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I hope y’all are doing great and aren’t enduring anxiety to the point of physical pain, like I have been. But, if you are, I have a remedy for you: Spa Getaway. The girls and I (Triangle Park!) jetted off for a 60th birthday celebration (...Jeff and I have secret plans ;-). This particular “girls” trip was something that just sort of fell into place. Timing is everything. Diana was on spring break, Savanna needed a break and I was available...coping with the big 6-0. First stop: Amelia Island, Florida. I had never been and Jeff and I are considering a retirement home there. We stayed at the Ritz Carlton. Savanna generously secured a couple delightful upgrades (3-bathroom suite, champagne/chocolate surprises, photographer, etc.) that added to an already opulent ambience. Immediately, upon arriving at the Ritz--and I mean post haste--we headed to service appointments in the spa. Sav and I received facials and Diana opted for a massage. --Diana’s trip was grueling. She awoke at 3:15 a.m. in snow-blanketed Champaign, Illinois, drove an hour to the airport, flight was delayed an hour, she bolted to make our flight to Jacksonville, only to discover the pilot called in sick (yep, sick) which delayed all of us an hour, her bag didn’t make the Jacksonville flight and a nearby passenger to her held a barf bag the whole flight. BUT, her massage was amazing, she “almost fell asleep.” I’ve had a facial or two and a massage here and there, but I’ve never just hung out in a spa: relaxation room, jacuzzi, steam room, sauna, private shower (three jets!), herbal tea/snacks, heavenly scents emitting from who knows where. Have you spent hours in a spa? So, before leaving Atlanta the right side of my jaw locked up from anxiety. After receiving scary news, I awoke the next morning unable to open my mouth all the way. My jaw involuntarily shook, needle-type sensations irritated my back (apparently the upper vertebrae were messed up) and I was stuck in doldrums. Blah blah. I’m not looking for sympathy, I’m segwaying into how utterly awesome spending FOUR days in a spa can be for body burdens. Particularly burdens brought on by system shocks a/k/a stress. The Ritz jacuzzi with soothing baby blue and green tile, neatly folded towels, greenery, lounge chairs, bay window and adjacent sauna and steam room began the pleasant stroll to recovery. Years ago, I used to sit in a sauna from time to time but I haven't thought about doing so until last week. Laying down, spine flat on warm boards, sweat streaming off head and neck, muscles and joints voluntarily releasing was an unexpected, welcome, heaven-sent healing. After all that healing heat, we stepped into private showers filled with products that disagree with humidity. The shower and dressing room had aroma=therapy scents that were so soothing I reduced to tears. Crying in the shower is a beautiful thing. Tears just wash straight down the drain and no one is looking. From Amelia, we stopped on Jekyll Island as we made our way to Sea Island. Jekyll is my favorite-favorite place in the world to bike ride. Diana opted for quiet time alone to take care of law school stuff while Sav and I enjoyed absolutely perfect weather (70/cloudy) for bike riding. Jekyll bike trails are in and of themself a spa treatment. Next stop: The Spa at Sea Island/Cloister (and I mean cloistered). The Cloister spa beat the Ritz in scenery and serenity (except the sauna, Ritz sauna won). Cloister staff were ever present for guidance and comfort. The pool was surrounded by opulent decor and we all partook in swim time with a dip in an adjacent hot tub. Next to the pool was another jacuzzi-type, warm (not hot) tub that offered a short, circular staircase down a small flight of stairs where you could sit by a waterfall. I could go on writing hundreds of words to describe the Cloister Spa. The facility was impeccable, calming, top notch. Pretty sure you get the picture. Of special note was, in the private showers there was a hand held nozzle that emitted revitalizing citrus aroma: orange, minty freshness. Who wouldn’t be renewed after all that? If you need a relaxing break from daily stresses, or one big special stresser, consider a spa-getaway remedy. If not the Ritz or Cloister, somewhere else! While you detox, remember to forgive…yourself and others. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Disclaimer Alert: IF you happened to read the last blog, it was not about my husband.

Which is more significant to you: first, last, or random in between words from loved ones gone on? Granted you may not know their first words, but then again, maybe you do. Fascination with a baby’s first word(s) is common. Birthdays too. (Who thinks birthdays get old? Pun intended.) Growing up, my mother used to say: “Famous last words” a lot when she was calling attention to something someone said. Usually, it was something dad said…to her. My dad is the closest person I’ve ever lost. His last words are ingrained in my psyche: Take my socks off, Shell. That’s right -- I knocked my dad’s socks off before he crossed over and here’s how: Before dad died, he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. He confessed to me that he wanted to give his life to Jesus before leaving earth. Dad wanted to be forgiven of sin and guilt. He wanted to rest in peace. Steve Jobs’ last words were: “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.” Did he see something exciting ahead? Had Mr. Jobs socks been knocked off!? When I was by dad’s side in the hospital, he told me he didn’t think he was going to make it. I comforted him by telling him everything would be ok. What helped me help him the most was sharing a quote from John Green’s book, “Looking For Alaska.” In Green’s book, Miles is obsessed with last words: “I found myself thinking about President William McKinley, the third American president to be assassinated. He lived for several days after he was shot, and towards the end, his wife started crying and screaming, “I want to go too! I want to go too!” And with his last measure of strength, McKinley turned to her and spoke his last words: “We are all going.” Truer words were never spoken. Another poignant quote from President McKinley, as he neared his final breath, is: “It is God’s way. His will be done, not ours.” FAMOUS LAST WORDS “Take my socks off” -- David Corkill “It is God’s way. His will be done, not ours.” -- William McKinley “Oh wow! Oh wow! Oh wow!” -- Steve Jobs Final curtain calls matter, in the end. May heaven knock all our socks off one day. Check out more famous quotes here ! Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

The big 6-0 arrives in a matter of seconds, ready or not. To be exact: 2,674,800 seconds from today, February 11, 2022. But who’s counting? Turning 60 isn’t so bad. I tell myself: look on the bright side…you married a younger man. Three-hundred-twenty-five days younger, to be exact. But, who’s counting? What’s the best part of turning 60? The best part of turning 60 is that all embarrassing, cringeworthy stuff was done way before the internet was even conceptualized. Most of us older folks gasp imagining our "crazy" days thriving on a computer archive, forever. True, I didn’t participate in too outrageous of antics or deportment, but the mere thought of minor oopses that I did partake in...being forever kept alive in cyberspace...terrifies me. No! Just no. What’s the worst part of turning 60? Muscle-Brain reaction time slowing down. If you play pickleball you know what I'm talking about. Pickleballs fly fast. Sometimes I don't feel as fast as I should be, or remember once being. Good news is pickleball keeps you ahead of the MB atrophy slide. There is a lot to be thankful for (health, shelter, comfort, successful kids, anchored marriage). So far, 60 looks pretty good up ahead. I'll be happy to reach it in 2,674,800 seconds. Then, I'll be married to a younger man while lounging on the beach. I asked mom (Gam, Grandma, Nana, Aunt Diane, Diane) what the toughest thing about turning 60 (or any age over 50) was. She said, “None of it made any difference to me. You know, as long as you feel good, it doesn’t really matter. -- One hundred will! That one will matter. I want to live to 100. Don’t know if I will of course. But I’m trying.” I guess I feel the same way. Sixty doesn’t really make a difference in my life. Most definitely 100 will. But I’m not sure I feel the same about making it to 100. Maybe at 92 I will... Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley Photo Timeline of Six Decades Moses was 120 years old when he died, yet his eyesight was clear, and he was as strong as ever.~ Deuteronomy 34:7 https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/wellness-and-prevention/its-never-too-late-five-healthy-steps-at-any-age

In 2016 there were 82,000 centenarians (people 100 years or older) in the United States. This figure is expected to increase to 589,000 in the year 2060 (Statista, October 28, 2021). In 2060 I’ll be 98. That means if I make it to centenarian status there will be closer to 600,000 of us old farts shuffling around. How old will you be in 2060? Are you living a life style that is conducive to reaching 100? Do you want to live to 100? Remember being a teenager and thinking age 40, 50 or [gasp] 60-years-old was eons and eons off? People who’re that old will surely stay that old and “we” will most certainly hover around 20-something forever…or not. Wishful thinking, we all do it once in a while. Now that I’m a mother to my 92-year-old mother (Diane), I have freaking 1-0-0 on my age radar. One hundred! What tha… Taking things for granted is never a good idea but the way things are going, 100-years-old is looking fairly feasible for Diane and since I have half her DNA...oh my. Here’s an article that was published on Diane’s 92nd birthday last year in Health Fitness Revolution (HFR). I peaked at it because of the title: The Top Ten Foods Centenarians Eat. I know mom’s diet intimately because not long ago I was her private cook for three weeks. Though I agree with the "top ten foods" mentioned and do indeed incorporate all of them into my diet, mom regularily only consumes three of the foods on the list (eggs, avocado, chickpeas). The first recommendation in the article is actually a habit rather than a diet component: "Eat a Healthy Breakfast," A big/healthy breakfast is positively part of Diane's daily routine. But, other than chickpeas in the form of hummus, avocado and occassional fish none of the other items are staples in her longevity arsenal. She eats plenty of chicken, ground beef and pork (lots of spaghetti w/meat sauce!). As certain as the sun rises, three hardboiled eggs, oatmeal, wheat toast w/butter and absolutely no coffee or tea is a significant part of Diane's reach-for-centenarian-status morning routine. Having watched and helped mom bounce back from two major accidents I took note of how she eats. Never will I underestimate the power of hardboiled eggs, oatmeal (breakfast!) and naps. The list of foods in HFR will help all of us but I hope you'll also consider what mom incorporates in her daily routine to stay healthy (eggs and oatmeal, eggs and oatmeal) -- did I say eggs and oatmeal. PSST, rumor has it that Betty White loved potato chips and french fries...me too! (Southern Living January 5, 2022) Thank the Lord for that recommendation :-) The importance of elder socializing isn't emphasized in this artile but it is in many others. My family provides the lion's share of mom's party life. We recently took her out to say good-bye to Diana (I know their names get confusing) as she headed back to law school. Carbonara is a favorite Italian restaurant where the food is delicious, service is superb and wine is abundant (no wine for mom though). Check it out: Speaking of old age, something the bible says: "Do not cast me off in the time of old age: forsake me not when my strength is spent" ~ Psalm 71:9. AMEN to that. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley

American culture doesn’t fancy aging. I know because my American mother pushes back when it comes to such. She mostly just talks about self-preservation but she's been known to patronize Estee Lauder’s anti-aging counter and a couple other [more intense] remedies. Though, strangely, she’s never had a facial. Sometimes I’m an anti-aging fanatic too -- no alcohol, endless drinking water, mandatory sunscreen, excess exercise, organic preference, and white-knuckle praying to stay recognizable in the mirror. For me, feeling good is looking good. When mom (Diane) was younger, she held onto her age until the exact date of her next birthday. She was 32, 44, 59 or whatever age until the final hour of December 27. Funny thing is, she’d bump my age ahead, but not hers. This year was different. Mom started referring to herself as “92” at least six months prior to her actual birthday. My family followed suit. We spoke of her being 92 when she really wasn't. Diane was proud and eager to turn a larger number in 2021. Surrender of the inevitable was in gear. As a pencil portrait artist, my favorite subjects are old people. Storybook expression lines map individual joy/pain journeys. I get hypnotized bringing to life shadowy intricacies of facial lines. What’s your preference: character-line crevices or stationary, smooth features? On December 27, 2021 we celebrated, you guessed it, mom’s 92nd birthday. She always says “no one wants to celebrate a birthday right after Christmas, no one wants to think about presents.” My family never suffers Christmas burn-out to the point of ignoring birthdays after 12/25, including hers. But Diane never fails to assume we all dread the event. In younger days the only thing she ever wanted to receive on her birthday was a card. She loved to read the gushy, sentimental writings and she'd want confirmation that we meant what the card said. In her 90s, cards are so last millenium. Mom wants to get out and celebrate now! Our first stop was lunch at J. Alexander's. From there, we took her to see Jeff's office for the first time. She often says: "I wonder if I'll ever see Jeff's new office." When the party was over, we took her home for the afternoon nap. Fun and phew. The only downside of the big bash was saying Happy “92nd” Birthday because we had all been saying it for a good six months already. Now, ninety-three seems way, way far off. New Year 2022 Resolution: Don’t say mom is 93 until she is NINETY-THREE! As we all head down the inevitable aging trail, it’s comforting to know that if we’re lucky enough to make it to 90, adding birthdays can (will!) be relished versus resisted. It's also comforting to know that Estee Lauder and other swanky options really aren't all that and a bag of chips. Mom buys her makeup and skincare at Kroger and Mary Kay now. Who knew. Living in an age where most of us fight back on looking older, this is good news...makes me smile. Feeling good means looking good. It’s the perfect addition to anyone’s look-good (not younger, good!) regime: SMILE... Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley 2 Corinthians 4:16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

Who among us doesn’t love roasted vegetables, roasted turkey and roast beef? Delicious! But, have you ever had a chance to try a “roasted” husband? Or, “roasted” wife, friend, etc.? Recently, I tasted a slightly over-roasted husband. At first I was like, meh, it must be an acquired taste or maybe he just cooked a little too much this time. But, after a few more tries it grew on me. Some of the condiments (walking cane, multiple bathrobes, wine for ages) were funny and made swallowing it easier. Kind of like the way busting your ass to get ahead in life grows on you: lick thy wounds, pretend they don’t hurt, hold your nose and laugh…to “get there.” Last weekend was our company’s Christmas/Holiday party. A good time was had by all on the 26th floor of the swanky Buckhead Club (games, DJ, amazing food, beautiful view, dancing…and surprises). Years of hard work went into making it to the Buckhead Club for a Christmas celebration. This year was particularily special because,...as you already know -- roasted husband -- (mine!) was served for all to devour. Upon arrival, I was swiftly informed that my handsome husband, who is easing into retirement, would be roasted to a crisp after dinner was served. Would I care to join him on stage in the oven? was presented to me as an option. In spite of innate stage fright, I joyfully accepted. Of course I’d roast, I mean stand by, his side while enduring over-the-hill grief from co-workers. Jeff and I are blessed to make it to retirement age. Much success has come our way and we are beyond grateful. No doubt, we’ve had our share of frowns and why me days, but such is the road to reward. No pain no gain (I know, original right?). Acquiring taste for a [surprise] roasted husband wasn’t, right off the bat, easy. But I wouldn’t have forfeited a front row seat no matter how hard my heart pounded or how hard I prayed to not have to speak. There was a steady flow of folks streaming down the aisle with absurd, gotcha gifts in tow. One gift of note was a chair to rock the days away that says “Porche” -- as opposed to Porsche -- on the back. It even has a gear shift on it (sadly no photo). I’ve never in all of our marriage seen Jeff in a bathrobe. He now has five, three of which are Hugh Hefner-esque, hmm. He has enough coffee mugs with retirement quotes to last for ten straight days. Knickknacks were received that only people who gave them know the meaning of. Stuff kept coming and coming down the aisle, including an age-defying dermabrasion tool and hilarious-looking golf pants. Before long Jeff Sweeney was well-done, over-cooked. Audience interest waned and it was at this moment that I most enjoyed it because nobody cared who was on stage and I was keenly aware of that. Good laughs were on a roll! A couple days later, we took the girls to the office to see their father’s roasted gear. We got as silly as the roasting itself was. We couldn’t find the golf pants though? If someone snuck them out, I’m certain Jeff will spy them on a golf course sooner or later. They’re hard to miss. Cheers to all those who have tasted a good, well-done, roasted husband and swallowed it with joy, love and laughter. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley “You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.” ~ 2 Corinthians 9:11

I hope you are doing well and that your December duties have started off smoothly, void of conflict. Christmas truly is the most wonderful time of the year. It's the one and only birthday celebration for which we receive so, so much. And it’s not even our birthday. The irony is that Christmas is a birthday celebration where there is really no need to shop for gifts. Essentially, there is nothing we can give or do that is worthy of Him. Although spiritually, much can be done. We can privately (or publicly) surrender ego, self and sin (things that stores don’t contain, online sites don’t list and no one can make or manufacture). In short, repent. After that whopper-whoozie, just sit back and receive foregivness, Truth and eternal life. The cool thing is, we can receive those gifts (foregiveness, truth, eternal life) at any moment of any day what-so-ever, where ever we are. I know some people who get emotionally agitated as soon as Thanksgiving is over. Depression hits them when Christmas starts closing in. Missing loved ones, memories of past celebrations or whatever the case may be, emotions never fail to lead them down December-Dread Drive. When the True reason for Christmas is shrouded in negativity, the joyest among us get down. Can you imagine how different the tempo leading up to December 25 would be if the real reason for the season was embraced? I didn't mean to get preachy but I do hope this makes sense. I'd be lost without it. Really lost. Jesus isn’t the only December birthday near and dear to my heart. Savanna was born on Thursday, December 19 @ 5:30 p.m. These days, it seems a birthday isn't a birthday if it's not photographically documented, complete with a caption on social media? While searching for a tribute pic of Savanna, I came across this one of her enjoying a book read by my dad. I cried. Dad was one of the kindest, gentlest men I've known. As the saying goes, a picture is worth 1,000 words. For me this one has more than 1,000. Maybe 10,000 words. One thing I remember about Savanna was the heaven scent of her warm, soft head. Hypnotically, that scrumptious aroma exudes through this image. My second baby, Diana, smelled delightfully delicious too…but Savanna oozed heaven scents. I imagine sweet, baby Jesus smelled the same way. Maybe it's a first-born thing. Thank you for reading and Merry Christmas everyone! Love, Shelley For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peach ~ Isaiah 9:6

I recently took a tiny, 24-hour sized bite out of the Big Apple. This 24-hour trip was the fourth in a yearly series, if you delete 2020 out of your mind like I do. And despite the recent headlines claiming NYC is dead, we had a fantastic time and the city felt as alive as it has the past four years. I always leave New York and take renewed energy and inspiration back with me to the comparatively spacious ATL. This year was no different. We crammed a lot in 24 hours, but I'll focus this blog on two highlights of the trip: Bergdorf Goodman and Trump International. Our plane landed around 11am on the first Saturday of November. After a quick change of clothes at our hotel, we Ubered to our first planned activity: high tea at Bergdorf Goodman. If you've been to Harrod's or Galleries Lafayette, you understand that some department stores are like museums. Bergdorf Goodman had that same feel! The cafe on the 7th floor felt like a secret, sophisticated alcove for New York's elite to take a break from breaking the bank. I'd rate the high tea menu a 10/10. The service was not the best, but still good at an 8.5/10. We had no set plans after tea, so we walked along Central Park, past the Plaza toward Columbus Circle in search of a fancy cocktail bar. Randomly, we checked to see if Trump International was close. It happened to be a stone's throw away. We walked through the heavy gold doors and easily found three chairs at the Jean-Georges bar. Comfortable, quiet and sophisticated, it was the perfect setting to throw back two ginger margaritas before trekking back to our hotel to change and begin the night (the only night) of our trip. Savanna

Hi Friends, I hope you are all doing well. Thank you for the messages and comments on the last blog. Elder-parent care has arrived for us baby boomers, ready or not. And our children will be caring [cough] for us, in the not-too-distant future (hi kids ;). Thankfully, wound care, meal prep, dental visits, independent/assisted living, and on, aren’t the only things that inspire blog content these days. Jeff and I attended his 40th high school reunion on St. Simons Island a couple weeks ago. Ten years ago, he joined me at my 30th in Beaverton, Oregon. Jeff was voted most likely to succeed. Given that he helped raise two grounded, faith-filled girls, that superlative is validated. He was also valedictorian with a co-valedictorian (Tom). Tom (a physician practicing in Nashville, TN) was also at the reunion. The cool thing was that neither of them had ever attended a reunion and neither of them knew the other was going to be at this one. If you haven’t been to the Georgia barrier islands where Glynn Academy is located nearby, you’d be mesmerized by the indescribable live oak trees that are dripping and draped in spanish moss. The deck in this photo was built around the tree. Glynn Academy Class of 1981 was full of friendly, smart, partying people. Several of them remarked about how smart Jeff was. One person said that she rode the bus with him and that "he never took books home" while everyone else was lugging heavy bags. My reunion and overall high school experience was a lot different than Jeff's. His school was very preppy and mine was very liberal. Aloha High School class of 1980 was highlighted by friends, Rhonda and Lori. Friends were everything to me. I wasn’t “involved” in high school like Jeff was and I wasn't "someone" like he was, except maybe to my friends. Everyone knew Jeff at his, not so much at mine. A favorite part of mine was spent when friends met up separate from the reunion. When the high school fun and games were over, we headed to Urbana-Champaigne to celebrate Diana’s 24th birthday. Y’all: when you walk out of Diana’s front door you are in a botanical wonderland, like one step away. If you’ve ever been to Chicago's Botanical Garden, this is a smaller version. There’s even a Japanese garden section. I’ve heard the colors in the northeast are amazing in fall. The midwest might be a close second? Georgia is beautiful too, but a little behind Illinois. Fall happened twice for us this year. We stayed in an old, Victorian, bed and breakfast. Halloween decorations inside the house made the home legit spooky. One night, when Jeff was driving Diana home, I literally ran upstairs because the floor was creaking in different places but no one was around. We watched the Braves bat their way to World Series Champion in these pics. Does the house look a little spooky? Do you know what I mean?? When we got back to ATL it was time to check on mom. We drove to her house only to find her not home -- like the time I ended up in the ER with her. Lord have mercy. Where oh where could she be? Lo and behold we found mom and her friend Marilyn (93) in a booth in the very back of O’Brian’s Tavern, a British-style neighborhood pub. These two gals were chatting each other up, Marily sipping Chardonnay. We uprooted them from the booth to a table and caught up on happenings. I’m sorry to say Marilyn’s 10-year-old dog is not doing well :( Prayers appreciated. Nothing sucks more than losing a pet, imho. Needless to say, mom, Diane, Gam, Nana, Grandma, Aunt Diane, whoever she is to you is doing well. I mean, she was hanging out in a pub on Halloween for crying out loud?? Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love ~ John 4:18 But Jesus looked at them and said, ‘With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible’ ~ Matthew 19:26

Hi Friends, I hope you are all happy, healthy and unstressed. For the past three weeks I full-time cared for my mother, Diane (soon-to-be 92). If you read my last blog you know that. Mom has returned to her house with the help of my sister and her husband. Glory be to God. Geriatric care reminds me of toddler care. You can’t let either out of your sight but one you can control, the other you can’t. Both take particular knowledge and patience. Toddler tending is relatively easy as it’s afforded by motherly instinct. Geriatric care arrives with no inherent instinct. Put it this way, there’s a reason elder care is a thriving business. Unlike welcoming a baby home from the hospital, bringing an elder home from the hospital is complicated. A child easily adapts to drills, routines...how it’s going to be. Elders not so much. Most people are set in their ways by their 30s. Imagine how cemented you will be in the 90s? Recap: I stopped by my mom's house 3 ½ weeks ago and rushed her to an ER due to a fast moving infection indicated by a thick, red line that was half-way up her arm. Post-surgery, the surgeon commented that getting her on a big gun antibiotic that evening probably saved her life. I understood that mom needed medical attention immediately. The ER admitted her poste haste upon arrival. I also understood that I would be by her side, at the hospital, throughout treatment and recovery. I did the above instinctively, as anyone would do for a toddler or anyone else. What I don’t understand is how/why mom was discharged to my house, under my care, for three weeks. A toddler discharged to home after surgery is easy to comprehend. “Youth” is on the side of a patient's recovery from injury or illness. Geriatric recovery has variables, idiosyncrasies, that call for expertise to avoid further decline. Suddenly, I was a post-surgery-elder nurse with no RN after my name. Wound care 3x day for 5 days, three balanced meals, proper bedding, bathing, exercise, support -- all the while having no idea what the heck I was doing. What I knew for sure was that my heart pounded when I went to bed and was still pounding when I woke up... if I had the pleasure of waking up because many nights I didn't sleep a wink. When I caught my breath, I did research on how to care for elders. Here’s a snippet of what I found regarding how to best care for senior patients: Consider patients preferences and their needs - I put much consideration into what mom preferred and needed. But, as time went by I heard my heart calling out my desires. Praying in bed at night, asking God to guide the way, I thanked him for the gut-wretching struggle to keep mom going, comfortable. The honor of serving elderly parents is a delicate balance of heaven and hell -- like other invaluable experiences. Be kind, patient, and sympathetic towards them - During the “wound healing” process I was a pretty good nurse. But, after mom healed my brother, sister, and I worked tirelessly to come up with a future, secure living situation for her. Our efforts mostly failed. Dear Lord, hear my prayer: Prudence, Patience & Peace. Support their decision-making skill and encourage them for independence in making choices for themselves - Magnificently, I failed at this one. Wanting desperately to give mom optimum care going forward meant having her close to our home, in "independent" living. This was a gargantuan desire for me. However, what I wanted was not what she wanted. I/we had to surrender. Dear Lord hear my prayer to keep her safe. Help adults to achieve emotional stability - Bringing a new baby home is emotionally charged for all. Entering elder-care years is likewise emotionally amped. But unlike a baby that can be "formed," when parents enter "tender years," they do so with embeded, complex, dynamics of which...lets face it...can't be re-formed. Mom is home safe sound where she wants to be. I/we pray for her safety, health, and most of all the presence of the Lord in her soul and mind. "Tender times" are a natural part of life just like having a baby. We (American society) aren't well-prepared when elder care arrives (in the blink of an eye). May we all do the best we can with Eternal Life in our sight through Him. Give Diane a call, she’d love to hear from her friends and family. Thank you for reading. Love, Shelley But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever ~ Timothy 5:8 Do not cast me off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength is spent ~ Psalm 71:9

Hi Everyone, I hope you are all happy, healthy and blessed as fall slowly rolls into town. I’ve been away from my favorite hobby in the world (blogging) because life has taken a turn. My mom (a/k/a Gam, Gramma, Nana, Diane, Aunt Diane) went to the ER last Sunday (9/19) for a serious infection in her right thumb. On Monday she had surgery (nail removed, plus two stitches along the side.) Currently she is home with me and I am taking care of her needs. If you’ve ever been in a similar position you know how overwhelming yet gratifying elder care can be. It puts patience and patients to the test. Caring for an elderly person makes us better people! Doing so truly is an honor...and who knows, maybe one day the care will be returned my (your) way. God willing, a lot of us are headed toward our ‘90s. A few days ago I may not have said all of that. Caring for elders requires more hands on deck than just one person. I was on my own for the first three days. But, over the weekend, Savanna and Jeff pitched in and the gratifying part wafted through the house. I’m not saying it’s all wine and roses, it’s not. But time is [obviously] of the essence and being able to help out with care at this stage of mom’s life is a gift. Diane is VERY tough. It’s been less than a week since her thumb was operated on. After her check up appointment four days ago, she fell outside the office while walking just behind me. At 91-years-old she got right back up, sore but no broken anything. A brand new road is stretching out in front of us and we’re taking it one day at a time. I thought that everyone who knows and loves Diane would appreciate knowing what she is going through and what we are praying over her. God is good, we are blessed beyond measure and we live in awe of the pleasure of worshipping him. Mom loves her friends and family very much. Please don’t hesitate to call, text or email. Thank you for reading! Love, Shelley My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever ~ Psalm 73:26

Back in June, when my mom and I were planning a trip to visit The University of Illinois over Labor Day, I frankly thought it would be quite boring. I knew we would have fun and feel fulfilled picking out furniture for Diana, touring the campus and overall helping her get settled - but it was not going to be a trip to Tokyo or Paris. When coworkers asked about my Labor Day plans, I mentioned I was going to Urbana-Champaign to help settle my sister into law school. A few were familiar with the area, and in fact commented on the desolate, boring nature of the towns. Well alrighty then. Much to my surprise, Urbana-Champaign lives up to its fancy name with amazing food, drinks and activities! If you're ever in the area, use my guide below to ensure a fun trip. I have to admit I'm a little bit jealous of Diana's new home and I look forward to visiting her again soon. Yes, it was that fun! Kofusion The Bi Bim Bob bowl here changed my life! The rice on the bottom of the hot bowl gets crusty and charred - IYKYK. Harvest Market The coffee bar here competes with coffee shops in NYC. 10/10 espresso drinks. Maize I had my first birria taco experience (thanks, Diana). This trend hasn't quite hit Atlanta yet, but I look forward to the day it does. Curtis Orchard This family friendly attraction has it all: a corn maize, apple picking, kittens, horses, a country store, goats and hay rides. I could have stayed here all day. Football Game (or basketball depending on time of year) If you happen to be in town during a home game, make the effort to go! It was a lot of fun and makes you feel like part of the community. Driving through corn fields The ambiance of Urbana-Champaign is relaxing in itself. I enjoyed driving through corn fields and channeling my inner Dorothy. We are happy to hear from Diana too: Having my mom and sister in Champaign for Labor Day Weekend was invaluable! I've only been here a couple of weeks and my apartment still needed a lot of work. They got right at it: cleaning, rearranging, decorating, and buying (much-needed) furniture. During well-deserved breaks, we went to amazing restaurants, a football game, and a beautiful orchard. The weekend flew by and I miss them already, but am so grateful for all their help and company! I'm excited to have them back again soon. Mom's Blog