Today's Drop of Grace

My Wish

You just never know where a year is going to take you...

This is the first January in years that I don't already have travel plans in place.

Not gonna make any either. Think I'll just see where life takes me...

Friends are experiencing new beginnings:
getting married, having babies, having grand babies, upsizing, downsizing, getting healthy or reinventing themselves with: new jobs, new growth, new loves.

Folks are seeing new endings as well: Sending kids off the college, laying loved ones to rest, divorce, retiring, facing health issues, kicking cancers butt!

Everyone's life is changing, evolving in big ways, little ways; every day, every year.

I am not alone.

I am not special.

I am not different.

I am one of you and your are one of me. 

We are all in this together.

Just gonna take this new year one day at a time. 

My wish? You will too. <3

Today's Drop of Grace

I Won't Do That Again

Do you have a thing or two you have vowed never to do again?

I have a list. As I grow older, and hopefully wiser, the list gets longer.

1. I will never worry if my truth conflicts with your beliefs. My thoughts work for me. Your beliefs are your business. Not mine to judge. I respect that. I hope you will return the courtesy.

2. I will never engage in a a thread on politics. It's moot. I do have my opinions on the next election, but politics are just one big Ponzi scheme. (Look at social security).  Ibn the words of my interested son, "I don't like any of the candidates. I'd rather see a monkey running the country." There are issues important to me, but it's all lobbying and lies; arguing about them is a lost cause. I'd rather act locally on making a difference.

3. I will never stand in a one hour line at an amusement park, in the middle of August, sweat running down my back, just to enjoy a three minute ride. No matter how adorable my grandkids are sure to be. Did that. It was miserable for all of us. Prettier at Christmas time anyway.

4. I will never worry if my kids have clean clothes, something to eat, or what they are doing when they go out. I have taught them how to use the washing machine machine, dryer, and stove. I will still do laundry and cook, but not out of obligation. Both know what they need and when they need it by. My 17 year olds have been brought up to make good choices, be responsible. If they choose to ignore our advice, they understand consequences.

5. I will never chase after anyone again: family or friend or foe. I have learned we cannot force a person to love us. If we try, the duration is sure to be ephemeral. Lasting love is natural and effortless. I want the in a forever kind of way love, that WILL  come to me.

6. I will never argue with someone who clearly does not plan  to even consider my point of view. It exhausts me, and gets us nowhere. I plant to agree to disagree. And walk away,

7. I will never look at devoted single moms the same again. You have my highest respect. If I can be an ear to vent to, or watch your kids while you take a walk alone, let me know.

8. I will never look at devoted single dads the same way again. My heart goes out to the loss they are feeling. May I show you how to use your oven--bake a chicken?

9. I will not tolerate mean actions from anyone. I have a voice. I will use it to let you know you're not cool.

10. I will never again be afraid to share the trials in my life. Everyone struggles. It is important to understand we are in this together.

Oprah says: when we know better, we do better.

What I Did Right

Am I His Child?

I had just gotten the job at Warner Bros. The admin department told me I needed to order a name plate for my desk. Simple enough task, right? Just list my name, and hand in order form. Yet, I hated having to think about something so many others took for granted.

My name has always been Renee Lynn DeMont.

But very few knew that. My adoptive parents thought it was Dobranich, and then later on, my husband thought it was Duenas.

A writer on the television show I was working on walked past my desk one day and said, "Renee Duenas...Duenas? That doesn't sound right."


"What's your maiden name?" I responded with "Dobranich." "No, that doesn't sound right either."

I giggled.

Trying to solve the puzzle for her I offered, "Well, my birth name is DeMont..."

"That's it! Renee DeMont...Sounds like a movie stars name! You should go by that."

I liked Jeannette. A lot. But she couldnt' have known how hard it was for me to say no to my parents, my husband.

I remember looking down at the form again and thinking, "Maybe I could just enter my initials: RLD, and leave the rest off, make everybody happy? After all, through birth, adoption and marriage the one thing that remained constant was my initials.

But I wanted to enter: DeMont. That is who I really was. Or was it?

As a little girl I had fine hair, which meant I had fine eyebrows. They were a constant disappointment to my mother. She would often sigh, "Nee, come over here." I'd watch obediently as she would lick the back of each of her thumbs, grab hold of my face, reach up and slick back the tiny hairs above my blue eyes, securing them back into place. There was one time though she said something I will never forget:

"Remember, you are a ten month baby. You won't understand that now, but one day you will."

Um. okay.

Years later, I was sitting on my grandmother's couch in her cozy warm home in west Tennessee having a heart to heart, when I shared why mother's odd remark, "Do you know what she was trying to tell me?"

Gram took along drag off her cigarette, and with a nod in my direction, gave herself permission to say, "I think I might."

"Your mother ran away on Thanksgiving day. I know it was Thanksgiving because the police officer knocked on my door during our dinner, "Ma'am, we found a car registered to you. It was abandoned down in Los Angeles."

Mama had run away with Gram's car, and apparently drove it till it ran out of gas. Impound had it. Gram could not afford to down to LA and pay to retrieve the care, so she just let it go.

My grandmother was angry at losing the car, but she seemed to soften as she recalled what prompted my mother to run...

Mama had been a senior in high school, earning good grades, had her driver's license, and had fallen deeply in love with a soldier stationed there at the military base in San Luis Obispo. A wee before the holiday, her beloved was in a tragic car accident. "Your mother spent that whole week by his side in the ICU. Never left his side."

I wanted to know more, "Did you know him?" "No,not really. I worked nights at the hospital then, but I knew she care for him. When he died, it was, I think, more than she could take. Ran away just a day or two later. Thought she'd come back but she met Dock pretty quickly and that ended that."

The junior detective in me started to put it all together and my heart ached for my teenaged mother: November she lost her true love...I was a born in August...ten month baby. Her soldier was probably my father. My mama must have been heartbroken. Terrified. I wanted to hold her; I wanted to hold my mother because I knew no one had.

Found out later, his name was Richard Lewis. But that is all I found out.

Am I his child? Maybe. Maybe not. I wish I knew.

Gonna keep a warm place in my heart for him though; mama loved him deeply. I want to believe I was a product of true love.

Since I don't know for sure, and that little girl in me has always enjoyed the sound of the "movie star" name listed on my birth certificate, I have decided that while I am appreciative for those whom have wanted to share their surnames with during different chapters of my journey, as my marriage ends so will the last name of Duenas.. It is time for a new chapter in the book of my life; a chapter written by:

Renee DeMont

Todays Drop of Grace...

A Door of My Own

I found the english countryside enchanting.

Never been before, so I made sure to include it on our itinerary this time as we traveled through through the UK. In fact, during my research I stumbled upon a darling Secret Cottage tour, where a local husband/wife open the door to their very own thatched roof home, located in the heart of Moreton in Marsh, just outside of London.

A small team of their friends picked us up at the train station, and treated all thirteen of us to three well-timed spreads of delectable treats and tea, along with a guided tour of the neighboring villages that make up the Cotswolds. It was like having friends that lived in the area pick us up and show us around. It was quite simply, heavenly.

What stood out to me?

The DOORS.

It is always the doors.

When I was a child. we spent lots of time on the road. Literally, months at a time. We did not have a home of our own. We lived in our car. Much of the day was spent driving around, praying for the mercy and goodwill of a sympathetic relative, or often times, strumming the guilt strings of one of daddy's gambling buddies in hopes one would open his own door to us. Occasionally, when we did finally pull up alongside an abode of possible respite, I would lean my little torso out the car window, eyes opened wide in anticipation, fixating on the new mysterious door in front of me.

I found each and every entry way fascinating...

What was it like after the door? Who lived there? Are they nice? How did they get a house anyway? I need to go potty...This place is pretty. I smell something really yummy cooking...my tummy burns. Do they know how lucky they are?!

I wanna see inside. Please let us in...

Stepping over the threshold was always an awe inspiring moment for me, much like when our eyes adjust to the sudden light after coming out from a darkened room. It was an acclimation of sorts I never quite met though.

Doors, and the world beyond them: bedrooms with comfy mattresses and clean sheets and soft pillows, and heavy blankets for when it was cold, spinning fans for when it was hot; food to chilled and heated too, cooked; somewhere to bathe with running water and a sink to brush my teeth, with my very own tooth brush! All of this was a foreign entity to me; a very real place for many, not part of any reality I had ever known.

I desperately wanted a door of my own.

From a very young age, I found a deep longing to experience that kind of life only others lived; to brave the long arduous drive to this enticing land of the homeowners, to unlock the mystery of their ways--and may be (if I was fortunate) I too would live a comfortable life behind my own door one day.

I thought about this on our recent adventure abroad. My friends and I not only saw several pretty unique doors scattered among the Cotswolds, we were shown a gorgeous mansion owned by British actress Rachel Ward, that has been in her family for generations. We were granted passage through the (side) doors of a palace inhabited by a queen; doors normally reserved for heads of state. The general public was so anxious to see what was beyond her majesty's door, they pushed and clamored until we were all sardined into a big clump waiting to get a peak at how the monarchy spent her days.

Doors of all shapes and sizes, scattered all over the UK, were waiting for us to feast our eyes upon them, so we peered and pondered and peered and pondered some more, all the while never quite satiating our desire to acquire personal knowledge of what lies beyond the doors of the rich and famous. We looked until we were too exhausted to look anymore, because there is something about a place of residence, that we all find intriguing. There is something special about a place you don't have to knock first to enter.

I was reminded of this during our flight home. The plane seemed to cross the Atlantic in slow motion.

I was tired, frustrated and losing my patience. I was done.

Here's the thing: I love to travel. I am brave, and resourceful. I eat to get by. I am able to walk anywhere, and my sense of danger is fine tuned, my sense of directions sharp. I remain calm. I pay attention. I am like Macgyver: if I encounter a problem, I can fashion a safety net our of a hair pin and some dental floss. I am fearless, and self sufficient. A gift from a childhood lacking in everything.

But when I am done, I wanna be home. Behind my own door.

I worked hard to have my own door.
I designed my own front door.
Hired a talented artisan to take my glass and iron design and make it a reality.
I now love my door!

I don't have to knock first before I enter MY DOOR.

You know when you've been gone on a long trip, or on the road for hours, and you cannot wait to get home? Well, much of my childhood was spent on a road trip that did not end for a very long time. We just kept driving. And driving. And driving...for months on end. All I could fantasize about was walking through a door that was mine. I wanted to land somewhere.

That is what I was reminded of on the plane that night crossing the ocean.

I wanted to go home. The home beyond that glass and iron door, with a wreath I had hand made just for me. The door I possessed the key too. A home where life beyond that door is a good honorable life I made for myself...

And guess what?

After three airplanes, three countries, and three near emotional meltdowns, I made it home. With a sigh of sincere gratitude and pure relief, I opened that beautiful front door of mine, and walked in.

Surviving the Drop

Read several mommy blogger's posts recently, all sharing insightful commentary and helpful advice on how to embark on this new found (and often uninvited) next stage in their lives:

the empty nest.

Colleges nationwide opened their doors last week to a flood of new academic hopefuls. Coast to coast, parents have been loading up the sedans and motoring across the states to deposit their fledgling freshman (is that redundant?) on the doorstep to ...America's future!

And the life change, it turns out, can be devastatingly difficult.

I still cannot get my head around the warp speed at which our little become bigs. While my own children are not yet of college age, I have experienced life altering moments; the kind that stop you dead in your tracks, in other areas of my life, and I can tell you, it has been flat out frightening!

I call the sensation: THE DROP.

It is that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when:

the phone rings inexplicably in the middle of the night, or your spouse confesses he loves you, he just doesn't want to be with you anymore, or your doctor reports "It is stage IV", or your turn around in the store and your child is gone, or your debilitating fear of open heights is tested as you embark on a roller coaster ride (against all that is logical and rational) and you find yourself teetering at the tippy top of the first ascent looking down at the drop of doom.

The only way out? Ride the coaster.

College is the next coaster ride for so many right now.

Concerned parents have seen to it their young adults are prepared with the essentials: the new comforter, mini fridge, school supplies, and a meal card too (if you are one of the lucky ones). The have listened intently during orientation (because the 18 year old cannot absorb pertinent information and be nervous too!). Each concerned parent has interrogated the roommate as well, deciding said roommate is not the serial killer imagined, and maybe other people make nice kids too? Dad's have assembled beds and moved dressers three times over, and gone through every drill for every possible happenstance while mom's have hung a LOVE canvas above the bed, sticked the chilled air with yogurt, fruit and cheese, all the while having hugged and smooched and hugged and smooched until the "kid" never want to see any biologicals ever again!

Yet, most parental units still drive away overcome with sincere worry about their "baby bird" adjusting to a new habitat: life without mom and dad.

It is the drop, I tell ya. There are always exceptions to the rule, and college isn't for everyone, but my experience has been: find a way to get through that initial descent. Soon you will witness your fledglings taking the corkscrew turns with enthusiasm!

The initial dread at what you know is coming next? Yeah, that is the hardest part. Take the baby step afterward, one by one, at your own pace. Each step can be trying and sometimes, even unthinkable, but remember: all coaster rides come to an end.  It is the trials we face when our secure world is threatened; when fragile takes on a whole new meaning; when we take that bet of a lifetime and place our living breathing hearts out in the world; it is that heightened risk that reminds us of "the preciousness of others" is real. And our hearts ache.

It is the drop, but without it, we'd never grow.

I have seen a challenge or two in my lifetime and here is the thing: I don't think my trials are over. Not for me, not for you, not for anyone. We don't get a set amount of tough. We get life. And the turmoil, the tears, the tides of ebb and flow?

All part of the gig.

TRUTH: Life is one big, long roller coaster ride. While many are drawn to the adventure and thrill of hurling through space at a heart-stopping-blood-curling-scream-inducing speed, I myself hate roller coasters. But, I find each time I face the fear and board one, my fear does not dissipate, but my ability to summon my faith to see me through the painful, often excruciating experience is just a bit stronger.

For someone who's earlier life was hijacked by crazy people, situations like these used to consume me with anxiety and panic. I still have to work my way through each drop. but honestly, that is just the way it is. Every single time. We go speeding through space and time, faster than we are prepared for, and some folks have a heart attack and die.

If you are like me, and you don't want to die, you have to find a way to survive the drops. You have to prepare and practice.

• I want to soar with my feet planted firmly on the ground.
• I want pleasant spontaneity among my days of predictability.
• I want my hard work to pay off.
• I want my heart to race at things that thrill me, not at things that terrify me.
• I want my children to be brave and thrive.
• I want to open my heart and long for someone who needs to kiss me.
• I want to live like I will skip with my grandchildren.
• I want to enjoy the unexpected corkscrew turns with my arms held high!

Just have to remind myself, I gotta get through the drops.

What's the Next Chapter in Your Story?

9/11

Somber day. Reflective. Life, at every stage, is temporary; delicate, like a piece of rice paper.

It occurred to me a few days ago, as I viewed an alarming news report on two every day folk who (unbeknownst to them) ate tainted cucumbers this past week and consequently died, that it doesn't have to be terrorists invading our airways taking down our beloveds; it can be as innocuous as eating cucumbers, that can abruptly and tragically end someone's story.

We just don't know.

Our minutes, days and weeks are precious, fleeting.

Yet I've...

been struggling a lot since we got home from our grand trip abroad. Not sure what to do with myself. What chapter will be next in my own story?

This is not new to me; I wake up every morning looking for meaning and purpose, yet I flounder. My kids help give some form to my days, but they are juniors in high school now, and most often  I find them with their heads buried in some textbook. I cannot do their homework for them, so I place sliced fruit next to their laptops and remind myself, they are working on chapters of their own, and leave them to their studies.

Often, I find myself wander to the television and turn on a recorded episode of "Fraiser". Never watched that series the first time around (was raising babies and building a business), but I did visit the set from time to time. Kelsey was always friendly, and when I didn't have my kids with me, he would ask to see a recent photo. Such a cool guy.

I'm sure he doesn't remember me now, but he knew me then. I adored him.

Found myself folding laundry last night when I heard his voice as the character, "Frasier", on the tv. I glanced over at the screen and saw he was alone in his Seattle apartment, at his piano, tickling the ivories and singing in his familiar beautiful welcoming way. It was right then that I flashed back in my mind to one late afternoon when I worked on "Cheers"

The cast had mostly gone. There were still a few crew members down on the stage, and it was my job to see who was still hanging around; needed to hand the actors next week's script if I could (to save on courier charges). I went upstairs (behind the stage) and found it quiet. Decided to check down at Kelsey and Bebe's offices at the far end of the building--and that is when I heard Kelsey.

He was playing something beautiful on the piano in his office. And singing. He was alone.

I only stood a moment. His door was cracked open, and he glanced back, nodding an acknowledgement when I slipped his script just inside the door, and kept on singing. I'm sure he never gave it another though, but for me? It is a lovely memory I hope I never forget.

Thought of this again today, on 9/11, as I was contemplating the frailty of life.

So much of what we do is maintenance: buying groceries, washing dishes, taking showers, getting gasoline--and work too. While it is true, we all need to maintain our lifestyles and find ways and means to do so, it does not have to be drudgery.

You know that quote: "Do what your love and you will never work a day in your life?" There really is something to that. You will still work, but the payoff is grand when you dig what you do; when you are a part of something that makes you proud!

Shortly after I was hired on "Cheers", my boss David took out a file folder from his desk drawer about four inches thick, STACKED with resumes, "These are the people you beat out for this job." I was dumbfounded. It really does pay who you know, but I never forgot that.

If you are one of my younger friends and you still have decades of your life in front of you? Or, if you find yourself where I am, starting again? Remember, so much of life is about you getting to choose what you will do. Some stuff is non-negotiable, and you  may not make a lot of money, but I gotta say, the best memories I have come from the years I spent working in Hollywood doing the maintenance kinda stuff--and I started at $5 an hour!

Seems like at twenty you have forever to live your dreams, but sometimes...

Told my sixteen year old daughter recently, take some of your present time and make memories that will last your lifetime.

Do the fun stuff, before the other takes over.

Make choices that YOU find interesting, and I promise you will not regret it. It does not matter if you believe you cannot do it, try anyway! Just do it! The universe will help you in your endeavors.

TRUST ME. TRUST YOURSELF.

Show people who you are, not who you think they think you are.

That other quote: "We only regret the things we did NOT do"-- yeah, that one is often true too.  Our passions will direct us; just have to get out of the ways once in awhile, and let them drive.

Make memories that will connect you to the world you long to be a part of. So one day, you can be folding laundry, and look back with a smile and say, "Yeah, I was a part of that!"

In My Other Life

Have you ever caught yourself daydreaming about another kind of life? Have you ever asked yourself: who would I be, if I were a different kind of me?

In my other life...

I was not born to a sociopath. I did not look to his eyes for a twinkle of benevolent fatherly pride, and discover instead a tragic glint of an estranged malevolence.

I did not call him daddy.

In my other life, I was not raised under the dark, stormy sky of a dystopian society, ruled by a bi-polar disorders paralyzing in her depressive state, so reckless in her moments of manic mania.

I did not call her mommy.

In my other life, I do not have biologicals, and fosters and adopted--all in a struggle for a place in my world. To them, I am Renee, and I simply knew them all as: my family.

In my other life, I am the mother of two grown children: both away at good colleges, happy and thriving in their academic careers, self-esteem rock solid from years of security, both emotional and financial.

They are worldly young adults (in the right way): well educated, well mannered, well traveled. But my children are sheltered (in the right way): socially young in regards to relationships, morally respectful with their bodies and the bodies of those they come in contact with, faithfully trustworthy.

Both understand the harsh realities of the world, but only through the eyes of someone who can make a difference. My kids are committed to their own higher power; an entity we refer to as: LOVE.

My babies have become whole adults in a splintered world; a world constantly at odds with what I have taught them is good and right; existing in a universe of contradiction; a planet of seemingly insurmountable chaos, wars, and evil--and fortunately, a international society of billions striving diligently for perpetual hope and love and peace.

My children must now choose a side, daily.

In my other life, my grown children always choose correctly.

I am a mother who has remained steadfast and tenacious in her devotion to her offspring.
I am a mother at peace, for she in certain she has done all she can.

In my other life, I would not have to drudge through two years of the "Death Divorce" to find an existence that feels, finally alive. I don't have an ex who hates me, who resents me, who will not speak to me. I don't battle daily with myself to respond to his seething flagrant disregard with patience and self- control and grace. I don't struggle with the profound truth: at one point, we liked each other enough to produce the two purest forms of beauty I have ever known.

In my other life, I feel young inside and out, even at 49.

I don't live in constant fear my kidneys will go on strike after decades (of just getting by) with faulty original parts. I would not look in my mirror and see spotty patches of on my skin--like someone put a screen up to me, and flicked brown paint. I would not feel the weight of thick heavy wrinkles, like glossy quotations marks bracketing my eyes, accentuating my youth is gone.

I would see less of me, where there is now more. My eyes would focus clearly, on their own, both near and far away. My teeth would be white and straight. My gray hair would turn back to its original rich chestnut, with blonde streaks (in just the right places) and fall naturally on my shoulders, like it did when I was in my twenties,.

I would be happier with my reflection. I would see what my daughter see's when she looks at her mom.

In my other life, I live in Manhattan, with an apartment that overlooks the lush green expansive park during the day, and a vision of glittery lights at night. I'd throw parties. And provide cozy  bedrooms for my visiting kids. My son and I would attend the US Tennis Open every single year.

I would be committed in a delightfully mature and wonderful relationship, with a man that made me laugh. And dinner! He would ask me about my day as he kissed my neck. I'd kiss him  back. Deeply.

In my other life, my dog would be potty trained.

In my other life, I would be known as a successful novelist, and inspirational speaker. If I had decided to follow my desire to act, I would win an Academy Award, and name it Oscar. Of course, I would dedicate it to my biological mother, who (in one of her rare moments of clarity) would have held my young face in adoration, and convinced me, "One day you will be a star!"--and then, she'd place those stars far enough out of my reach, so I would have to "STRETCH" to get them. Because she loved me.

My other life...I think about it, but none of that happened. What's important? What did happen...

• Two extraordinary high schoolers who choose to be part of the solution.
• Two families, both biological and adopted. More to love.
• Compassion for those suffering with mental illness, and those who love and suffer along with them.
• How difficult and trying divorce is. On everyone. Not just the children.
• Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. 
• Health is a gift, not a given.
• Don't need a NYC apartment. I have a beautiful home.
• I should have said "No" when I was 24, and "Yes" when I was 25.
• Maybe love, true love, will strike twice? Maybe it's time to date?
• If not a successful novelist, maybe some day, the author of one great memoir?

This life; this me, is not the path I sometimes imagined I would have taken, but it's about perspective, gracious gratitude, and seeing the blessings all around us already. Don't you think?

I believe it has to be. I have to believe it has to be. 

Truth and Love

1. When I was 29 my doctor advised me to wrap things up. At 48, I'm still here.

2. Then they told me carrying twins would be too hard on my kidneys; suggested I abort one or both of my babies. I learned right then I would die for my children.

3. When I was 18, I spotted a poster in the Humanities building advertising a three week/nine country trip through Europe. I saved for a year, and went.

4. During the Writer's Strike in Hollywood, I took a tour of Paramount Studios. We passed Ted Danson's office. I looked at my boyfriend and declared, "I'm going to work with him some day." Two years later, I was working on Cheers.

5. I never did anything of much significance in television, but I do have an Emmy certificate with my name on it.

6. I consider my friends my family.

7. When I was a child, my family and I slept on the bus stop benches in downtown Los Angeles. Can't drive through there today without remembering that scary time in my life.

8. When I come across a homeless person now, I often ask how I can help.

9. If you lie to me, I may still speak to you, but I will never trust you again.

10. When Michael Jackson was a guest on the Arsenio Hall show I was there when he entered the stage door. His nose looked like clay.

11. I met Bill Murray on that same soundstage. He flirted with me. Think I fell a little bit in love with him that day.

12. I believe the truly, madly, deeply kinda love only happens once in a lifetime. Hope I'm wrong.

HEART HILL

From my friend Suzanne...isn't she pretty?

Woke up to this waiting for me on my phone.  :-)                                                                                                

HEART MAIL

It all began with this one photo I posted on Facebook with the comment:

"I see hearts everywhere..."

and over the next year (maybe more now) those in my world began spotting hearts everywhere, and thinking of me. It was my intention to send some love your way, but as karma would have it, I am the one who has been blessed, over and over, by your thoughtful posts of hearts of every kind imaginable--and the timing could not have been more perfect! Rough year 2015 was, and the flow of heart shaped love you made sure kept coming my way? Well, I found it a great reminder: our world is filled with kind intentions and thoughtful actions. Many of you have shown me this by taking some of your time to forward your discoveries on to me; in fact, I'm pretty sure there hasn't been a week or even a few days that have gone by when I have not opened my Facebook, email, or a text and been delightfully surprised to find a wonderful new heart shaped vision waiting just for me! Some are lovely, some stunningly beautiful stop me in my tracks; the ones in nature take my breath away. A few have come bearing a soulful message (that often is just what I needed to hear), others are a valentine of sorts that make my own heart surge. All are pretty and appreciated! Occasionally, I decided I will post one or two of the news ones I have received that week, over on the side of my blog here. Hopefully, they will inspire you to look for the hearts God has placed in your world. Because: hearts aren't just red, they are a symbol of goodness and joy and love and, they are everywhere. We just have to take notice.  

This heart is for all of you.

BAM!

Hello loved ones!

As you can see my writing home has gotten a facelift! Actually, I loved my old blog over at Wordpress, but the sad truth is: I am just not smart enough to navigate that site. I gave it an entire year trying to figure it out but it made me crazy. Half the time I could not even access my posts. Blogger is so much easier--user friendly, as they say!!!

I plan to enter all the email subscriptions tomorrow from my former blog- please let me know if you don't receive your new post updates!

I so appreciate you setting aside time to read my heartfelt essays. Its a new year, a new look, and hopefully, a whole new me!!

Love, Renee