Apologies for not posting in awhile. Life has been; busy. I would like to begin this post with a question. Have you ever wanted to make a difference? I am sure we have all asked ourselves the same thing at least once in our lives. If you know the hymn, it may get stuck in your head now. Have I done any good in the world? Today? Will I tomorrow? Did I yesterday? If not, I have failed, indeed. Good is pretty easy to do as a stay at home mom. As a mom in general, really. Let's be honest, most of what we do in this life is for the benefit of others, is it not? We work to help our families be more comfortable, we cook and clean to make things a little more pleasant. We sleep and eat so other people don't have to deal with a grumpy person for the day, no?
Well, in an optimistic way, we are saying yes, I have done good. But really? Not really. Those things are pretty routine, and there is a degree of self gratification in what is done each day. I have a friend who says, "No selfless deed is ever truly selfless. We always get a degree of selfish satisfaction from doing something selfless." Or something along those lines. There is a truth to that statement, but not entirely.
What's with all the good deeds talk? Well, hence the busy. I found that my life has been severely lacking in how much I look out for others. It is easy to do with family, and I found that I used that as an excuse. Oh, I did this and that for Jack and Cole, and I did this and that to make things better for my dad, or mom, or mother in law, or brother, or sister. It's true, and like I said, it is indeed, good. I mentioned in my last post that I had been introduced to a family who helped me, say, for lack of a better turn of phrase?
Pull my head out of my butt.
I realized how little I was really doing. Granted, pat on the back here, I was and am accomplishing a great deal to forward the cause that is my own family. And in turn? My own life. We are saving to have or build a house, we are getting ready for another baby, we have things to do in our own lives in order to make things a bit better for each other; for our children. We are supposed to do those things, they aren't bad. But we are also supposed to do more. Are we not meant for greater purpose than that of advancing our own personal lives? Even if that personal advancement includes children and husbands, careers, extended or immediate family, etc. Can we not reach beyond what we believe our reach capable of, and find an even deeper meaning to what completeness can be defined as?
I know now, yes. People get annoyed with the soap box orator. We often do not consider ourselves the definition of change, or service. We may not believe we have the ability to make any difference in another's life, and our drive to do so may be overwhelmed by what we already do for those who surround us.
Well, allow me to share the voice I cannot seem to turn away.
Stop lying to yourself. Pull your head out of your butt, and make a bigger difference.
Do what you are meant to do, and then become bigger than you already are.
And? My friend may be slightly right.
It feels really good to do something beyond the usual good.
(If you would like to meet the family that helped open my eyes, go here, http://loveandlittleones.blogspot.com )
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Take the Long Road
There are days, moments, when I wish I could see more clearly. Days I wish to be even closer to that deeper purpose that is eternity; to sit with the one who holds my heart, who created my soul, and just listen to Him. There is something to be said of conviction. Conviction drives, it defines, and even evades from time to time. Assurance. Certainty. Confidence. Right now I am sitting in a very quiet house (Jack is napping :)) and thinking about such certainty. A few days ago I was introduced to a very inspiring family. A family who's trials I cannot even begin to comprehend (watch this link to see what I mean, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDJGNwgl1bs ).
As I have gotten to know this family more, my heart has become very quiet, and very still. There have been other times where the simple solace found in such stillness has been felt, and I am closer to something I had forgotten; if even for a small moment. It seems to be in these quietest moments that the deepest of convictions are remembered. When life feels as though it has gone into slow motion, whether by events within, or without, our control. It doesn't seem to make much difference. To live a purposeful life. Isn't that the end all be all? We all like to know we have contributed. To something. We hope to think that at some point within the short span of time in which we live, we grew.
Somehow.
In truth, my own convictions could be drafted into several different books. The basis of which, however, would be written on a single page in less than two paragraphs. Two paragraphs of absolute calm, and certainty. An assurance that seems to be somewhat difficult to hold on to every moment, of every day in a world so full of chaos. A world that is screaming what it means to make a difference, and how the greatest influences are determined. Sometimes, like today, if I just close my eyes I can understand that bigger picture once more. The one I catch glimpses of now and again. A calm truth whispers I am living that purpose; my purpose. That I am who I am, and where I am for very good reason. My heart feels it, my soul knows it, and for a brief moment I can feel the depth of my own eternity.
I cannot imagine living without that. Living without that purpose; living without catching those glimpses. It is true we all have days, sometimes weeks...sometimes lifetimes. Moments where we allow our purpose to evade our heart. Our conviction becomes less assured, less certain. We become less confident. For whatever the reason, we let go of our sight, and give in to blindness. We close doors to feeling, and abandon conviction all together. The moment of wanting deeper purpose dissipates with fleeting lack of hope.
It is in these quiet days I remember I needn't be so loud, and I needn't turn away when I feel my purpose slipping. Sometimes I am so unforgiving to my heart; to my soul. It is easy to forget, but it can also be easy to remember. To remember that as imperfect as we are, there is always one very clear certainty.
The certainty that even in our flawed state, we have purpose
A very deep, very unending, purpose.
As I have gotten to know this family more, my heart has become very quiet, and very still. There have been other times where the simple solace found in such stillness has been felt, and I am closer to something I had forgotten; if even for a small moment. It seems to be in these quietest moments that the deepest of convictions are remembered. When life feels as though it has gone into slow motion, whether by events within, or without, our control. It doesn't seem to make much difference. To live a purposeful life. Isn't that the end all be all? We all like to know we have contributed. To something. We hope to think that at some point within the short span of time in which we live, we grew.
Somehow.
In truth, my own convictions could be drafted into several different books. The basis of which, however, would be written on a single page in less than two paragraphs. Two paragraphs of absolute calm, and certainty. An assurance that seems to be somewhat difficult to hold on to every moment, of every day in a world so full of chaos. A world that is screaming what it means to make a difference, and how the greatest influences are determined. Sometimes, like today, if I just close my eyes I can understand that bigger picture once more. The one I catch glimpses of now and again. A calm truth whispers I am living that purpose; my purpose. That I am who I am, and where I am for very good reason. My heart feels it, my soul knows it, and for a brief moment I can feel the depth of my own eternity.
I cannot imagine living without that. Living without that purpose; living without catching those glimpses. It is true we all have days, sometimes weeks...sometimes lifetimes. Moments where we allow our purpose to evade our heart. Our conviction becomes less assured, less certain. We become less confident. For whatever the reason, we let go of our sight, and give in to blindness. We close doors to feeling, and abandon conviction all together. The moment of wanting deeper purpose dissipates with fleeting lack of hope.
It is in these quiet days I remember I needn't be so loud, and I needn't turn away when I feel my purpose slipping. Sometimes I am so unforgiving to my heart; to my soul. It is easy to forget, but it can also be easy to remember. To remember that as imperfect as we are, there is always one very clear certainty.
The certainty that even in our flawed state, we have purpose
A very deep, very unending, purpose.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
It's the Matter
Today I have been thinking about family a great deal. Family, you love them, yeah? Particularly your crazy siblings. Each of them came from the same halves to make a whole, and yet each whole is so very different. But? You love them no matter what. It is true that no one can really make you more frustrated, but it is also true that no one can make you feel so complete. Growing up my family was very close. My older brother and I were constantly in trouble (luckily, he almost always took the heat...which is fair...he had the brilliant idea to begin with.) My younger brother and I had the best imaginations, and I might argue that we still do. (Twin, he is my twin.) And my sister? She is my sister. Little can be said of the relationship one has with their sister. She is that kindred heart that steals your clothes, and makes you pee your pants laughing.
One may wonder why family? To begin, family is really all that matters. To love and be loved, to share emotions and thoughts with another, and have someone do the same with you. It is true that life takes everyone along very different paths.
One may wonder why family? To begin, family is really all that matters. To love and be loved, to share emotions and thoughts with another, and have someone do the same with you. It is true that life takes everyone along very different paths. For instance, my big bro is a body builder. I for one did not see that coming from the string bean, mid-waist pant wearing, socks to the knees little boy I jumped off the roof with. And yet? Here he is. My big, big brother. Whom I affectionately refer to as Tubby. :)
Then there is Matt Matt. The dancer. The amazing, crazy, fun loving little brother whom I love more than words can express. I miss him :( He is halfway around the world on a ship right now, dancing away to crowds of tourists. My twin :)
Then? There is my Sissy. My one and only, Sis. She and I are so very, very much alike. She is in another part of the country, striking her own way in a world that often tells you "it can't be done." She is beautiful, and wonderful, and she is my Sissy :)
There is something about each of them, something that cannot be defined. Like I said, two halves of a whole. Individual in our own ways, and yet strikingly similar. As it seems, I am sentimental this morning. As that is, I could go on for a very long time about my family, and not just my own parents, and brothers, and sister. My own little family. Cole and Jack. Growing up we don't really realize what we have in our family. We find ourselves fighting more than we do laughing, but as age comes, the fighting ceases, and the laughing increases. With age comes wisdom, or so they say. I believe it to be true, at least in a way. I know now what my parents felt watching us grow. Perhaps not entirely so, but to a degree.
That's what life is all about anyway, isn't it? Degrees. We find wisdom and strength in something, we come to master it, and we move to the next step. Sometimes we get stuck on a certain step, but patience brings with it vast amounts of experience.
Wisdom, and learning. That's what life is about. And that bottom line? The end all be all?
Families matter most.
And that's all that matters.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Consider the Sun
So. Pregnancy? It's hard. I didn't necessarily forget how physically demanding it can be, as many have claimed may happen. The bottom line is that this round has been much more difficult than the first round. I have heard all the momma sayings, and I know, I know, and I know. Now, why would someone who considers herself to be an optimist start a post so not optimistically? Keep reading.
To begin, I will simply say that morning sickness can be the equivalent of hell on earth. And "morning" does not indicate that the ick feeling subsides once 11 rolls around. Oh, no. It's a lie of a phrase morning sickness is, but since the majority of women have it in the morning, they categorize the nasty to indicate such. Anyway, now to be frank, I will admit that a very dark side of me emerged a midst the ick. The toilet saw it, my husband saw it, and occasionally other people saw it. I felt useless, I felt wasted, and I felt as though death itself was somehow embodied in the little growing plumb inside me. I know a few others who's mental and physical state were worse through the first trimester, and I have found a great deal of strength from them. The "if they can do it I can do it!" moments. I owe them a lot, I do, and I hope they know who they are.
Well, since the glass has now been drunk, and you see it's half gone, I will ask, is it half full? Or half empty? Two weeks ago I may have thrown every food I wanted to eat but couldn't in your face whilst crying if you asked me that question. But now? Well, it's true. It is half full and it always has been. I just haven't allowed myself to see it as such.
Now, "morning" sickness doesn't bring out a bad side in everyone. In fact, some go through what may be deemed a much greater trial than what I have felt in mine with a far greater amount of grace. The facts in life are always facts, but the opinions of life are supposed to be changed from time to time. My opinion that nothing could possibly be worth being this sick was changed with something very simple. A sunny day.
Now. I am not saying a nice spring like day will brighten everyone's mood no matter their circumstance, but for me I began thinking a great deal about why I wasn't handling what I was going through as well as I could have. Or? As well as I should have. Granted, very few people find it easy to go day by day without eating, and throwing up a lot, but that's not the point. The point is how I allowed myself to become bitter about it. It was like a battle of the brain. One side said, "Oh, it's okay, it will be okay one day." And that was echoed by others'. The problem with that? It bothered me. It still does to an extent. I know. I know it will all be okay. I know I will be okay. I KNOW that already, but knowing that doesn't help me right now, right here, in this small moment of absolute weakness. So if knowing something doesn't always help, what does?
Simple.
Remembering that you know.
We all have moments of absolutes. We feel we absolutely cannot see a way out of a mess, or absolutely do not understand when things will start to look up. We absolutely cannot go on another day as we absolutely have nothing left. It is in our absolutes that we find the most bitter tears, the greatest amount of helplessness, and the absolute feeling of being alone. But then? There is that sun, and yes, that sun has a double meaning. It somehow finds its way into days of endless snow storms. It manages to take weeks, months, or years of heartache and melt them away. We still feel what we felt, but the warmth that illuminates a new resolution cannot be cooled. It is always there, even when the clouds cover the warmth, it is always, always there.
Behind the snow storms and rain storms; behind every storm of every kind, regardless of intensity, the sun is always there. There, waiting to shine on you again. Waiting to warm you up.
No, the morning ick isn't done with. Subsided some, yes. Oh, but let me tell you something.
It is much easier to deal with when I let the sun in. Yes that warm, wonderful sun.
There is just something about it.
Something about the Son.
To begin, I will simply say that morning sickness can be the equivalent of hell on earth. And "morning" does not indicate that the ick feeling subsides once 11 rolls around. Oh, no. It's a lie of a phrase morning sickness is, but since the majority of women have it in the morning, they categorize the nasty to indicate such. Anyway, now to be frank, I will admit that a very dark side of me emerged a midst the ick. The toilet saw it, my husband saw it, and occasionally other people saw it. I felt useless, I felt wasted, and I felt as though death itself was somehow embodied in the little growing plumb inside me. I know a few others who's mental and physical state were worse through the first trimester, and I have found a great deal of strength from them. The "if they can do it I can do it!" moments. I owe them a lot, I do, and I hope they know who they are.
Well, since the glass has now been drunk, and you see it's half gone, I will ask, is it half full? Or half empty? Two weeks ago I may have thrown every food I wanted to eat but couldn't in your face whilst crying if you asked me that question. But now? Well, it's true. It is half full and it always has been. I just haven't allowed myself to see it as such.
Now, "morning" sickness doesn't bring out a bad side in everyone. In fact, some go through what may be deemed a much greater trial than what I have felt in mine with a far greater amount of grace. The facts in life are always facts, but the opinions of life are supposed to be changed from time to time. My opinion that nothing could possibly be worth being this sick was changed with something very simple. A sunny day.
Now. I am not saying a nice spring like day will brighten everyone's mood no matter their circumstance, but for me I began thinking a great deal about why I wasn't handling what I was going through as well as I could have. Or? As well as I should have. Granted, very few people find it easy to go day by day without eating, and throwing up a lot, but that's not the point. The point is how I allowed myself to become bitter about it. It was like a battle of the brain. One side said, "Oh, it's okay, it will be okay one day." And that was echoed by others'. The problem with that? It bothered me. It still does to an extent. I know. I know it will all be okay. I know I will be okay. I KNOW that already, but knowing that doesn't help me right now, right here, in this small moment of absolute weakness. So if knowing something doesn't always help, what does?
Simple.
Remembering that you know.
We all have moments of absolutes. We feel we absolutely cannot see a way out of a mess, or absolutely do not understand when things will start to look up. We absolutely cannot go on another day as we absolutely have nothing left. It is in our absolutes that we find the most bitter tears, the greatest amount of helplessness, and the absolute feeling of being alone. But then? There is that sun, and yes, that sun has a double meaning. It somehow finds its way into days of endless snow storms. It manages to take weeks, months, or years of heartache and melt them away. We still feel what we felt, but the warmth that illuminates a new resolution cannot be cooled. It is always there, even when the clouds cover the warmth, it is always, always there.
Behind the snow storms and rain storms; behind every storm of every kind, regardless of intensity, the sun is always there. There, waiting to shine on you again. Waiting to warm you up.
No, the morning ick isn't done with. Subsided some, yes. Oh, but let me tell you something.
It is much easier to deal with when I let the sun in. Yes that warm, wonderful sun.
There is just something about it.
Something about the Son.
Friday, February 17, 2012
You're the what?
On to the story. In a previous post I mentioned how my son became fond of a little four letter word that started with 's'. He said it with a slight lisp, then just went to to saying it straight out. He loves to talk, and uses a variety of words, but I tend to slip that word more often than I probably should. Well, since our little moment with the "....", I have worked really, really, really hard to say other things. Oh my goodness. Good glory. Gosh. Heck. The typical fillers in a society of "don't swear, think of something else to say." I agree with said statement, but I am far from perfect when it comes to some situations.
Now, as for that four letter word. Cole stayed home sick on Monday. A very rare occasion. I myself wasn't feeling that great, so the day consisted of pj's, soup and movies. Jack seemed to enjoy the fact that both mom and dad were home, and neither seemed to have the energy to keep up with him. While we watched our movies, Jack would go from sitting down with us, to playing with his cars, to jumping off things. His preferred point from which to jump was a small laundry basket, flipped upside down. He would turn it over, climb up onto it, then jump to the floor commando style. Now back to Rocky...
After multiple jumps, Jack proceeded once again to climb up onto the upside down basket. Let me tell you. Kids? They just say the darndest things! Just like in the movie, Jack ran around, climbed the basket, reached both arms skyward, fists clenched, and yelled for all the world to hear, "I'm the shit!"
I was shocked.
First of all. What?! My two year, 5 month and 21 day old son just said WHAT?! Cole looked at me, laughing, and said, "Did you hear what he just said!?" Why, yes, I did, but I have absolutely no idea where he got it from. We both couldn't stop laughing, which of course encouraged the Rocky impersonation.
As I said, not so perfect mother here. I have said "s" word before, a previous blog post would attest to such. I am with Jack every day. Almost all day, every day. He has never seen Rocky. He has never heard, nor used, the saying "I'm the ....". I doubt I will ever know where it came from. I know I am the one that planted the little $@*& seed. I will never forget that day, it was so funny. So funny. But?
Clearly, I need to work on my gee whiz's, and golly garsh's more.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
You Are
I was writing in my journal just now, and I started thinking about my blog. I thought, "Hmm, I really need to update that more." Then it dawned on me. I don't update. I don't like to. I am not an "update" writer. I don't like to put down dates, stating what happened, when, how, or why it happened, and how I felt about it. I do that sometimes, but truthfully when I write, I think. Updates are simply moments that are copied and pasted from your brain to another form of memory bank. A computer, a journal, a scrapbook. Many such persons are good at that; I am not such a person.
Truthfully, I wish I could convey what I was thinking now through a form of visual art. A painting perhaps, or a sketch. But, as evidenced in posts past, I am not very skilled in that area. I do my best to speak what is on my mind, and in my heart, but often times I flop out a joke, or otherwise stumble over what needs to be said. I suppose I will begin by saying something about finding our greatest potential, and living true to whatever that may be. In turn, I will begin with a story.
The holidays came and left, as did family. A certain uncle of mine (whom I absolutely love even if he is quirky), and I spent a few hours just talking. We touched on a variety of subjects, and one of them happened upon personality traits. Said uncle went on to say that based on observation, he concluded that I would do very well in a job that caused stress; a job that pushed limits and required working quickly under pressure. Aka, said above uncle, "Something in sales, or the medical profession. Or, well, hey, motherhood." Ha. Motherhood, indeed, quirky, lovable uncle. Motherhood. Indeed.
I came home after that conversation with a lot on my mind, and Jack was among the lot. As a mother, you do your very best to work well under the pressures associated with raising little ones. I know many women who are far better qualified for the position of being a mother than I. It pushes you to your highest limits, then it pushes you beyond them. Frazzled, and often exhausted, we do what we know the best we can. Advice is often welcome, all be it at times, annoying. There are days when pajamas are the wardrobe of choice, attractive as they are, and days where a shower isn't an option until bedtime, if it's an option at all. Some days the mirror before us shows a very disheveled, emotional, and in our own personal opinion, not very attractive looking, individual.
The point of this post is a simple one. As a mother, and really in life period, we give everything we have, and more, to what is around us. We give our best every day, and at the end of every day one of two things happen. After we have overcome the exhaustion, and the stress of it all, a part inside us wonders if what was given really was all that could be given; or we end the day screaming inside that we cannot do anymore.
Life is exhausting. Personally I cannot say that I have entirely silenced my own voice of inner doubt. Some days it is very quiet, and the self assurance I feel concerning my life is solid. Other days, it is harder to quiet my mind. Regardless of which day today happened to be, one thing is certain. In the eyes of heaven, and earth, sometimes the best that can be given is all that is needed, whatever that best entails. If we are screaming at the end of the day, pleading for a greater inner strength, then tomorrow we will find it. A very simple truth is found in this exhausting life; we are never left to our own devices. We are never left to be the best we can on our own. As days, or weeks, or even months of struggle may pass, the truth in the hardship is that they will indeed pass. In the eyes of heaven we are wonderful, refined, and divine.
We are precious, and we always will be.
Truthfully, I wish I could convey what I was thinking now through a form of visual art. A painting perhaps, or a sketch. But, as evidenced in posts past, I am not very skilled in that area. I do my best to speak what is on my mind, and in my heart, but often times I flop out a joke, or otherwise stumble over what needs to be said. I suppose I will begin by saying something about finding our greatest potential, and living true to whatever that may be. In turn, I will begin with a story.
The holidays came and left, as did family. A certain uncle of mine (whom I absolutely love even if he is quirky), and I spent a few hours just talking. We touched on a variety of subjects, and one of them happened upon personality traits. Said uncle went on to say that based on observation, he concluded that I would do very well in a job that caused stress; a job that pushed limits and required working quickly under pressure. Aka, said above uncle, "Something in sales, or the medical profession. Or, well, hey, motherhood." Ha. Motherhood, indeed, quirky, lovable uncle. Motherhood. Indeed.
I came home after that conversation with a lot on my mind, and Jack was among the lot. As a mother, you do your very best to work well under the pressures associated with raising little ones. I know many women who are far better qualified for the position of being a mother than I. It pushes you to your highest limits, then it pushes you beyond them. Frazzled, and often exhausted, we do what we know the best we can. Advice is often welcome, all be it at times, annoying. There are days when pajamas are the wardrobe of choice, attractive as they are, and days where a shower isn't an option until bedtime, if it's an option at all. Some days the mirror before us shows a very disheveled, emotional, and in our own personal opinion, not very attractive looking, individual.
The point of this post is a simple one. As a mother, and really in life period, we give everything we have, and more, to what is around us. We give our best every day, and at the end of every day one of two things happen. After we have overcome the exhaustion, and the stress of it all, a part inside us wonders if what was given really was all that could be given; or we end the day screaming inside that we cannot do anymore.
Life is exhausting. Personally I cannot say that I have entirely silenced my own voice of inner doubt. Some days it is very quiet, and the self assurance I feel concerning my life is solid. Other days, it is harder to quiet my mind. Regardless of which day today happened to be, one thing is certain. In the eyes of heaven, and earth, sometimes the best that can be given is all that is needed, whatever that best entails. If we are screaming at the end of the day, pleading for a greater inner strength, then tomorrow we will find it. A very simple truth is found in this exhausting life; we are never left to our own devices. We are never left to be the best we can on our own. As days, or weeks, or even months of struggle may pass, the truth in the hardship is that they will indeed pass. In the eyes of heaven we are wonderful, refined, and divine.
We are precious, and we always will be.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Spindiundawe Solifapidurro
Disneyland.
I. Love. Disneyland. Another love? Churros. And Disneyland is full of them! Now. If you are wondering what the title of this post means, it means nothing. Those words don't exist; in any language that I know of. However, in my Disney happy language it is a mix of all of my favorite things in Disneyland. "Urro" Aka? Those incredibly wonderful cinnamon sugar deep fried pastry snacks that I get fat on. Yum.
Well, happy weekend is over now, baby boy...little boy...is sleeping, and I am posting a much needed post on my poor little blog. Now. Here's the deal. For the first time in awhile, I actually just breathed in the moment whilst in Anaheim. I didn't worry about what came next, or what happened, or how we were going to "plan out" everything. It was three days of moment living, three days of just being, and just being in a very awesomely happy place. (It was really busy. I could have been grumpy with the crowds and lines, but it's Disneyland. It's not allowed. Pretty sure Walt had a rule about it somewhere.)
Anyway, in my living in the moment weekend I realized I have been a stress basket lately. A stress basket about constantly moving towards that sometimes elusive "next step." Praying, asking, sometimes literally begging for some kind of direction concerning what comes next in life. It's drilled into your brain in school. Go to school, get your education. Socially? Get married, have children. Buy a house. Yadda yadda....
Growing up is hard. You think you are there, but then you look at all the time you still have to grow and you realize, "Hey, I really am still just a novice at this whole life program." Well, Mickey and friends reminded me of what it means to let some stress go and remember that there is only so much that can be done. After that, it's best to leave it, and soak in what is around you for as long as you possibly can. Disneyland brings out the kid in me. The carefree kind. The almost annoyingly optimistic person that sings "Zip a dee, not a worry! Everything will work out, and be great! Here, have another churro." Oh, and I did.
Life might get crazy again; I might get worried about a realm of different things again. It's possible that life will kick me in the teeth, but that's life. You come to expect it, grow from it, and move on. For now? For now the magic of the moment is still hovering around me like pixie dust, and I am not going to let it go anytime soon. "I always like to look on the optimistic side of life, but I am realistic enough to know that life is a complex matter...all our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them."
-Walt Disney
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