I Have a Friend

I have a friend who cries every time her kids have to visit her ex-husband because she’s worried he going to take his rage out on them.

I have a friend who is living in her sister’s basement because her husband prefers the smell of a bar and the company of another woman to her own loving arms.

I have a friend who is praying with every cell in her being that the cancerous tumor on her eleven-year-old daughter’s neck will just go away.

I have a friend who moved to Australia for her husband’s job. She’s had to fight a new diagnosis of breast cancer without her posse of friends.

Everyday, when I pick up my kindergartener from school, I ask her, “What was your Glad and what was your Sad today?” Her Glads range from, ” I got to eat chicken nuggets at lunch!” to “I made it all the  way across the monkey bars!” Her Sads are often a lot harder for her to share. She’ll say, “I don’t know, Mom, it was a pretty good day.” or “I didn’t have any Sads, because I kept thinking about how I made it across the monkey bars.”

I think it’s time I started to ask myself the same question I ask my little girl. What was your Glad and what was your Sad today? I have so much to be thankful for… I think we all do.

My friend with the raging husband bought her own house and is showing her kids that even a mom can be a strong, independent woman.

My friend with the alcoholic husband is looking for apartments and rebuilding her bank account now that no one is siphoning off beer money.

My friend with the tumor on her daughter’s neck is driving to Mayo because she was able to book treatment with one of the best doctors in the country.

My friend with breast cancer in Australia is realizing not even an ocean will keep her friends from helping her fight this nasty disease.

I am so thankful that while most days I will have a Sad, God isn’t stingy when he doles out the Glads.

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I’m Ready

Well, I’m ready. It’s 4:30 in the morning on a Wednesday in April, and I am ready. I’ve been pregnant for 9 1/2 months, but I’m thinking (once again) that perhaps today is the day. When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I was the anchor of a morning news show. One of our guests happened to be a psychic who told me that my little girl would be arriving 5 days late. I kept her words in the back of my mind as I scheduled my induction for her due date. There. My baby would be arriving right on time.

No such luck. The day I was to be induced, the nurses called and said the hospital was having a run on births and my delivery would have to be put on hold. The next morning, the same thing. The next thing I know, it’s 5 days later and I am finally giving birth to a healthy baby girl. The psychic was right.

Two years later when I was pregant with Number 2, I was filling in a on morning radio show. The guest that morning, a psychic, told me that I would be giving birth to a boy and he, too, would be a late arrival. Yep. Right on.

So here we are at Baby Number 3. Thanks to modern technology, I know it’s going to be a boy. The room is ready, his name is picked out and I’ve even ordered some diapers online. But something has gone unfinished. We haven’t had our dose of psychic entertainment with this one. Until now.

I couldn’t get past the idea that I wouldn’t have any fun little “look what the psychic said about my baby” stories this time and time is running out. So, I have finally had my first full-blown personalized intuitive reading with a woman named Chanda in the Twin Cities. Without knowing I am pregnant (the reading was done over the phone), Chanda immediately started asking about my health. Had I recently had a bad cold, perhaps? It seemed the spirits were showing her symbols of a woman with trouble breathing, pain in her hips and an energy in the torso equivalent to Pac-Man… eating furiously, with an intensity to finish the pellets and win the game. When I told her I was 9 months pregnant, we both had a laugh. She went on to say that the baby would be 3 days late.

While I’m not sure yet whether Chanda is right, I hope she is wrong. I’m ready to meet this little guy now. Not tomorrow, not 2 weeks from now and certainly now 2 weeks and 3 days from now.

Chanda also said  something else that’s been bouncing around my head. She said the time was right for me to start writing. To take the creativity, humor and compassion I’ve been storing up since staying home with the kids and write. It’s a scary proposition for many reasons. I don’t have the time. My computer is old and insists on freezing mid-sentence. What if someone actually READS what I wrote? But just like this baby is on the brink of showing his beautiful face, I am on the brink of showing myself that all the excuses I’ve been using have expired. It’s time to do something for myself.

I’m ready.

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