A year ago today I started a new job. After ten years at the same job, it was time to make a change. I loved what I was doing, but the stress of the job and politics involved were having a major impact on my health.

Now a year later, I am not working as a registered nurse, but instead I’m a stay at home wife, mom, and Nana.

I learned a lot in the nine months I was at that office job. I went into the job full of excitement and ideas of how I could be the best women’s health nurse I could be.

The love quickly turned to disillusionment . The hospital system, which I had worked for in 2000, had been taken over by a new system. The excellent insurance I had back then was now the worst insurance I have ever had – by far! We paid a huge amount out of pocket. At this writing, there is no doubt that we paid a heck of a lot more into it than we got out of it.

This job, too, had office politics – but I don’t know a job that doesn’t. I met some very kind people, though, and for that I am grateful.

Overall, it was a heart breaking experience. I left with more than two weeks notice – the health system sent me a cobra note saying I was involuntarily terminated. Considering their HR was in a state far away, I could see the mistake being made, and I got it corrected.

It wasn’t the health system I had worked at and loved.

I don’t regret leaving – I am busy with life, writing, speaking, and healing. I’m savoring the time with my spouse.

It is yet to be seen if the chapter of being a nurse is closed. It feels like it to me, and I’m okay with that. Financially we don’t need two incomes, and that is a blessing.

It’s just bittersweet to look back on the myself a year ago today, so excited, so ready for a new job at a place I had loved to work at.

Little did I know that ship had sailed, swallowed up by a big, anonymous healthcare system that forgot its roots of serving the community, and valuing its employees.

Bittersweet, indeed.

It seems to me, in this fractious and argumentative time we live in, that the anniversary of 9/11 is especially important. And poignant.

That morning in September I was just home from a night shift. I was exhausted, crawling into bed after a long night at the hospital, and my mother told me to turn on the TV.

The first tower had just been hit. She made a comment of what a terrible accident that was – I responded “That was no accident”. I had to work that night, so I shut it off, shut out the world, and went to sleep.

The full impact of what happened while I slept hit me full in the face when I woke up and turned the TV on. It seemed like a nightmare. Nothing like this had happened in my lifetime. I never knew there could be such hate.

That night, we only had one couple come in to have a baby – and they were Islamic. It was awkward. They were nervous, and we were sad because this moment of new life would ever be marred by the events of the day. Not for one moment did we wish ill on them or look down on them.

All these years later, hatred has grown and terror is world wide. Radical Islam has become something we are all too familiar with. Fear is something that hovers in the back of our minds when we travel.

As the anniversary of 9/11 comes, my prayer is for peace. We must never, ever forget the evil that caused the deaths of the innocents all those years ago – and still is causing pain and suffering, physically and mentally.

Praying for peace does not mean blindly looking away or ignoring evil as it tries to take root in our country and around the world. The hastily bulldozed compound in New Mexico reminds us that the evil is alive and well.

Protect our country. Protect the world. Open the eyes and minds of those blinded by hate, and help them see the Truth.

Let there be peace on earth…let it begin with us.

It’s another Hallmark holiday – Grandparents Day.

I do think grandparents should be celebrated! It’s an honor to get to the stage in life where you are a grandparent. Not everyone gets the privilege.

I was an Air Force brat, and had very few interactions with my grandparents. I always felt I was slighted in life by this situation. It was beyond my control, but I wish I had gotten to know them.

My mother’s dad had early onset Parkinson’s disease. He died when my mom was in her 30’s, and I was a young child. The few memories I have are sad – he was a shell of a man, unable to recognize my mother. My step gramma took care of him at home. It was painful to watch my mom try to connect with him.

Her mother passed away in her 50’s of complications of diabetes. So my mother lost both her parents, and subsequently I lost my maternal grandparents, at a very young age.

My dad’s dad died when I was in high school. The only memories I had of him were of his constant smoking, and he always had clear blue mints in plastic wrap with him.

My paternal grandma lived to be 93. I had the opportunity to have her live with my kids and I for several months when she was 92. She had an amazing sharp wit, and was very funny. I had a whole lifetime of never getting to know her, so I jumped at the chance to have her stay with me. My kids got to meet their only surviving great grandparent, and precious memories were made.

My parents are very involved in the lives of all their grandkids. It’s wonderful to see my kids grow up with grandparents – and their kids with great grandparents!

The icing on the cake is my husband and I are grandparents to three boys – with two more on the way! It has been a pure joy, and we know firsthand what a privilege it is.

I’m counting my blessings, and grandparents are definitely on the list.

Deep sigh.

I had a wonderful afternoon at the beach with my hubby. The tourists are gone, the temperatures are perfect – it was just a lovely afternoon.

I’ve been to the beach here more times than I can count in the last twenty years, but in line with my mindfulness goals, I wanted to really be present at the beach today.

Where we sat, there was a little stream of water that had formed a small sand bar. The waves were low and slow, and I went out to the sand bar and sat down.

I was acutely awards of the hiss of the waves as they whooshed in around me, withdrawing just as fast with a foamy fringe of retreat. I watched the sand piper race the surf, frantically puncturing the sand for mollusks before the water returned.

I closely examined the tiny shells that were already at the end of their life cycle, but were delicate, beautiful treasures in my hand. I felt the white sand fluidly melt away under my hands by the relentless pull of the tide.

My breath matched the cadence of the gulf waves. The seagulls swooped and sang overhead, as brushed cotton clouds slowly drifted east. Behind me, the rustle of sea oats framed the horizon.

I sat there for several minutes, just taking in the beauty in the sights, smells, and sounds around me.

I’m so much better for it.

Ten years ago I got married to the love of my life.

He’s not perfect – neither am I – but he is pretty awesome.

Eight years ago I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.

My hubby had always been in my corner. He encouraged me as I went from couch potato to half marathon runner (x20!)

He ate the new low carb food I cook with no complaints, and supported me as I struggled to get healthier.

He was at the finish line when I did the WDW Glass Slipper Challenge – a 10k one day, half marathon the next.

In August, I got the devastating news that I was a type 1 diabetic, and would be on insulin for the rest of my life. He’s held me as I cried. He’s patient when I’m wrung out and completely exhausted by the disease.

I’m sick of it all. Some days I’m so frustrated I can’t see straight. He reminds me how fortunate I am to have the Omnipod and Dexcom.

When my blood sugar tanks in the middle of the night, he gets up with me and stays with me until I am back on track and stable.

I hate being sick. I hate being a burden. He never makes me feel like I am either.

All I want is to get back to running – but so far I haven’t found out how to do so without my blood sugars tanking. In the mean time, he walks with me.

I’m very blessed to have a husband who loves me in sickness. When I took those vows, I had no idea what it would mean to me.

They mean the world to me now.

I have the misfortune of being on the east side of fading tropical storm Gordon. A storm, by the way, that was just at hurricane 1 strength when it hit last night.

I’m grateful for the ability of weather experts to prognosticate when and where a tropical system will hit. I watched this storm race across the Gulf of Mexico, and I didn’t think it would impact us much.

Wrong, I discovered last night as the tornado warning came out. We spent almost 45 minutes in the walk in closet, watching the news on our phones, as a sighted tornado took aim at our area.

Sigh.

It’s now been raining continuously for almost 25 hours. Even with our quick draining, sandy lots, there is a lot of flooding.

I’ve been waiting for the rain to stop so I can go to the store – as I write this, another gust of heavy rain has blown in.

For all the good of forecasts, I still look forward to the end of hurricane season. With two more storms ramping up in the Atlantic, it gets old fast.

I guess I’ll get my rain boots on and grab the big umbrella, and head out. Better now than when the dark of nightfall is added to this mess.

‘Tis the season for hurricanes.

I’ve lived on the Gulf coast for 18 years now – and weathered more tropical systems than I can count.

The year that I moved here, I arrived on a Tuesday, and had to evacuate two days later on a Thursday. That first year, I evacuated 3 times.

Now, I’m like a lot of “locals” – I track the storms, watch the central barometric pressure, study spaghetti models.

I will be the first to tell you I’ll sit out every storm that’s a category 2 or less, but I’m out of here if it’s going to be a cat 3.

The big hurricane Ivan that knocked out my power for three weeks, that had me stuck working in the hospital three days with no A/C and no way to check on my family – it may have been 14 years ago, but the residual pit my stomach nausea is a low rumble now.

We brought in the flag, secured the patio furniture, took down the ferns. It may be premature, but it’s easier to do it now than when it’s raining.

It may be much ado about nothing. It often is. We will still check out battery supply and fuel up the cars, just in case.

Looks like the long weekend just got a little bit longer.

Ah, Mother Nature to the rescue again.

We planned a Labor Day getaway to Calloway Gardens. They lost our reservations, charged us a fortune for a night – so we are heading back home on a long drive after this one night.

But first…

We are going to enjoy the gardens. I’m ready to breath some fresh air, see the beautiful flowers, listen to the cicadas in the pine trees.

I’m waiting to go now on my fourth floor balcony – I’m in the canopy, watching the gentle sway of pine and oak, a few clouds brushed thin over the blue sky.

And breathe.

We will be hiking around the grounds after we visit the butterfly house, and say goodbye for the last time to this place that was so inhospitable.

Thank goodness for the Gardens. All is forgiven in them.

I am a mountain girl through and through. My heart is happiest when I am in the mountains – specifically the Wasatch Front in Utah.

In 2000, I moved to the coast to be close to my family.

I am glad to be near my parents and siblings, but I miss seasons. I hate heat. I hate humidity. And cockroaches. And fire ants. I could go on. And on.

The one saving grace about this locale is I am less than an hour from my door to the Gulf of Mexico.

The Emerald Coast is, by far, the most beautiful stretch of beach I have ever been to, and I have been to a lot of beaches. Hawaii, the Philippines, West and East coast beaches in the US – none can compare with the beach here.

First of all, it’s not sand – it’s silica. Powdery soft and brilliant white, it is the reason the water is such a beautiful hue.

The water is clear and warm – almost every time I go, it’s a green flag day. The waves are subtle, the water is clean, and you can see clearly to the bottom.

It doesn’t take long to drive past the main beach accesses to find an almost completely secluded spot to relax. After floating on my back and listening to the ocean sounds, my next favorite thing to do is just lay on a beach chair and soak it in. There is so much beauty to behold – I love the little sand pipers racing up and down with the surf. I’m amused by the ghost crabs tentatively peaking out of their sand holes, to scurry across the sand. The sea oats sway as they cling to the forming sand dunes, framing the unnaturally beauty around me.

It’s a place where you leave the cares of the world behind.

It makes living here bearable.

I need to go there more often.

In keeping with my Winnie the Pooh thoughts, I realized this afternoon that today is my half birthday. Commence singing the song, if you know it.

I’m grateful for every day now – more grateful than I used to be before I got type 1 diabetes, with all the fun and hoopla that comes with it. I realize that life is fragile – those days when my blood sugar is plummeting and I can’t stop it and I’m reviewing with my spouse when he should call 911 bring this into clarion focus.

My life now is about accountability, exercise, close glucose monitoring. I’m eating completely differently than I used to. I’m up to seven miles of walking a day. My blood sugar this week has been wonderfully stable. But that was this week.

I never imagined I’d be the chronic illness person. Actually, I’m working at living at optimum wellness, despite my diagnosis last year of both diabetes and asthma.

A very half birthday to me, to me – and many more.