A Tribute to the Kids

The kids had another great day at the beach yesterday. There were the inevitable moments when they terrorized each other of course, but those moments were few compared to how long they played together or separately for four hours.

I've written in the past few days of trials with the kids, but I owe it to them to say that, overall, they've been real troopers. They took their first flights on an airplane - including a 5-1/2 hour one - in stride and were very well behaved. We received compliments from three different flight attendants over the course of the two flights on how well-mannered our children are.

Then, as I've written, they embraced the ocean as if they'd grown up around it, playing in the waves for hours, day after day. The day we went snorkeling, they again showed no fear of riding on a boat for the first time or of getting in the ocean to snorkel, also for the first time. They were also well-mannered and respectful of the crew.

I'm proud of them. Considering all they have been through in the past five years, it's remarkable that they're turning out as well as they are. True, they can be mean to each other at times, but what kids aren't? I love them, and Mark does, too. He is to them as much a dad as I am, and he is a lot more funner (as Annie would say) than I am. I am grateful beyond words that they have him in their lives.

What I'm Reading Right Now

I'm spending a lot of time reading on the beach these days. Thanks to Kindle, I can read several books at a time. Here's what I'm reading right now:


The Spark: A Mother's Story of Nurturing Genius

My daughter, Hannah, recommended this book to me on Thursday. I'm now almost halfway through it. It is the remarkable story of a mother's determination to heed what she intuitively felt needed to be done to help her autistic toddler achieve his potential. What I've read so far is not only an amazing story, but a story that provides wisdom, insight and courage to parents, whether or not their children are autistic. Favorite quotes so far:

"I learned that *everyone* has an intrinsic talent, a contribution to make, even if it comes in an unexpected form. And I began to believe that each person's potential to achieve great things depends on tapping into that talent as a child."

"I had believed for years that any child will out perform your expectations [in various skills, academics, etc.] if you can find a way to feed his or her passion."

The book caused me to ponder how I helped raise my older children and given me much food for thought on helping my younger children - ages 8-15 - find their intrinsic talent, that which they are most naturally passionate about, and pursue that passion. I will finish the book before we head home next week.

Homosexuality and Civilization

I've been reading this book, by Louis Compton, for several weeks and am now 39% of the way through it. Though the author is an academic, I have found it to be very readable and quite fascinating. It begins at the beginning of recorded history and works its way up through the centuries, through Judea, Bronze Age Mediterranean civilizations, Ancient Greece and Rome, the Dark Ages and into the Renaissance, where I now am, reading about homosexuality in Florence during the 1400's.

Along the way, I have learned how the writings of the early Israelites impacted early Christian fathers, then the jurisprudence of Rome, then Medieval Europe. How forgeries, misunderstandings, mistranslations, superstitious fear and brutality came to effect western Civilization's views on homosexuality for 2000 years. It makes for a very insightful, fascinating and sobering story. Did you know, for example, that Julius Caesar was the butt of many jokes as a result of a same-sex affair he had early in his career? Or that the practice generically known as "pederasty" in the Greek world existed for 1000 years until the burgeoning power of the Christian church finally succeeded in crushing it?

The David Suzuki Reader 

I knew of David Suzuki from my years in Vancouver, B.C., primarily from the CBC show, "The Nature of Things," which he hosted. I was reminded of this when we recently went to visit Mark's brother and sister-in-law, Tim and Marie, in Colorado. One night, we were sitting around talking about books, and Tim suggested the Mark read Suzuki's book, Tree: A Life Story, which is a "biography" of a single Douglas fir. Mark downloaded that book, but it is still a few books down in his queue.

I am not very far into the Reader, but I like that it is a collection of  relatively short essays about the environment, about sustainability, about climate change and about Suzuki's life story. Reading the essays has reminded me of when I lived in Vancouver and was attending law school at the University of British Columbia. Those were the days Gro Harlem Bruntland, the prime minister of Norway and chair of the United Nations' World Commission on Environment and Development, was advocating sustainable development. The Commission issued its report in 1987 - the year I commenced law school - entitled "Our Common Future," which I recall reading. Those were the days of "Think Globally. Act Locally." It was the time in my life when I was most engaged in what was going on in the environment.

Four Seasons in Rome

I read Anthony Doerr's book, All the Light We Cannot See, while we were in Europe. Although there was much about that book I liked, it was, in my view, dark and unredemptive. I decided to pick up Four Seasons in Rome because I had just been in Rome and hope to go back some day. It is a memoir of a year he and his wife and newborn twin sons spent in Rome in 2004-2005. This book is on my "slow read" booklist. I typically read a few pages at a time, then move on to something else. While I am not captivated by it, I am only halfway through. Perhaps it will get better.

Greece: A Short History of  Long Story

I came aware from our Greek cruise with a desire to learn more about the history of Greece - buy gently. I long, long ago realized that I am what I could call a "cyclic learner." I learn a little bit about something, then a bit more, then a bit more - in cycles. Perhaps many if not most people learn that way. I don't know. But when I searched about for a short, approachable yet serious history of Greece, I landed here.

I'm about 20% of the way through this book by Carol Thomas and have already learned quite a bit, putting pieces of information together that I learned while in Greece. This is another one of those books, however, that is not a page turner and which I have to absorb slowly.

The HeartMath Solution

This is another book that was recommended to us by Mark's brother and sister-in-law, Tim and Marie. I'm sure I'll blog more about this in the future. For now, let me say that I am finding it fascinating and enlightening. I'm only 13% into the book, but I think it's fair to say that the basic premise of the book is that science is proving that the heart has an intelligence, a brain, of its own apart from the mind's brain. And all sorts of things flow from that.

The Novels of Alexander the Great, by Mary Renault

Mary Renault was both a product of her times and in advance of her times. A lesbian, she wrote ground-breaking novels that had gay themes, primarily from the Classical period of ancient Greece. She was English, but spent the last few decades of her life in South Africa with her partner. When reading the first novel of her's that I've read, i.e, The Last of the Wine, I realized that I needed to learn a lot more about ancient Classical Greece in order to appreciate what I was reading. Renault was dealing with pederastic themes within the context of historical Greece during the Peloponnesian war. Thus, that first book was somewhat challenging. I kept waiting for the climax of the love between Alexis and Lysis ... but I came to realize two things: Renault was writing in the 50s' and 60's, and she was writing about a form of love that is foreign to 20th and 21st-century readers - even gay readers.

Now, I'm reading her trilogy about Alexander the Great. I still wish I knew more about Greek history; thus my reading of Greece: A Short History of a Long Story. But the story is fascinating. Alexander. His mother, Olympias. His father, Philip. Of course, Alexander was gay, or at least bisexual. Thus, I know the story is to be developed. Where I'm at in my reading, he's about eight.

Birthday Weekend With the Quads

This past weekend, we celebrated all four of the Quads' birthdays. (We call our four younger children the Quads.) Their birthdays are all within ten days of each other, so Mark and I have a big birthday celebration for all four sometime in the latter half of October.

Now, one may ask, how did that happen? Four birthdays within ten days? Therein lies a tale.

Esther and Aaron, who are turning 12 this year, were adopted from Nakhodka, Russia (near Vladivostock). when they were 6-1/2 months old. They had both been born in the same hospital in October 2002 within 12 days of each other, and in each case, their birth mothers relinquished all parental rights to the state shortly after their births. They then went to the same orphanage in Nakhoda (pictured below).

We first met the babies in April 2003, then we had to go back to Russia in May to complete the adoptions.

Me holding Aaron (left) and Esther

Esther

Aaron and Esther, shortly before they left Russia

Me and Aaron

Aaron was actually born on October 19th, and Esther's birthday was on Halloween. When we adopted them, we had the option of changing their birth dates, so we decided to split the difference and designate October 25th are their legal birth dates. At the time, we thought this might help to raise them as twins in case of awkward questions for them about their adoptions.

We adopted the twins because we thought we couldn't have any more children. So imagine the surprise when my former wife found out, not quite a year after we had brought the twins home, that she was pregnant with a boy. Levi was born on November 1, 2004.

My dad holding Levi when he was about two months old

Then, through a series of events, we ended up going back to Russia in the summer and fall of 2007 in order to adopt Annie, who had been born on October 23rd in Vladivostok. We met her when she was about seven months old.

Annie's orphanage, outside Vladivostok

Annie

Me and Annie

And so, that is how it came to pass that the birthdays of my four younger children are all within ten days of each other.

We had a good time this past weekend, starting off with a Dr. Who-themed birthday dinner. Then, each child had their own birthday cake of their choosing. The two girls opted for traditional cakes. Aaron, however, wanted a Texas donut, and Levi wanted a cherry pie.

Aaron's Texas Donut*

Esther and her cake

Levi's cherry pie.

Levi and Buddha

The next day, I took them all to Thanksgiving Point. I had been a bit apprehensive about this. I'm not really a crowds guy. And, like, I'm not exactly a *young* father. But my daughter, Rachel, came along to help and it was actually a lot of fun. After we paid a visit to the petting farm (which took the kids a while to warm too), we went to the Museum of Ancient Life. The funnest thing about this place was a big room where kids (and their parents) could make structures out of styrofoam blocks.

Add caption

Perhaps the funnest part for the kids was when they knocked it all down

Annie and Levi in the "river" playing with sand

Esther

I am blessed with AMAZING children.

* All of the remaining photographs, as well as the lead photo, were taken by my daughter, Rachel.

Ozzie, Harriet, Mormonism and Me

"Her idea of the 'ideal life' was definitely an Ozzie and Harriet dream."

So wrote a friend who knew my mother. She had written to me after reading this post I published the other day about my mother. The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet was a TV show that ran throughout the 50's and half-way through the 60's. It portrayed the "All-American nuclear family," and is often used to describe the wholesome image of the post-war ideal that many parents, including my mother, strove to achieve.

(The above picture was probably taken on Mothers Day around 1964. L-R are my sister Karen, my brother Danny, me and my brother Mike. Wasn't I cute?)

As I described in the post about Mom that I wrote the other day, she had a difficult and troubled childhood. "Her childhood," wrote my friend, "was not something she really wanted to remember ... Gloom and doom was basically how she described her early years." As I read and re-read my friend's e-mail, I gradually came to see how there had been some similarities between my mother's approach to parenthood and my own, especially during the first ten years or so of my marriage.

First, there is the matter of control. Mom had a chaotic childhood and therefore sought security through control. My friend referred to this, i.e., the structure Mom wanted to have in her life - meal times, nap times, bedtimes, rules about this, rules about that, etc. Similarly, I admit to being controlling as a parent - not in the way my mother was, but controlling through the structure of Mormon family life. I, too, had had an abusive childhood. Mormonism offered to me a ready-made structure for my role as a father; all I had to do was follow the plan, obey the rules and apply the teachings.

Second, I was struck by my friend's "Ozzie and Harriet" reference. Mom wanted to achieve that ideal, but she didn't have the tools and she denigrated herself in the process, constantly striving for  unattainable perfection, hurting both herself and her children. After all, we kids were expected to play our part in the attainment of perfection.

Similarly, my idea of the "ideal life" was the ideal presented by the Mormon Church of loving parents and obedient and well-adjusted children. I reacted to my childhood upon joining the Church in the same way my mother did upon marrying, i.e., by doing everything I could to escape my past (and my homosexuality).

I imagine that Mom jumped at the chance to marry my Dad. His family represented everything Mom wanted but had never had- stability, togetherness, a degree of love she had not experienced, a large family which she could become a part of and escape her lower-class, somewhat gritty background.

My father and his family in front of their farmhouse near Salem, Illinois. Dad is kneeling, looking away from the camera.

I believe that my mother was probably ashamed of her background and felt very insecure as she integrated herself into small-town life with lots of sisters-in-law. She worked very hard to be the all-American homemaker (not so much a mother, but a homemaker), through her baking, her bridge club, and her housekeeping. I remember her saying once that we children "could have eaten off her kitchen floor."

A birthday party at Grandma Broom's house in 1954 or 1955. Various Broom uncles, aunts and cousins are pictured. Mom is holding my brother Danny. My sister, upon seeing this picture, commented that Mom was the only adult not wearing a hat. I hadn't notice that until she mentioned it.

Similarly, when I joined the LDS Church, I admit to feeling somewhat ashamed of my family background in light of the Mormon ideal that presented itself to me. Ideal Mormon families did not - or so I thought at the time - have abuse, divorce and dysfunction in their background. (I later came to realized how ridiculous that was.) Like me, I suppose that Mom thought that if she could just be perfect and raise a perfect family, she would be able to purge the ghosts of her past.

Getting back to my friend's email, I could and did relate to her statement that Mom thought that if she did everything the opposite of the way she was raised (i.e., with respect to parenting), it would probably be the "right way." Mom had no real parenting role models. Her father was not a part of her life due to the divorce of my grandparents, which was frankly a blessing. Her mother, meanwhile, was too busy trying to survive. She certainly was not the loving, doting mother ideal that my other grandmother exemplified. Though they shared the same name (Nellie), my grandmothers had had completely different life experiences and were two very different women.

As was the case with my mother, my parenting role models were not ideal. So Mom and I both tried to be a "good parent" through adherence to others' ideals. In Mom's case, it was the whole Ozzie and Harriet thing; in my case, it was the Mormon ideal. Neither one of us had a good sense of ourselves that would have allowed us to be parents from the inside out, rather than from the outside in.

Fortunately, the wheel had moved forward enough in my case that I could be in a better place when I became a parent. Nevertheless, I made mistakes - plenty of them. I was, however, finally able to get to a place where I cast off others' expectations of me as a parent and and adherence to others' ideals of parenthood. That was when I began the journey of being a parent from the inside out, rather than from the outside in.

Mom, later in her life

Unfortunately, Mom never had that opportunity. As my friend pointed out, she lived in a different time. "She was never taught that it was all right to show her true feelings ... I always felt that if she had received *good* therapy, things might have been different. But in those days, the doctors just gave you pills and you went on your merry way. Talking about your feelings, especially to your family, was just not done."

I am grateful that things have been different for my generation - and for me.

To Make Her Happy: Of Sealing Rooms, Golden Cages and Closets

"Your job is to make your wife happy."

~ Temple Sealer

We were in the sealing room in the Jordan River Temple.* The sealer was imparting some words of wisdom to my former wife and me. He first told the story of Adam and Eve, about how Eve partook of the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, but Adam did not partake. When Eve “confessed” to Adam, he steadfastly refused to partake, citing “Father’s” commandment not to do so. Eve then points out to Adam that if he refuses, she will be cast out and he will be left a “lone man” in the garden of Eden.   

The sealer arrived at his point. Addressing me, he said, “And Adam said, ‘I see that this must be so.’” Gazing intently at me, the sealer continued, “There will be times when you will turn to your wife after she has given you counsel regarding a difficult decision and you will say, ‘I see that this must be so.’” 

Then came the clencher. “Your job,” he said, “is to make your wife happy.”

As far as I recall, the sealer said absolutely nothing to my wife about what she was supposed to do for me. There was, of course, no exchange of vows. No mutual promises to love, honor and cherish, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, in the closet or out of the closet. Merely, I was supposed to listen to her counsel and make her happy. That was my role.

The problem is, I took this charge very seriously. If this mandate had been given to another man, say a heterosexual man who was very confident in his sense of self, he might have rolled with it. To me, however, plagued as I was by self-doubt and an inner sense of self-loathing because of my (by then) 15-year-long experience of attraction to people of my own gender, it was a command (not the only one) to offer up all of me upon the altar of marriage. My job was to make her – not me – happy. Only by completely surrendering myself to this marriage could I have any hope of redemption.

Parenthetically, even if I had been heterosexual, however, this assertion that I was responsible for my wife's happiness, played into and turbo-charged very unhealthy thought and behavior patterns that I had brought into my marriage from my own childhood and dysfunctional family of origin, wherein I had experienced role-reversal with both of my parents and had been made responsible for their happiness. It wasn't until years and years into the marriage, however, that I gradually began to understand what was going on.

Meanwhile, over the years, I grew increasingly disturbed by how the Church as an institution and as a culture treated women (and, consequently, men) and how it encouraged men to treat their wives. Put up on a pedestal, in a gilded cage, women were and are treated by the Mormon Patriarchy as "special." Men are the virile protectors and women are the subservient, weaker dependents.

I have frankly been disgusted over the years as I have heard various local church leaders refer to their wives as their “sweethearts,” and publicly fawn over them – as long, that is, as they stayed in their gilded cage. Mormonism makes such a fuss over women and mothers; Mother’s Day was almost unbearable for me, there was always such a gush of saccharine goo.  

Father’s Day, on the other hand, was typically treated almost as an embarrassment by the men who were running the show. Why is that? The most important calling that a man can have on this earth is supposedly that of father … yet fatherhood is never discussed in human terms in priesthood meetings, sacrament meetings, or elsewhere. Rather, the myth of the heroic Mormon father holds sway, and as long as we read our scriptures, say our prayers, don’t look at pornography and pay our tithing, all will be well.

And heaven help the homosexuals, because they cut to the very heart of the Mormon myth of the heroic father. The Mormon patriarchal hierarchy despises homosexuality because homosexuality upsets the patriarchy’s view of itself and the natural order of things. It opens up the male persona to other interpretations that don’t fit neatly within the Mormon box.

Roles (using the term in its psycho-analytical sense), whether in the Church or in families, are not healthy. We are each here to fulfill the measure of our own creation, not fulfill a role that someone else assigns to us. And we are, ultimately, each responsible for our own happiness - not someone else's.

*This post was originally published on one of my former blogs (now closed) in August 2012. My mind turned toward it as I was reading Utah's arguments against marriage equality and the roles that the State (as an agent of LDS teachings on the family) seeks to assign to men and women.

Thanksgiving Reflections

Family picture taken this past Saturday by Katrina B. Anderson

I wasn't going to write about "what I'm grateful for." This has always seemed a bit cliche to me. Like New Year Resolutions. But as I sat down to write in my journal this morning, I decided that it would be appropriate to reflect on what has happened during the past year. And I'm glad I did. I learned some things.

View of Granby, Colorado this morning from our hotel room. It was 9 degrees at the time this was taken.

My Personal Growth

This time a year ago, I wasn't, in a number of important ways, in a very good place. Frankly, I was in a dark place of depression. The recent Circling the Wagons conference (for LGBT members of the Mormon community and their families and friends) had been surrounded by controversy and negativity that had deeply effected me. 

I was floundering professionally, trying to determine whether I should simply give up on the practice of law or go into a different line of work. Eighteen months of unemployment had taken their toll. My personal finances had continued to deteriorate.

I was also floundering emotionally. Phantoms from my abusive childhood haunted me. I broke down completely over Thanksgiving weekend last year. Dark thoughts seemed to swirl around me.

For quite some time, I hadn't thought about that time in my life a year ago. It was a revelation to me this morning as I sat down to write in my journal how far I have come over the past year. A big turning point came last December as I met with my counselor and, together, we faced some hard things. 

I realized that I needed to leave behind my lingering associations with all things Mormon. It was simply too painful - on numerous levels - and it certainly wasn't healthy. It was also at this point that I surrendered to certain other realities in my life and gave up the suffering I was incurring because I had tried to pretend and act like those realities weren't there or could be changed. As Eckart Tolle has written, what one resists, persists. Others have put it this way: Let go or be dragged. I let go.

Today, I am in a very different place emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. And I'm very grateful for that. I'm grateful for all the growth I have experienced over the past year. I'm grateful that ghosts from my childhood no longer haunt me. I'm grateful that I feel more in touch with myself than I ever have. I'm grateful to be on a spiritual path that I feel originates from within, rather than being imposed from without; a path that I feel is nourishing and healing me.

For all of this, I am grateful.

My Children

Much wonderful and good has happened this past year with respect to my children. A beautiful baby girl has come into the lives of my daughter Hannah and her husband, Cary. As a result, Hannah has experienced much growth and wonder this past year. I'm grateful for this growth, grateful that Hannah and I are as close as we are, grateful for the things we have shared with and taught each other, grateful for the good health and material well-being that Hannah, Cary and Nutella enjoy.

I'm also exceedingly grateful that my daughter Rachel has come back into my life, and I into hers. Her absence, as well as that of two of my other children, had left a huge hole in my heart. There has been much healing and growth that has come from pain, and I'm so grateful that Rachel and I are now  probably closer than we've ever been, that she has been able to spread her wings and enjoy freedom and happiness in Philadelphia, and that Mark and I were able to visit her a few weeks ago. 

Rachel at Brandywine Museum a few weeks ago

I also grateful for the growth that others of my older children have experienced over the past year. Seeing and hearing of this growth has given me hope that they are, each in their own way and in their own time, dealing with the trauma that has shaken and hurt each one of them over the past several years - and that they are emerging as stronger, more healthy, more whole individuals. 

I am also grateful for the love I feel for each one of them and for the love that I feel from them, and the knowledge that I have that such love can never be taken for granted; and in this regard, I remain thankful for the hope that remains kindled that the day will come when a reconciliation will occur with my two children from whom I remain estranged. 

Of course, I am grateful for the Quads and for Nathan and for all that we have been able to experience over the past year. I'm particularly grateful for the Disneyland trip that Mark and I made with Aaron, Esther and Levi in June. And for the trip that we make with Nathan in July to Maui to attend the Koepke family reunion.

Nathan with "Grandma Koepke" on the beach in Maui

Mark

I am grateful for every day that I have with Mark. Almost eight months ago, he was diagnosed with advanced prostate cancer. The prognosis at that time looked very grim. I am grateful beyond words to express that his hormone therapy is working, that he remains healthy, vigorous and strong and that we have been able to create many lasting memories over the past months. 

Though I cannot say I am grateful that he has cancer, I can say that that I am grateful for some of the blessings that have come into our lives as a result of the cancer. I am grateful for the more profound love that has grown between us and for the way in which we have grown, together. I am grateful for the way Mark has drawn closer to his family and they to him and the way in which I have been drawn more intimately into that family.

I am thankful for our commitment ceremony in August. For the love that was so powerfully felt there. For the fact that eight of my children chose to be there. It was a night I will never forget. I am truly grateful to Mark, to my angel sister Martha and her husband Koen, to my children, to Mark's family members and to all of our friends who were there to add their energy, love and light to that marvelous evening.

And I am grateful that, as a result of the Supreme Court ruling in June, that Mark and I can look forward to getting legally married next year and that we can (at least at the federal level) enjoy all the same benefits and status and recognition that straight couples enjoy.

Every Day

Lastly, I am grateful that I am grateful. I am thankful that I do not take life for granted. That I know that each day is precious. That each day brings opportunities and blessings. For much of my life, I couldn't truly say these things (a reflection of my own issues). Now, I can. And I am grateful. I am grateful for all the love and light in my life. I am truly blessed.

Sweet Breezes: I Love My Children

I love my children. Although there has been much hurt and pain in our family over the course of the past three-four years (much of which has been beyond my control), every now and then – more now than then – I catch a vision, feel a breeze, sense a new creation, of a changed, different, more healthy, more vibrant family that is emerging. Not a family in the traditional Mormon sense by any means, but a collection of individuals who are bound together by love and by a common value of living life authentically within different dynamics.

I had a dream last night, or rather a series of dreams, somewhat like a movie showing then and now scenes of the lives of various of my children. Of course, I don’t remember any of the details now – I’m terrible at remembering my dreams – but what I do remember is what I felt: an overwhelming sense that things happen for reasons, people turn out the way they do for reasons, and love and authenticity are the healing balms in people’s lives.

Then this morning, I read recent posts in my older daughters’ blogs and felt such a sense of love, such a tingling of renewed life. My daughter Sarah wrote “an open letter to God,” expressing her love for her husband and appreciation for her growth. I want to quote it in its entirety:

Dear God, 

Thank you for this man. I love him. Thank you for helping me to see the good in him. For letting me make the choice to marry him. For answering my prayers to help me love him when I didn't feel like loving. For helping me let him love me, even when I don't love myself. For teaching me that the most soul-fulfilling marriages happen not when two people need each other, but when people want to share life together. For helping me see that my husband doesn't judge me. For helping me learn to accept help not because I deserve it, or because someone wants to give it to me, but because I need it. For whispering to me to not judge myself as weak when I can't do something. For being patient with me when I'm a stubborn, impertinent child. For admiring me for the woman I'm growing into. For opening your heart and your world to me. For filling my soul like nothing else can. 

I love you, God.
Love,
Me

Then I read a couple of Rachel’s most recent posts. She just left for Philadelphia yesterday to take a nanny job there. Here are some extracts of what she wrote leading up to that departure:

“The point [of my recent stay with Sarah out in California] was I will always be grateful for that time to be me with no strings attached. I learned so many things about myself that helped me understand what I want to do and who I want to be. And I learned that it's okay to not have life figured out. if you talk with most people, they will admit to having no idea what they are doing! Do any of us? None of us are experts on 'how to live life.' There is no guide, no rule book. Why should we be limited to a set path when there are endless paths to be explored?”

“But frankly, I don't like having a plan. I don't want to know what my future holds...what mistakes I will make and what opportunities will be offered to me. I don't want to know. I'd rather enjoy the ride and let life take me where it wants to go and surprise me along the way …

“So...overall if you ask me what I plan to do next I won't answer you :) I will shrug my shoulders and say, 'who knows?' No one knows what I will do next. What does it matter? I don't want to live my life waiting on the future. I want to live my life in the present.

“And I can't tell you how excited I am to go out to Philadelphia. Honestly, I'm not scared. I'm excited. So so so excited...and happy. Happier than I ever remember being. It's a good feeling to be able to smile and feel content inside. You might see drastic things happen to me while I'm gone that make you think, 'really Rachel? I didn't know you were like that.' It's because for the first time in my life I feel like I get to be me. Any kind of me that I want. There are no rules. There is no guide.”

Then there is my daughter Hannah, whose vibrancy, along with that of her gorgeous daughter Hazel, infuses her blog. This recent picture of “Nutella” says a thousand words.

I love my kids. My big kids and my little kids. Aaron, our 10-year-old, texts me short messages from time to time. The other day, he sent this one, Aaron’s spelling challenges making the note all the more endearing to me:

“Levi ses goodnight the cat ses meaw.”

I love my kids.