The poorly guarded secret about me is that I spend most of my time outside of work riding motorcycles, for me there are few things more productive than a full tank of gas, a good road and a great playlist.

1. Have the courage to defy the odds. Nothing great in life comes by chance or even by raw talent, it takes time, hard work, determination and a willingness to embrace your fear. It was 35 years ago that I took my first motorcycle safety course at CLC. Seven motorcycles and hundreds of thousands of miles later, I send a mental High five to that younger version of myself that had the guts to saddle up the first time. It takes a lot of effort for things to look effortless but there are few things more empowering than riding a 900 pound “big boy “ bike competently.
2. Often the best things happen when you take the unfamiliar road. While the destination is often the most rewarding, it is the journey that is most satisfying. As a Navy wife, I had little say in where I was going, but when I opened my heart to the possibilities, I was blessed with amazing experiences and few regrets.
3. You are not the only one on the road- Be aware of the impact you have on others- both positive and negative. Be gentle with those who frustrate you. Be patient with those who pluck your last nerve. But also the more you are genuinely curious about people and their stories, the more enriched you will find yourself to be.
4. Look where you’re going because you are going where you look. Wherever you are putting your time and attention is where you are heading. Worrying is like praying for what you don’t want. Keep your head up and keep your eyes in the direction you want to move.
5. The easiest way, is not always the best way. It took me 14 years to complete my college degree and my resume looks a lot like a game of frogger- but it best served my family at the time. My youngest son is on the Autistic spectrum and because of that I made some difficult decisions around my career.  It wasn’t easy. But At 26, he is an award winning photojournalist with an exceptional ability to capture emotion with his camera lens and the source of great joy to me.
6. As long as you are moving forward, you will be fine. Focusing on the past is not productive and in the case of a motorcycle, not safe. There is no reverse on a motorcycle or in life. Take a deep breath and roll the throttle- you’ll stay upright.
7. There are two types of riders- those who have laid a bike down and those who will. Laying your bike down is scary picking it back up and getting back on is scarier. My daughter Aeysha and Son Terrance followed their father and grandfathers into the military. They represent less than 1% of the population that took the oath to defend this nation. They have seen poverty and hardships- death and destruction. And yet they remain kind, compassionate and in service. They know, There is no success without failure or fear.
8. When Life throws you a curve, lean in. –Things won’t always go the way you hoped but they will always keep going. Embracing the hard stuff is what makes the rest of life easy.
9. Maintain your equipment. 30 years ago, I quit smoking. It remains the hardest thing I have ever done. They say you only live once, but I believe you only die once- you live everyday.  You owe it to the yourself and the world to give it your best.
10. Surround yourself with people you know love and trust- your life depends on it. My moto family are amazing people who I literally trust my life with. I am thankful everyday for each of them.
11. Enjoy the ride.– Laugh from your belly. It cost nothing to be kind and compassionate. My challenge to you is the next time you think- someone should do something about that- remember- You are someone. Pick up the litter. open the door. Run for office. Write the check. Become an active participant in your world.

And Finally, Check your mirrors. I am ridiculously blessed to have a life filled with wonderful people who reflect all that is good in life back to me. One of those people is Dana Behnke. She is one of my oldest and closest friends. She loves me enough to have donned an itchy black polyester bridesmaid dress that despite my best sales pitch that she could always just “shorten the hem” I’m confident she never wore it again. She is the model of how to live, love and laugh.

I am no where ready to permanently put down my kickstand- in fact, I more fully understand the value a full tank a gas and an open road to keep balance in my life. And a when you ride a motorcycle,  you become very in touch with the importance of balance.

Wherever you going- be safe.

A few years ago, I sat next to an elderly gentleman while waiting for my Chiropractic appointment. He had beautiful blue eyes and a gentle temperament. His name was Louis. He was the sweetest man. Each week, our appointments coincided and I began to look forward to our chats. In fact, I enjoyed them so much, I came earlier and earlier to be able to talk with him. He served in the Army in World War II. We began to talk about a project I was working on, a writing group for veterans. We talked about the experiences of being military, the challenges of coming home after seeing an active war zone, etc. It was months before he began to really share. I asked him once if there was one thing he wish he could share with people. He looked to the floor and sighed. When he looked up at me, his beautiful blue eyes were clouded with tears- “You can not begin to imagine seeing those boys on the beach. The smells in the air, the sounds. We were all so scared. Can’t even imagine it. And I can’t forget it. “.

“They were just kids.”

I sat quietly listening week after week as Louis shared small snippets of his experience during the landing at Normandy, the Battle of the Bulge, his time in boot camp.

Each story was packaged in a well rehearsed way- with enough information to be interesting but always just a very high level accounting of life in the military- it felt  like reading a text book.

One day, Lou and I talked about a young vet I had been talking with. I told Louis how that vet had compared talking about the war with taking out the garbage- it always pollutes something else.  But that after one particular conversation- he shared more than he had ever done before and told me how much better he felt. That while he still had trouble sleeping, it was better than it had been.

Lou began to share a reoccurring nightmare he had of the death of one of his friends. His friend, a farm boy from Nebraska had taken the woolen cloak of a fallen German solider.

‘It was just so cold you see- he didn’t take it as a souvenir- he took it to stay warm.“  Late one night- a new member of his squad came upon his friend sleeping in the woods.

“ He stabbed that boy with his bayonet- I will never forget the look on his face when he realized what he had done. It was terrible.”  Louis let out a deep sigh and rose from his seat to leave.

Shaking his head he looked at me and said, ”No one needs to hear those things. Those are stories better left unsaid.”

When he left the room, his wife quietly said “I have known Lou for over 60 years. I never heard those stories. He never says a word about the war. Not a word.”

I sat in my chair for what seemed like forever. I was still processing what had just happened.

Today- in honor of the 70 anniversary of the Landing at Normandy, I ask you to say a pray for Lou’s wife, Bernice. Lou died during this hard winter. Leaving a legacy of love and joy in his wake. He was a happy man than embraced life each day- because he was taught as a young man what was at stake.

louis f. horwath Born: August 21, 1917; Chicago, IL Died: January 11, 2014; Wonder Lake, IL Louis F. Horwath, age 96, of Wonder Lake, died Saturday, January 11, 2014, at Centegra Hospital-McHenry. He was born August 21, 1917 in Chicago to Michael and Therese (Prangle) Horwath. Raised in Chicago, he was a veteran of the U.S. Army. He served during World War II and was awarded a Bronze Star and 4 Campaign Medals as part of the Normandy invasion on D-Day, and also part of subsequent campaigns. Louis also was with U.S. troops at the Belgian town of Bastogne as part of the Battle of the Bulge. He enjoyed a 33-year career at the Sunbeam Corporation, where he worked in Quality Control. In 1952, Louis was introduced to his future wife, Bernice M. Meyer, through a co-worker, who happened to be Bernice ‘s choir director at church. They later married on March 22, 1958 at Grace Lutheran Church in Chicago. In 1980, they moved to Wonder Lake, where he and Bernice enjoyed their retirement years. Louis enjoyed working with stained glass, and over the years, made several treasured gifts for his family. Always one to keep busy, he also refinished furniture, did wallpapering, as well as helped with many household chores. He was an avid golfer, and enjoyed winning several trophies for his excellent golfing. Louis and his wife traveled extensively. They visited every state in the U.S., and traveled to Europe 24 times. A favorite destination was Austria, where they visited the home his mother was born in, as well as Italy, Switzerland, and Greece. His family was an important part of his life. Louis enjoyed hosting his nieces and nephews at their annual Christmas Eve gatherings. He will be remembered by family and friends for a wonderful sense of humor, quick wit, and his love of joking with people wherever he went. Louis was a faithful member of the Wonder Lake Bible Church in Wonder Lake. A memorial service followed by military honors was held to honor his memory.

Three weeks ago my heart was broken with the loss of my sister Linda Vasseur. My pain was so overwhelming I wasn’t sure how to keep her light in my heart. Every day was an effort… returning to work to those people who mean so well when they ask how you are…. the anxious look in their eye that you might actually tell them the truth.  Or worse, those people who don’t know…. and you get to relive the experience anew through the shock and pained look on their face.

And that question… “Do you mind if I ask what happened?” ……. ugh, like a punch to the gut.  I go breathless. 

Every time I thought I had it together, that I could get through the story without breaking down, tear streaming down my face my throat catches and my eyes leak.

God Love the members of the CASA board as I attempted to explain why I hadn’t accomplished my deliverable for the month.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t get it together to write the talking points that I promised…”

And I had to say those words out loud….

My sister died.

When I finally looked up, mopping the tears from my cheek my heart was filled with the love and support I saw reflecting towards me from their eyes. Good people make bad things feel less lonely.

In the midst of this, I was in the middle of the interview process for a new position. It was a multi step process and I was in the final stages. The job is a perfect match to my skills and passions. Job interviews are often anxiety filled and it is hard not to get tied up in minor details or the never ending tape of the ways I could have answered a question better. I didn’t have time to think about it. I did the best I could and went back to the painful work of packing my sister’s life up.

That job would be great. But, really?  And all the trolls began to march in my head about why I would NEVER get that job. It seemed so beyond my reach.  It was too much a perfect match of the things I believe in Community Economic Development, Government Advocacy, and Relationships. Who really gets paid to do what they believe?

I swear when I hung up the phone after accepting that position….That perfect position that values my skills and my experience. That perfect job that pays well. That perfect job that fits my heart’s work of community.

I heard my sister giggle.

I love you Linda. Help me to channel your strength and your joy every day.

You always believed in the power of possibilities. 

Together we can build a beautiful city…. In love and Light.

My world wobbled on its axis last Thursday. I knew. I looked at the phone and saw that it was my husband calling. Not texting. Calling.  I sat in my office, looking at the phone ringing in my hand and knew. He would only call if it were bad.

He had gone to check on my sister, Linda.

On March 13, 2014, the world lost a fierce warrior and a beautiful spirit with the death of Linda Vasseur. Linda was a hero to me. She taught me a lot through my life- how to laugh fully from my belly and with no worry.

How to love with a wide open heart free of judgment.

That no matter how far down you think you are, there is always someone you can reach back to help.

And she taught me that life isn’t fair- but that you need to get up and move forward anyway.

I used to feel like my family had been gambling on borrowed time. When you have ten kids everything is increased-joy, love and risk.  Our hand was called.

On Feb. 2, 1991, A senseless accident left my sister bleeding on the side of Rt. 41 with a ruptured aorta. Linda died in the helicopter. Linda died on the table. Linda died in her room. Never one to give up easily, Linda came back swinging each time. She went on to give us the gift of 23 years of joy and love.

The accident left her confined to a wheel chair challenging her to defy the odds that always seemed stacked against her.

She was 31 years old. I can’t even imagine.

Truth be told, it didn’t even slow her down. She lived independently. She learned to drive with hand controls. She held a job. She rescued animals. She held fantastic parties to raise funds for causes for those who needed an advocate to fight for them.  She helped everyone she knew in every way she could.

And she danced.  And she danced. And she danced.

It is a rich soundtrack that plays when I think of Linda. She introduced me to some of the most important music of my life; Jackson Browne, Neil Young, Melissa Etheridge, Bonnie Raitt, Johnny Lang, Eric Clapton….  Songs with Lyrics that to this day make me stop and listen- with all my heart.  Life lessons woven in a blues chord.

Linda LOVED music.  Among her things we found stacks of concert tickets and Ravina season schedules.  Linda  would say- “Come with me- we’ll get great seats… or seat, I bring my own.”

No matter that challenges she woke each day with a song in her heart and a smile on her face.

She felt each day was a blessing- truly, truly lived each day as if it were a gift- because to her, it was.  Tonight, I sit on the eve of the full moon and raise a toast. To Linda.  I love you. I miss you. My heart aches and I can’t breath …

But then I see you, head bobbing, Cell phone high, singing on your way to heaven.

Say Hi to dad for me.  I will always love you.

“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air…but only for one second without hope.”     ― Hal Lindsey

Today is the second anniversary of the day that Curtis M. Fike lost his final battle. After four deployments and plagued with PTSD and an untreated TBI, Curtis had slowly slid into a darkness filled with alcohol abuse, road rage and depression that he could no longer find his way out of.  He landed in a place where he lost hope for a normal healthy life and did what he felt was the only way to end the torment; unaware he was merely passing the pain on to those who love him. 

Amidst the volume of unanswered questions and cascade of tears, I find proof of one thing. Suicide is a virus; one form of pain merely mutates into another.

It is an observation based on the tender hearts of grieving families left behind desperate to find the answers they seek. 

Tomorrow I will be running the sNOw run with Curtis as my companion. My hope is someone asks me about the image on my shirt. My hope is to tell someone about the beautiful boy with the infectious smile.  My hope is the chance to start a new conversation about hope and service. My hope is  to make someone uncomfortable about the silence in the country about the cost of conflict, why the VA is NOT the place to balance the budget and the responsibility we as a nation have to our now professional military fighting the longest conflict in the nation’s history.  My hope is to challenge the assumption coming home “safe” means the mission is over. 

My hope is to bring a light to the darkness and illuminate the path as these warriors make their way home. And that the families of those lost can find a way to mend their broken hearts. 

When we learn to attune ourselves to our inner compass we follow a map that only we can see, our own path.

I can’t identify the exact time.  I can’t identify the trigger. But I can share the moment I gave words to it- that I know longer knew my true North.  I was sitting in a parking lot of a friend’s store. I was texting another friend about  frustration with my job search and my current employer. Why well intended comments about being “too big” for my market left me feeling small and inadequate rather than empowered.  And then I said it.  I can’t find my true north. I am feeling rudderless in a fragile boat on rough seas.

As a Navy wife, I spent a great deal of my life adapting to my surroundings. Finding ways to build community in a ever changing landscape. Finding ways to meet the needs of my young family with a special child, no support system and a husband out to sea. Finding a way to secure employment that allowed me to be mentally challenged yet flexible and available to the needs of a military family. My parameters were easy- what meets the needs of my family.

As I enter into this new chapter of my life, I find that the parameters are different. What meets the needs of me? For the first time in my life, there is no outside influence setting my boundaries. It is all me. And here is where I sit- lost and unsure of which path to take.

I write to keep from drowning in the seas of my mind. They are often dark and stormy, sometimes racing with wild waves and like the waters that surround the Aran islands, even when still have the potential to change at any moment.  I like to think it is what makes me me. But it is not without its challenges.

My friend always tells me not to overanalyze things- said in a way that makes it seem like I can stop thinking on the 6 channels at once, that my situational awareness can lower because I want it to- that I can stop feeling the energetics of everyone around me  and stop seeing behind the curtain as my friend so beautifully described it recently. I wish I could. It would make my life easier. Reduce the times I feel like big shoes on little feet, tripping and stumbling with trust that someone will understand how my brain works.

But what I can’t seem to identify is what my next step is. In recent years, I have started down paths that seem so perfect. That seem so destine in some way. Those same roads have led to stone walls that were insurmountable.

I will be settling in this eve to meditate and pray on tonight, the longest night. 

This is the story of the girl who was too much. Once upon a time, she danced in the sun, relishing with abandon the fire that ran through her veins.  She jumped for joy – filled the crevice of her heart with all she desired.

Her smiled filled the sky with song and she bit into life and let the juice run down her chin.

Slowly, she began to wonder. Why did people shake their heads at her? Point their fingers and snicker behind their hand. Who does she think she is? She is so LOUD! Look how selfish she is to take of so much of the sunshine.  And that dance- is she  just crazy.  People will see.

Slowly, over time the girl lessened her song, singing it softly so as not to disturb those around her. And she began to realize real ladies didn’t jump and dance with joy, but kept their poise and smiled shyly. Soon, her heart was no longer brimming but still filled with the approval of those around her.

At times,she would forget her place and call out with joy, jump to the sky, her face to the sun.  Until those she held most dear, those she loved with all the joy in her heart would back away from the grandness of her presence and tell her she was too much.

They would look at her beauty, the joy in her heart and they were afraid. It was so bright, shone in the night sky like a harvest moon.  Surely it would draw unwanted attention.  It should be put away. Hidden for your own protection.  Someone might see, get the wrong idea. You had to be careful, you don’t want to be one of those girls; those girls who take what they want.

So she learned to quiet her voice, lessen her joy, stop her dance… fit in, blend in- don’t want to much, take too much, live too much…

But she had a secret.

Her joy still shone through her eyes and she would dance with abandon in the privacy of her mind. She would laugh out loud when she was alone– and cast her joys to the winds where they would be held and nourished.

But still the box grew smaller. “Your questions show a mind to quick to be trusted- you will make them feel bad. “

“Your laugh is inappropriate- you’re so loud…. “

“You lust for life. It  is so.. so wanting. “

Don’t be rude.  Wait your turn.

Don’t tell me what you want in your bones- your knowing frightens me- it is too raw, too real, too, too much.

And so the girl believed she was too much. And hid her true self until that day

She laughed with a richness she had forgotten. Her heart sailed to heights she had never before seen and danced with joyous abandon.

You found me. She cried. You saw me in the darkness where we have walked together. I trust you in my cells in ways I have never known before.  You move the blood in my veins – my heart is filled.

Don’t back away… trust that you can hold me. Know that your heart is right and this is our destiny. You are the root of my root, the blood of my blood, the beat of my heart.

Believe that I am enough.

And the reflection in her mirror smiled back at her.

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”
― Maya Angelou