared perfectly healthy, something, nevertheless, didn't seem right. There was an awkward silence in the room, no words of congratulation or comments about how cute he was even though he was cute. Five minutes later the diagnosis was given: Sam has Down Syndrome. "Are you going to keep him?" a nurse asked. Later that evening someone else came by to "console" us. "It's every mother's worst nightmare," she said.

Welcome to the world, Sam.

In America today, perfection is highly valued. We dump loads of chemicals on our lawns to try and get rid of every weed, every dandelion. Models and supermodels are tall, impossibly fit, their clothes stylish and wrinkle-free. Images like this tend to change our perceptions, our ideals, until finally they leave us looking around at the peeling paint on our own houses, and our less than fit bodies, and it leaves us wanting.

Perfection, I would submit, is overrated. And besides, I like dandelions.

In the painting Sam assumes the role of presenter, host, even tutor, of this most revealing examination of the civilization man has made for himself. Sam is not society's accepted definition of perfection. In spite of that, or perhaps because of that, he really does have an important message for everyone to hear."

Umm, I like dandelions too.

I'm blowing it off.

Making my wish.

Enjoying the bright, bold yellow in the thick of the green.

Perfection deserves some Round Up.

Not us...not a single one of us.

Your job today: accept and love the people in your life, 

most especially, yourself.

Girlfriends

Susan Branch font :)


Yesterday I was smiling...all day long.
Magically, it had happened again, the calendars were free, pockets of time were secreted away and I could make my way to have dinner with my girlfriend.

I got the kids handed off and properly freshened myself up from the dust of the day and got in the car...
hooked up Pandora...and drove like the wind.
Singing out loud...LOUD...to MY music...rocking out inappropriately, dancing in the car I could feel the tension of daily annoyances, lists of things to do, and chores that hang over my head just melt away...
an hour in the car all to yourself can be a very good thing.

Along with significant time with your dear friend.

This chick and I have been hanging out, spending hours on the phone since high school.
My dad would just be mystified as I laid on my bed and gabbed the hours away with someone I had already been with for six hours at school.

What did we talk about??

Looking back, I have no idea.
(Note to teens today: keep copious notes and journal like crazy so you can remember these things.)
I'm guessing it was:
Boys.
Drama.
School.
Homework.
Life's injustices.
Dreams.
The good stuff of high school.

I feel sorry for teens today who don't dish on the phone.
They are missing out on some serious fun.

We went to the same college and lived together for part of it, but we weren't joined at the hip.
We joined different sororities.
We had different groups of friends.
Our own interests and dreams.
But like a fantastic score for a movie, she was always in the background, making my world better.

We got our jobs, figured out our paths and saw less and less of each other.
We lived about an hour away from each other and would meet for dinner.

We've been doing it for decades.

There is something so magical about a good friend.
Someone who just gets it.
Who's always on your side.
Who cheers for you.
Who cries with you.
Who does crazy things on your behalf.
Who will pray or pay or play whenever you ask...and many times when you don't even say it out loud...she just seems to know.

I'm blessed to have several good girlfriends.
People who have my back...and whose back I cover whenever I can.
It goes both ways.
It's comfort and care...bravery and honesty...saying the hard stuff out loud.
Owning it...and figuring it out...
or sometimes just recognizing there's no solution to be had and finding a way to make peace with it.

It's righteous anger and hilarious mortification and breath-taking beauty.
It's the wonder and sacredness of getting to be a girl and getting to go deeper
and have those kind of friends.

Leisurely eating dinner last night, sharing salads and delicious taste treats and desserts and secrets and hopes,
I found myself so sentimental...so full of gratefulness  for
this right here...that moment right there...
the good stuff.
So so blessed by friendship...long lasting...
all-the-walls-down kind of friends.

It's easy to gloss over it.
So normal to not make the time
or find an excuse to not be together...
but these people are what life is about.

They are only lent to us...we can't take it for granted.
We need to carve out the pockets on the calendar and say out loud:
you are important...too important to act so casually about.
We must make the time to be together.

Time for laughter and joy and friendship --
 those are the real sparkly gems shining in our cave of life.

So thank you, Tara, for finding the time and making it happen...
today, you're my grace-in-the-ordinary...
have been for decades.






more Susan Branch adorableness!