
The Thrill of Seeking Joy
“Aimez-vous la luge?” I asked our young student from France. His wide eyes grew even larger. “No! No! No!” Obviously my search for “roller coaster” in the pocket dictionary I had with me got the answer I had guessed already. He did NOT like them! There was no way the two of us would join my husband and three children on Disneyland’s Matterhorn. We found an alternate, less stressful ride, congratulating ourselves on our good sense. I am not a thrill seeker. I prefer the virtua

Familiar Joy!
“I’ll just take my suitcase upstairs and find something to change into from these clothes I’ve been wearing all day long on the plane. I’ll be down in a minute.” But when I unzipped my suitcase and flipped up the cover, nothing looked familiar. A gray T-shirt? As I searched through the contents I discovered more of the same. A man’s personal bag containing numerous medications; men’s blue jeans and shirts; men’s workout shorts and shirt. What were these things doing in MY sui

Limits
“Just be patient with me please. I need to step up with my good leg.” My mother was always calm and insistent when others tried to hurry her along. She paid attention to the challenges of stairs and steps. When I was two years old, she contracted polio, which left her weak in one of her legs. It also robbed her of the active life she had lived up until then. Bowling, golf, enthusiastic dancing were all part of her past life, a life I had never witnessed. My mom knew her limit