Carol

My dearest friend Carol died unexpectedly last Monday.

On Mackinac, a huge accomplishment for us:)

I'm upset as I found out days later, and devastated to have lost one of the kindest souls I've ever known.  I'm worried about her Kitty, as I don't know who might take her, and I know Carol loved that cat more than anything else in the world.  My head spins knowing the mess that is left behind, and knowing I can do nothing to help after twenty-two years of helping.

It's also among the most bittersweet moments of my life.

 

I met Carol at church when I was newly pregnant with my oldest child.  She was different; her style choices indicated an attention to detail that was eclectic compared to most people's.  Within minutes of speaking with her you knew she wasn't like everyone else; she was challenged with mental illness her entire adult life.

Manic depressive and paranoid schizophrenic.  Let's drop the pretense and be open about mental illness; these are the chronic diseases she battled everyday I knew her.  We get coy talking about illnesses and diseases of the mind, tiptoeing around the subjects as if they are something to be ashamed of or feared.  Medications made a "normal" life possible for her up until this past year, when she suffered heavy setbacks.  Over twenty years I watched her tackle obstacles most people would consider to be nothing; my pride in her accomplishments was nothing compared to the lavish love and joy she brought my family.

Our early friendship was marked by going out to lunch every other month or so; she frequently was "up north" with her father and I saw her on trips to town.  She was one of the first visitors to the hospital when I had my babies, every Christmas and birthday she wrote poetry as a gift.  I remember the first time I realized how special she was to me; it was a few years after we had met.  About four months had gone by since I had seen her, and as we sat chatting I it dawned on me what a marvelous friend I had in this unique woman.  She was grateful to God for the life she led, even though it was frought with family drama.  Her mother and both of her older brothers also shared her diagnosis; her mother refused medication, as did one of her brothers. Her father, a highly successful businessman in his day, was resigned to simply keeping the peace.  Carol was his companion in this; together they kept hidden the destructive tendencies of the family they both loved.  As she shared more of her story I was amazed by her incredible fortitude to stay positive; her older sister, Claudia, had been murdered by her husband as a newlywed.  That incident was the one that sent a then-healthy Carol over the edge; she spent almost a decade institutionalized.  Modern medicines made life outside the hospital possible, I met her about three years later.  She couldn't drive, and had regular anxiety attacks when going somewhere new.  Her faith in God sustained her as she daily dealt with situations that would have driven others insane, she would joke it was good she already had problems as it made her more empathetic to her family's problems.

As her father aged, she took on more responsibilities; his vision loss prompted me to bring up driving to her. Surprisingly, she still had a valid driver's license.  She had gotten it at 16, and had faithfully renewed it every four years, even though it had been 30 years since she had drove.  For a year she prayed and pondered it, I had her start saying "I am a good driver and can help my dad by driving."  She reluctantly agreed to a lesson; I will never, ever forget driving with her while her mother sat in the back seat yelling obscenities at us.  Carol and I chuckled about it for years; her mom insisted a cop in Detroit had taken her license and we needed to hunt him down...among other things!  After that first lesson we had several without her mom in the car, less than a month later I received a call in the early morning hours.

 

"Katie, I just took Dad to the hospital.  He has pneumonia and is in ICU.  I was able to drive him there."  As I exclaimed my pride in her and concern for her father she replied, "but I came home and my mother is dead.  I think she fell down the stairs."  Rushing to be by her side, I had no idea of the horrors I was about to see.  I arrived shortly after the sheriff's office, and walked into her home for the first time.  

I almost didn't see her mother in the crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs...as she was partially hidden by trash.  Mountains of hoarded objects and debris filled the house to past waist high; the smell hit me as I hugged my friend.  I had visited her up north, and knew her home up there to be clean and neat.  I knew this was her mother's mess, and compassion for what she had dealt with swelled.  Over the next few days I helped her find a place to live, and make sense of the mess.  In the months to come our church family cleaned out the house, local businessmen helped her fix it up to sell.  Her father died a few months after her mother, and she decided to relocate to the north; 12 hours away.

Carol visited about four times a year, and we always saw her when we vacationed on Mackinac Island.  Her anxiety over the boat ride prevented her joining us on the island, over the years I decided to build her up just as we had for driving (she became a good driver and could navigate the 12 hour trip between her up north home and our hometown with ease.)  Three years ago the day came when she boarded a ferry to the island and we held each other tight as she fought her mind.  Stepping on the dock we laughed and laughed, overjoyed at her triumph.  She was able to join us again two summers later, in 2015.

 Girls only:)

With the kids at the Fort.

 Us posing in the bathtub at the Fort😂😂

 

 The Princess and her Aunt Carol.

My children all adored their aunt, who showered them with unique gifts they treasured for the novelty factor.  Almost all came from thrift stores, and reflected her eclectic tastes.  She was generous with her love and attention, and they enjoyed her company.  She was a godly woman who showed them truly how to trust the Lord in every situation, and to be happy regardless of lot in life.  While we moved to Arizona six years ago, she never forgot a birthday or Christmas, and always made my children feel special.

The news of her death hit me after a 60 hour work week launching Ride, and unexpected news that had saddened me greatly just two days before.  I was stunned; I had just been thinking I needed to call her that very week.  We hadn't talked since Christmas, and I knew she was struggling.  The past year she had slipped, and was suffering greatly.  Being in Arizona I did my best to encourage her from afar, even as I was dealing with the end of my marriage and the upheavals in my own life.  Learning she died on Monday when on Sunday I had actually told myself to call her and had then forgotten crushed my heart...in her hour of need I was too busy.  I called the King, who had loved her like a sister and who had admired her father highly.  He reminded me of her struggles, and of the Blessed Hope.

 Aunt Carol and the Princess, being silly many years ago.

Jesus.  Our Savior.  He had welcomed her with open arms, as did her father, her now-whole mother, and yes, her sister Claudia.  In heaven our Carol was reunited with her family, and they were well.  Carol was free from the struggles and chains that had held her captive, with those she loved and cherished the most.  As I shared with my children the news their beloved aunt was gone, it came up that they just knew she was hunting down my late sister Jenny and the Knight in heaven  to tell them about the family back on earth.

Carol had fought the good fight, fighting harder than most of us will ever know.  She has finished her race.  Heaven's gain is not my loss, for I will always cherish the memories and love she shared so freely with us.  May her life struggle with mental illness be held up as a standard that it shouldn't be stigmatized.  Rather, we should all love as freely as she did.

Rest In Peace, my dear sister and friend.  I will miss your listening ear, your gentle encouragement and your daily triumphs.  I will miss our adventures we always had when we were together, and how you loved my children as your own.  I look forward to the day we shall dance down the streets of gold, praising God for all He has done.  Until then, I shall remember the good and miss you always.

 

Update:  Carol died of natural causes.  Her heart simply stopped on February 16th; a welfare check on Monday, February 20th found her deceased.  So that call I didn't make on Sunday?  Would not have mattered.  Hopefully we will be able to have a service celebrating her life in Adrian soon; over 1000 people have read this post.  I am humbled to share the story of a much-loved woman by so many and do not feel I've brought her justice.

Aflame

Since my concussion, I find I use words from long-forgotten vocabulary tests with relative ease.

 

I have to look them up to see if they mean what I think they mean--and am always pleasantly surprised when they do.

I recently told an acquaintance I found them to be basal as a mild insult.  

 Yep.  Nailed it.  Suggested he was as basal as all other men.

So the proclivity to use vocabulary words of long ago has only grown in recent months...and I wonder which concussion bestowed this blessing.  Not that it matters, but as one of the blessings I'm counting today, it's funny it stemmed from hitting my head.

You see, yesterday I was sorely tempted to bang such head against a wall.

 Me and Betty Boop, our newest cart to the Ride fleet.

We launch today, and Miss Betty, as of 8:30pm last night, is ready to go. Cherry Bomb and Greenie (in her new red paint job) are on their way to Phoenix, and my  Scottsdale fleet of three is nearly ready to rumble.

I own a business in Scottsdale.

That makes me chuckle this morning, but yesterday it was a different story.  Yesterday I had to put on my big girl panties and get to work...when I was crushed.  So saddened by unexpected news it took my breath away. While struggling to get done all that needs doing in a short amount of time, swimming hard to stay afloat in choppy waters, I received word that I wasn't expecting.

I began to drown.

 

Not even finding a yellow brick road could have lightened my mood (although it did the day before!)

I had no time to stop and go for a run.  I had no time to process anything - it was the worst possible day to throw something at me as I'm trying to pull every last string together into a tapestry.

Flyboy told me to get a grip, and shape the hell up or I'd have to go to work for someone else.  When a former green beret tells you to get your crap together, it's amazingly effective for snapping you straight.

So I put one foot infront of the other, and we got it done.  Not that it was hard-it wasn't-I was simply overwhelmed.

I stayed home that night instead of going out and had a vegetarian meal of lentils & veggies in a curry sauce.  It was delicious, and I started to relax.  It wasn't just the bad news, it was also the fact I hadn't eaten all day.  (When I stress badly, I don't eat.  So does a certain green beret...)

Today was an excellent business day, and new business  alliances were formed.  I possibly have the beginning of a few new friendships, exciting for me as I have only two girlfriends in Phoenix.  

I can hear Flyboy in my head right now, asking how many boyfriends I have in Phoenix.😂😠😜

Tonight I set aside my bruised feelings, and Jenny and I attend the Phoenix Symphony...and I wondered who I need to talk to about advertising with us :)

We were sooooo entertained.

My hair was aflame, my dress was dancing.

 Sooooo fun!!!

 Seriously.  This dress is waaaaaay kick butt.

Tonight I had a wonderful time; goosebumps came when Tschaikowsky was played.

It soothed my soul.

While the door is now closed on certain opportunities; spending time in downtown Phoenix helped me overcome disappointment tonight:)  Forward progress.  No matter what obstacles occur-I must keep that momentum.  Time to put on my Minimus...I've got a business and a trail to run.

 And those decisions belong to me:)

When it Works

Gotta bang this out now, not later.

 You know when you start and immediately see a heart it's good.

My inability to breath as of late has left me very frustrated.  So again, I'm trying.

 Thankfully it's spring in the valley.

My unexpected delay in leaving meant time for a radio interview for Ride this morning and a run...or an attempt at a run.  I recalled long ago the King telling me about "cruising altitude" at about 20 minutes in.  So, I hiked for 20 minutes.  I was mildly breathless.

At the end of 20 I took a puff off the inhaler....and started to run.

I fell immediately.

 On rocks:)

I was ecstatic.

Why I love having a fall after the fact is so ludicrous- but I do.  My arm is stinging, my left adductor is pulled and I took a hard poke to the left ball of my foot.

I'm so stinking pleased.

I'm sitting in the picnic shelter, swinging my legs and thinking how I should go golf as clearly it's my day for a hole in one.

My feet don't touch!  Teehee!

After the fall, I laughed.  I had forgotten the golden rule of trail running:  pick up your feet. 

I was able to run the next two miles.

 Gleeful.  Ridiculous and gleeful.

 My cool resting spot:)

Lots is swirling around me...many things I hope go my way.  Some I have control of.  Some I do not.

Soooo...

I'm gonna just focus on what I can control.  I can't control others, nor would I wish to.  I'm going to figure out me.

 This was an accidental selfie.  Kinda cool, isn't it?

So I'm heading north to Prescott.

 And I'm so happy.

I actually feel better after exercise.

The Man Behind the Curtain

I just watched a young musician give up his place in line at an incredible open mic night.  He's taking home the father of his friend we happened to bump into, who also happened to have too much to drink.

 Rebel Lounge in Phoenix.

Kyle had tricked me into coming out after I closed my eyes for "just a minute" before driving home to Prescott for a few days before we launch Ride.  When I woke up a few hours later and it was dark I decided to stay, while approving proofs my business partner insisted we should grab dinner to go over more stuff before he left for a week of work three hours away.  I quickly uncovered his ruse when we ended up in Phoenix instead of somewhere off of Cooper Rd; we ran into Jam when we walked in.  He plays bass one of the bands Kyle represents and tonight was a solo outing.

Except he left to take care of a friend.

These are the unsung moments of the man behind the curtain...a role each of us can assume.

Maybe I assume it too much.

 I felt like I was in Michigan this morning.  Snow and pines.

Long drives are soothing to my soul; perhaps that's one reason owning businesses in Scottsdale and Prescott both suit me.  In the valley people balk at leaving their neck of the sunshine; I laugh when asked where I live (technically Mesa, but I exist in Scottsdale) as I drive here from Prescott!  My thirty-forty minutes to meet someone is no biggie; at home I'm a minimal twenty-five minutes from anywhere.  So driving anywhere?  No biggie for me.  If I can make it happen, I'm happy to.

Yet here?  It's a massive imposition to most.  So I'm different...and it's ok to be kind and drive.

 I love how the topography in AZ changes:) The Central Highlands.

We all make choices; last Friday I chose to drop an argument and forgive rather than continue it.  The next day I was face to face with them; other than a weary acknowledgement of "sorry" from both of us it was back to business as usual.  Later we walked arm in arm after a successful meeting, and I marveled at how quickly the past was the past.  I cannot imagine carrying around a grudge...it seems senseless to me.  Yet many do--perhaps 80%?--and we are judged regularly by the actions of those who have gone before us.  Is there ever an opportunity to prove ourselves not to be cut from the same cloth?

 Saguaros and sunshine.

Today I twice made good choices about food, and one very bad but delicious choice.  Two out of three is better than the 52 million calories I consumed a few days ago, and I am reminded little changes to create habits take 21 days.  Yesterday I actually cooked😳 and have to admit, I feel better knowing my calorie consumption wasn't out of hand.  I also cleaned my car and ticked off another 7 boxes on the Ride opening checklist; our first cart arrives tomorrow.  I plan on getting in a run before I head up the hill, another unplanned benefit from my unexpected nap.

 Jam...who still got to sing.

When life hands you something unexpected, I've often made it a positive.  It's being able to see those as opportunities that makes the difference.

Can everything negative be made a positive?

You'll never know until you explore it.

 

😜

I think of the many times I've held things together, unsung and unheralded.  Like Jam, who left to do the right thing.  

 

"Pay no attention to the little man behind the curtain..."

In The Wizard of Oz The Wizard proved much more "powerful" when revealed, pointing out simple truths which helped Dorothy and her friends much more than the elaborate quest he had sent them on.  His work behind the curtain wasn't to help...it was conniving.  So it seems we are often judged to be if we aren't bragging about what we do.

 

I can't quite call failing repeatedly at sport and diet bragging.  Keeping it real, yes.

I like doing the right thing because it's the right thing, yet being judged by the characteristics of others is wearying.  Of being accused of trying to get something simply because one is kind.  

My agenda is only to make people smile.  I'm not a comedian, so laughter is a stretch:). If I give them encouragement along the way?  Even better.

A ride on a golf cart in traffic?  Guaranteed smiles.  

Making fun of my Fitness Quest?  Smiles, and hopefully encouragement.

My golf swing? 😂😂😂

Ok, maybe I can make people laugh:)

Lately I've found myself lamenting that it doesn't ever seem to payoff....but that sounds an awful lot like the man behind the curtain.  We have seasons in life; hopefully this has just been a winter. 

And the kindnesses I've sowed will bloom as blessings for others in the spring.

 

Spring is already starting in the valley...

Fitness Quest.  Trying so desperately to keep it real.

The Horrible, Terrible and Not So Great Day

Only one asthma attack.  That's the answer.

 Ready to break-in my new Minimus 10v1 shoes by New Balance.

I had woke up sad.

There was no reason to be sad, but inveritably I was.  The night before I had snuck in some time with my oldest, and it was wonderful hanging out with my adult  daughter.

 Red Light selfies.  Like sitting AT a red light.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep (I went to bed at 1am, but still woke up at 6am), or perhaps it was the epiphanies I had had the afternoon before.

Oh.  Yes.

Epiphanie(s).

As in plural.

 Good lord.  There are rules?!?

In a Lululemon fitting room I had no fewer than three epiphanies:

1. Exercise bras and I will never work.  Ever. I hate  squeezing into them, and then I look prepubescent once I'm in.   No.  Just no.
2. Lululemon wants ridiculous amounts of money to feel naked.
3. My weight was in the critical zone.

Before you argue three, and tell me "I look great", let me tell you that you can't see or feel the extra weight due to my height.  I can.  I know my energy levels are down, and I know it's because I'm eating virtually only junk food.

Like lots of junk food.

 The four biggest perpetrators.

So "tomorrow is a new day?" Right?

Maybe that's why I woke up sad.

Or maybe it's because after seven weeks I'm still dealing with the fallouts of my New Years Eve allergic reaction.

Or because I'm a wee overwhelmed with the work still to be done.

Or because of the wicked headache I've had for over a week.

Or because the King moved back in.

Or because I was ghosted.

 

In honesty, it was the last one.

Regardless, I'm rarely sad.

 Pouty, yes.  Sad, no.

My tipping point was a call from a bill collector.  Yes, you read that right.  This girl with an 805 credit rating was chewed a new one over a bill that was erroneously billed to me instead of Workman's Comp.  I hung up crying, knowing that I shouldn't take it personally.  The stresses of the week got to me, and I just wept.  To the inquisitive mind, the greatest pain another can inflict is silence.  Not knowing.  Not allowing the scientific breakdown of facts and data.  Being ghosted?  It was too much.

 Lol-should have read that yesterday:)

Drying my tears, I set to work.  Ride opens in a week, the punch list is long.  At the top of the list was something that wasn't quite resolved yesterday, so I made that call first.

 Yeah.

The ensuing argument rattled me to my core.

More tears, lots of yelling, and my heart being ripped in two.

Then I received this:

 Flyboy (of course) sent it.

I called him driving home (said argument extended into a wicked drive to another city) and Flyboy (as always) listened as I sobbed.

Because he's awesome, even if he is a buckeye.

As I poured out my frustrations, he told me to ditch my planned morning activities and go for a hike or a run.  As BFF's typically tend to point us in the right direction.

So I drove to Dreamy Draw, made sure I had my inhaler, and set out for my first run in the valley in several weeks, knowing an asthma attack would likely occur despite the pre-puff.  Another call cheered me enough to get my head on straight; I determined I was going to have a good run.

 Setting out.

 At least there's light at the end.

 This was tremendous fun.

 And then I stopped.

 And apparently took multiple photos...

I was 1/4 of a mile in.

This attack was ruthless...it was the second time I felt scared in two weeks' time.  I had tried throttling slowly instead of quick bursts...it hadn't worked.  Regaining my breath took a few minutes, so I moped before resignedly deciding to hike instead.

 It's getting green.

 And this jump even I could see!

My heart grew heavy as the argument continued by text...and at some point I gave up.  I didn't want to argue.  I didn't want to be sad.  I just wanted to run.

So I did.  And I could breathe.

I ran for three songs, so about ten minutes, before I called it.  

I felt terrible.

I was breathless, but could breathe.  Plain and simple, I was out of shape.  And it just sucked.  

My glasses are never straight. 🙁

I made a video, but the sound didn't record.  Essentially, I bemoaned the fact there was no runners high, no endorphin dump, no feeling better.

It was just hard.  So very, very hard.

Exercise has been my nemesis since childhood.  Undiagnosed asthma prevented enjoyment of many activities, and uncoordination marked me as the last one chosen.  I thought about how much I had envied the Special Olympics kid's basketball team-truly envied them-because they got to play.  I never got to play.  And when I did?  I was terrible and told I was terrible.  There was no opportunity to get better.

Dejected, I started the drive back home; stopping for a large White Annhilator from Dutch Bros and a Big Mac meal (with an extra double cheeseburger on the side) from McDonalds.  Typically under stress, I don't eat.  Lately? The opposite.

I felt better.

Let's get real:  exercise made me hurt.  Food satisfied my soul.  This is why 80% of America struggles with weight.  Don't give me the shill about "just do it."  It's physiologically wired into us.

It's how we were born.

And then I saw this:

 Camelback Mountain, Echo Canyon trail side.

Th photo does not do justice to the sheer size and complexity.  As I drove down Lincoln towards Scottsdale, the mountain dominated my view.

I had hiked that, with little difficulty, less than a month ago.

It didn't matter what was happening now, I needed to simply move forward.

Not quit.

I've mentioned it before, but it bares repeating here.  While flying two years ago, I was seated next to a man who was a Navy SEAL.  Knowing my son aspired to such a position, I asked him for any advice.  He thought about it and replied:

"Everything they throw at you is designed to make you quit.  Just don't."

 My theology summed up in one verse.

The terrible day flashed before me anew as I drove south to an impromptu business meeting in Tempe.

 

Yes I was in sweaty running clothes.  Being a business owner is magnificent😎

If this day was designed to make me quit, I wasn't going to.  If this day was going to discourage me from exercise, I was sorely tempted to let it, but in the end I'd go at it again.  It was a choice, and I alone stood at the crossroads of a "what if."

My mind again renewed, I had an incredible meeting and went back to work.

I may be a Sharpie addict.  😳

It had been a terrible day.

But I survived.  The argument of earlier in the day was resolved, apologies given and received.  Real work got done in a dedicated three hour slot in which I was focused and on task.  The meeting was fantastic, and gave me a good shot in the arm of encouragement.  Jenny came down for the evening, and we enjoyed sushi and a favorite band.

 At Geisha A Go Go Sushi Lounge

After I ate my 52 million junk food calories I could have just given up.  Most would not have faulted or blamed me for going straight to bed after drinking a bottle of wine.

Instead, I recognized this day as one designed to make me quit.

And I didn't.