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Does having a party at your house rev you up more than co-hosting at someone else’s home? Perhaps you don’t bat an eye at either? You’re the consummate party planner and thrower? Savanna’s baby shower was a blessing. The event took place in a fairy-tale setting. Ariel, Belle, and Jasmine (Sav’s faves) would have approved. The shower was in a house patterned after a European castle. The facade was stone with a huge tower serving as the front entrance. The driveway was long and peaceful, set back in woods on a flat plain. The landscape was natural, pleasantly groomed, not fake or artificial-looking. A stroll over light gravel and crunchy foliage led you to a 14-foot high beveled-glass front door that opened into the castle tower. There were more beveled glass windows throughout the tower. Sun shining through the many windows spread rainbows around the tower. I kept thinking how a rainbow maker would add yet more rainbow beauty. Have you heard of rainbow makers? They’re small crystals that circulate with solar energy. A rainbow maker certainly wasn’t needed in this beautiful tower but if there was one, guaranteed, it’d produce bookoodles of rainbows. Here’s a link to rainbow makers: and a snippet of what the area looked like. Most of you know I like to take photographs. This party was different. I took a single photograph. One! Here it is: The tower photo above was taken as the last people there were leaving the party. The picture wasn’t my idea and I obviously didn’t take it but I sure am happy to have it. (A friend who wasn’t able to attend was shocked there were no photos for her to vicariously chew on, after-the-fact.) Here’s the thing, taking photos is a relaxing pass-time for moi. Sav and I were wound tight for this party… Therefore: throwing a party in [my] house definitely revs my engines more than co-hosting in someone else’s home. Thus, no photo collage. But, no way am I a consummate party thrower. The girls and I (Jeff too) were so honored that our friends offered to host a baby shower in their lovely home. The beauty of it all is part of what churned us up. And the fact that it wasn’t our turf. Not being on our own turf was so odd because every invitee was a friend of Savanna, Diana or me. Guests who attended came from very different circles (family, church, business, high school, college, work). Seeing all the faces of people I/we love and care so much about walking into a home that I’d never been in before, at one point, caused light-headedness. I was standing with Diana while she delivered a toast of a funny anecdote about Savanna being a stellar babysitter. The story was about Sav sitting for two neighborhood boys, Brian and Stuart. The job was Savanna’s but on one occasion Diana filled in for her. The boys were disappointed that D didn’t live up to S’s standards of imaginary story-telling. Diana came home that night saying she “kids don't like her, never wanted to babysit again, didn’t care how much it paid.” The humor was welcome, a lot of people got a kick out of it. But all of a sudden I felt dizzy, wondering if dehydration was the cause. Now, thinking back, the cause was more likely that my/our stress-engines were internally overheated. The party was a week ago, Savanna and I continue to say we’re exhausted every time we speak and though she is pregnant and I am old, we both attribute our tiredness to the baby shower. That’s how magnificent it was! Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley In all things give thanks ~ Thessalonians 5:18

Last weekend was Triangle Park’s first Grandma/Girls Get-away (“3G”). Our first girls-get-away was when Diana was a baby. The three of us packed up and headed to Richfield, Utah. Our second excursion was when Diana was about 2-years-old, we journeyed to Idaho. Ever since those two trips, we continued traveling together, just the three of us. Our third trip was to Michigan, then Oregon, California, New York, the Bahamas and on. There are also in between trips with just two of us traveling together. This latest trip was our 2nd annual trip to The Cloister / Sea Island. We want to make Sea Island an annual event. Who wouldn’t? Even though these special get-aways are indeed girl trips, we are making an exception to the rule and allowing one boy in. Beginning 2024 Triangle ParkATL’s annual girl trips will be + 1 boy. Many of you already know that Savanna is expecting a baby boy, Charlie, in May or June. So, how will adding a boy to our girls trip work? What will that be like? Grandma along to babysit? One thing is for sure, I won’t mind babysitting Charlie! Or! That he is a boy... This past trip was getting baby Charlie used to the idea. After all, he was along for the ride. We hired a photographer to document our trip again this year. Sure enough, Charlie was in on the action. He’s just so cute already. Look at that little basketball bambino. Our scheduled photo session day was cold and windy but we did it anyway. The location was Avenue of the Trees on St. Simons Island. You may recognize the spot. It’s right before the gate to The Cloister Lodge. A beautiful setting regardless of the sun being absent. Savanna rented all three of us dresses from Rent the Runway. She’s done this several times with success. Lilly Pulitzer is not my and Diana’s style per se but we enjoyed the brightness of Savanna’s design choices, especially on a cloudy day. It’s crazy that the dresses fit us. How is that? I can try clothing on for an hour in a dressing room and have nothing whatsoever work out. Savanna orders online and with confidence packs the items, letting us know that she has what “we’ll wear.” This was not the first time she’s controlled our le stylisme. Quick plug to the photographer! I/we loved working with Calli Kennedy, The Living Lenz. It doesn’t take much to fluster me with technological maneuvering. Calli’s process was utterly seamless from start to finish. Here is a link to her website: The Living Lenz Calli epitomizes professionalism, friendliness and gentle spirit. Thank you for reading and Happy St. Patrick’s Day all you Irish folks (7% for me according to 23 & Me)! Our first “3G” trip was fun, especially +1! Love, Shelley I am reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also ~ 2Timothy 1-5

Do you have a problem eating alone in public (excluding business travel)? Does the thought of cutting into a steak or solo-sipping wine alone in your hometown make you insecure? What about vacation traveling to a city where no one knows you? Would you be more comfortable eating alone in public where no one knew who you were? A couple weeks ago I returned from a solo vacation trip to London, England. My girlfriends rather loved the idea of me going alone. A lot of positive feedback was received from friends. I especially liked friends who said, “hmm, I never really thought about doing that. Now, that’s a thought…” The only negative feedback was that a couple friends said: “I wouldn’t like eating alone. You’re going to eat alone? Or, room service?” The answer was: Both. I only ordered room service if I was too tired to venture out, which was three times. Because the “eating alone” dilemma came up with friends more than once, it got me thinking. When I began planning a solo trip to London, eating alone didn’t enter my mind a single time. There are so many people in London that imagining being alone was/is virtually impossible. Room service meals would indeed be alone, and welcome. But, my eating-alone enthusiasm is contained to London and other United Kingdom cities that I’m obsessed with (all of them). Making a reservation for “1” as I did around London, does not float my boat in Atlanta. Eating alone makes me uncomfortable too, at least in my hometown it does (save for behind the driver’s wheel). Like London, Atlanta has many nice restaurants. But you won’t find me making a reservation for “1” and being happy as a clam chatting up the wait staff [alone] in ATL. I will choose inside my house every time while on home turf. Savanna and I passed by Felinni’s Pizza on Howell Mill Road in Atlanta last weekend. The sun was shining, spring was in the air, a beautiful day. We saw a man eating pizza and a salad outside on the terrace, alone. Savanna said, “that’s sad.” I said, “he’s probably from out of town, enjoying time away alone, doesn’t know a soul, loving life…eating!” To each his own. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley "Words are the only things that last forever" ~ Winston Churchill

We all have our favorite-things-in-the-world to do. For me: Horses Pickleball Travel The order is alphabetical because ranking is just too hard. What are your favorite-things-in-the-world to do? I love asking that question because being someone who loves to “hobby-blog/write,” I’m aware that nothing bores a reader more than first-person-all-about-the-writer prose. An earnest attempt is made to share experience vs. status updating. If you happen to enjoy vacationing in London and horseback riding, I recommend Hyde Park Stables. (HPS). The British love their horses and Hyde Park Stables is an admirable example of sharing said love with the public. Hyde Park Stables’ first priority is safety. If you want to have free-rein right off the bat HPS isn’t the place for you. Until the guides know your riding ability you’ll have to remain on a lead line. And that may be for the whole ride depending upon their assessment. Or, if you’re like I was for most of today you may request to remain and relax on a lead line. I rode an Irish Cobb named, Charlie, today. Having rented a few UK horses, I‘m familiar with the Irish Cobb. Are you? Truth be told, they’re not that great. However, they are “safe.” A guide once told me that “a bomb could go off next to that horse and he won’t flinch.” Needless to say, knowing that didn’t make me fonder of them. (Albeit, I must say, at my age safety is becoming more prudent.) Hyde Park Stables offers private rides where you go out by yourself (almost) with a guide. Today, I was pleasantly surprised upon being introduced to my ride, Charlie. He was small, only 14 hands. Exactly what I hoped for. Sixteen plus hand horses provide only visual and ground appeal in one’s 60s…know what I mean? Charlie had spirit and spunk like a show pony. His walk was swift, ears perked and he was ever-so annoyed by his companion, Lemon. Charlie was much smaller than Lemon but valiantly wanted him to know that he was boss. To my surprise, Charlie is an Irish Cobb! Hyde Park has trails of sand specifically for horses. There are also paved lanes marked Horses Only. People out and about seem to enjoy watching the horses. A few took photos today (and they asked if the could). My guide, Ryan, asked a young boy on a scooter to please stop but the boy ignored him. It‘s always nice when the public respects the spook-factor and flight instinct of horses, but not everyone knows about this and the boy was quite young. Charlie and Lemon didn’t react. Bomb proof? Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Hey Y’all: How’s everyone doing? Do you ever attend Evensong? Have you even heard of Evensong? I’ve only been to two Evensong services. One was a few years ago at Westminster Abbey in the middle of November. Today, I attended Evensong at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. —Do you remember a most-famous wedding in 1981 at St. Paul’s Cathedral? No, no, not Luke and Laura’s. Theirs was in a New York film studio. Haha. Of course…Prince Charles and Lady Diana’s!— This isn’t a blog to share my opinion of Evensong at St. Paul’s Cathedral or to reminisce about the royal wedding because I’m in London. Or, perhaps it is… Here’s the thing, attendance in churches (regardless of where) is down, especially in the UK. If a single person shows up, hooray. Today, there were quite a few people at Evensong in St. Paul’s Cathedral. But, oh my, the sanctuary could have handled many more sinners, like me. I sat in the front row, directly across from where Diana spoke royal vows 41 years ago at age 20 (she wasn’t even old enough to enter many U.S. bars). Diana’s marriage to Prince Charles was spellbinding to much of the world. I was 19-years-old at the time, count me in. Evensong was competing for my attention (and other’s?) over memories of Charles and Diana’s wedding. First, I’m not sure where the priest stood (again, this was only my second Evensong). He wasn’t in front, that I know. His voice came through a speaker to my left, and a little behind me. I waited and waited for someone to step out, all the while thinking that he sounded just like Oz in the Wizard of Oz. I’m not criticizing the audio and tone, this is simply what it sounded like (exactly!) to me. The operatic music was beautiful, a God-like language. But it’s not really my cup-of-tea whilst worshiping. But I respect it. I also assume it’s a huge part of what draws people to attend Evensong? Unfortunately, operatic singing makes me sleepy and easily distracted. I found myself recreating Diana’s wedding day. I remembered how shy, though happy, she appeared. I remembered her utterly genuine demeanor and how you could tell from the gitgo that she’d be a people person. I drifted to Charles and how he looked so much older than Diana. How he appeared a bit stiff, not as smitten and exuberant as I’d imagine a Prince to be on his wedding day. As the music hypnotically bogged me down, the royal wedding circa July 29, 1981 kept me going. I could see Diana’s long dress train draped over the black and white checkered floor and could almost hear Joan Lunden covering the hoorah on Good Morning America. Eventually, I remembered what I was in the cathedral to do: worship. So, then, I started envisioning lively Christian music in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Think: Third Day and Mac Powell for instance. Have you listened to Mac Powell? Mac draws a crowd. St. Paul’s Cathedral can hold a crowd and then some. Oh how exciting it would be to hear Mac Powell belt out Soul on Fire in St. Paul’s! I appreciate that lively music in a church service is not for everyone. Sure would be fun to give it a try though? I wasn’t the only person that looked bogged down. Like I said, I don’t wish to criticize St. Paul’s. I’m honored and humbled to have been welcomed inside for Evensong service. —Just bloggin’ and sayin’…that I have a dream for “the church” to once again draw crowds.— IMHO, that won’t happen without bringing some traditions up-to-date, like music. Especially in a venue that hosted one of the most famous weddings of all time. To end on a positive. The outside and inside of St. Paul’s Cathedral and so, so many other European churches and cathedrals is simply stunning. Architecturally, church sites in Europe stand the test of time in drawing crowds to visit in awe of their beauty, if nothing else. How wonderful it would be if the Holy Spirit could draw the same crowds. Not only to beautiful cathedrals, like St. Paul’s, but to Him in general. No matter where you are. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Hi Friends, I hope everyone is doing wonderfully. I pray you are blessed, humbled and giving back. Even when times are tough, giving thanks and giving back adds so much positive to the predictable process of life’s ups and downs. This week I have two positives to share. Not every week is jolly good, of course, but this week is jolly x2: Sweet baby boy is growing and growing. Mom, Savanna, remains her svelte self but the baby boy gets bigger every time I see her. Prediction: Charlie Garde will be a big boy! If not “big” immediately upon birth…one day…baby boy will be a big boy. Here’s a recent image of my first grandson: Can you tell I’m an excited grandma-to-be? Trying to tone down the exuberance isn’t easy. Truth always wins in my book and the truth is: I’m stinking excited. Jeff is also thrilled! Golf, hockey, baseball, cars, and Georgia Tech are for-sure intros for the little guy. We hear over and over about how much we are going to enjoy being grandparents. Before Savanna and Joe were expecting I didn’t really get how much joy a grandchild could bring. It’s like having a baby all over again, but from a distance. An indulgence distance, if you will. Our pastor, Michael Youssef, has a quote that I keep in our house: “If We Can Explain It, God Did Not Do It” That quote sums up my excitement about Charlie. God is doing it thus I can’t explain it. Now, on to daughter #2. Diana Julia Sweeney is killing it in law school at UIUC, y’all. This semester alone, she is off and running as a TA in Intro to Intellectual Property. And she just earned her way to being Editor-in-Chief for the Journal of Law, Technology and Policy. Wait, there’s more. Diana was a summer associate at Alston & Bird last summer. She is going back this summer and is splitting her summer with an associate position at an IP boutique firm in New York City. She also externed with a Chicago federal judge and earned a CALI (computer-assisted legal instruction) award for being the #1 student in Constitutional Law. Good Lord, have mercy, she also passed the patent bar while at Georgia Tech and is ranked in the top 10% among her fellow law students at UIUC. (And, psst, if I may squeeze in one tiny more thing: she helps edit these posts of mine :) Is it okay for parents to brag about their grown babies? You decide. And I will too. I love hearing about my friend's children and their joy. But, I also know (very well) that every day and every event is not a party. There are down days too. The bummer times are also wonderful opportunities to give thanks for! Who doesn’t like a good cry? Be thankful. That’s what I do. Never poor me. I love a fall-to-your-kness expression of surrender as much as a jump-for-joy-look-at-me moment. IMHO, falling to your knees is where the reward and strength originates. For now, though, the photo of sweet baby boy and Diana’s rise to editor-in-chief, are both jump-for-joy moments. Respectfully, ALL the glory goes back to God. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Hi Friends, I’m curious, what comes to mind when you think of Flying Monkeys? The Wicked Witch of the West Gigantic swooping rats A nightmare in general All the above Have you ever heard of flying monkeys? Remember the wicked witch of the west’s winged monkeys (a/k/a flying monkeys) in the Wizard of Oz ? Those stinkers enabled the wicked witch by (among other things): Seizing territory for her Keeping the Wizard of Oz away from her castle Capturing Dorothy and attacking her friends Today, popular psychology describes a flying monkey as: An enabler of a highly narcissistic person or someone with narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). In other words, a flying monkey is an agent who acts on behalf of someone on the extreme side of the narcissistic perspective. Every human being on earth has narcissism in them to some degree. BusinessInsider.com says: "We all fall somewhere along the narcissism continuum. In fact, a certain amount of self-centeredness is healthy. Research shows that it contributes to confidence, resilience, and ambtion. However, any personality trait taken to an extreme can become pathological." There is such a thing as “healthy narcissism," which is the realm that most people fall under. Psychology Today sums healthy vs. unhealthy narcissism up with: "So, what it all boils down to is that unhealthy narcissism, whether on a personal or tribal level, involves a fundamentally disparaging—sometimes even scornful—orientation toward others. On the contrary, healthy narcissism stops well short of this interpersonal offensiveness, though even here the qualities exhibited aren’t particularly admirable." The far end of the spectrum is the side that enlists flying monkeys to do dirty work. Flying monkey leaders at the extreme end of NPD are die-hard, clinical narcissists. I call them supreME’s because they are supreme above everyone in their minds. But, supreMEs mustn’t do their own dirty work lest their fragile, insecure nature be exposed. Flying monkeys understand that their job is to do dirty deeds (gas lighting, deceiving, sneering, etc.) for supreME. Doing these deeds is crucial for them to please and stay on the good side of supreME. Eventually, though, flying monkeys hope to fill supreME’s lofty shoes as their own ruler-in-chief supreME. To be a flying monkey, you too, must lack empathy, fancy bullying, crave attention and seek to manipulate a core group of your own. But wait. What about the scapegoat(s)? The ones that provide energy and fuel to the triangulating group in the first place. The ones that deep down supreME and the flying monkeys ache to emulate and be themself. The ones that know and ultimately expose the dysfunctional dynamics. Like it or not, there are typically two or three people who know what supreME and his/her flying monkeys are doing: the scapegoats. The scapegoats are scapegoated for greed, jealousy and dreams of power that live inside supreME and their flying monkeys. The scapegoat(s) possess attributes that supreME desires, the motivation. One of the flying monkeys most crucial [unspoken] rules is to prevent the scapegoat from exposing supreME. Doing so gives flying monkeys a job for many years. They work diligently at preventing scapegoats from exposing supreME out of fear of ostracization from the group themselves. What they don’t realize is that the sooner they are ostracized, the sooner they can build their own manipulation empire of fear. Unfortunately, like rats living here and there unnoticed, flying monkeys are among us too. There is hope though. Stop feeding them. Clean out your closet. Close points of entry (fear, insecurity). Put your faith and trust where it matters. Where Truth and promise lies (God). Not deceit, fear and lies (NPD). Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley If you're asking yourself, "why is she writing about flying monkeys?" The topic seems to come up more and more frequently. That's all.

Hi Everyone, Mission accomplished. The estate sale is over. A lot sold and a lot didn’t sell. There are no words to describe how much stuff was in my parents house. In a single-word: titanic. Mom and Dad’s house had a titanic amount of stuff in it. Mom never threw anything away. The amount of stuff that had to get out by the closing date (which sprung up suddenly) was incomprehensible. I had three days to empty the home that held childhood memories and my parent’s possessions. Weeks before the estate sale, I’d moved a lot out of the house and into storage. I’d also disposed of riff raff, gave things away and of course the estate sale thinned the contents down. Yet, still, there was something in every room, closet, drawer, cubby, corner, crevice, you name it. A dent was in the mass…but only a dent. The hard/perplexing part was that the majority of what was left wasn’t junk. But because of the rushed timeframe it was destined to be treated as such, sadly. A charity was scheduled to come on Wednesday (the estate sale ended on Sunday). How lovely. All that is left will go to charity. It will all get a forever home. Not. I didn’t realize that everything had to be packed. Charity wouldn’t come in and “clear the contents out.” There was no way I could purchase packing supplies and pack the amount of stuff that was left in less than 48 hours. On Tuesday, because it was raining, I was able to get my yard man (Cornelio) to haul away as much as he could cram in his truck and trailer. Thank you, God, for making it rain Tuesday! And, thank you for Cornelio too. But even though Cornelio had a big truck with a big trailer attached, a lot of the things just wouldn’t fit. No way Jose. On Wednesday nothing happened. I had a blessed day off. On Thursday (inspection day!), Dirty Deeds Junk Removal showed up and hauled away two truck loads to the dump. They had to come back the next day because there was more that wouldn’t fit in the second load. Various other people stopped by to browse what remained and take what suited them, too. Mom’s beloved car was given away as well. Thursday was an especially sad day because what was being hauled away wasn’t “junk” (well, some was) but it was on its way to the dump, regardless. The walk-thru inspection was at 6 p.m. The stuff, junk, items, things, whatever you want to call them had to go…or risk buyer pushback. I asked the junk removal workers to please take home whatever they could or give things to someone that could use them. I also put as much of the dump bound things into the back of my car and took them to Good Will myself so that they wouldn’t meet a dump demise (lamps, pictures, kitchenware, tools, etc.). All of my dad’s mounted antlers and an antelope head sold in the estate sale. They were hot items. Many people admired Papa’s hunting trophies. Diana gave a huge mounted skull a forever home. We’re not sure what the skull is from. Something big is all we know. I also have a few of his antlers. In a final junk heap on the front lawn there was a big box of more antlers. The crew had pulled them out of a deep, back closet. A pair with a skull and teeth all intact was quite impressive. One of the guys was smitten with it. He gave it a good home. I couldn’t believe my mom saved this record player all these years. I also found her old typewriter, another record player, an old slide projector, thousands of photos, old letters, newspaper articles, keepsakes of my grandmother and so much more. I found a forever home for the record player circled today! The amount was vast and the meaning immense. If you don’t believe that mom never threw anything away…check these shoes out. Granted they were in the garage but still… As the junk removal men were cramming their truck with the last of my childhood memories, a cleaning crew swept in around 2 p.m. At 6:10 p.m. they were still there when the buyer’s agent showed up to do the inspection. I thank God for the people that came through and helped get this enormous job done in a short amount of time. Atlanta Home Movers was also on site that day. They are a great team! The massive job got done with a lot of amazing people who came together and helped. My dear husband was also on deck and I couldn’t have done it without him. I made a lot of new friends and recommend all of them (check out the shared links). At the end of the day (literally) the house was emptied and passed the white glove test (literally). Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley May the God of hope fill you iwth all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that ytou may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit:Romans 15:13

Have you ever cleaned out childhood memories from your deceased parent’s home? Did you struggle knowing what to save and what to leave behind? Was it a titanic task (large furniture pieces) or a small, albeit, meaningful chore? Were there aches and pain regrets of abandoned items that you just had to leave behind? Hi Everyone: I’m in the process of cleaning out my parent’s home. There are years and years of stuff. Good stuff, not junk. Death of friends and family is no fun. Cleaning up and out of mom and dad’s possessions has been a giant journey. Our estate sale ended yesterday. It lasted for three days. I didn’t swing by the sale a single time. I go over today to see what is left to mull over. I’m sad and scared thinking about what I will (or won’t!) find. There were so many photos you wouldn’t believe it. I know I’ve said that before but, seriously, ask my family how many snapshots and slides I inspected. Without question mom was a zealous photographer. The strange thing is, her nickname could easily have been Frugal Fran. Mom did not spend money frivolously. But boy she didn’t hesitate to part with pennies on photo processing. I’m so glad that was the case because memory after memory is brought to life by the amount of photos she snapped over 92+ year’s time. When estate sale stagers discovered yet more photographs that I had missed, I told them that I didn’t want to take any more cards, letters or photos. “Get rid of them,” I said. But when I arrived at the house the next day after they staged, guess what I found? They had put aside another [large] box of photos. And sure enough, I acquiesced and took yet another mass of memories home to sift through. Life is so very short. Jeff says we’re all basically “farts in the wind.” That’s about the best analogy I’ve ever heard. What do you think? Who among us regards themself as more than a fart in the wind? Cleaning out and going through Papa and Gam’s stuff has been a monumental task for my whole family. Thankfully, there’s light at the end of the tunnel. Glancing around my office, that statement is hard to believe. There is still a lot of sorting to accomplish. But, in a few short hours I will find out what was orphaned at their house and decide if I want to bring that home too, for memory's sake. Why write all this? Will anyone read it? Will anyone care? Jeff and I judged a homeschool speech/debate tournament last week. One of the speeches was about the benefits of journaling. The young girl who spoke gave a compelling speech of proven reasons how journaling helps relieve stress, fear and anxiety. Have you ever tried journaling for those reasons? Making friends on common ground, like journaling, is a favorite life-goal-forever aspiration of mine. I’d love to hear from you. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Happy New Year Y'all! 2023 Resolutions anyone? Lose weight? “Losing weight” is my least favorite resolution of all time. I make a point to be extra calorie-conscious during Christmas. Packing on pounds is just too unappealing for moi. Saying no-no-no to sugary sweets avoids girth expansion. I have no desire to buy a new wardrobe and/or starve myself in 2023. Moderation is this girl’s mode of meal-maintenance. However, over the holidays Jeff and I packed on a lot of heavy stuff in our house due to acquiring some of mom’s things. Saying no to memories of mom was hard to do. As a result, our westside cottage-bungalow either needs to go on a purge diet or we need to buy our bungalow some new walls in 2023. Think: Tear this sucker down and make room for not only our stuff but mom’s [orphaned] things too or cease to fit inside. And that’s not our only residential adventure in 2023 so far. We faced a huge fear on vacation recently: We stayed somewhere other than a 5-star hotel We rented an AirBNB. Renting an AirBNB sounded like camping to me. I was scared. No concierge? No daily clean up? No direct line to the spa? No room switch if something wasn’t just so? Don’t laugh! Okay, maybe glamping is more accurate than camping. Granted, we did know prior to arrival that we’d have an ocean view and that was comforting. And boy did we have a view. The fifth floor that the unit was on provided a perfect perspective of the Atlantic ocean from two bedrooms, the living/dining area and even while cooking in the kitchen. We absolutely loved renting on the beach, at least in this place we did. Who knew? Expanding our residential girth to the east coast line has become a feasible reality since glamping in an air bnb. Funny thing is, we didn’t even miss the 5-star perks. Albeit a cleaning service would have been missed if we stayed much longer. But living in a rental vs. staying in a bubble appealed to us indeed. Moving is a big undertaking just like losing weight. But when your clothes no longer fit you really have no choice. We are bursting at the seams (walls and ceiling that is) and pretty much have no choice. I don’t have a problem giving up food calories but giving up mom-memorabilia excess is just too great a craving to sacrifice. If the Lord wills it, expanding our residential girth in ATL will materialize, like it or not, due to our growing goods. And hopefully the beach will become a regular, guilty pleasure too. We must have a party to celebrate when all comes to fruition? Celebrate extra space between walls not clothing with us in 2023… Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

Dear God, It’s me again. Don’t worry, I’ll be brief. How’s mom doing? I received word in a dream that she arrived safely, but I haven’t heard a peep since. That was a long time ago. Five weeks to the day. I know, I know, be patient. I’m trying. The problem is I’m not doing a very good job with even the thought of patience. Of course, I’ve read and reread Colossians 1:10-11: "We're praying this so that you can live lives that are worthy of the Lord and pleasing to him in every way: by producing fruit in every good work and growing in the knowledge of God; by being strengthened through his glorious might so that you endure everything and have patience." I do love that verse and, yes, reading it over and over does help. Not that you want to know, but bewilderment of her absence is why waiting patiently is so difficult, so confusing. I remember reading somewhere in the bible to praise you for difficult times too, not just happy times. Well, another reason I’m writing is to tell you that I’m doing that. Have you received the gratitude that I sent up just a short while ago? I thanked you specifically for the sore void of her absence? I’m sure it takes a minute to reach you. All us sinners down here can barely imagine how busy you are these days. There’s a lot going on for sure. (Sorry about all that.) God, if you could just let me know that she is okay it would stop the faucet in both my eyeballs and I would be so, so grateful? Is she free from: Pain? Fear? Betrayal? Denial? Loneliness? Does she miss laughing and entertaining family and friends? Or is she carrying on with all that at heavenly parties? Gosh, God, I just miss her so much. Please do tell her that I and many others miss her dearly. I know there’s nothing I can do in return for you because He did everything for me/us. But be sure I’ll do my best to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly. I’m sorry that my best sucks a lot of the time. Oh, and thank you so very much for letting Jeff and I be the last to hug, kiss and say good-bye to mom. I thank and praise you for that beyond comprehension. Waiting patiently, Shelley Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

A worldwide beloved Queen passed in 2022, and so did the queen of my family's small world: mom, Diane. Pain and void run deep but there is so much to be thankful for I'm blown away. Let Thanksgiving begin today, tomorrow and forever more! The first person I would like to thank is: Ms. Barbara Karnes, RN. If you're not familiar with Ms. Karnes, she is an internationally respected author and educator on all things pertaining to end of life. She wrote the little blue book, Gone From My Sight. Hospice and caregivers often share it. We're all going to die one day. Ms. Karnes is a wealth of experience, knowledge and gentle understanding of the dying process. She teaches about the beauty and naturalness of dying. Like childbirth, there are many aspects that are routine for all of us. Her books, podcasts, videos, blogs, etc. are a soothing, honest, private route to learning about death. She helps make dying pleasant, natural --unscary-- by knowing what to look for and what to expect. The second person I am eternally grateful to is: Mom! For the past year mom was declining. There were so many things I hoped and prayed would or wouldn't happen but one thing lead the charge: More than anything else, I hoped and prayed to not get a call from a stranger in the night telling me that, they were very sorry, but Mrs. Corkill was no longer with us. Please God, anything but that. The last few days of mom's life were wonderful. We hugged, kissed and reminded each other how much we loved the other so much so that doubting it was spiritually impossible. I love(d) her and she love(d) me. End of story. I read psalms and bible verses to her from her bible. Calm music played by her bedside. Daystar was on the television, muted. I asked mom to visit me often when she got to heaven, to show me signs however she chose. I texted my dear cousins and told them their aunt was slipping from this world (I saw signs that I learned from Ms. Karnes). Then...I crawled into the tiny hospice bed (thank you Jinny) like a hand slips into a snug glove. How could I fit in that teensy bed? Powers that be stopped feeding mom just a few days prior. I stopped eating too. I held her lifeless hand under the covers and wept. Savanna stopped by that same afternoon, anguished. We left mom's side together. Later that evening Jeff and I returned as we always did. Her nighttime caregiver left us alone and I crawled back into bed with her. There was organic comfort in laying beside her. When it came time to leave I told her we'd be back tomorrow. Jeff held her hand, kissed her head, said I love you and told her good bye. She began to respond! Jeff went back to the other side and sat down. Her eyes opened, she leaned forward, then rested. I knew she was gone 100% from what I had learned from Ms. Karnes. But I was in disbelief. Part of me was so very happy. She had said goodbye to Jeff and me. There would be no call in the night. The Jewish Home was quiet, only a nurse distant in the hallway. I said to Jeff, "I think she just took her last breath." Jeff gently rested his big hand on her little chest and said, "I think you're right." It. Was. Beautiful. No more pain. Perfection. I was so happy. The third thank you goes to: Everyone who sent texts, cards, emails, phone calls, flowers, food, gifts, visited, attended, etc. Everyone at HM Patterson Funeral Home My Family for their help in planning the memorial and courageously speaking about their beloved mother-in-law and grandmother Those who travelled to honor their aunt, friend, sister-in-law Ernesto, Kym and Melissa for their kind, loving words honoring Diane Church of the Apostles (Jeremy, Lauren and Zack), and GOD! Thank you, thank you for the beautiful good-bye and memorial Jeff, Savanna, Diana and I had no idea what to expect from mom (and papa's) memorial. Both of their urns were displayed in a floral infinity ring. Unfortunately, there is no photo of the santuary during service. I wish there was and I also wish the music could be shared: It Is Well With My Soul, Abide With Me, and When The Saints Go Marching In (both papa and Gam wanted When The Saints song for their memorial and It Is Well was a favorite of Papa's). The presence of support and kind words from so many is and was humbling. Rev. Zack's beautiful sermon along with Jeremy and Lauren's heavenly voices leave me speechless. Both mom and dad would be humbled and thankful for the love and professionalism of all (HM Patterson included). Our queen has passed and been promoted with her husband of 68 years. Thanks be to God above all. May he bless all those that expressed condolences and either loved mom or expressed it through supporting my family. I send all the love and support back to each of you! When something went really, really well mom would often say: It was perfect! I can hear her saying that now. Perfection. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley To see photos shared during the memorial click Here