PATSY'S POCKETS OF PEACE

QUIVERING

2012-01-31T07:17:00.000-08:00

Mustang Island......where the hardest decision is what color nail polish to select for a pedicure, choosing between a lunch of Shrimp and Grits Sliders over Crab Cakes, or deciding to eavesdrop on muted conversations about Tommy Lee Jones' frequent visits to the island! It restores my soul and somewhat softens the tedious and painful lumps and bumps of life back in reality.

I was on the eleventh floor of a highrise condo. From the balcony, I saw this lady walking what appears to be a well seasoned golden retriever. This scene captured my heart and held on tight. She or he, looks so much like my golden girl, now gone from my life for almost two years. The lump in my throat was more than noticeable as I remembered places and spaces with "Penny" and how her muzzle turned white and her steps slowed, and how I treasured each moment spent with her in her final days. I often wonder if she looks down upon the PENNY'S FROM HEAVEN FOUNDATION and realizes her legacy. A legacy filled with wonder and delight and smiles and tears from patients remembering dogs from days past from a furry bright spot that suddenly entered their lives for a moment.

It isn't always easy letting go. It can be grueling! It can shake you to your bones and cause you to quiver in doubt of the future. Then I remember a greeting card in a gift shop on the island that simply read, "You are not Atlas carrying the world on your shoulder. It is good to remember that the planet is carrying you." ~Vandana Shiva

Maybe sometimes curling up into a tight little ball is okay. Maybe pulling the covers back over your head works. But in the end you have to get up and face the day, the problems, the pain and the unanswered questions. Maybe the answers will come, maybe not. But in between the questions and the answers lies life! You have to learn when to hold on tight and when to stop rushing, pushing and manipulating. You need to learn to say 'no' so your 'yes' has some oomph! Taking one step at a time isn't so bad. Baby steps can lead you where you are supposed to be, not rushing to find a place where you are not supposed to be.

As for this morning, I want to curl up in a ball and sleep. A dreary morning back at my desk with piles and piles of work to do, meetings coming up, and as Robert Frost said, "miles to go before I sleep." I am quivering today. Today the planet has to carry me.

COMFORT OPENS YOU LIKE THE PETALS OF A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER

2012-01-19T10:14:00.000-08:00

Have you ever thought about how much better you feel when you comfort yourself? Ladies love to curl up in a soft, yummy blanket and read a good book, and perhaps reach, guiltlessly, for a piece of chocolate or two. The peace in a home where you can do that is rare. So you have to take it as you can find it. Or in some cases you have to escape to an island. As I write this all of my dogs are barking, a fax is coming in and the morning is brand new and the doorbell is ringing.

I wanted to sit and read a new book I had gotten yesterday. Of course Military Working Dog related, but nonetheless, comforting to sit in quiet and read! Something I love to do and seldom do I have the chance to indulge myself with this luxury.

"Comfort heals. It brings joy to the spirit. Comfort renews power, vitality. Comfort opens you up like the sun unfolds the petals of a fragrant and beautiful flower. Simply put, comfort will make you and those around you happy." ~ Melody Beattie

Remember when you were young and skinned your knee or had a splinter in your finger? You most likely would run crying to your mother or grandmother for comfort. Now who do you run to when you have a bruised ego or hurt feelings? We are supposed to be strong, composed, in control, in charge. But sometimes we just aren't, and it is just not possible to imagine we could be this way all of the time. Maybe outwardly we try, but inwardly we are breaking.

I suppose the hard part for me is to ask for comfort, to find time to allow myself this indulgence, to fall asleep on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around me with the soft breathing of my dogs, as the only background noise audible. When you allow you to comfort yourself or others to do so, don't you find you feel renewed and the stress and anxiety you are laden with creeps out the door and leaves you to feel like the real you once again? Not the exhausted, depleted you.

Until I read Melody Beattie's quote above did I realize that what everyone has been saying forever 'that if you don't take care of you, you can't take care of anyone else', really is true. So yes, I get it, if I am happy most likely those around me will be happy.

This said, next week I am heading to the island once again. The place where I find healing, and peace, and joy, and relaxation and the ability to inhale all the way to my abdomen. I will sit and watch movies, walk on the beach, search for shells and find broken ones that somehow remind me of the brokeness in all of us. I will go to the island seafood store for the day's catch and indulge in the best and freshest fish anywhere, as I prepare it with a butter, garlic, lemon and white wine reduction before dusting it with fresh minced parsley. I will go to the Island Food Store, which is the size of the entry at a super plus supermarket back home. I will cherish the simplicity of this oasis where you can find anything and everything you need without hiking miles and aisles to find it. I will absorb the local color and go into shops with glitter and confetti on the floor and a bubble machine outside next to a pepto bismol colored car. I will search for paw prints in the sand and remember the comfort of walking with one of my dogs by my side and my mission and purpose on this planet. I will ask for the ability to remain steadfast in my journey.

I will in these days find the ability to remember who I am and what my purpose is and hopefully shed some of the barnacles of anxiety that cause my rampant panic and vertigo attacks. I will pamper myself, I will comfort myself. I will renew myself and come home rested and peaceful and smiling. I will begin writing a book I feel compelled to write (# 56). I will fall in love with life once again and remember how to dance on the edge of each day and yell 'watch out below' as I recall what it is like to once again feel comforted.

I wish you peace.

THAT ONE MOMENT

2012-01-16T08:33:00.000-08:00

A Renaissance artist who made the world's most prized vases. A foreign visiting apprentice came to observe his method.

After laboring for many weeks with one piece of clay — firing it, painting it, baking it — [the artist] placed it upon a pedestal for inspection. The apprentice sat in awe at this thing of unspeakable beauty.

But it appeared that the artist was not yet finished. In a shocking and dramatic moment, the artist lifted the vase above his head and dashed it against the floor, breaking it into a thousand shards.

And then, quietly, he reconnected the pieces by painting them with a paint of pure gold. Each crack reflected invaluable gold. In the end, this magnificent, but imperfect, piece became the most valued piece in the collection....

And as you look into the mirror each morning and see the slow and quiet evidence of strain and stress, of passing time and battle fatigue begin to etch deeper, know that those are not meaningless wrinkles but lines of character and wisdom and beauty.

Saturday was not a great day....multiple disappointments and great injustice and plans that took weeks to implement demolished. People that I felt had integrity betrayed me, and more importantly, my warriors. I was thrown back a bit and then decided to shake it off, much like a dog shakes to release stress!

Then later that morning with a slight chill in the air, I found myself sitting quietly on the patio at a hospital in the warm South Texas sun watching a miracle occur. A warrior with severe PTSD, grimaced as he worked his way to the ground with the help of his cane. Kelsie went up to him, and with great understanding laid her head in his lap. No words were spoken. No facial expressions. Then my warrior began exploring each inch of Kelsie's head and face with such tenderness, softness, warmth and love that I could not get the lump out of my throat. He touched her forehead, her muzzle, her eye lids and eye lashes and for a moment, just a moment, I watched the hell he had endured in war fade away. It slipped into a moment that was mesmerizing, overwhelming and unnoticed by others.

The beauty of it was that he had that moment. That one moment. Perhaps that is all that was needed for both of us. His fingertips ran gently from the top of her head down her muzzle to her nose and then back again. Kelsie was falling asleep, content in the knowledge that her job was just lying there, and absorbing the memories of a place and time that have caused a handsome young blonde headed man to never be the same.

So where I was supposed to have been, and the rude behavior of another, apparently was for a purpose. I was exactly where I was supposed to have been, doing what I was supposed to be doing ~ sitting on a bench while a dog temporarily took over the burdens of a war brought home returning in nightmares and horror beyond any of our comprehension.

This morning I thank God for always putting me in the place where I am supposed to be. And for providing me with a dog who is a sponge for pain. Perhaps, just perhaps, she and other dogs like her, are the gold in the story above, that will glue some of our warriors back together when they come home to us broken into many pieces.

Life breaks all of us, yet many of us are strong in the broken places.

— The Rev. Dr. Robert Franklin

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THIS PLACE?

2012-01-12T08:07:00.000-08:00

You have enemies? Good that means you have stood up for something! Wnnston Churchill

Yes I have, and now I am tired! Have you ever been in a place where you can't stand one more negative comment, one more loud voice, one more statement of intolerance of someone or something? Have your best intentions ever been been so misconstrued that people choose to take it the wrong way. They get angry, frustrated, irritated, defensive. You feel like you have been stomped into the ground. Then there are those who are gentle and loving and kind and understanding. They don't push you or pull you. They are there with a quiet reverance that exudes love.

I have made a decision to phase back considerably from my decades of volunteer work. Most have understood my intentions and are helping me to dust off my britches and move on to a life with less stress, less noise, less phone interruptions, less constant complaining and aggravation accompanying it. Then others don't get it. I have screamed to be heard. My body is a mess and is also screaming to be acknowledged after much neglect. Stress remains and doesn't seem to be lessening. In fact it many ways it is worsening. My panic attacks are almost daily now and nothing seems to stop them.

Joyce Meyer has said that "God never leads us to busy ourselves so much that we're stressed out all the time and have no joy." Or in my case poor health. I am exhausted and depleted. I want to find this thing called joy again, but after sacrificing thousands of hours for others, exactly where do I find it. I have built this persona of 'workaholic' to huge proportions. It is expected that I continue in that vein. I have lost friends, or what I thought were friends. I am misunderstood. My self imposed boundaries are being pushed on and kicked at and tortured. But I am remaining steadfast. I cannot, will not, continue as I have in the past. I am crying out and starving for peace.

There comes that time when your body says, "ENOUGH"! Mine has said ENOUGH multiple times. It is convincing those that have relied upon you to do something when no body else would that are the hardest ones to convince you really mean it this time. I will not be lured back into the 24 hour day schedules and tendencies to competely forget joy and friends and toys that squeak and dogs and fun and laughter and what it is like to actually smile and mean it.

Those words don't come easily. In fact quite the opposite. Because I think I have forgotten how to do those things. But I will try and find them again, if indeed I truly ever had them. I will search for the handlebars and hang on and enjoy the ride. I want the vitality of life, this one life we get to not disappear. But I am not exactly sure where to start.

I want to embrace life and all of her mysteries. I want to awaken one day, just one day, not exhausted. I want to awaken to dreams of joy, love and peace and quiet and to the freedom our warriors have fought and sacrified so dearly for.

I want to laugh a lot, cry a lot and smile a lot. I want the roar in my head to stop. I don't want to sit crouched in fear and dread of another panic attack. I don't want to always believe that the worst could possibly happen.

I want to look at tomorrow with peace, faith and hope. I want to know that I cannot control some of what life does. I want the struggle to disappear. I want to feel at peace. I want to awaken to a heart that is content.

TWENTY YEARS FROM NOW....

2012-01-06T09:55:00.000-08:00

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” Mark Twain

As I sit down to right I am peeling a beyond belief fragrant clementine. It is soothing to remove the peel with great care and delicious to inhale the fragrance that somehow seems to clear my muddled head. The day is spectacular here in South Texas at about 65 degrees, bird egg blue skies and golden leaves falling from the trees, almost as if it were autumn. So many simple pleasures that most take for granted in the scurry of each day. As I bite into each segment of the clementine, I want to remember the moment, the aroma, the taste. Today my house is peaceful, quiet and serene. A blessing, a gift and a moment to catch my breath. The dogs surround me and are breathing softly, with toys nearby. They seem to have not a care in the world.

So this Friday I ask what would you do that you haven't done. Where would you be bound if you were to sail away from your safe harbor. Where would you like to explore, dream and discover?

Mark Twain's quote above sounds unbelievably delicious in its simplicity doesn't it? But where does reality fit in. The day to day boredom of the same routine, the same bills to pay, the same bank accounts to balance, the floor to vacuum, the car to wash, the dogs to bathe, the grind of everyday life seems to sometimes leave us lifeless and drab and dragging and sad.

Today as most days I want to catch the trade winds in my sails. But the piles and piles of unattended paperwork on my desk mound in stacks that never seem to disappear., but grow ferociously. I have books on the side table intriguing in their titles, such as Meditations to Heal your Life, The Daily Book of Positive Quotations, Soul Happy, Bow Wow Tao and The Power of Pause. I pick them up occasionally and glance through them, intent on reading them to conclusion one day. Then something always gets in the way, stops me dead in my tracks and says no you mustn't read that book...you have other things to tend to.

But where do I dare to dream, discover and explore? Where do I escape to when I need to remember how to breathe and who I am inside the me the everyone else sees? I guess today I have no answers, only questions and a yearning that is indefatigable in its pursuit of me.

Maybe life is found in the little things. Maybe life is found in a fragrant clementine, as I sit at my computer and have the freedom and ability to write words for you to read. Perhaps life is where we are right now, right here, right at this desk in this room, with three sleepy dogs and a window with a piercing blue sky over my right shoulder.

So today as Eleanor Roosevelt said, I will face life honestly and courageously. I will enjoy what I am finding peaceful today and perhaps that will better prepare me for tomorrow. So today I am going to do what I love and let tomorrow fend for itself.

As for you, I suggest inhaling a clementine. Twenty years from now we might not have the chance.

HOW THE HELL ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO FOLD A FITTED SHEET

2012-01-04T16:37:00.000-08:00

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet? I have wondered that for a really long time. I try, but no matter how hard I do, the sheet always ends up in a wad. Guess this is one of those questions that will never be answered...at least for me. Then I wonder why I care. I wonder why it makes a difference. Why do all of the spatulas have to go in one place in the kitchen drawer and why do the kleenex boxes have to face one direction in the cabinet? Does this complicate things or make them easier? To me it makes them easier, but that says a lot about my personality doesn't it?

Today at the supermarket I was on the produce aisle where all the veggies are lined up neat and tidy and a Japanese lady was patiently waiting behind me to tear off a plastic bag from the large roll of bags next to the squash. I first tore a bag off for me and then tore an extra one off and handed it to her. She smiled with a big surprise on her face and said thank you! How many times do we do one single little thing that makes a difference to someone we don't even know. Sometimes I believe it is a lost art.

"This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness." ~ ~ Dalai Lama

My philosophy is handing a plastic bag to someone in the supermarket and watching the surprised look on her face that some one would do that for her. Does this complicate things or make them easier? Well maybe. My church, or religion if you will, is often in a health care facility, holding the hand of a mom whose baby is critically ill, or wiping a tear from the cheeks of a stranger who is is mom to a warrior who just lost both of his legs and in many cases a warrior that has lost his life. It isn't hard to be kind, or care, or show compassion. It doesn't take much time. When you think about it, think of the time you waste during the course of a single day. In that time you could put a smile on someone's face where there might not have been one for a very long time.

Last week a mom of a warrior came up to me with tears in her eyes and thanked me for bringing my therapy dog Kelsie to visit her son so many times. She continued telling me that an hour before she had buried him in the Ft. Sam Houston cemetery. It seems he loved dogs and that while he was battling for his life, the one glimmer of happiness came from my golden retriever lab cross who loved to nudge him and snuggle him and sit with him on the big old sofa and sleep with her head on his lap, as he too dozed and watched football. Cancer claimed him.

As I spoke with her I remembered Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche's statement, "What does not destroy me, makes me stronger." Then I wondered why in the world do I care how my fitted sheets are folded and if the spatulas are lined up perfectly in the drawer. We can all only hope that by surviving the difficult times of our lives, after each one, we will be stronger and more resilient that before.

Let's all remember that even the worse day is only one small moment in our lives. And that we will come out stronger on the other side.

Every person on this earth is fighting some kind of battle. It isn't all about us. I tire dreadfully of people going on and on and on about themselves. Perhaps they should either focus on how to fold a fitted sheet or hand a lady with a withered hand a plastic bag and accept her smile with a genuine smile back, knowing you made a difference in a world that sometimes forgets how to do that.

My dogs have taught me about living with exuberance and joy and seizing the moment and most of all they have taught me to follow my heart and how to accept unwavering loyalty. All I need now is to know how to fold a fitted sheet.

ONE DAY BEFORE A NEW YEAR~LESSONS LEARNED

2011-12-30T14:29:00.000-08:00

If you have been holding on to unnecessary people in your life, let them go.

If you have been clinging on to some old memories for too long, let the past go.

If you have been haunted and bound by past mistakes, it's time to let them go.

If you have been afraid and stopping yourself from being who you truly are for too long, let all that self-doubt go.

If you have been insecure of your abilities and afraid to take risks for too long, let go of the loser mentality.

Wise words from a wise woman! I thank her for the inspiration.

I have long subscribed to this philosophy. It has served me well. I choose to look into a kaleidoscope and see an array of beautiful colors, lights and forms than to be stuck in the muddle of chaos and drama. I think often of that kaleidoscope when I am fighting back tears. One of the most difficult moments in my life is giving someone else a hug, when I need it the most. Fighting back the tears in my eyes when I am wiping off someone elses's. Listening to someones grief when I want my own misery to be heard. Being the reason someone smiles when my own smile seems to be lost.

Being the strong one isn't always the easiest job in the world.

But you know what, eventually, you will find that your own problems don't seem quite as big, or insurmountable, or laborious when you give of yourself to someone else. Sitting and thinking endlessly about yourself is a big fat waste of time, as far as I am concerned. Analyzing yourself has its place sure. But there comes a time and place where you need to get up off of your tuffet and get going!

I assume most of you have a dog and understand the beauty and joy of that. My dogs over the years have taught me greater lessons than anyone else in my life.

Blackie taught me that if you had a friend nearby to cry with that life would eventually get better. Lady taught me about death and loss and an overwhelming grief that one day lessens. Charlie taught me exuberance and playfulness and how to nag someone endlessly until you get what you want. Lulu taught me that even if you are a very large dog about 100 pounds you can still be afraid and alone, and she taught me that nothing is better than someone who loves you deep down inside. Penny taught me that life isn't all play. Life is about helping others and serving even when your own pain is crushing. Wally has taught me to not walk into a dark room for fear I step on something furry. Annie taught me never to give up even if someone is on the verge of death. Death can be beaten back. Spunky taught me unconditional love and that nothing feels better than a warm little body under the covers, snuggling close on a cold night. Molly taught me that risking crossing a freeway to save a dog you never met ultimately brings you a friendship that is incomparable. Casey taught me that letting go of a friend you have had for 21 years is acutely painful. Kelsie has taught me that if she is close by, I feel safe. Gracie has taught me to be her eyes so she has someone to trust inside her dark world. Colonel has taught me that having three legs isn't so bad. And most importantly, they have all taught me about love.

Sleep well friends. Dream about what your dogs have taught you.

FOOLS TALK BECAUSE THEY HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING

2011-12-29T15:55:00.000-08:00

What is it about people that they feel they must and have the right to malign and hate viciously with such unfounded venom that it is unbelieveable? It is solely meant to demolish and destroy every thing you believe in and have worked for for years. Pursuing only one side of the story they, not once, ask for the other side. They are out for vengeance ~ out for blood. They know no better.

Perhaps it is guilt because they know they did not choose to pursue the facts. Assuming, if they cast blame on another then they become right and avenged. The focus is averted away from them. It destroys their integrity. It then becomes dangerous and dreadful to them.

"Wise men talk because they have something to say, fools talk because they have to say something."

~Saul Bellow

So on this day, despite the fools, we choose to rise above. We shall not lower ourselves to standards and wrongful words we do not subscribe to or deserve. We are above such. We shall simply try to become stronger, better in the knowledge that we have been made more confident and more empathetic.

COCKEYED OPTIMISTS

2011-12-28T06:06:00.000-08:00

Andrew M. Greeley said, "We're given chances every day of our life. We don't usually take them, but they're there for the taking." Okay, I will buy that, but I have to ask what stops us. What keeps us in the same old routine, the same drudgery we complain about all the time and never do anything about? Weakness, stupidity, fear? Whatever it is, it stops us from living our lives. Each morning is the beginning of a new day. Each minute is the beginning of a new hour. We have a huge choice as to what we are going to do with that day or hour. And when you think about it, what we do about it defines who we are and where the boundary of our cares and concerns really lies!

Each day we are given a second chance. A chance to do the right thing. A chance to find the magic in a new beginning. Alfred Lord Tennyson said, ".....men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things." I agree. We should always stand ready, ready to welcome a new experience with an ecstatic frame of mind. We need to believe. We need to be cockeyed optimists! We need to live this life we were given. The risk of staying stuck is certain death. The risk of moving forward has glorious rewards.

"The good old days were never that good, believe me. The good new days are today, and better days are coming tomorrow. Our greatest songs are still unsung." ~ Hubert H. Humphrey

I see this philosophy in our warriors. I see it in the faces of the wives who have remained by their sides. I see it in the faces of the service dogs who are trained to stand beside them...no matter what. I see it in the smiles on the faces of 80+ year old people, who take joy in each moment they are alive. I see it in the faces of children who are excited from moment to moment. I see it in the faces of those who have faced death head on and find joy in the next second. The good news is it is there to be seen. And it is there to be envied. People who remain stuck, do so out of choice. How ultimately sad for them. They are dying a slow miserable death.

The bad news is there are those who remain in the quagmire of disbelief. I have seen it in the face of family members who had/have no spark, no energy, no desire to reach out into this world and seize the day, the opportunity, the love. They barely speak, much less love this life they have been given.

A bit of magic awaits all of us each day, if we remain open to it. So for me this new year is going to be more than just a new year. It is going to be a new life to be greeted with enthusiasm and joy, as I leave behind those whose negativity causes dread in me and death to others.

We can all have a fresh start whenever we set out minds to it. We can make excuses over and over again as to why we stay down, but not for this lady. I will live today well. I will begin anew with each day, just as nature does. I, like Thomas Jefferson, says "I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past."

"Those who face that which is actually before them, unburdened by the past, undistracted by the future, these are they who live, who make the best use of their lives; these are those who have found the secret of contentment."

~Alban Goodier

As for me I follow the words of Martin Luther King, " The time is right to always do what is right."

Happy New Year everyone!

THE BEST IS YET TO COME

2011-12-27T08:09:00.000-08:00

This photo I took brings me such peace. I am not sure why. Perhaps it is the feeling of a peaceful winter in South Texas with sparrows in a sleeping dormant Crape Myrtle tree, waiting for spring to bring forth its vibrant pink blossoms. They are not in any hurry they are just peacefully waiting.

To the left of this tree is the main entrance into the Warrior Family Support Center at SAMMC. It is here too that you will find waiting...and healing from injuries sustained in a war far, far away. Waiting!

I guess I am no different than anyone else when it comes to thinking many times that perhaps the best is over. I have had my best times. But isn't this limiting ourselves with wrong thinking? We are actually limiting the universe and this is downright wrong and pretty stupid when you think about it. Sure, I have had some good times, some horrible times, pain and grief and events so difficult I am unable to remember them, but I prefer to think the best is yet to come .

The best is not over!

As we approach a new year, I choose to remember the good memories and realize that while there have been horrible ones, the best is still to come. Those that have injured me have their own issues and I personally am separating permanently from them. It is easy. I will not longer allow individuals into my life that are negative or that I am unable to trust. This leaves me space and time and a place to renew, heal, and become ready to accept, with open arms, that the best is coming.

Think about it. All endings are really new beginnings. That's just the way the journey works. Staying stuck is ridiculous and unproductive. There are soul mates yet to meet and joy to be experienced. So this new year, I will allow no one to hurt me. I will rise above it. My soul will be at peace. At last. Good bye to those of you who do not bring me joy, peace, happiness and have not earned my trust or my love. I will continue to be kind and gentle and compassionate. And by so doing, my peace will return. 2012 I will return to center, and breathe in the energy and out the past I have chosen to leave behind.

When I get confused and feel alone, I will go back to my heart...the only place I can truly trust. There are those who are there for me no matter what and they know who they are. Those who have consistently stood by me when I was irrational, clumsy, and just plain messed up, are those that listened, took my hand and in the silence were simply there for me. The answer then is in my heart. Too bad I spent so much time not listening to it. But now things have changed. People come into your lives for a a season and a reason. Sometimes at the time we don't know why. But in the end, it is those who stay, who are there for you when needed, who will drop whatever they are doing to help you, to answer the phone in the middle of the night, to sleep with their phone by their pillow just in case you need them, who bring you groceries, who take your trash to the curb, who love you for all the right reasons ~ not the wrong ones.

Sometimes we aren't quite sure what is next, but you know what....it is alright....we don't have to know. We simply have to trust and live for each moment. But more importantly than that we must learn to trust our hearts. And sometimes the experiences we go through lead us to the knowledge that finally, and at last, sets us free. Free to move forward and in the right direction. This year I will create relationships and friendships that are equal. It is here that I will find love.

This year I will not get so carried away with the anticipatory thinking that I am unable to live in the present moment! I too can imagine sitting in a dormant tree, waiting for the best that is indeed yet to come!

Happy New Year to everyone of you who read these words from my heart!

WHAT CHRISTMAS ISN'T

2011-12-20T10:32:00.000-08:00

Christmas isn't about the presents under the tree. Christmas is about what goes on in a hospital today. What goes on in hearts that are aching and breaking. Christmas is about reaching out to those who are struggling and to those that are going through horrible experiences and simply need someone, anyone, a stranger or a friend to reach out and help hold them up...hold them together. Sometimes words aren't necessary. Sometimes, for some people, Christmas is a day full of tears and fears and heartbreak instead of celebration.

I have a precious friend whose husband is gravely ill. I have another friend awaiting a diagnosis that could be devastating. And yet another friend,, I have never met, whose son recently returned from Iraq, where one half of his platoon was killed. He is struggling to remain upright with the overwhelming question, "Why was I allowed to live and not die with them." He has attempted suicide twice. Survivor's guilt is horrendous.

I say these things to you today to remind you of what Christmas really is about. It is about love and finding it within your heart to care about others who are grieving, devastated and hanging on by a thread. So as you celebrate this special season of Christmas and Hanukkah, please take a moment and reach out your hand to someone who needs it more than you will ever know. And say a prayer that their pain is eased, and let them know that they are loved and thought of not just during this special time of year, but always.

It is in so doing that you will find the spirit of the season, the reason for the season, and the light that can glimmer for those who need you the most. It isn't about the gifts under the tree; it is about the gifts in your heart.

Work for a cause not for applause.

Live life to express not to impress.

Don't strive to make your presence noticed, just make your absence felt.

FIGHT FOR YOUR DREAMS

2011-12-13T10:59:00.000-08:00

These words are from one of our wounded warriors with a TADSAW SERVICE DOG posted on facebook only a few days ago. "Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential , and fight for your dreams."

I saved this quote for a special occasion, but I never knew the occasion would be so bittersweet and full of pain and fury. As I write this a Penny's from Heaven Foundation team member's day old baby girl fights for her life. The husband of another team member is at this moment in a ten hour surgery for a double lung transplant related to his experiences in Vietnam. I don't seem to be able to focus on work and am feeling quite off balance. Prayers and more prayers are flying upwards, and I quite simply feel the need to string words together to express my feelings.

At the Annual PFHF Christmas party I was presented with a precious gift of my favorite things...three inspirational books. One is called "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff", by Richard Carlson, Ph.D. The first sentence had me captured, "Often we allow ourselves to get all worked up about things that, upon closer examination, aren't really that big a deal."

We are all too willing to focus on the little day to day problems and blow them way out of proportion. This certainly includes me. Days and days of rain in South Texas and twelve muddy dog paws tracking in and out of my clean house send me into orbit. But upon closer examination, what if I didn't have my dogs? Sure my floor would be clean, but my life would be empty. I complain about having to park so far from my destination, only to realize that the walking will do me good. And on and on. So as Carlson says we sweat he small stuff and 'completely lose touch with the magic and beauty of life. When you commit to working toward this goal you will find that you will have far more energy to be kinder and gentler.'

Okay I get it. I try. I really do. But how do we practice what we preach? Today nothing is more important than my two dear friends who are struggling and fearful and waiting. Waiting for the white coats to appear and say all is fine...your baby, your husband will be just fine.

So today I take notice of those things the warrior mentioned. For me, I will enjoy the gray skies and cold air and the fact that my house is warm and my dogs are huddled around me as I type, and as I wipe my eyes occasionally. I bless them for being close and in their own way, understanding and consoling. I will trust the timing of my lessons. I will open my eyes and see the beauty around me, appreciate more the closeness of those I love and that love me back, I will trust my heart. I will allow no negativity into my day or life. Those that intentionally hurt or injure or criticize, I will remove from my path. I will clear the path to my heart.

Today I know that I am able to trust the dark moments and passages that sometimes consume us and those we love. I am going to try and breathe deeply, relax and trust the rhythm of life. I will realize that in these moments of frustration and angst, we learn that they are necessary moments. For without them, we would not be able to see the beauty that surrounds us every moment of every day.

I am going to turn on Christmas music, wrap some gifts and know that the universe has control. And that soon the answers will become clear. As my friends move from darkness into the light, they too will understand. And they too will 'fight for their dreams.' And in the end we will all be gentler and kinder.

"Trust even the bleak times.

When you reach the end of

the tunnel, then you will

know why this all had to be."

~Melody Beattie

IT'S ALL ABOUT LOVE

2011-12-12T13:47:00.000-08:00

It's all about love.

There really isn't anything else. At least nothing else that truly matters. The past two days have been tumultuous to say the least. Tears, tears and more tears. Some of joy, some of sorrow, some from fear, and some of disbelief at the way people treat their dogs and each other, and tears of frustration at not being able to fix things or people that need fixing.

Last night was Penny's From Heaven Foundation's Annual Christmas/Holiday Party. The team members, fortunate enough to attend, met two heroes, one a Military Working Dog named Hero, rescued from a shelter in Florida, and the other hero, a Marine Veteran from Montana who has been rescued by another rescue dog named Nina, who in turn has rescued him from a life of isolation and shown him there is a great big wonderful world out there and a life to be lived with her by his side. It was a most touching evening, a moving evening, and an evening to be cherished by those who were there, as Perry, through tears, shared his feelings on what Nina means to him and his never ending gratitude to TADSAW (Train a Dog Save a Warrior) for having never given up on him and how we will all be missed so much.

Christmas trees and lights were bright and nostalgic and the fire pit on the patio brought a warmth to a chilly evening. Good friends, good food, and good friendship. And most of all love. The real kind.

This afternoon I received a beautiful Christmas story from Elizabeth, a team member, about her dog Caius. This too brought tears to my eyes at the miracles that occurred in a hospital when two patients, who were completely out of control, throwing things and not allowing the nurses to even enter their rooms, broke down when a PFHF German Shepherd Dog walked into their lives. They sobbed into his fur and felt unconditional love for the first time in a very long time. A social worker of a different kind paved the way for staff to enter the room and begin working with both of these patients. A miracle of love. Miracles happen every day, but to be witness to them is always a true gift of love, a blessing.

Today brings with it nostalgia. On this cold and gloomy and rainy day, I am wondering what would I have done differently with my life, what would I have changed, what would I have not done or done differently. First and foremost, I would not have wasted valuable time, effort and energy with people that repeatedly hurt me. I would have instead fought for what was right and fair and I would have fought for my self respect. I would have used that wasted time to make the world a better place. I would have taken more risks for those things and people that really mattered and eliminated those who devoured me much sooner.

I know that I am on this earth to make the world a better place because of what I do, have done, and will continue to do because of who I am. It is all about love and the knowledge that there is nothing else. Too bad more people don't get that. You can't buy it, exchange it, invent it. You must live it. You must love and live with compassion and a genuine sense that deep inside you know that what you are doing is the right thing to do. Those that offend, lie, cheat, and betray and consistently injure and hurt you, need to just go away. There is work to be done, lives to be saved, and hearts to mend, not break.

"To make a difference in this world, you must first dare to be different. When the truth needs to be spoken, when the work needs to be done, when the help needs to be offered...dare to make a difference."

~Hallmark

LETTING GO OF FEAR

2011-12-11T08:01:00.000-08:00

All of us are afraid at one time or another. We feel unsure and confused and alone. Issues come into our lives that we don't know how to handle, so we manage to sidestep around them, ignore them, make excuses for them, or just plain fear them to the point of exhaustion.

But sometimes, just sometimes, these issues can be dealt with from the heart. You can find, that with a hand to hold, you can be guided through these places of fear gently, safely and with love and honesty.

Such was the case with a warrior that Kelsie and I met about a month and a half ago. When we walked into the day room at the hospital, she literally ran screaming out the door. It didn't take long to realize she was terrified of dogs..big dogs, small dogs, it didn't matter...just dogs!

So I backed up and went into another room assuring her that there was nothing to fear and I would keep Miss Kelsie away from her. Skeptically she returned to her chair, but her body language indicated that she was still fearful and most anxious any hyper vigilant.

The next week we visited again. Being the warrior that she is, she decided it might be time to beat this thing called fear! I was delighted, as this is right up my alley. Dispelling fear. I just told her whenever she was ready to let me know. Kelsie and I went about the business of reaching out to dozens of other wounded warriors with PTSD and soon I saw S. coming closer and closer, taking two steps back and then another three forward. As she approached us Kelsie was lying on her side on the floor snuggled up to a Marine lying next to her with his arm around her, rubbing her belly. I didn't say a word as S. laid down behind the Marine and told him to protect her as she reached over him and carefully touched Kelsie's back. Right after touching her she jumped up and ran into the other room. I told her that I was proud of her. She smiled.

The next week brought more improvement. She came up to Kelsie and me and spent maybe 3-4 minutes getting up the nerve to pet her by herself with no Marine back up! I told Kelsie to be very still and S. fearlessly touched and stroked her back with two fingers, then her hand, and then a scratch or two. Kelsie flinched a little and S. jumped back. But instantly came back and petted her again. Mission accomplished!!!

The next week more improvement. I put a blanket on a chair and told Kelsie 'up'. S. sat in the chair next to her and petted her head, shoulders and back. I asked her how it felt and she said it feels good. Then the break through, "I think maybe now I can get a dog for my little girls who have been begging for one. Thank you. Kelsie is special."

The last time we were to see each other before she was to be sent back to her base, we asked for a private meeting with S. We were able to meet her outside on a beautiful sunny December day. As we walked to a bench, I asked her to take half of the leash and help me walk Kelsie. She did it! Fear conquered.

Then I asked her to sit and let me take a picture of just her and Kelsie to send to her little girls with Kelsie and her antlers. She did it. I don't think that she really understood how brave she had become in just a few short weeks. But to me we had climbed a mountain together and both of us learned some valuable lessons.

Fear can be overcome and conquered. Baby steps. I personally believe that the answer to conquering fear lies within us. Yes, we receive guidance from others, but ultimately we truly want to conquer this demon. And for S., it came from her heart. Her daughters want a dog, and she wants to make them happy. Perhaps she found on a December day in South Texas that what she was really searching for was within her heart. And perhaps now, as well, she will find that conquering some of the demons from the war she fought for us in Iraq/Afghanistan might be just a bit more manageable.

The only thing fear does is prevent us from finding our joy! I would like to think this Christmas there just might be a puppy under a Christmas tree for two very special little girls whose mother climbed a huge mountain, not just for herself, but for them.

Happy Sunday everyone!

NO THANK YOU!

2011-12-10T17:03:00.000-08:00

"THOSE WHO EXPECT TO REAP THE BLESSINGS OF FREEDOM, MUST, LIKE MEN, UNDERGO THE FATIGUE OF SUPPORTING IT."

~THOMAS PAINE

I don't know where to start. Today I got so mad I could have hit someone, something or anything in my way. Sure I get mad like everyone else. A car that cuts you off, the stupid mistakes people make, the dog who tracks mud on a recently mopped floor...and on and on. But today I was really, really done! It happened this morning. It is now evening, and I am still livid.

Penny's From Heaven Foundation, Inc. has tables at several of the Barnes and Noble stores in San Antonio with multiple therapy dog teams who come and wrap shopper's Christmas gifts and in return we receive a donation to our foundation to assist with the wounded warrior projects, etc. We are doing this multiple times during these few days left before Christmas. The stores are packed and as people are waiting in line, we tell them about our wounded warriors and PTSD and service dogs and therapy dogs.

This morning I hadn't been there but about 20 minutes and had collected about 40.00 for our donation boxes given by folks who expressed how grateful they are for what we do to help our returning military that have been leveled by the hell of PTSD, TBI and MST. Small children came up and put pennies into the container, as their parents explained that it went to help our 'sick soldiers.' It was a beautiful experience.

Then there was this one man in line waiting to check out. I explained to him what we were doing and smiled and asked if he would like his gift book wrapped for free. He simply said, "No thank you." I then asked him for a donation of any size to help our wounded warriors returning from war. He said, "No thank you." No thank you? I don't understand? How could he just say no thank you and turn away. In so doing he turned his back on his warriors...our military who has his back.

I am having trouble finding the words to express how I felt and what I thought. Perhaps that is a good thing. I wanted to tell him that our warriors are laying down their lives every second of every day in war torn countries so that he has the right to say "No thank you." I wanted to tell him what a jerk he is and invite him to come with me to the Warrior Family Support Center or the PTSD hospital or to jump off a bridge, but I bit my tongue until it hurt.

Sadly, it reminded me of two Christmas's ago when I was at a church manning a PFHF booth we had set up for parishioners to stop immediately after services and sign Christmas cards for our deployed troops, expressing their appreciation for their service and their sacrifices. Believe it or not, more people said no they would not, or they didn't have time, or they would think about it, or they would be back later to do it, than signed the cards. I was sickened.

I don't care what people's political or religious preferences are in the least. I don't care what they were doing in church when they knelt and thanked God for whatever. But I find it far more than hypocritical, when they walk out the door of that church and refuse point blank to sign a Christmas greeting card for a warrior far, far away fighting for their freedom. What I also care about is that they are living in America...land of the free....and they have the audacity to say "No thank you."

The anger increased, as most of the afternoon I spent at a lock down hospital facility with wounded warriors with severe PTSD. I see the hell they face. I see the blank look in their eyes. I see the families that are torn apart. I see them grasping for the life they once had or a little piece of it. I hear them tell me what they saw, did, heard, felt, witnessed comes back to them every night. They never or seldom sleep, so they don't have to relive war. They can't leave home, they isolate and the list goes on.

These guys and gals have cried until they have run out of tears. I have sat quietly for hours as these warriors come and sit or lie on a blanket on the floor with Kelsie, my PTSD Service/Therapy Dog or Colonel, the TADSAW ambassador German Shepherd. They just stroke the dogs as they lay their heads in the warrior's laps. Trying to remember or to not remember, trying to wash away hell. They gaze forever into the dogs eyes. I don't need to guess what they see. I see a pleading for help to end the flashbacks, the horror, the grim reality of what they endured and can't forget. To end the pain.

I see them experience, sometimes for the first time since combat, peace. Kelsie or Colonel don't ask questions or make judgements or put conditions on the relationship. They are simply there. PTSD doesn't discriminate. It is horror locked inside.

Moments of courage and greatness are revealed in our warrior's stories. All are legendary and all hold great sacrifices. These are not simply war stories, but lessons in character, patriotism and devoted love of country.

So to the man in line at Barnes and Nobel who couldn't give .25 to help a warrior and to the people coming out the door of the church after praying for forgiveness, who were too busy to sign a Christmas card to a warrior, I say to hell with you. I feel sorry for you. You must be very sad people and you have to live with yourself.

By not signing a Christmas card or donating loose change to a warrior these people let the warriors down. But what I can guarantee you is that the warriors won't let them down. They will lay down their lives for them. They will carry the flag into battle so that you, my dear friends, can have the freedom to say 'No thank you.'

Anyone want to help me change the world? I guess to change something you first have to understand it. And I quite simply do not understand it.

"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out."

~Walter Winchell

THE EYES SAID IT ALL

2011-12-08T18:01:00.000-08:00

The face got me at first glance. The eyes had me weak at the knees. The body language spoke volumes. This was a photo posted on facebook. I saw it at 3:30 am this morning.

I wrote instantly while in some frantic state that said "Save this one. Save this one. You can't save them all but save this one." I heard back while at lunch at a Chinese restaurant. The Beef and Peppers was abandoned, as I raced outside to take the call.

The voice on the other end of the phone was Gina, a lady in a very rural community on the Texas Oklahoma border. She alone rescues animals from the City Pound which is conveniently located next to the City Dump, in this one stop light town! She told me she had saved 384 dogs in one year and mourned those she could not save. I understand the haunting feeling of not being able to do anything or do enough. It is horrible to say the least.

But through facebook she reached out with a prayer that was answered. The dog was immediately taken from the dump to the vet where she was found to be in great shape. Heartworm negative and they provided all her vaccinations for no charge. Yes, I said yes!

Why this dog? Why not? I suppose it is a Christmas thing. A weakening or strengthening of the spirit, or the soul. A desire to save something that will surely die if I don't. I can't bear being haunted by these eyes night after night.

Within a little less than an hour, Gina had a person driving two hours to Oklahoma to retrieve this pup and drive her to Waco where one of the TADSAW trainers will hold her until I can get up there to evaluate her and talk to her fuzzy ears about her future and about what a lucky girl she is. So again why this one? The answer is already clear. She will be perfect. I was told when she was having her blood drawn, she just held up her paw and wagged her tail. She loves to snuggle and is eager to please.

You might also ask why was this dog left at the pound? One reason and one reason only...the owners didn't like her anymore because she teased their cat. Okay then, let's just kill her! Please know that I am refraining from words you didn't know I knew and anger that is spueing like venom.

So yes, I needed to save something. I needed to give a gift to someone or some thing for Christmas. I needed to give the gift of life. Whether to me personally or to a wounded warrior who too will be mesmerized by the eyes remains to be seen. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that somewhere along the Texas Oklahoma border is a woman who cares. Who spends every cent she makes trying to save lives every day of her life. She does it. She makes a difference. She made a difference to this one!

We haven't decided on a name yet. Ideas anyone? Noel...Hope...Freedom....Christmas....

Right now, with tears in my eyes, I want to very simply hold her close....and tell her it is going to be ok...no it is going to be wonderful. She is going to live. She is going to live to change a life.

And not so secretly, I want to rail out at these idiots that decided to have her killed...to quote the dog pound..."just kill her we don't care...we don't want her."

*****

Sometimes I just don't understand people or life or hatred or stupid or idiocy. But I do understand love, and I feel quite certain that if this dog could speak, she would forgive them. I wish I could.

Never fear I will keep you updated on our Christmas wish come true. And should you wish to say thank you to a woman you will never know on the border of Texas and Oklahoma please send a donation of any size to simply say 'thank you for doing what you do.' It will change her life. I don't imagine anyone has ever thanked her before.

http://www.pennysfromheavenfoundation.org/

paypal and credit cards and checks accepted

Your too can help save a life.

WHAT TIME IS IT?

2011-12-07T11:07:00.000-08:00

A man looked at his dog and asked "What time is it?" The dog responded NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW, NOW!

Okay I get it. Here is the deal. The time is now. There is no other time but now. This is the only second or minute that any of us are guaranteed. So the question is what do we do with this one second that we know we are blessed with?

What do you do? Would do any of us do? My dear friend and national motivational speaker, Terry Hershey, recently wrote in his blog about the phone calls from the twin towers from those knowing they were going to die in just moments. What did they do? What did they have the presence of mind to do? They called their family....their wives, children, mothers to say goodbye and to have a good life.

We are so occupied with the piles on our desks, the to do lists, the phone calls to make, the work left undone, and this time of year the gifts and the decorations and the turmoil and chaos of making merry! We are too occupied with stuff.

During this busy time of year, I want to challenge all of you. Instead of rushing about looking for that perfect gift for someone who already has more than enough, my challenge to you is to go to your local nursing home and buy a gift for an elderly person who may truly have nothing and may be lonely at Christmas...or go to a soup kitchen and volunteer...and in my case spend Christmas Day and Eve visiting the wounded warriors with my therapy dog Kelsie.

Step back, slow down, and reflect on the true meaning of the season!!

So in my one moment I know I have, my life is measured in the joy I am able to bring to others.

My challenge is this...life is too short to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right, forget about the ones who don't, and believe that everthing happens for a reason. If you get a chance take it.

Nobody promised life would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.

WHAT I WOULDN'T DO FOR PEACE

2011-12-01T16:47:00.000-08:00

Driving yourself, depriving yourself, pushing yourself. Just how do you take good care of yourself, when you know it is vital? When the doctor tells you it is vital. Melodie Beatty says, "The harder you push, the more you relentlessly demand perfection, the worse you feel." She asks that we fall in love with ourselves and to be gentle, loving, kind and attentive to ourselves. Okay good in theory right? But taking care of myself like I would take care of someone I love isn't all that easy. People require things of you. Things you know will deplete you, exhaust you and put you horizontal for a while. Sometimes a long time. But how do you say no?

So if I read Beattie right, if I take better care of myself, the joy will return? I don't know whether to put a question mark after that sentence or an exclamation point. Ms. Beattie says that 'the better and more often you care for yourself, the more you'll align with the universe and God's love.'

Okay so I gave it a try. I took a day off today. A day just for me. A day to do things that would please me. Well the phone rang exactly 26 times. The fax machine broke. The dogs were in a frenzy over something all day long and not one thing did I do for me. Everyone who phoned wanted whatever they wanted yesterday and "if I wouldn't mind taking care of it asap...it would be appreciated." Yeah right! Their lack of planning constitutes an emergency on my part! Gotta love it.

Yesterday afternoon I had told everyone I was taking today for me (in other words leave me the hell alone), but besides the endless array of phone calls, etc., I ended up at Bass Pro being a cheerleader for a dog team graduating as a certified Train a Dog~Save a Warrior Service Dog team. It really was great, but a price was paid. Photos to celebrate with Santa, lunch I couldn't eat, a chair at the restaurant that sent me screaming for ice on my spine, and once home my dogs decided to reign havoc for at least an hour. I admit I did the one thing I could think of to do. I cried. It didn't help in the slightest. It only made me more exhausted. It clearly showed what state I am in. So a few sips of a Chateau St. Michel from Washington state eased the pain, at least for a while.

I more and more feel myself drawn to the mountains in Colorado and the beautiful solace of the mesas in New Mexico. I find I want to escape...everything and everyone. I want to stand on top of mesa at Sankawi Run in NM and look down and discover a centuries old pot shard made from the hands of a Pueblo Indian. I want to feel the snow flakes hit my face and inhale the cleansing fragrance of a pine tree. And inhale, really inhale the scent of steaming hot chocolate with a warm fragrant croissant on the side. I want to breathe again. I want to feel alive again, instead of feeling exhaustion and constant pain. I want to walk the streets in Santa Fe and absorb the sights and sounds and the aroma of pinon in fire places and visit art galleries on Canyon Road and hear the bells from the oldest church in the United States. I want to visit Ojo Caliente Hot Springs and soak in the waters on this ancient Native American site.

Perhaps then I could breathe again. Inhale again. Feel nourished and remember what peace feels like. No phones, no faxes, no deadlines, no people who betray and lie to you, no stacks of work that keep replenshing themselves on my desk, no bank accounts that won't balance, no books left unread on my nightstand, no demands, no commands, no sultry looks, no tacky under the breath comments, no noise. What I wouldn't do for peace.

ONLY 29 TO GO!

2011-11-28T14:46:00.000-08:00

A simple phrase, "You don't treat us like we're children. Thank you." A warrior petting our Train a Dog~Save a Warrior ambassador, 'Colonel' found himself vocalizing some thoughts and feelings, as we sat quietly on a bench watching Kelsie and Colonel chasing balls, flies, rope toys, and taking time to roll in the grass two days after Thanksgiving. Feelings he had not expressed in a very long time began to open up. "You treat us with kindness and compassion and with respect. That's what we need. We don't need to be treated and talked to like we are children or stupid."

At first I didn't understand, but then it became abundantly clear. These guys and gals went to war at a very young age and had no choice but to grow up quickly. They come back, without exception, different people. They do not come back a child. I tried to explain to him that perhaps some, quite simply, didn't know how to treat them. I told him that I have friends, life long friends, who will not accompany me to any of the military facilities to visit with my warriors. Why? Because they don't think they could handle it or didn't know what to say. Well, that might be another blog, but suffice it to say it is in the same realm of unreality and useless absurdity.

A great lesson was learned this breezy, cool November afternoon. A lesson of gratitude, as this young man expressed in a very few words something we all should take note of.

As Kitty Kelley said, "A hero is someone we can admire without apology." Nicholas taught us that he has character, patience, love of country, and the ability to touch out with human feelings. He was a brilliant teacher, for which I personally am enormously grateful.

Nicholas will be released from the hospital this Friday. He shall be missed. Greatly missed.

I will leave you with a note he handed to us in a sealed white envelope....with strict instructions to not open it until we left the building.

"Thank you so much for coming to our unit on Saturday afternoons~it means the world to me. You have no idea how great it feels to be so many miles away from family, but yet still know that you and the Colonel and Kelsie will still be here.

As a token of my appreciation, I would like to donate $50.00 to help a fellow soldier to have the opportunity to come to San Antonio and train with their service dog. You told me last week you have no problem asking 30 people for $50.00 each to help with hotel costs...now you just need to ask 29 people.

Thank you again for everything and I look forward to my own service dog one day."

****

We try to not ask for money in this venue, but in honor of this young warrior we are asking for 29 people to donate 50.00 so that we can tell Nicholas that "You did it!" He is a Battle Buddy for TADSAW (Train a Dog~Save a Warrior), but he is also a Battle Buddy for a warrior with severe PTSD/TBI that he most likely will never know...but wants to help.

Please consider honoring a friend or a loved one this holiday season with a $50.00 donation to TADSAW. A card will be sent to them notifying them of your generosity to a wounded warrior!

Nothing would make this warrior feel better this Christmas than to feel he accomplished something remarkable, by helping a fellow warrior to get his service dog. These guys and gals take care of their own. They are neither selfish nor looking for reward. They love each other and care for each other passionately. Remarkably, in so doing, they teach us how to live.

Please send donations to:

TADSAW

For Nicholas' Fund

13423 Blanco Road, Ste. 218

San Antonio, TX 78216

How far your candle throws its beams!

William Shakespeare

THE MESSENGER

2011-11-20T08:56:00.000-08:00

I went to the beach, Mustang Island, out of desperation. Desperate to see if I could breathe again, to find my life, my future, and my ability to remember to take care of myself first, and to more importantly find the strength to continue.

I relaxed. It is impossible not to with the waves crashing onto the shore, the sound of the surf, the time of year when see you are the only person on the beach and nothing is more important than that moment, when you find you are not thinking, not worried, not pressured and not overcome by life and the burdens it is constantly dropping in your lap.

The purpose became real. The lesson poignant and vivid.

It is on the island that finding what truly is important, when you are completely and totally exhausted and in constant pain, it isn't all that difficult.

In highschool, I was required to memorize "Invictus" by William Earnest Henley. For some reason, watching the waves roll in and out, as the sun was about to rise, and I sipped my coffee, I remembered this poem. And recited it aloud.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be,

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,

I have winced but not cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance,

My head is bloodied but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade.

And yet the menace of the years,

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul."

As I sat on the top floor of the 12 story condo at 6:00 AM , inhaling, exhaling, the sea, the salt water, the peace was all a gift of life. Suddenly, my very special gift from the sea appeared on this warm November early morning. A gift so vibrant, unexpected and so forceful, I couldn't help but shed tears in abundance.

You see, just days before Thanksgiving, I was sent a messenger. This most unusual messenger flew onto the ledge of the balcony, as I was setting up to take photographs of the sunrise (always a powerful moment for me). But little did I know how powerful and forceful the message this time would be.

I have recently questioned my life, my purpose, my decisions that need to be made and my constant yearning for adventures and journeys yet to be.

Here on the island I have slept nine and a half hours in a row, undisturbed. My anxiety and depression, as least in this time and place, vanished. Medication was not necessary. I found myself, for however brief a time, once again. The real me. My soul found its way to the surface.

And then the messenger appeared.

As most of you must know by now, I work with wounded warriors, amputees, burn survivers, and warriors with horrific invisible wounds of war. Their PTSD and pain has inbedded inself so deeply inside of me that I too experience Secondary PTSD. It isn't pretty, nor was it invited. But it is inside of me nonetheless. Perhaps this allows me to assist them in a more understanding way. I get it! They see that I do and trust me.

I understand their horror of flashbacks and a pain unspeakable. These are men and women who were just trying to stay alive. Who witnessed the death of their battle buddies, their friends, children, women. They never had time to grieve, as they were just trying to stay alive.

So who was the messenger? The messenger was a black bird. A bird brought to me by another far greater messenger to teach me abundant lessons. For you see, this bird had but one leg. He too was an amputee. He too, had somewhere along the way, paid the price for his freedom.

You might think this odd or I am reaching too far. But this was the only bird on the beach for as far as I could see. None in the water, none in he sand, nore the air. He came alone. It was then that I understood. As he ate a breakfast of French bread on the ledge, so close I could have reached out and touched him, I realized I need to take care of me first, so that I can take care of others. The turbulance I live with daily is demolishing me. I have only this moment, sparkling like a star, then melting like a snowflake. The moments are slipping away much too rapidly. But what more was this messenger trying to tell me? I remembered a quote from Marie Beynon Ray. It put it more into perspective.

"Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand and melting like a snowflake. Let us use it before it is too late."

My life's chaos and turbulence is troubling, exhausting, and taking its toll on me physically and mentally. It has become my life force and my demolishion all at he same time. Okay Mr. Bird what am I to do? Where is my list of things to do? Florence Nightengale said, "I think that feelings waste themselves in words; they ought to be distilled into actions, and into actions which bring results." But I still had no concrete answers.

The messenger came out of no where. But what is the answer. If I begin doing what I want to do now, I let others down ~ my warriors. Would not life become insipid and empty. If I continue, I jeopardize my life. So perhaps the lesson lies in taking a break, as best I can. Letting go of the less important things, and listening to the message brought to me by a bird with only one leg. You can continue, you can go on, but first you need to take care of yourself. Perhaps the bird was saying rest and then return to your warriors. Do what they were unable to do. Find the time to grieve those things in your life that you haven't grieved. Let go of those people and things and times that you have no control over. Let go. Let go. Let go. Do it. Do it.

The second morning at the beach, the bird returned. Same time! I fed him. I thanked him and wished him well. As I felt certain in some very real way he understood. I also thanked a messenger much higher up for teaching one of his children a lesson she very much needed to hear.

"We dread being wounded or beaten. We are tempted to give up. Yet if, despite these difficulties, we engage in some form of action, whether we are beaten or not, we will have won a victory."

~Piero Ferrucci

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO HELL

2011-11-13T09:31:00.000-08:00

Hell. It is in many of the faces of our combat warriors returning with PTSD and TBI ~ a result of the experiences endured during combat! But an antidote for this horrible and debilitating anxiety is often found when a PFHF therapy dog walks into Laurel Ridge Military Resiliency Unit in San Antonio, Texas!

I wrote about it last week and didn't think there was anyway it could be topped this week. But it just keeps getting better. As we entered the unit with Kelsie and Colonel, it was as if Santa had just arrived with the gift that they had been asking for all year. Faces stoic and solemn, quite suddenly are brighted with smiles and glistening eyes. The whole demeanor and attitude in the room changes. Movement begins to take place. The television, card games and dominoes are abandoned, as these dogs are solely responsible for taking control of the room.

You would think the warriors would rush to them, but they are so overwhelmingly respectful of their battle buddies that they wait patiently for their turn to spend just a few moments with either or both or these therapists in fur. If one feels he has been there too long, he will tell a buddy he is sorry and gets up for the next to have their turn.

I laid a soft blanket on the sofa for Kelsie to lay on while the guys/gals came one at a time and sat next to her. She would roll over on her back, snuggle up close, or gently lay her head in their laps. They would pet her back, under her therapy vest, rub softly between her eyes, or fondle her ears and talk softly to her. For many of them, they had waited for this the entire week! At least that is what more than one warrior told me. "I hoped and I prayed you'd be here today. It helped me get through the week."

For these men and women, who have endured hell, these dogs are a journey into their hearts. A letting go, a freeing of their souls from the torment they continue to endure on the battlefields they return home to ~ a battlefield in their minds. There is an inability to forget what they saw, witnessed, felt, and smelled, that at least for now is trapped inside of them. But for a few moments they become boys again, human again, alive again. They become aware that there is something outside of themselves and their medical team that is able to erase some of the hell. First they learn to crawl and then slowly they begin to trust again. To trust and undo the feeling that the enemy is around every corner and disguised in a myriad of ways. As they pet the dogs for a moment, hell is released and they catch a glimpse of warmth, honesty, and compassion and more importantly unconditional and nonjudgemental love and best of all how to trust again.

As for the dogs and their benefits, there is no real scientific evidence, nor data. We only know it works! These guys learn to connect more closely with each other, with themselves with the magic and the mystery of it all. How something so simple can obliterate something so horrible and devastating to a human has yet to be determined. Perhaps there is no need to know. But for 30 warriors in lockdown for PTSD, we will be there. We will not let them down. We will not let them become a statistic. A sad statistic that 18 warriors kill themselves each and every day. That is more than have died in combat.

So we embrace the power of our therapy dogs and open our hearts to these young men and women who are on a very rough journey to return to a semblance of the life they had before war. With these dogs they are able to surrender to the fact that they do have feelings and that there just might be power in powerlessness. And they might just become aware of the fact to pass through the feelings of what they have endured, rather than avoiding them, just might be an answer. And if it takes a dog to guide them, then so be it.

Therapy and service dogs for our warriors with PTSD/TBI/MST just might become a mantra that will heal their hearts and their minds and align them with peace. These dogs will give them all the attention, devotion, guidance, and grace they might need, to find the only way out is through.

It might sound odd and Pollyanna to some. But some doctors are now writing prescriptions for service dogs for our warriors. God bless them. They understand. They understand that our emotions and past experiences often can keep us away from the present moment. But with a dog, something happens. With a dog the warriors begin to focus again, to hear a heart beat next to them that is consistent and unflaling and that becomes hidden in their soul and stored in their body when they need it the most. With their canine battle buddy by their side to help them get back on track, whether in a day, a week, or months, they will have advanced on their paths. And a new cycle and life will have begun. And hell just might be a very long way away, as they learn to connect back to a place of peace.

As for next Saturday, we will celebrate Kelsie's sixth birthday with the warriors. They have requested hot wings, and a cake! Can't get much simpler than that can it?

Donations are gratefully accepted!

*****

This holiday season please give the gift that will save a life! Help support Penny's From Heaven Foundation, Inc. with a contribution.

http://www.pennysfromheavenfoundation.org/

ONE HUG

2011-11-07T08:24:00.000-08:00

Moments come and go in our lives...some willingly forgotten and some leaving footprints in places we didn't even know we had.

Saturday I spent several hours with about ten wounded warriors home from Iraq/Afghanistan. There was no applause, no parade, no flag waving. Each had witnessed horrors too awful to speak about. All were facing a new battle, the battle of an invisible injury called post traumatic stress and/or a traumatic brain injury. They were hospitalized in a lock down facility, so they would not cause injury to themselves, as they were treated and attempting to resume some part of a life they once knew...before war, before hell.

I was instructed to leave my purse and cell phone in the car. I could take nothing in with me but a German Shepherd therapy dog named Colonel and his handler. It had taken literally months to gain approval to be admitted to this secure unit. But perseverance paid off. And it paid off in a very big way.

When we first entered the 'day room', it was easy to sense the listlessness, the boredom, the lack of life, and faces staring into space, into a time and place they are not able to forget. Staff was first to say, "Oh look, the Colonel is here!" One guy turned, as if he needed to stand and salute, but upon realizing 'the Colonel' was a dog, he smiled, leaned over to pet him and said "He outranks me." Tortured souls and eyes turned to see exactly what he was talking about. It was then the magic occurred.

Stephen King is quoted as saying, "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win." This I personally and sadly understand all too well. But on this beautiful South Texas afternoon the monsters and the ghosts and the horrors of war didn't win!

Before two minutes had passed one blond headed slender young man wearing gray rubber slippers just stood and stared at Colonel and then at me as he said, 'Until this dog walked into this room, I had nothing! Thank you. Now I feel like I can breathe again, I can live again. My life has changed. Everything has changed."

Every word I write at this moment, everything, every effort, everything I have ever done in my whole life comes looking back at me. It is almost as if nothing prior to those heartfelt words from these soldier meant anything, anything at all. In those words, I realized suddenly what it all comes down to is love. Unconditional, non judgmental love. A choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what the obstacles or temptations might be that stand in our way.

This was further affirmed when we were preparing to leave after three hours, and one soldier came up to me and asked in almost a whisper if I could give him a hug. I said I would be honored. As I did so, I whispered "thank you for your service and sacrifice." Barely audible, as if he were almost afraid to say the words, he asked if I would be back. I told him absolutely. With tears in his eyes, he said, "You have been my only visitor in the four months I have been here. Thank you." I told him that hugs are vital and that we need that connection to live. I hugged him again and had the sense he never wanted to let go. Perhaps because I felt the same.

Maybe, just maybe, the choices and decisions and roads I travel and make day in and day out, year after year, say more about love than never having a choice to make at all.

So today I ask you to "listen to your heart. Because wherever your heart is, that is where you'll find your treasure." ~ Paulo Coelho

On this day I became more clearly myself. On this day I understand that God is inside of me, showing me the direction to take and who might need a hug more than anything at all. Offering hope and healing and hugs and understanding just might change a life, save a life. On this day I realized who I am, where I have been and most importantly, where I am going.

It was interesting to observe each of the dozen or so warriors allowing their comrades to have some private time and space with Colonel. Then the next would come up and snuggle and give belly scratches and utter private words that only the Colonel could hear. This is all that was needed. They would ask his name and about what had happened that he had had to have a leg amputated. "I want a dog like this, a dog that has been injured and rescued and one that I can love." Then they would just sit on the floor, rubbing Colonel's ears, softly and tenderly stroking his fur and for a while forgetting. Forgetting war, and death and fire and screams.

Perhaps on this Saturday afternoon two prisoners were freed by something as simple, and as necessary, as a hug.

*****

"A great silence comes over me, and I wonder why I ever thought to use language." ~ Rumi

"The two most important days in your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why." ~ Mark Twain

YELLOW ROSES

2011-10-29T07:11:00.000-07:00

She was wearing a beautiful corsage of yellow rose buds and a smile resonating truth, strength, and courage, underscored with great pride. She was pushing the wheelchair of her son, severely injured by a brain injury in combat. I approached her in the main lobby of the new VA POLYTRAUMA REHABILITATION CENTER in San Antonio at the Grand Opening. As I held out my hand and heart to her, I was not at all certain what words would come out of my mouth. What could I possibly say to this warrior's mom that would have any meaning whatsoever? A mother just like those that I had seen so many times before with their own severely injured sons and daughters.

But she made it easy for me with her smile. For some reason, I would have expected nothing less.

I forgot the handshake and asked if I could give her a hug. She said 'certainly' and as I did so, I whispered a sincere thank you for what she had sacrificed, as well as her family. Kelsie was with me and I noticed her nudging the hand of this hero with her muzzle. He was unresponsive. Kelsie didn't give up, but it was no use.

There were many dignitaries from Washington D.C. and the State of Texas, but none impressed me as much as this mother. This is what the Polytrauma Center is predicated upon. Helping the warriors with more than one traumatic injury suffered in war. Their families will be able to stay with them and offer much needed love and support. This is where our PFHF Therapy Dogs will step in! This is where I feel certain we can make any day the best day of the week for these warriors who have sacrified so much and struggle each day to take another step, another breath, and recapture life to some degree as it once was.

I will see Cynde once again and Kelsie will again nudge a hand. And if my prayers are answered she will get petted and snuggled and loved on and whispered to one of these days by a young man who is but one of many who went to war for a cause, a mission, and a purpose only to come home severely injured. I looked at him in his wheelchair, so handsome in his gray suit and tie. I wanted to say thank you, but he would not have heard the words.

As I write this, CNN just announced 13 more troops were killed today in Afghanistan when a suicide bomber hit the bus in a NATO convoy. My heart breaks.

THIS MORNING A QUESTION

2011-10-26T07:06:00.000-07:00

This morning a question!

Do we ever slow down to consider how another person is feeling or to enjoy the simple pleasures right before us?

In the chaos and frustration and aggravation and sadness and joys of everyday living, do we ever really slow down to not only consider, but honestly care, how another person is feeling?

To consider what is true and real and honest. To understand. And yes to care, to really care.

Do we treat each other with respect, with a smile, with love?

As I have grown older the more I have 'gotten it.' The more I search and yearn to remove the clutter from my life and focus on those things and people that really matter. This, at least for me, captures the answer to why I have been put here on this earth.

I have a friend, a fantastic photographer, who when asked to photograph some of our wounded warriors, indicated she could only do it if she didn't have to actually look at them, but rather focus solely on them through the lens of her camera. For as she said, "This way it isn't real."

Our differences are obvious. I want to see, to be present, to witness, to hold close to my heart exactly what is right in front of me and to rid myself of the blindfold.

I find a warrior with all his scars is handsome, beautiful, real and alive. I find this is where life is. Where I find sacrifice and love of country and family. For me, living without scars and brokenness is a life not lived at all. For it is only in our brokenness that we become human, become alive. And yes, become real.

So today I invite you to not lose sight of caring how another person feels, who he or she is, and to just soak in the perfections and imperfections as part of the plan. As you race about don't forget to care, to feel, and to enjoy the small pleasures, as you make big plans. Don't forget to stop, to breathe, to enjoy the essence of this thing called life. Find what makes your heart sing and write your own music.

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes you don't understand. Sometimes, sometimes you just have to remember that "Every hour of every day is an unspeakably perfect miracle." ~Walt Whitman

Today I write this for myself.

PUPPY SIGHS

2011-10-24T05:43:00.000-07:00

People cry not because they are weak. They cry because they have been strong for too long.

That describes me for the past several days. Life hurts. People hurt us, disappoint us, leave us speechless and bewildered. Decisions hurt. Words hurt. Choices that others make hurt. The thorns aren't so easy to remove.

We all need someone who listens when we need an ear. Who hear what comes from our hearts...from our souls. To recognize when we are in pain and simply need for them to sit quietly and hold us.

Perhaps people hurt us because we stop living life their way. Perhaps that is the answer. It is the only answer I came up with today, except for one.

Lying on the sofa this afternoon, full of tears and fears and doubts and anger, my precious dog, Gracie, climbed up onto my tummy and laid her head on my chest, as if to say I hear you, I feel your pain, and I am listening. She took a huge inhalation of breath, sighed and went to sleep. The warmth of her body on mine comforted me in a way nothing else could. She knew.

She just knew. She always has. When I am at my lowest point, she is always there. Words aren't needed, explanations, sympathy, or false understanding. Just my dog sensing I am in distress. Perhaps it is that because of her blindness, her other senses are more acute. But it really doesn't matter. What matters is that it happens. Odd when you tell people that have hurt you that you are in distress they turn away.

I wanted to whisper and tell her I appreciated her closeness and that it was helping, and it felt really good, but instead I decided to gently touch her muzzle with my trembling fingertips and try to breathe in and out

in unison with her. At last I fell asleep with my hand on the top of her head.

She stirred slightly and sighed again. I felt at peace. Nothing had really changed, but for a while I was able to release my emotions and sleep. Waking would come all too soon, but for a moment puppy sighs took away my pain.

WHAT'S ON YOUR TO DO LIST TODAY?

2011-09-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

What do you have on your to do list for today? What is so urgent and important that you wake up frenzied, frantic and frenetic? What causes your blood pressure to go up the minute your feet hit the floor and you stumble to the kitchen for your first cup of coffee?

As you search for your keys, you mutter something about life being a race everyday...you're always late...there aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done...everything that determines, at least on the surface, what makes us IMPORTANT. You know we don't have time. We have our Ipad in one hand, Ipod in the other, GPS telling us where to go and how to get there the fastest. All the trappings of 'the good life.' But are they?

My question is does all this stuff excite us, does it stop us in our tracks, does it make us 'exist as though we're existing only for that very experience." as Arthur Krystal states.

I have a friend in Seattle who makes no qualms about it ~ once he was undone by the beauty of an iris growing on a cliff in the mountains! His friends thought he was nuts, but this is what sets him apart. He gets it. He understands. He holds the secret in his head and his heart. For him, as Georgia O'Keefe says, "I think all the world has turned into what I am seeing." This I completely understand. Why not?

Why not have that one thing, place, person who undoes us. That entity that is the world to us. Do you have it? And if you do, do you recognize it?

We all move at warp speed. Seems to me many of us think that the faster we go the more impressive we are to others. True? I guess at one time in my life I could relate to that whole heartedly! But not anymore! It is time to find my iris!

"Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing ~ Of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

~Winnie the Pooh

Perspective is what we need. We are just quite simply not all that important. But I can tell you what is! Hundreds of thousands of warriors, who with courage, face each and every day of their lives not knowing if it will be their last.

The tee shirt in the photograph was autographed for me by a Marine. It clearly tells us what is important and what is on his To Do List for that day~ and every day. "To stay awake. To stay alert. To stay alive."

So when the waiter messes up your order, or the maitre d' your reservations, or you are stuck in traffic, please take a moment and remember that our fighting men and women are not complaining! They are existing to live through the experience, the day.

Stop and think what you really have to complain about.

FORGIVE AND FORGET ~ CAN WE?

2011-09-27T07:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes someone says something out of the blue that stops us dead in our tracks. The words cut, the tone of voice...the attitude...the pain...the disrespect. It belittles, it hurts, it shows you who they are in a way we never noticed before, or perhaps chose not to. It throws us off track. It pulls the props out from under us.

You know if you open your mouth, it will serve only to make things worse. The words replay in your head over and over again, and you can't stop them.

Lessons learned, more often than not, hurt, maim, and throw us so off balance sometimes, we wonder if we will ever be set upright again.

Every choice that any of us chooses to make in this life has consequences, some are good, others bad. So we must choose carefully what we say, how we treat others, and how we live our lives. And we must, above all, be prepared to pay the price or reap the rewards.

I remember being told once that when someone shows you who they believe them.

But this hurts. We want to pull the proverbial blanket over our heads and not see, not believe and and more importantly, not accept. So what do we do?

Perhaps when times get tough, we should never bow down to our circumstances. People can be cruel, unforgiving, hurtful and judgmental, but we should never allow anyone to steal our joy to only throw us off course. Push past other people’s judgments of you. Push past afraid. Push past those boundaries!

Okay, I agree. But isn't this just a little easier said than done?

I love this quote I stole from a friend, "Every decision you make ~ every decision~ is not a decision about what to do. It's a decision about WHO YOU ARE! So here is the deal, forgive and forget! It is often easier to forgive than to forget the feelings of being hurt."

"It's a lie to say we've let go of the past. Nobody let's go of memories. Each tear is an unforgettable memory. Each smile is an undeniable mark and each heartbreak is a scar that cannot be erased. Because really, there is no such thing as forgetting. Only acceptance!"

~Jerose Bautista

The chaos in our lives created by others is destructive! So perhaps the answer lies in learning to take care of ourselves and not let others steal our joy. For in our hearts we will be told what is the right thing to do.

"Just living is not enough, said the butterfly, one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower."

~Hans Christian Anderson

I leave you with this.

"At the end of your life you will know that nothing you have done will matter ~ only who you have been while you have done it. Have you been happy? Have you been caring, and compassionate, and considerate of others? You will see that it is who you have been, not what you have done, that matters to your soul.

~~Neal Donald Walsch

Maybe, just maybe, more people should take heed to this!

Photo Courtesy/Gina Hill

POCKETS OF PEACE ~ DOING TIME IN DARKNESS

2011-09-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

I suppose to some extent we have all done it...find ourselves walking blind when trouble hits...doing time in darkness. And yes, we all too quickly discover that it takes a while to get our bearings, our footing. It is in times like this that therapy dogs and service dogs often provide the flashlight out. For me, 'my' wounded warriors have taught me what it is like to weep, and they have taught me what makes me fall and stumble and then somehow rise and go on. Each day with each of them, I am challenged to live with forgiveness. Forgiveness in those ordinary moments we encounter in life. In its basic simplicity, we are grasped by something so powerful that it is quite unmistakeable. Penny's from Heaven Foundation, Inc. and one of its two primary programs, Train a Dog Save a Warrior provides extraordinary dogs serving extraordinary people. These dogs whether therapy or service dogs provide a bridge to healing. Dogs that steal our hearts and nestle into our souls, quietly touching lives where they are needed the most. There is a saying that 'courage is sometmes holding on just one more minute.' I have seen it over and over and over again. The slightly tarnished version of our former lives somehow provides us with courage and strength and a stamina that is often hard to harness. We become more compassionate individuals, more empathetic and more human. We find consistently that dogs are a catalyst to repairing the spirit and finding the ability to take another step. It is as if our dogs are saying to us, "There is a purpose for your being here; you must hold on."

These dogs bring clarity and passion to ordinary moments! And should we stop and think about it, these moments are our lives. These dogs, that are present for the rough edges of our lives, carve out places in our hearts and provide a love that is unriveled. We might find we still have one foot in the shadows, but we begin to slowly manuever forward by intuition and love.

To our wounded warriors with PTSD/MST and/or TBI, their dogs often mean as much to them as the air they breathe. In their world, a snuggle or a paw extended from their dog means everything.

It is difficult to say where the change begins. Sometimes it is with a phone call, sometimes with a tear, sometimes an exulation of breath. But regardless of how, it is a step forward and it is without a doubt a wonder, extraordinarily beautiful, and a feeling that can never be taken for granted. What is it about these dogs that is so powerful in its influence? As our warrior's heads bow to these dogs, life takes on a different meaning through words whispered we will never know.

I hope that you all will be able to experience an intoxicating blend of courage and inspiration in

K9'S ~ A THERAPY FOR PTSD, MST, AND TBI.

The photos are real and untouched. The stories true and powerful.

For advanced orders:

POCKETS OF PEACE

K9's ~ A Therapy for PTSD, MST and TBI\

13423 Blanco Road, Suite 218

San Antonio, TX 78218

$8.00 + 1.50 S/H

Payment may be made by paypal or credit card on http://www.pennysfromheavenfoundation.org/

Tax Deductible

Autographed upon Request

LIFE IS IN THE DETAILS

2011-09-13T09:31:00.000-07:00

Talking to a friend yesterday through copious tears, I was allowed to cry. I was allowed to be afraid. I was allowed to say what is clogging up my heart. I was allowed to be heard and validated. I was allowed to be honest. The conversation, over an hour and a half, was medicinal, therapeutic, and sunshine on a day I so badly needed it. Some answers became clear, while others not so clear.

I spend a great, great deal of time listening to the problems of others, drying tears, and helping others to face their fears. But somehow and sometimes I get lost in the shuffle. Sometimes just saying the words to an attentive ear is all that is needed. I am still afraid, and still stifled, but for this one moment in time, I was allowed to pour out my soul....and be heard!

"When you're weary, feeling small. When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all. I'm on your side."

~Paul Simon

As I turned on my computer early one morning a few days ago, about 2:30 am, I found a 'pocket of peace', seemingly written just for me. "Every decision you make - every decision - is not a decision about what to do. It's a decision about who you are." It hit me head on. I read it and reread it. That is where I have been going wrong, thinking wrong, reacting wrong. It suddenly seemed easy. It was clear. So wanting to sit in a bucket of water, with no one else around, is who I am some of the time. Many don't 'get' this or want to get this. So be it! It is the only way to remind myself of who I am. It is the only way I can think, solve things, salvage things, arrange things, obliterate things, change things, resolve things, refresh and remember who I am.

I feel fairly certain that most of us do what we do to please other people. We say yes when we really mean no. We say everything is fine and it isn't. We ask people how they are and really don't care. We try to sweep ourselves under the carpet and not cause waves. Everything will be fine if I just keep my mouth shut. If I avoid the situation or the dilemma, everything will be fine. If I ignore it, it will go away. Doesn't work that way does it? In fact it diminishes who we are as individuals and increases everyone else's hold on us.

None of us are too big for a little cuddling! A little hand holding when things are rough. Compassion fatigue is my middle name now, today and yesterday. Tomorrow I am not so sure. But I will know. I also know that I will feel better for remembering that I too matter. That I said no. That I set a boundary. That I remembered to take care of me too.

I will find joy returned at some point. I will make the most of every sense I have. I will smell the aroma of life once again. Moving at warp speed has got to stop...at least for me. No more saving things, places, people for a special occasion. Every day we are alive is a special occasion. The sunset, the full Harvest Moon, my dog's head on my foot as I write this morning, the first sip of French Roast coffee before sunrise, the fragrance of a clean house, the satisfaction of finding that life truly is in the details.

How can you celebrate the life you have...the one life? Today be aware of what your heart notices~

WAITING TO WAKE UP

2011-08-23T09:14:00.000-07:00

What happens when a life is so full of one thing there is little room for anything else?

Life is not about doing more. Just maybe life is about doing less! Perhaps life is about being in a relationship with yourself, with God and with others. Maybe it isn't about working ourselves to death ~ almost literally.

The saying goes that on a person's death bed no one says, "I wish I had worked more."

But what happens when you are so deeply entrenched you can't get out? What happens to those that depend upon you, are waiting on you, are needing you? What happens when you feel frazzled and depleted and empty. How do you keep the pain at arm's length? Do you go left, or right, or up or down? Do you stay still and exist in this quagmire or disappoint yourself or others?

What happens then? You ask for help. You reach out. You get to to the point of screaming in your sleep, please someone understand. Someone help me. Someone get the ton of bricks off of my chest. And that someone doesn't come.

It is then that you have to start removing the bricks one at a time, until you can breathe again. Until you can sit on a log in a forest and remember what it was once like to feel the sun coming through the branches and the cool clean feeling of the vibrant green moss between your toes. The little things. The simple things. The things that once held you in their grasp and you have lost along the way. The distance between who you are and who you have become is emphasized. You find that time when you start to look inside at your own hopes and longings and dreams that haven't come true. It is in these moments of introspection that you find the empty spaces with no words needed. You remember how to feel.

But somehow the process between who you have become and who you are deep inside is a long one and often lost. It is as if you are waiting. Waiting on something or someone or some time. Waiting to wake up.

I am in that place. I recall a line from Auntie Mame, 1953 ~ "Life is like a banquet and some poor suckers are starving to death ~ Live, Live, Live."

What comes from our hearts has been given to us as a gift. We must give it honor. But what if that gift is devouring us?

I understand that taking a risk puts us in a place where there is more to be gained than lost. And I understand that staying stagnant is a bigger risk. It starts in our minds. It is a step of faith to move into something much larger. We never know what is around the corner.

So today I pay homage and respect and attention to my indecisions, my quandries, my questions.

You see love of life has its own smell and it is never wasted. Today I remember that remembering is an act of grace. And I know for a fact that our most powerful memories are sensual ~ touch and smell. I can almost smell the mountains, and hear the movement and harmony of the trout stream and the cool moist softness of the moss under my feet and the closeness to a place where I know I belong. You see with change something opens up within us to possibilities we never dreamed possible. But somewhere along the way you have to take that first step.

THE INJURY OF AN OYSTER

2011-08-23T08:31:00.000-07:00

"It is not about your name, or your looks, not your bank account, never about who you may or may not know. It is about your story. You are writing your own story every single day,with your every choice and decision,with your thoughts and achievements.

~Anita Papas

But what about those whose stories are based on destruction, cruelty, self absorbtion, and lies? What if these stories directly impact you, who you are, and/or your life? Then what do you do?

"Intentionally attempting to inflict pain or hurt upon others simply reveals the narrow minded, insecure place one is operating from. Rise above such behavior, be a person of integrity and be a positve impact on those you encounter, otherwise you're no different than the rest."

~Bernadette Gabriele

I do not understand those who attempt, with every breath they take, to downgrade and attempt to demolish a person. I do not have the time or desire to pursue it. But that doesn't stop them. The false rumors abound and knives hurled at every move you make. There comes a point when it is almost humorous and, even more sadly, anticipated. Then just when you spend one minute or out of two thinking about their fruitless efforts, you receive a letter than says, "Hi Patsy! Thank you for your friendship. I am MARINE MOM from Chicago. I have just spent less than a minute reading your letter and have felt a great message from God. So thank you for being in my life today."

These are the moments that count. These are the moments that allow you to let go of the garbage hurled at you. These are the only moments that count. At it is at that precise moment, I realize that what I am fighting for is not a competition between organizations, but an attempt to educate those who don't 'get' that for hundreds of thousands of veterans, courage is what it takes to face each and every day of their lives, not being able to leave the horrors of war on the battlefield. For them everyday life is a battlefield. They are forever 'at war'.

So the question is, why should this be about me? Why should another organization feel threatened or jealous or angry toward me, for that is not what the focus should be. What a waste of time.

People do not have my permission to interpret what I do, think, say or don't say. Again to them I say, "Poof, you are gone! I don't have time."

"Who are you to judge me and the life I live? I am not perfect and I don't live to be, but before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean."

~Unknown

"The best gift for those who judge you is your shoes. Let them walk in them, so they know and understand."

~Janet Austin

"It is not what happens to you. It is what you do about it that makes the difference."

~W. Mitchell

"A pearl is a beautiful thing that is produced by an injured life. It is the tear that results from the injury of the oyster. The treasure of our being in this world is also produced by an injured life. If we had not been wounded, if we had not been injured, then we will not produce the pearl."

~ Stephan Hoeller

MAKING DIFFICULT DECISIONS ~ WHERE IS THE JUSTICE

2011-08-17T08:45:00.000-07:00

We have all had to do it. Successfully maybe and hopefully. But decisions must be always based on the information we have on hand. They cannot be emotional or dramatic. Making difficult decisions is hell.

Making a difficult decision is not always the popular thing. We wonder 'why me'! "Let someone else do it.' It is not always the easy thing. And on top of the angst of that, you have to be prepared for those who are sad, angry, or just plain hostile. For me it seems to come with the territory. I have come to understand that some people don't understand no matter what you do, say, or act upon. The most difficult decisions are those we make that we know are going to be unpopular. Do we know it is the right one? What if it isn't? But then what if we just know, that we know, that we know it is the right thing to do for all concerned?

This week I had to make a decision to pull a dog from our TADSAW Service Dog Program. A perfect dog, a compelling dog, a snuggle bug with not a mean bone in his body. He and his potential warrior with PTSD would have been 'Battle Buddies' for life! I have not a single doubt. They would have bonded in a unique and strong way.

But I had to make the decision to pull this dog because he is a Pit Bull. Because of society's ignorance and stupidity. He has the scars to prove his history has not been anything but cruel. But he is perfection in spite of man's inhumanity. As a therapy dog or service dog, he would be top notch. I would have been proud to have him in the program. He doesn't harbor resentment or hatred or fear of people. He simply wants to love and be loved by someone who will forever be his best friend.

Just one day before this decision was made, I had met a dog named 'Tuesday', a service dog for a warrior at an event in Houston honoring them both and the book Luis Carlos Montalvan wrote about his experiences while deployed and his life saver, UNTIL TUESDAY. The book is on the New York Times Bestseller List!

Our hostess began the introduction of Luis and Tuesday by reading a statement that left the audience of over 250 struck with shock and disgust and something akin to outrage. In a nutshell, this gorgeous golden retriever, wearing his Service Dog vest, and Luis were in the VA Hospital in New York for an appointment. Upon entering they immediately were accosted and told 'dogs are not allowed in here...leave!" Luis, not unaccustomed to being asked to leave places with Tuesday, calmly explained that he was a warrior and Tuesday was his service dog and that the American Disabilities Act protected them. This fell on deaf and stupid ears!

Long story short, the police ripped 'Tuesday' away from him, threw Luis to the ground and a police officer pinned him with his leg in Luis's spine, a spine that has had multiple surgeries from his combat injuries. His back causes him constant pain and forces him to walk with a cane to stabilize himself. Being in excruciating pain, both mentally and physically and experiencing great concern for his Battle Buddy, 'Tuesday', did not phase the police one bit.

He was then taken to jail! This American soldier, a warrior, with a TBI/ PTSD and a back injury, hauled off to jail because he was going to a medical appointment at the VA!!!! Someone explain this to me. He had every legal right on earth to be in the VA, or any place at all with his service dog. What is wrong with the system? Where is the justice? Where is man's humanity to man? Where is compassion?

Most in the audience had tears in their eyes. Most shook their heads. All were aghast and sickened that a wounded warrior and his service dog, an exquisite golden retriever, would be treated that way. I have nightmares about it. Disturbing yes. Disgusting yes. Unjust yes. But real nonetheless. For Luis, this has only heightened his decision to pursue justice for all warriors with a service dog, for all disabled with a service dog. He may have been knocked to the ground, but he is back up and fighting on a very different battlefield than the one in Iraq. But a battlefield never the less.

Luis is a kind soul, a gentle man. Did he deserve this? Of course not. Was it right? No. Will it happen again to others? Most likely. Will it happen to our warriors and their TADSAW Service Dogs? Probably, but hopefully not to this extent.

So to my difficult, unpopular and misunderstood decision...

If this warrior, this national speaker, this kind unassuming man, was taken unjustly to jail for having his golden retriever service dog in the VA, what would a wounded warrior in South Texas face daily when he wanted to simply go to the grocery store, to the bank, to Chuckie Cheese with his kids, to dinner in a restaurant, to Walmart with Eddy, a Pit Bull in a red service dog vest? In a city where 50% of all euthanasia's are Pit Bulls, in a city where all too many Pit Bulls are vicious, fighting dogs. What would this warrior face?

Many of these warriors are fragile emotionally and physically, have anger issues, have isolation problems, have fear and panic attacks when in public, to have a dog by their sides in many, many cases alleviates the fear and anxiety and with this, hope grows. Hope for a future, hope for peace, hope for the flashbacks of hell to lessen or stop. Similar to having a "battle buddy" in the 'zone', a support service dog is a warrior's life-line, as they would be his/hers.

Pit Bulls are not allowed on most airlines. The warrior could not fly. They are not allowed in many restaurants, buildings, and facilities. Is this right? No. Is this just? No. Am I angry? Yes. Is it fair to the dog or the warrior? No. They are not allowed on military installations and the list goes on and on.

To recognize and realize the fact that a warrior with a Pit Bull, as a service dog, would encounter episode after episode of people turning away from him, tucking and hiding their children behind them, leaving a location because they were fearful of this breed, asking management to remove the dog and owner or they would take their business elsewhere, and on and on, led me to make this decision. It killed me to remove Eddy from the program, as it did his huge fan club in PFHF. I couldn't in all good faith put a warrior in this situation.

We are here to protect our warriors, to make their lives better, to improve the quality of their lives. Not to cause them more anxiety because their 'battle buddy' is suspect or perceived as a dangerous and vicious threat. It makes me sick. It makes me heartsick. And yes, I understand those that question my decision. But our warriors have to come first in TADSAW.

And perhaps, just perhaps, this will have a happy ending. Eddy is safe. And many are trying to find him a home, one that he deserves with love and safety, where he is not feared but loved for the magnificient heart he has. A home where he can cuddle and play and be adored. As he sat perched in the back of my car, he quietly looked out the window at the passing cars in a world where people can be so cruel, so void of compassion and humanity, so full of hatred. I felt ill.

Forced into a decision, I did not want to make, was not my fault, nor was it Eddy's fault. It is what it is. So please forgive me and understand my decision to not make a warrior's life more difficult, to not allow him to face, with a Pit Bull, the same things that Luis faced with a golden retriever. TADSAW is here to help not harm.

For me, I resent the hell out of being put in this position, by a society that is responsible for allowing this to happen.

Keri Russell puts it succinctly, "Sometimes it's the smallest decision that can change a life forever." This week I tried to do that. It has not been a popular decision. Believe me this hurts me more than anyone.

***************

If any one is interested in Eddy, the best little dog in Texas...please contact me. He is a heartbreaker and a best friend just waiting for his forever home and someone to love.

patsyswendson@yahoo.com

AFTER THE OUCH

2011-08-07T08:45:00.000-07:00

The artist, the creative spirit, the writer must have downtime, time to do nothing. Time to be alone. Time to isolate.

In theory this sounds good, but few understand it or are willing to comply. But if they do, oh what a gift it is. To be allowed time off. Time to complete. Time to do nothing. Time to clean ouT the cobwebs from our souls. For it is in this time that life is found once again and the spirit is dusted off and begins to awaken. I guess it is like slowly losing a river and then quietly sitting and waiting and then finding it once again begins to flow.

It is a necessary freedom. Freedom from the pullings and tuggings and trappings of others wanting something now, yesterday. The clock, email, text messages, phone calls. "Your lack of poor planning, does not constitute an emergency on my part." I have loved that quote dearly. I live by it. I want it plastered on my forehead. I am sure you have had someone call you and say I need this today or in an hour, when they have had days to ask, or tell, or better yet to do it themselves. This infuriates me and I will automatically say 'no.'

But have you ever considered that the only real way to have intimacy (not sexual) with another human being is based on having alone time, time off. With me it is mandatory. Temporary freedom from dependencies allows me to not remain stuck. Stuck in a rut, stuck in conundrums, stuck in stuff, stuck in puddles and muddles and places where I know I don't belong, nor have any desire to.

The river must flow where it will. Not where others want it to. So it is with people. We are only alive when we are allowed freedom, space, and an understanding by our friends to allow us this time.

It is in this space where you find that you are able to throw out the old, the unworkable and make a pathway for the new and more suitable. You can say, "No I won't be a doormat any longer." And an awareness of the difficult people in your life surfaces, and it is in this place you begin to grow. Difficult people cause us to feel things we don't want to feel.

For our warriors returning with visible and invisible wounds, this space and time is mandatory. For it is in this place that they must give pain the time. Time to heal, manifest itself, and come to terms with it.

Perhaps that is why our therapy and service dogs are so vital to so many returning from combat. They ask nothing. Their presence is neither intrusive, questioning or troublesome. They are a simple basic security blanket. They don't give up on them. Their moods or behaviors are never questioned. They want to lay on the sofa and do nothing, it is okay with them. A warrior struggling wtih chronic depression finds a sense of peace in a belly rub on his dog. And because the dog must be exercised, fed and cared for, the warrior is quite simply not allowed to wallow for too long.

It is a beautiful story, this 'after the ouch.' For any of us, for all of us. We need time, time given to the pain whatever its source.

It is a panacia. It is the only way. It is the right way.

WISHES AND DAYDREAMS

2011-08-06T07:06:00.000-07:00

I am sure you are no different than anyone else. There are just some days we all feel like we need to be carried. Need to tuck into a bag and let someone tote us around to wherever we need to be. Wherever we yearn to be. A shot of adrenalin wouldn't hurt either.

Today is one of those days. For two weeks I have blocked every day to complete the manuscript for my new book K-9's ~ An Antidote for PTSD. Well I haven't touched it! And not for lack of trying. Quite the contrary.

Where the days and time goes I cannot tell you. But what I can offer is that I have not left my office once this week. Or if I have, I have no idea where I went. I sometimes don't know if it is day or night. The drapes closed tightly hiding the secret. If it weren't for my dogs demanding breakfast or dinner, the secret would remain hidden.

I want to escape this horrific heat of 106 + daily. I want to go to the mountains and listen to the wind in the aspen and smell the clear clean air and fish for trout in a mountain stream. I want to remember what it is like to hear the voice of God in the thunder in the high, breathtakingly fragrant mountains. I want to breathe deeply at the beginning of the day, the end of the day and not sit at a computer endlessly for 14-18 hours. I want to write, as I sit on a porch about life, dreams, hopes, disappointments, love, grief, joy, and how to live one day, one hour at a time. I want people to read what I write and feel somewhat comforted, or as least vindicated and normal. I want, I want, I want.

For some reason this morning, I remember sitting in a door way at a small pine table in a casita in Santa Fe right off the Plaza near the Georgia O'Keeff museum, writing about the evening before when I had spoken to 50-60 rapists, pedophiles, and murderers in the New Mexico State Prison, followed by dinner and champagne at a four star restaurant with friends. My head was spinning. Today I remember the feeling of that 40 degree morning and the sun rising over the mesa. I remember a surreal feeling of being in another time and place. I remember peace and I remember never wanting to leave that doorway.

Why am I remembering this this morning. I have no idea. I only wish I were there. Have you ever been to a place where you know you belong and have some deep spiritual connection? For me it is Colorado and New Mexico. It has been 6 years since I have been to NM and 10 since I was able to fall in love with 'my mountains' again. I miss them both. The ache is sometimes unbearable. Today it is.

Not too long ago I was asked 'what would make you happy, really happy?' Now I know. But here I sit behind on a deadline on my book, stacks and stacks of work to be done, a calendar that is frightening, and a lump in my throat that doesn't seem to go away. The muse is missing, the drive is missing, and the spirit yearns to be elsewhere. But here I sit.

A scrap of torn paper on my desk with a broken staple in it says, "Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable." Frances Bacon must know my mind.

So now back to the land of PTSD and writing about the mental crippling of our warriors and their battle. But this morning I can't get it out of my head that I am fighting my own battle.

How I wish I were in the mountains.

WHEN DOG AND MAN COLLIDE, WHO RESCUES WHO?

2011-08-01T13:43:00.000-07:00

Dawn is a private time. A time to reflect, breathe, and come to terms with those things interrupting your peace. For me dawn provides a quiet peaceful time to reflect on a myriad of things. Without this time my day is a shambles. This morning with a cup of French Roast coffee in one hand and the other on the back of my therapy dog Gracie, I was thinking of the miracles that happen when man and dog collide. Wonderful things, inexplicable things, lovely things, lifesaving things.

Isn't it true, that in the end, we all just want to find that one person who loves us, will stick by us, who will catch us when we fall. That one person who makes us laugh when we want to cry and who will hold us when we hurt? But it isn't always that easy is it? This is most assuredly true of our warriors returning with PTSD, having not been able to leave the horrors of war on the battlefield. To them, once home their lives become battlefields. They are forever at war! Sounds trigger memories, families are torn apart, drugs and alcohol abuse is prevalent as is unemployment and isolation. PTSD has control!

According to the ICAMI, the International Committee Against Mental Illness, it is estimated that more than half a million of our troops returning from Iraq and Afghanistan alone will have some form of PTSD. Staggering isn't it? Even more staggering is the statistic that the number of Iraq and Afghanistan veterans dying at home is outpacing the number of combat deaths in the two wars combined, according to the Department of Veterans Affairs!!

So can these warriors, carrying the bags of boulders on their back called PTSD, ever find peace? Can any of us?

Ramona Anderson said, "People spend a lifetime searching for happiness; looking for peace. They chase idle dreams, addictions, religions, even other people, hoping to fill the emptiness that plagues them. The irony is the only place they ever needed to search was within." But what about our warriors who go within and find chaos and hell instead of this happiness?

Surely there is the potential of happiness, lack of the tremendous fear, and a sense of contentment for those who cry, those who hurt and those who are lost in the wilderness of their experiences in war. And should this be doubted, I want you to hear the story of Jeremiah, just one of thousands of warriors afraid to leave his home, be without his wife, go to the store, or trust. For him this quote stands firm. For him just like thousands of veterans, courage is what it takes to face each day of their lives. This one has a wife and children. His wife has become his caregiver, all the while her husband is trapped in silence and isolation.

"Courage is not the absence of fear. It's the presence of resolve, the presence of purpose."

Anonymous

This is from Jeremiah's wife as she was waiting for her plane to take her home, leaving her husband in San Antonio with his TADSAW service dog in training , Gunny, to continue their journey toward independence.

Patsy, I didn't know if I would see you again and wanted to say thank you for everything. I am sad because I am leaving today but overjoyed with the improvements jeremiah has made with Gunny! I feel comfortable with leaving Jeremiah behind even though I cried yesterday really hard and of course choked back a couple of good cries with Bart! I wanted to give jeremiah independence and knew this would be good for him but then it hit me that he would not need me as much now. I wasn't sad because that's what we are here for but at the same time got that "dropping your child off the first day of school syndrome"!

It made me feel at peace leaving this time because Gunny will be watching his back when I have done it for so long. It is an odd feeling to feel overjoyed but sad at the same time. I felt better after something really neat happened . Jeremiah was walking through the airport on a test run and never once looked back to see where I was. He walked with Gunny like they owned the place! I was in the rear due to my legs, and Gunny looked behind to see if I was there and every couple of paces he would look behind again. He got in front of jere as if to slow his pace down and then kept glancing back as if he was saying "no worries, I have him and we are waiting for you." He slowed down enough for me to catch up and walked in between us! I knew then Gunny was special.

I wanted to tell you that we love gunny as if we have always had him. He watches jere like a hawk and comes to me for sugars and belly scratching. Jere told me on the fourth night "I love my dog. I hope patsy knows that". In this week, jere only had two bad spells and gunny jumped up on him both times to get his attention and Jere was fine.

Also a worthy note was that Jere has not taken his night time meds since he has been here, the ones that make him dopey and lethargic. He had absolutely no problems this week. I know thank you isn't enough for everything all of you have done, but hope to pay it forward one day. Gunny is special and a guardian angel and do hope you know it's like he has always been there or that we have had him!

So yes, for some, there is happiness to be found and war to be put to rest. For those warriors fortunate enough to find 'paws on the ground' to assist them in their battles, their lives can be controlled on a much better level. Their lives are still rich with complications, but with a dog by their side the question as to who rescues who, is no longer pertinent.

"I put a piece of paper under my pillow, and when I could not sleep I wrote in the dark."

~Henry David Thoreau

The Miracle of a Little Gauze Dog and a Yellow Lab Named Kelsie

2011-07-29T14:06:00.000-07:00

".... we all have our own battles and are heroes quietly in our own way…I hope that that is what we can pass to our children – be a hero in all you do, and recognize that it is only by the support of others that we are enabled to succeed."

Miriam L.

Not too long ago a nurse approached me at a Marine barbecue at BAMC and told me of a young soldier who had just arrived from Walter Reed Medical Center. He had lost a leg, use of one arm, was badly burned and severely depressed.

There was nothing terribly unusual about this story, for it is but one of many that I hear daily. Sadly, it is commonplace. However, this particular one touched me in a most special way. The saga is full of compassion, caring, healing, love, and commitment to country and warrior.

The nurse told me that when this young man was at Walter Reed he had frequent visits in the hospital from a most special Labrador retriever. He adored this dog. The visits brought him comfort and temporary release from great pain. But after leaving Walter Reed to transfer to BAMC, he no longer had a therapy dog visit him and his depression worsened.

So, the nurse asked if I would go to the hospital and visit Matthew. Explaining the story to me, there was no way I could say no. But it wasn't quite that easy.

It seems his first night in this hospital had been just the evening before. He was in excruciating pain and crying out for his therapy dog to come visit. He was unable to sleep and nothing anyone did would ease his suffering, until the nurse had an idea. She took bundles of cotton and gauze and surgical tape and fabricated a stuffed dog. She took it to his room and lovingly placed it on his chest. He took the dog and snuggled it close and fell into a deep sleep. It was by her perseverance and support that she too became a hero, as she faced extraordinary circumstances and acted with honor and self sacrifice, love and compassion.

Getting Kelsie in to see him was more difficult. It seems he was in the Burn Unit and obviously no dogs were allowed! But the nurses promised him that if he kept working at improving they would take him outside the Burn Unit into the hallway in his wheel chair so he could visit with Kelsie. Well, it worked. The day came when the nurse called me and said he had worked hard and was now able to receive a very special visitor. I couldn't get there fast enough.

The rest of the story is not as important as the beginning. For it is in the beginning that steps are taken and work is begun and fears are alleviated. It is in the beginning when you release the tears and focus on getting better. So the story goes... Matthew learned to slowly awaken to life and recognize and love the people who treated him right.

With the help of a very special nurse, a little gauze dog, and a yellow lab named Kelsie, Matthew is on the road to recovery. It is a slow road, but it is also rich with treasures and beautiful souls.

POOF...YOU'RE GONE!

2011-07-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

A comment I read today from a wounded warrior, a combat medic, after a visit to BAMC, put my life in perspective.

"What we witnessed today is such a small snapshop of what's out there. My heart is broken...I witnessed and cared for thousands who came through my tent in just a few months. It's been a decade. My service dog stayed by my side as I cried myself to sleep...she knew."

It got me to thinking about our warriors who suffer, endure. Those who struggle each day with pain and grief and anxiety and the horrors of war, trying to get through the tunnels of darkness to light. Eckhart Tolle said, "If you had not suffered as you have, there would be no depth to you, no humility, no compassion." That I completely agree with. I know people who have lived a good portion of their lives and have never known pain. It is true, they have little to no depth and no compassion or caring. They are shallow and hollow, and it is all about them.

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, an have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, an an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen!"

~Debra Gray

I see this sensitivity, an understanding of human life, and a certain gentleness in the way our wounded warriors touch or speak to a therapy dog or their own service dog. Not only does the dog become a catalyst to opening doors for them, the dog is just the medicine needed. Perhaps it is in their dog that they rediscover love, for the dog certainly, but also for themselves. This is the first step of the journey. The first step in attending to the wounds in themselves.

Today I have received over 20+ phone calls and it is only mid afternoon. I have received 60+ emails and assorted text messages. Phone calls overlap and notes are carpeting my desk and floor. I am exhausted but I keep on. Why? Because I must. Because I want to. Because I don't want one more warrior to be a statistic, to be one of the 18 that kill themselves each day. That is just plain wrong.

One email, from a female warrior new to our program, told me that her landlord was extraordinarily rude to her telling her she could not have a service dog where she lives. Hasn't she been through enough? A nurse deployed, who witnessed horrific things we can't even imagine, now suffers multiple panic attacks weekly. She tended to the wounded. Some wounds healed others did not. Some wounds will last a lifetime.

Wounds to the soul and spirit may not be visible to others but are a consistent reality to the PTSD sufferer.

She asked what I would do. This I chose not to tell her. Instead, I told her to ignore the person and to leave that up to us. That is our job. I told her that we only allow happy endings. She has been through enough. The best gift for those who judge her would be to let them walk in her shoes, so that then, and only then, would they know and understand.

So today I ask why one service dog can snuggle close to a warrior as she cries herself to sleep, when on the other hand an ignorant landlord tells another warrior she can't have her service dog in housing.

What would I have said ~ 'Poof...you're gone!'

A NURSE A DOCTOR AND A DOG

2011-07-14T08:35:00.000-07:00

I prefer to think that there are no coincidences. Things happen for a reason. And all we have to do is open our eyes, be aware, and we will see.

Today with permission from a wounded warrior, a nurse, I present you with a letter that left me breathless!

I need to preface this by telling you that she had brought her two Tibetan Terriers for evaluation to a park nearby for evaluation for one becoming her potential TADSAW service dog for PTSD. Both precious dogs had been rescued, one after having lost a leg after being hit by a car. It was obvious immediately that these two dogs are bonded to each other and their 'mom' in an extraordinary way. Separating them to make one a service dog would have been devastating on the other, so it as decided we provide and introduce a new dog into the 'pack' that would become her service dog.

After collaboration with the TADSAW director and our senior trainer it was decided that "Helen" just fills the bill. She has already been evaluated and is a 'soft' dog with a wonderful ability to snuggle and cuddle and be available in those horrible moments of stress and panic that come all too often and out of nowhere. She will ease the pain, and take care of her 'mom' so that she can better the quality of her life after combat. She will be her 'battle buddy.' The following morning this letter was received, along with the tears I shed.

Dear Patsy,

I was very surprised to be able to meet with you, Bart, and Michelle yesterday. From what I understand, you have a very, very busy schedule and the other two collect no dust as well. I felt very honored.

It was a really blessing to talk a little with some other people about the panic attacks. I don't talk to 'normal' people much about them, just the Doctors- and that to a minimum. As I said, it's such a "non-me" thing. I try not to think too much about it, or even count them lest I start having panic attacks about panic attacks, but the truth is I go through about 30 of those danged pills a month. Anyway, you could have knocked me over with a puff of air when I heard you say that you, who I'd size up as someone very refined, resilient and grace filled, had them. Thank you for sharing your experience with me, it gave me concrete hope.

Also, at the risk of sounding, uh, a bit off, maudlin, or "tetched," it also really surprised me to hear how quickly Michelle could find a workable buddy for me. Here's the maudlin part, I guess- last year, I spent my 40th birthday at my grandmother's deathbed. I can't complain about that, it was a great blessing to be with her while she was making that transition. She was, without a doubt, one of the strongest, funniest, most loving women I have ever known. Growing up, she was a great source of stability to me, a rock of goodness in her own unique and original way. She was no cookie cutter saint, but I can't help but think she's on the right side of the pearly gates. Her name was "Helen."

That name has a great context of good and blessing in our family. I don't know how I'm going to tell my mom that I'm getting a service dog named Helen. I think it's going to kinda knock the breath out of her. God works in mysterious ways.

Thank you very much again.

Perhaps now I know why I was 'blessed' with panic attacks! It makes it real to me. I understand. I can nod my head in affirmation and really mean it. The warriors with PTSD and severe panic attacks know that I am not just 'blowing hot air' so to speak. It helps to know that if someone else is able to cope with this 'thing' then maybe, just maybe, so can they.

Helen currently belongs to a doctor who is being deployed sometime in the near future. It was her hope that Helen could become a service dog to help a wounded warrior with PTSD!

Well two wishes have come true. And I for one prefer to believe that this was no coincidence.

***************

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO HELP US HELP A WARRIOR WE INVITE YOU TO VISIT:

www.tadsaw.org

ww.pennysfromheavenfoundation.org

Contributions are tax deductible and 100% of all donations go to provide a dog for a warrior!

HAPPY ENDINGS

2011-07-11T11:09:00.000-07:00

Freedom has a taste, and for those who have fought for it, the taste is so sweet the protected will never know.

~Patrick Alan Vaughan

When sitting in my office thinking about what to write, this quote came across my desk from a friend, Patrick, a retired military man, a man who has sacrificed both of his legs. In spite of what he has endured, the taste is still sweet. I wrote him back and thanked him for the beautiful words he wrote.

I wish I could explain to you how many, many young warriors, most severely wounded, say the same thing in different words. Under the same circumstances, would we? Truth be known few of us would.

"You can never have a happy ending at the end of an unhappy journey it just doesn't work out that way. The way you're feeling, along the way, is the way you're continuing to pre-pave your journey, and it's the way it's going to continue to turn out until you do something about the way you are feeling."

~Abraham

Guess we have all been battered and bruised. But how we handle it shows who we are, and what we are made up of, and how much we are willing to withstand.Our wounded warriors pave the way for us. If only we would pay attention, we could follow suit. There are great lessons to be learned here.

There comes a time in life when you have no choice but to walk away from all the drama and people who create it. You then begin to surround yourself with people who make you laugh, forget the bad and focus on the good. You love the people who treat you right and pray for those who don't. I for one understand that life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling down is a part of LIFE. Getting back up is LIVING!

SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED

2011-07-05T10:40:00.000-07:00

What inspires you? What grabs your heart and doesn't let go? What is it that touches you in such a special way that you can barely describe it and sometimes barely breathe ~ that one thing that you hold tight to your soul and never want the bubble to burst for fear of losing a part of you.

Doing what I do with therapy dogs and service dogs and reaching out to people struggling to heal or to just get by to live another day, hour, or even second, I find I am inspired constantly. To be able to be a conduit to reach these people is a true blessing. I am honored, humbled and incessantly eager for the next moment to come when I find that my compassion, empathy, love, and deep caring for these individuals, and the gift of my therapy dogs who are simply present for someone who needs them more than they know, is what my life is all about. It is all about love.

Last week I put out a request on facebook for $1,000.00 for the hotel expenses for a warrior flying in from Tennessee to train with Gunny, his service dog in training. Wishes were granted in three days!

Last week monies were received and new friends made at two charity events for TADSAW/PFHF at the Sonic and Freebirds World Burritos. Another wish granted.

Daily we receive dozens of phone calls from warriors from throughout the United States wanting a service dog to help them with the agony of PTSD. We are able to guide them in the right direction or help them directly. Another wish granted.

I was grateful once again, after a long and laborious down spell and two surgeries and recovery, to be able to spend time with wounded warriors at the Warrior Family Support Center on the Fourth of July. How I have missed them. How I love them all. These are the young men and women who inspire me more than anything. To sit quietly and simply observe dozens of young men in wheelchairs, some with burns, some missing limbs, accompanied by the support of friends and families was awe inspiring to say the least. Amidst the red, white and blue decor, one young soldier, on a two hour pass from the hospital at SAMC, was accompanied by family and a nurse escort. He was pale and found it difficult to smile. Severely depressed, just getting out of the hospital helped in the healing process. Another warrior with a missing leg was nestled into his wheel chair with a small baby girl snuggled into his chest, as he held her close with one arm and guided the wheelchair with the other. I told him how beautiful she was, and he smiled as would any other proud papa. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans and chocolate cake was the perfect 4th of July. For me just being there .... well there was no where else I would have been.

One Marine, a triple amputee, was wearing a huge smile and a teeshirt that said, "Wounded Marine ~ Some Assembly Required" His mom told me of walking into their room at the Fisher House and finding him wearing her pink slippers on his stumps. This is a guy with courage, with grit, with guts and with an incredible sense of humor. His goal to surf! Betja he finds a way.

This last week PFHF was blessed with being invited to affiliate with the medical staff at Wilford Hall Medical Center's CONTINGENCY AEROMEDICAL STAGING FACILITY. Handpicked therapy dog teams will be present on the ambulance buses, to meet wounded warriors, as they are moved from the aircraft coming in from Landsthul or Ramstein, Germany to the hospital. They will be welcomed stateside by a few of our most special therapy dogs and escorted to the 7th floor of Wilford Hall to receive medical evaluation before being sent to their destination hospitals nationwide. We have even been provided with an office and computer for our dogs to have a bit of a rest between visits with the wounded and their families and friends. What an tremendous honor for us.

I spoke with an injured soldier on the phone after he called inquiring about a service dog for his acute PTSD. I asked him what he would think if there would have been a therapy dog on the ambulance bus. He replied that he had been on that same bus. He said, "All we want to see is America! What is more American that apple pie and a dog?" Another wish affirmed.

A few days ago a therapy dog team member and her therapy dogs were the first therapy dogs in San Antonio to participate in a Recovery Mission and Service Mission as part of the Patriot Guard for one of our soldiers killed in the line of duty. Courtney with her dog, Gainer, were at the funeral home to be of some comfort to the family. When the escort arrived at the funeral home with Spc Nicholas Hensley's family and his body, Gainer was waiting. They were able to interact with the family and the soldier's mother asked if she could hug Titan and then asked if they would be there for the funeral. PFHF will be ready willing and able to assist at any Recovery Mission where we will be of assistance.

I say all of these things I suppose to affirm to myself that what I do is valuable...that what I do is making a difference, that what PFHF is doing is extraordinary and unique, and that the amazing group of volunteers in PFHF and TADSAW are just that...Amazing!!! We are providing our therapy dogs and our service dogs in venues unreached and untouched previously. Our professionalism and elite status speaks for itself. I am proud of each and everyone of our teams, for they are exemplary, caring, compassionate and the kind of people that inspire me.

So this day and everyday, I want you to remember one thing, "ALL GAVE SOME AND SOME GAVE ALL." And remember that these wounded warriors deserve our help and love, their families our respect and gratitude and that some have 'some assembly required.' But when you think about it, don't we all?

So for today I am back to work after a couple of much needed days off. For today I am content in the fact that love is something you can't control, love is something you have to give away, and that love is something that asks nothing in return.

Each day my heart is full, for it is only in giving love are we receive it. And I receive it every second of every day from warriors and patients that I may perhaps never know or meet. But that is enough. That is enough.

LIFESAVERS

2011-06-20T09:14:00.000-07:00

There are times in our lives when we need to be carried, when we just can't do it any more. It is these times we remember who was there for us. For many of our warriors returning with PTSD PFHF Therapy and Service Dogs are there for them.

It is in their presence they begin to feel safe and comfortable. These dogs see past the missing limbs, burns, brain injuries, and Post Traumatic Stress. They meet them on equal ground. They are not judged, simply loved unconditionally.

When a warrior does something as simple as petting a dog, within minutes they get a massive release of beneficial hormones such as dopamine. The stress hormone, cortisol is decreased. Physical anxiety goes down which most often results in lessening depression.

I may not serve in Iraq or Afghanistan, but I serve here. To face it trembling is not productive. As our wounded warriors stories weave in and out of my life, I find I await them often with great anticipation and also something that I almost liken to dread. Dread to once again experience vicariously the stories of a horrific war and yet an unrelenting surfacing of compassion and passion, sadness, and hope to read their souls and to tell the stories of valiant young men and women who return home to what appears to be another combat zone. A combat zone of post traumatic stress, traumatic brain injuries and/or military sexual trauma.

Throughout this journey I have struggled in my own place of darkness. Iraq and Afghanistan are places I can't imagine, places I have never been and never will be, but I feel deep inside that I have on some level experienced it through 'my' warriors. I feel the places they are when they come home with PTSD, TBI or MST, afraid and know no way out and there is no one to give them directions. The lucky ones know they have to push forward by faith. I am reminded of Alan Alda's words, "You cannot get there by bus, only hard work, risking and by not quite knowing what you are doing."

Theirs are stories of extraordinary dogs and extraordinary heroes both serving or having served our country in their own irreplaceable ways. Our returning warriors have more need for therapy and service dogs than we ever knew or expected and certainly more than ever before in history.

I wish you could feel, understand what they experience, and to truly 'get it'. I wish you could have a sense, in your core, what sacrifices these brave young men and women, as well as their families and loved ones, have made, and grasp the differences made in their lives, and in ours, by equally loyal, courageous and giving dogs.

Imagine being in an agonizingly and unbearably unfamiliar place far from all you have ever known. A dark place. The sounds, smells, unrelenting heat and stress, the inability to ever truly sleep or even relax where you don't know if this will be your last day...a place where you don't know where you really are and sometimes wonder why. You have to grown up fast, and muster all the courage and bravery you can. They come home a different person.

Imagine leaving the battlefield one day and being at McDonalds the next with people that have no ability to comprehend where you have been emotionally or physically. People who might love you and want to help, but don't know how. People whose lives have been disrupted and put on hold to be there for you, spending month after month, and sometimes years, with you in the hospital. Perhaps you have come home missing an arm, both legs, blind or with severe burns or a traumatic brain injury. It is then that help is offered by another type of hero, a therapy dog or a service dog. A companion or an assistant that sees past the injuries and teaches us that disfigured or the critically ill are not defined by their differences, but by the things that mean the most to them ~ their family, values, and faith.

You will find that we are all pretty much scared all the time, and there is certainly no shame in that. The world is full of pain, but also the overcoming of it. In the presence of an experienced dog, whether in a war zone or in another battle of rehabilitation back at home, direction, hope, a sense of peace and a future can often be found again.

It is for our men and women who lay their lives on the line every minute of every day that that I write today, and to the dogs who protect and defend the greatest nation on earth and to the dogs who are the steadfast companions to our warriors returning with PTSD, TBI, and MST. These remarkable dogs see them through the hell of nightmares, flashbacks, panic attacks, sleeplessness, hyper-vigilance, mental replays, serious emotional depression, alcohol and drug abuse, grief, inability to work, inability to participate in family life, guilt, rage, spiritual despair, suicidal thoughts, and nightmares where the person sees, hears, feels, smells, and even tastes aspects of the horrific event that are all too frightening and vivid.

These dogs are their life savers.

WHY

2011-06-17T08:47:00.000-07:00

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen."

~Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

These words give me pause to surmise that there are very few people who have not known defeat, struggle, loss, and suffering.

Ms. Kubler Ross also says, "There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blessings given to us to learn from." This last one is hard for me to grasp. How do you explain this to a family whose son was just killed by an IED roadside bomb in Iraq? How do you tell them this was a 'blessing'?

Sgt. Glenn Sewell died two days ago. I did not know him, but he called San Antonio his home. But I do know his face. I find comfort in his expression. I smile to hide the lump in my throat, because I can feel what he was feeling in the moment this photo was taken; there was no war, no fear, no pain, no anxiety. There was simply pure joy and happiness. In a war zone this is a rare occurence. There was simply a very special joy found while snuggling two floppy puppies with long legs and big paws. For a while he was a kid again, in his backyard playing with his own dogs. For a very brief while.

Today I send out a prayer for his family, to help them. They can't do it alone. I don't know what else to do. I feel all of the grief of all of the families who have lost loved ones in this war on terror. Perhaps they, and I, have to consciously decide to be courageous. But as we know courage might eventually come, but not always in a straight line.

Life speaks to us all. We don't always hear. Is life speaking to you when you look at this young man's face?

Tomorrow I have the great honor of meeting a Marine who has lost three limbs. Described as 'motivated and positive,' this Marine had been a dog handler in Afghanistan. He misses his dog enormously. Tomorrow he will have two furry therapists visiting him. Sure seems like a small gift for such an enormous sacrifice. But it is our gift. I can guarantee you there will be stories not anticipated or known. And rest assured for at least one moment there will be a smile. And that in itself is enough.

Everything that happens to us is a lesson. With our wounded warriors, there are stories to be told. Stories that must be told. People need to hear them, feel them, understand and be proud of them. The bond between our warriors and their dogs, whether strays in Iraq, a military working dog saving countless lives in Afghanistan, or a therapy or service dog holding vigil when our warriors return, is extraordinary. We must grasp the depth of this bond between these dogs and these young men and women.

If the dog could talk, it would almost be as if the dog is telling us that their warrior's sacrifices were not in vain ~ they meant something. And they would share with us, by example, the way we should treat our returning heroes.

Freedom isn't free! And I wonder this morning how many of us going about our daily routine, grumbling and stumbling really 'get' that. Perhaps, just perhaps, it is my work to tell the stories, to paint the pictures with words, to do justice to what our warriors endured and the struggles they face day to day when they return home.

I had a female amputee once tell me, "We are not defined by our amputations. We are defined by our hearts and souls. What is important is what is in our hearts. When old stuff comes up just say 'no', shake it off and let it go." There is much to be learned there. People are always waiting to fill us up with a story they can control or one that makes them feel better about themselves.

For me personally, caring for wounded warriors and their families is sacred. It is when I am most alive. It is when I find that love inside of me and that gasping moment. It is about honoring and protecting a very special gift I have been blessed with. Yes, I have known suffering, defeat, struggles and loss and found my way out of the darkness. This is where the depth of my compassion was born. I will never ever let anything get in the way of that.

Today reconnect with yourself. It is here you will find the truth. In this world where you can be anything at all ~ simply be you.

It is here that you just might find that momentary joy found in the face of Sgt. Glenn Sewell.

Sgt. Glenn Sewell ~ RIP

WHAT IS YOUR STORY?

2011-06-15T07:05:00.000-07:00

"WE GET CONTROL OF OUR LIVES, ULTIMATELY, NOT BY WILLPOWER BUT BY SURRENDER. THE FINAL SECRET LIES IN AMAZING GRACE."

~Lewis B. Smedes

The doctors and psychologists tell me that this malaise and depression is normal. That after two surgeries in three weeks it will most likely take me a minimum of 90 days to recover from the anesthesia. Okay great! This makes my day.

So what to do! I have been thinking about my story and what it is. I have been thinking about our wounded warriors who face multiple surgeries and years of recovery, if indeed recovery is possible. I have been thinking about people who have no one to share their story with. And if they do have someone, does that someone really listen...really hear...are they really present? Or as you attempt to talk to them their cell phone wins once again.

As Smedes says, "It is commitment, not blood, that creates the family." Okay this I get. I can count the friends I have on one hand. Those that I carry my burdens to that hear me, listen, understand and love me despite my shortcomings. But once in a while it is a complete stranger, or someone you barely know, who puts life into perspective that allows you to become aware of who you are and what your needs are and more importantly what your needs aren't. What is right from wrong. What is in your best interest may not be what you thought.

Is there someone in your life that you consistently pour your deepest troubles to and they ignore you? Are you left dangling deeply hurt, only to try again to gain their attention? Does it sometimes become like a video tape in your mind that keeps on playing and playing. Does it become something that you can't stand to watch and yet can't turn it off.

Bitter memories take over and we feel like we are suffocating. If only someone would listen. With me the lump in my throat comes with tears attached. And then I realize that only I can write the ending. So today the fight through the malaise and depression begins yet again. This morning I did not want to get out of bed. Why bother...just another day of endless phone calls and paperwork. But Kelsie wouldn't stand for it. A cold nose under the covers was indefatigable in its pursuit of getting me out of bed. I tried explaining to her that I had only slept about 2 1/2 hours and really needed a bit more. But to no avail. It was dog food time!

So today what is my story? I realize that only I am the author and the main character. I am here on this earth to write my story and live my life with integrity and honesty and as Smedes says, "...a real story about a real person who somehow stays in one piece, inside and out, all the way to the end." I own my story and if others choose to ignore my reaching out then so be it. Today I will again attempt to finalize the draft of my next book, K-9's ~ The Antidote to PTSD. I will plow through the malaise, fighting vehemently, and wrestling with the realization that if someone ignores my pleas for help perhaps the answer has been provided.

IT'S TIME TO HEAR THIS

2011-06-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

Father's Day is Sunday. Sadly, I am all too aware of those fathers who are deployed, who will be unable to be with their families at the lake, the pool, the barbecue, or in front of the television dozing on the sofa. I am also way too aware of those fathers who struggle just to survive another day after returning from war. For them the war just begins when they return home.

More than 134,000 people made calls to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline last year. Of those callers, 61 percent identified themselves as veterans, while 7 percent identified themselves as a friend or family of a veteran. These are young men and women who are someone's son, daughter, brother, sister, father, mother, husband or wife. Leaving the battlefield and reintegrating back into the world they left behind is traumatizing.

Veterans and their therapists, case managers, psychiatric support system and families have reported a dramatic decrease in night terrors and suicidal thoughts and even medications after being provided with a PTSD Support Service Dog.

"I'll cry with you,"she whispered ,until we run out of tears. Even if it's forever. We'll do it together." There it was a simple promise of connection. The loving alliance of grief and hope that blesses both our breaking apart and our coming together again.

Molly Fumia, Safe Passage

These dogs don't know it, but they are a buffer to the warrior. A buffer that gauges the safety of the warrior's surroundings that affords them the ability to go into public places without constantly scanning for snipers, hidden bombs and dangers that lurk in the deep recesses of their minds.

Jim, deployed three times, was in twenty three IED explosions. He was injured each time he was in Iraq. When he returned, he struggled moment to moment with PTSD, short term memory loss, and lack of cognitive reasoning. He can't tie his shoe laces and jokes that his little baby boy will have to help him.

My therapy/service dog, Kelsie, went to him the very first time, as of they were long lost friends. She nuzzled his neck and worked her way up to is ear with her nose. She snuggled him on the sofa in the day room of The Barracks at BAMC, allowing him to sleep, a kind of sleep he couldn't find alone in his room at night.

The first time we met was Christmas Eve a few years ago. The first moment he saw Kelsie he sat down on the floor, wrapped his arms around her, held onto her and simply looked at me and said thank you. Jim started quietly talking, telling me what his personal dogs do for him. "They don't judge me or ask me how they can help. They are simply there." He said he was tired of people asking how they can help. "They can't. But when my dogs are around it is better. I can relax. My heart rate lowers and the panic lessens."

He didn't have long to hold onto his furry Christmas gift. He had a plane to catch. But as he left, he looked back at me and asked if I would come back with Kelsie after the holidays. I assured him I would. Several days later, this guy with a TBI, PTSD and short term memory loss, called me from the airport and said he was back and when could he see Kelsie again. I cried.

For several months Kelsie and I would visit Jim on weekends. Kelsie would get up on the sofa and snuggle him and within minutes both would be sound asleep. You see the key is neither Kelsie, nor I, judged him. We allowed him to be who he was. Like Kelsie, I was simply there to listen.

There was no way of knowing what our meeting Jim would one day mean to literally hundreds of warriors returning home to fight one of the largest battles of their lives. The battle against PTSD. Their lives are changed forever, as they wage the fight of immeasurable pain, grief, depression, brain injuries, amputations, severe burns, loss of vision, loss of hearing, and more.

A wounded warrior's wife once told me that "People don't want to see it, experience it. Sadly they hide or turn away from the reality of it all. They have no concept or appreciation of what it takes to be free ~ the price of freedom. Sticking their heads in the sand is transferred to their children. What you don't see or feel to your core like amputations and burns, or the invisible wounds of PTSD, is not real. It is not there."

I thought of how many people I know, when asked if they would like to accompany me to visit with the warriors, decline. Decline with excuses because they don't want to see it, feel it, touch it, or at the very least offer a hug of appreciation and a few words of gratitude. They don't want to see it because it will make them sad or uncomfortable. These guys and gals have given all. Isn't recognition or a few words of appreciation mandatory? So many of these warriors have thanked me and my Kelsie, Penny and Gracie for our work, for caring, for coming, for giving, for listening, and for just taking the time to sit with them. How can we as humans give anything less? As the soldier's wife said, "These men need to be embraced and thanked. They stand by their buddies to the death, but who stands by them when they come home?"

Each veteran's story is unique, but there is a uniting thread. And that is quite simply, combat changes you. Some returning warriors can cope and some can't. Some contemplate suicide, some attempt it, and eighteen kill themselves each day.

I ask if we are able to provide a PTSD Support Service Dog for a warrior isn't it the right thing to do? Isn't it about time?

I end this by telling you that meeting Jim was a huge stepping stone in the formation of TADSAW (Train a Dog ~ Save a Warrior), based in San Antonio, TX. It was a huge step for Jim as well. He and his wife have established PAWSANDSTRIPES.ORG, an organization, based in New Mexico, providing service dogs for our returning warriors with PTSD. I would like to think in part the formation of this organization by Jim was his relationship with Kelsie. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't. But what I do know is that it was in the divine plan that they met, and that they snuggled, and that a difference was made in the life of one man who has decided to pay it forward. I was honored and proud to have known this warrior, and to see how both of our missions are parallel and making a difference, one warrior and one dog at a time.

So this father's day please remember what families have sacrificed and given so that you might spend the day at the pool or safe at home in front of the television set. And say a prayer for all those young men and women who don't want to see tomorrow, the burden is too heavy.

And please, if you find it in your heart to help http://www.tadsaw.org/ or http://www.pawsandstripes.org/ please do so. The money you donate toward the training of a service dog just might save a life.

PATIENCE GRASSHOPPER!

2011-06-09T07:27:00.000-07:00

Where does this thing called patience come from? Is it a learned trait, or do some of us just come equipped with it? If that's the case, it was somehow omitted from my genes.

“Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting. That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow - that is patience.” ~ Anonymous

The heat laden days of June don't make my patience come any easier. How do any of us get past feeling tired, beat up, exhausted, depleted, and empty? How do I get past the intense feeling of a need that can't seem to be met? Is there a place where we can say, "Yes, I am patient", or is it a process, the end of which we never reach or do we?

In my case, this could be the result of the past three weeks and two surgeries. But the sense that this feeling has somehow intensified, once recovery mode has set in, is disarming. Is there a time when we know that it is time? Is there a word or event that let's us know? How do we know for sure?

I think the tumultous past few months have physically, and yes mentally, taken their toll. There is a disquieting feeling that I want to run. Run fast, run away. But the box of cookies, comfort food, on my nightstand when I awoke this morning indicated that this might be a difficult task.

So my question for today is do we look for obstacles rather than magic? I guess like everyone else I say "I am fine" when I am not. I say "nothings wrong" when I seethe with hurt. This is a fearsome thing...the anesthetizing of the human soul.

Perhaps I have had too much time to think lately. Too much time to feel the pain of others and to feel my pain. Two nights ago I could not sleep. I kept waking up just to make certain I was alive, not feeling pain. It was an odd sensation. Pain makes me angry. The absense of pain makes me suspect.

A friend wrote me some time ago about the little Pockets of Peace books I wrote, "These Pockets of Peace are sometimes the only sunshine we see some days. How wonderful to be so certain of your life's mission." I wanted to write her back and tell her that with that certainty comes a sometimes unbearable pricetag. But I simply said, 'thank you.'

Is it all about endurance. I see how much it takes for even the strongest to just live their lives. It is a struggle, oftentimes day to day, hour to hour and yes minute to minute. To me these are our quiet heroes.

Analyzing my life during the past four months, I have come to realize that I was seriously close to burn out. Perhaps this 'time out' was in the master plan. Perhaps I was forced to sit, or rather lie still, to find me again. For so long I have focused on everyone but me, that exhaustion was inevitable. My passion is still there but greatly subdued. There are things I have not done and quite literally and desperately need to do. But where do I store my allegiance to others, to the cause, to my warriors? But my needs now go far beyond this. My needs that have been put on a shelf, as I suppose many of yours have as well, waiting. Waiting for what? The right time, the right man, the kids to get through school, the lottery, the bills are paid. Waiting for what?

The only thing, the one thing that remains a constant in my life, the one thing I understand, still sits in reverent devotion at my feet. My dogs. If they only knew how important they are to me and how needed and how they are the only things that ask nothing of me and yet give everything. If only they knew.

So today I ask myself, what door do I walk through? Where do I go from here? Where can I find a moments peace?

ARE YOU EXTRAORDINARY

2011-05-27T08:49:00.000-07:00

We can be extraordinary together, rather than ordinary apart!

What amazing words. Think about them. This can pertain to relationships, marriages, families, friendships, battle buddies, businesses and organizations. I for one won't settle for anything but the extraordinary.

People come and go in our lives but those that stay, those that stick by us, those that have our backs, those that help us make that difference that we couldn't make without them, and those that are steadfast in their support of us, prompt us to be extraordinary!

"Great minds have purposes; others have wishes."

~Washington Irving

Sometimes we are balanced and sometimes we aren't. There is no magic formula. But if we are lucky, if we are blessed, there are those surrounding us that provide the props for us when we feel wobbly. Sometimes we break and have to heal. And during these times we have to realize that it will take as long as it will take, and we need to delight in the friends that hold our hands during the journey.

Who has been there for you when you are healing? This question prompted me to contemplate the following.

Maya Angelou said, " When people show you who they are, believe them the first time." This is a hard lesson to learn, but with age comes wisdom and with wisdom comes the reality that this statement could not be more true. The more I witness and experience, the more I realize that there is a lack of willingness in many to give with no expectation of receiving anything in return. To me this is an instant mirror to their minds. Ouch...that is an eye opener isn't it?

Recovering from one surgery and two weeks later being told I need another next week caused me to crumble. But does that help? I am tired. I am worn out. I am disgusted. I have 'stuff' to do...books to write, appointments, warriors who need me, sadly I am flattened. But it is what it is. So today I write.

Leo Rosten must have read my mind when he said, "The writer wants to be understood much more than he wants to be respected or praised or even loved. And that perhaps, is what makes him different from others." For those that choose to be ordinary, go for it. I for one choose the extraordinary. I get one shot at this life, and I plan on taking those that also choose to be extraordinary with me!

*****

"Talk sense to a fool, and he calls you foolish."

~Euripides

"Any fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius ~ and a lot of courage ~ to move in the opposite direction.

~Albert Einstein

THROUGH BROKEN GLASSES

2011-05-24T06:11:00.000-07:00

There are times when we are forced to stop. To simply stop. To let go. To take care of ourselves. To remember how to breathe. To nurture no one else but ourselves.

I have learned this recently, or perhaps more importantly, relearned this. In recovery mode for two weeks after minor surgery, I have been given a great deal of time to rest, to sleep, to discover those people who are really there for me - there for me no matter what, asking nothing, simply being present.

"Often the most loving thing we can do when a friend is in pain is to share the pain...to be there even when we have nothing to offer except our presence and even when being there is painful to ourselves." ~M. Scott Peck

In these hours and hours of reflection, I have come to some rather interesting disjointed conclusions. So here goes!

Sometimes we are looking for obstacles rather than magic. Don't we all put up walls and barricades at points in our lives that prevent us from experiencing life, living life, having the life we deserve? I for one am going revel in the magic!

Sometimes we have to work through the stress in our lives to find that all along balance is the key. We need to resist the tendency to look at life through broken glasses. Everything is not wrong! We need to make the effort to appreciate the blessings, for it is in balancing the scales that we gain perspective and the ability to handle whatever comes our way.

Sure there are times when we get battered and bruised, and it is in these times that we have to simply say to ourselves that 'it could always be worse.'

People don't always rise to our expectations and disappoint and demolish our once highly held admiration. People will come and dangle a carrot in front of us and just when we are ready to grasp it, they suddenly show you who they really are.

"Speak quietly to yourself and promise there will be better days. Whisper gently to yourself and provide assurance that you really are extending your best effort. Console your bruised and tender spirit with reminders of many other successes. Offer comfort in practical and tangible ways ~ as if you were encouraging your dearest friend. Recognize that on certain days the greatest grace is that the day is over and you get to close your eyes. Tomorrow comes more brightly.
~Mary Ann Radmacher

I also came to the conclusion, or realization if you will, that it is because we have not attended to the wounds in ourselves that we have no capacity for the pain of others. Because we ourselves have too often refused to heal, we cannot heal others. It is a fearsome carousel when we anesthetize ourselves. It can block us and color us and make us paranoid. And on and on the circle goes. These are the people whose hearts become hardened. These are the people who are stuck.

It has been said that those who swallow a stone become a stone! The question then remains, once battered, how shall we learn to live again? Perhaps the answer can be found in a quote from Maria Robinson. "Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending."

So upon deep reflection and observation of those who sat close by as I healed, I stand staunchly by my beliefs. I will continue to strive to bring a glimmer, a glimpse, of peace and solace and comfort to those who need it the most. I resolve to rescue a breaking heart or a crushed spirit or soul in need. And I will remind myself that, if it were easy everyone would be doing it.

"You must know that in any moment a decision you make can change the course of your life forever: the very next person standing behind in line or sitting next to you on an airplane, the very next phone call you make or receive, the very next movie you see or book you read or page you turn could be the one single thing that causes the floodgates to open, and all of the things that you've been waiting for to fall into place."

~Anthony Robbins

It just can't get much better than that.

So today when I go to the doctor and he asks how I have been doing, I probably won't tell him the whole story, but I will tell him that it has been a journey I shall not regret ~ or forget!

WAITING TO WAKE UP

2011-05-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

Where do you go when you just need to know that everything is going to be alright? When you are alone, afraid, full of butterflies and what if's? Who is there to just reach out and touch and know that you really aren't alone and that someone is there for you no matter what. Just to softly feel their touch and hear them say that all is going to be fine and to know without a doubt that they will be there for you with a hand and a smile.

People ask how you are and you say 'Well, not so good...I am scared, worried and anxious.' The response is 'Oh, okay.' The subject is changed rapidly, indicating that they didn't expect or want you to say how you really felt. They either don't know how to answer or simply don't care.

Strange this world. We all need mothering I suppose at one time or another. But what if no mother has ever been there for you? What if you don't know what that feels like? Or what if your mother never nurtured you or taught you how to feel compassion and empathy and a deep caring for another person who is struggling and afraid? How do you deal with this? How do you cope?

When my precious golden retriever Penny had limited time left on this earth, Kelsie became her mother. She snuggled close, sometimes seemingly barely touching her for fear she might hurt her. But this warmth and touch was all that was needed for Penny to know that she was cared for and loved and that someone was there for her no matter what. There was no distance between Penny and Kelsie.

It has been said that life is a circle, not a merry-go-round. Sometimes the distance between people is emphasized. It is then that that you come to understand that there are times when a real relationship is not possible. Because in a real relationship compassion requires intimacy - in good times and in bad. Compassion brings people together. When people receive compassion there is an effect on their health. This much I know.

I have a friend who uses the camera to create a separation between the soldiers and herself. This way she keeps the pain at arm's length. This she is honest about. This I can understand. Sometimes there is a fear of being helpless when you know there is nothing you can do. But is that right? Does that make it right? Isn't there always something you can do? Empty spaces with no words needed! There is no need to fill the silence with unnecessary words...sometimes your presence and a hand to hold is the greatest offering.

Whether a soldier or a child or you, we are all waiting to wake up. We all need to feel someone cares deeply for us. When your pain is not recognized, or worse yet ignored, it hurts. My questions is can you be loved unconditionally without this compassion?

We all need someone to be honest with, vulnerable with, sad with, afraid with, a good friend.

Once again I revert to the wisdom in one statement, "There are a few things in life that matter tremendously and most of them can be learned from our dogs."

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN?

2011-05-04T09:24:00.000-07:00

What do you do when? When the sky is falling Chicken Little? When everything you counted on is crumbling? When anticipation of an event either good or scary evaporates into thin air? What happens when you gather your troops around you and you aren't sure if they are really there or not?

I for one withdraw. I find a time for downtime, time to do nothing. I try to find the abundance already existing in my life. I try to focus on the simplest of luxuries that could cheer me, such as an hour of Tourandot, a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream, a yummy soft blanket and a snugly dog on the bed with me. I know the lack of abundance in my life often comes from worry, fretting, anxiety, deprivation of sleep and an excess of pain, both physical and mental. Lack of time and energy and little to no time with loved ones causes me to stumble and wobble and compete with my new progressive lens to find my way.

What do you do when the people you once totally relied on appear to be slipping further and further away? What do you do when you feel your life is slipping away? I expend a tremendous amount of time on caring for others. Tally this against what I expend on myself! One provides me with happiness and a light feeling...the other a feeling of fear that sometimes is hard to get rid of. So yes I, like most of you I would imagine, have one foot in both worlds. What should we do when we need a shoulder to lean on and it just isn't there? Excuses don't work in this space.

A difficult person or circumstance causes us to feel things we don't want to feel. So do we change the way we respond to them? Or does that worsen it? Or do we walk away? I want to be awakened this morning with an internal AHHAH! I want the answers. So perhaps, if I listen and pay attention the answers will come. They always seem to don't they? We expect one thing and it doesn't materialize. We tell ourselves that, "I guess it just wasn't meant to be." But was it? Did I mess it up?

George Orwell said, "Happiness can exist only in acceptance." Rats! Sometimes I don't like accepting things the way they are. I want to fight and rail against them. Instead I turn inward and try and hide from the pain. I found out a long time ago that bodies heal, but the spirit and soul can take much longer. Nothing happens by mistake.

When is it time to let go? When is it time to untie yourself from the negative? From the people that say one thing and do another.

So as was said in "Meet Joe Black" ~ "I am looking for that whisper or thrill that there is no sense living your life without."

For me caring for 'my' warriors is sacred. I am not motivated by how good I am doing. I am just helping one person one dog at a time. This is when I feel most alive. Perhaps that is all I need or should need.

But on the other hand Buddhist tradition asks, how can we put anything new or more into an already full cup. So it seems that when I am feeling empty and alone, I am in a cycle where I have to find a place to go and reflect and prepare for a new cycle. So today I will realize that dreams don't come true all the time. And that instead of being the victim, I will be empowered to move on to the good things that just might be around the corner. The place between ''no longer and not yet." I will let go and trust the mystery. For the music is made by the space between the notes.

AN ASSAULT TEAM

2011-04-27T07:34:00.000-07:00

Life speaks to all of us. We don't always hear.

As the wounded warriors pass through my life, I have come to realize that we all go through times where we don't feel blessed. It is only later that we discover where the blessing is. Where it has been hiding, until we awaken to find it. The bad thing is not a blessing, but the misfortunes can be turned into blessings.

For me, I am not unlike anyone else. My mission, if you will, is to love these warriors through it. I have incredible back up. I have amazing dog trainers who aren't envious of each other. They are working together as a team with a mission. They quite simply see the job at hand, feel the anguish of the warriors, and go on about their jobs, training a dog to save a warrior. I have an equally amazing head of TADSAW (Train a Dog~Save a Warrior) who gets it - the pain, the drive, the frustration, the passion. We all have gifts that no one else has. Together we form an assault team. Together it works, as we start to repair the brokenness one person at a time.

The courage exuded by these wounded warriors comes, but not always in a straight line. I find myself asking repeatedly, where does their courage come from. Preposterous as it might sound in a back handed sort of way, helping people with things that matter to them brings me some of the happiest days of my life. A warrior who has experienced hell hasn't escaped from the horror of it, just because he/she is home. This is the time when they send out a silent, or perhaps a not so silent, prayer saying, "Help me. I can't do it alone." This is when they pick up the phone and with a quivering voice ask us for help. Mission accomplished.

Then they find there is a dog, standing close by saying, "Show me what it is you want me to do." It is then the answer comes. Sometimes life speaks to us and we don't always hear. It is bigger than the warrior and the dog. It is about life lessons. It's about struggles, pain, laughter, love, healing and about paying attention to those who need us the most. Strangers living and struggling the best they can often give up. It as at this time that we have no choice but to step in and give back. Exposing and discovering the truth and filling their hearts with hope and a little dog has no guarantees, but it is all we have to give.

But suffice it to say, the odds are in their favor. This dog becomes a secuirty blanket wrapped around the warrior. Struggling with chronic depression, isolation, and fear, the warrior might find his dog upside down on the sofa wanting nothing more than a belly rub. Or standing at the foot of the bed with the leash in his mouth, as if to say, "Okay let's get outta here and talk a walk in the fresh air." It is then that peace and sanctuary are found in the most uncomplicated unbelieveable place. You see the dog doesn't give up on the warrior. No matter what, they are team and there is a kind of recentering that takes place. It is then that it is time to 'let go'. It is then that we see that home has nothing to do with a house.

The dog provides a gift of freedom and shelter that these men and women so desparately fought for. It is then that we all should gasp! For it is then that we are looking smack dab into the middle of courage.

So for today...take a stand. Even if you are the only one. There are people out there who are waiting for you, needing you more than you will ever imagine.

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"Great things are done when men and mountains meet."

~William Blake

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http://www.tadsaw.org/

Please help us help a warrior.

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WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE CARE

2011-04-26T08:20:00.000-07:00

"NEVER DOUBT THAT A SMALL GROUP OF COMMITTED PEOPLE CAN CHANGE THE WORLD. INDEED, IT IS THE ONLY THING THAT EVER HAS ." ~ UNKNOWN

It is the degree of character. It is the depth of commitment. It is devotion. It is the quality of your service. It is your passion. It is your ability to care.

In a hundred years, it won't matter what kind of car you drive, what size house you live in, or what your bank balance might be. What will matter is that you made a difference in a life. That you cared enough about someone, other than yourself, to understand the honor in giving. And that, that honor is enough.

How often do you see people standing on the sidelines? Watching, observing, doing nothing. They grumble and complain and turn up their noses at society, the government, the life they live. They make noise but do nothing.

Making a difference is a marriage of the people who care, who contribute the best that they have toward creating a person, a world, that is substantially improved because they cared. This caring carries with it peace. To many, many who have only known suffering and pain and whose spirits are beaten, it is up to us to help them find peace. Albert Camus said, " Peace is the only battle worth waging." People don't get better because you talk about it. They get better because you cared enough to help them, to reach our your hand and offer your heart. To be there for them when they are struggling. To be there for them when they hurt, are in pain, are afraid, are alone. Be there for them with a hand to hold and a heart that hears and understands.

This is what Penny's From Heaven Foundation and Train a Dog ~ Save a Warrior is predicated upon. Being there. Being present. Answering the call for help when it comes.

A young woman, a former medic, from OIF called me yesterday. She wants to save her marriage, her family, her life. She wants a life. A life free of fear, free of anxiety. She wants to go to her daughter's graduation on a plane that she is not afraid of getting on. She wants to be able to stand in the airport in the Vermont hub and see 'boots on the ground' heading off to Iraq/Afghanistan without fearing for their future and becoming paralyzed with a panic attack.

I listened. I heard. She said she had called at least ten other organizations advertising service dogs for PTSD. They either did not answer, they didn't care, were too busy to listen, an answer phone picked up, or they wanted money, and it would take years. How sad.

Within 30 minutes three people from TADSAW (Train a Dog ~ Save a Warrior) had called her, talked to her, and listened. She now has hope. What a huge word that is! Hope. For 6 years she has continued the battle that came home with her from Iraq. She hid it from her husband. She struggled with this hell alone. Now she has his support and she has been given the gift of hope.

Those who have borne the battle, carried it home, need our help. If we can offer a dog that will open a door to a new and less fearful life, it is our honor. Perhaps now she will not have to go inside herself to nurse her wounds.

Our warriors returning with PTSD try to escape their thoughts, their feelings, having to think or escape themselves. They fear being alone, the cell phone, a restaurant, a shop. They connect to everyone but themselves. So when things break up and fences fall over and desperation and powerlessness slink in, TADSAW is here. And perhaps, just perhaps with a service dog by their side life will not be quite so bad. Don't we owe them that much?

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www.tadsaw.org

Please contribute and help us save a warrior.

SITTING IN AMAZEMENT

2011-04-24T06:47:00.000-07:00

Each Spring for as long as I can remember, the tree ducks fly in like clockwork. When they arrive, you can almost hear the sound of trumpets, heralding the beginning of a new season. The neighbors are alerted and phone calls begin. There is a frenzy created, as eyes peaking out of windows watch for which neighborhood tree will be blessed with the nesting couple. Here in the middle of suburbia we have ducks nesting in trees. Not such a big deal to some I suppose, but to us it is.

A few nights ago they landed on my neighbor's roof. I sat in my back yard, camera focused to record the event. They stood almost posing for me, their old friend, almost as if to say 'How's it been? Long winter huh?'

As I sat there I observed, contemplated, and wondered with amazement. Where had they spent the winter? How do they consistently find their way back to the same state, city, neighborhood, street, and tree each year? I had no answers, but only to marvel and be amazed.

It is mysterious this phenomena. It is my deepest belief that he who cannot sit in amazement and feel this emotion is seriously lacking. Albert Einstein said, "The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. He who knows it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out can." Who am I to disagree?

Today, this Easter Sunday, I invite you to sit in amazement. Amazement at the smallest details that surround you. Sometimes reality is better than television, movies, and yes, even dreams. Defined as a state of wonderment, surprise or astonishment, amazement is a beautiful thing. It can be captured in the complex and in the most simplistic. But don't allow yourself to miss out. Today be amazed!

Happy Easter.

WHO SAVES THE HERO?

2011-04-23T08:15:00.000-07:00

"A HERO ~ An ordinary person facing extraordinary circumstances and acting with courage, honor, and self-sacrifice."

I listen. I listen intently. Not being twenty anymore, I don't always remember, but I do listen. I scribble down words on napkins, menus, backs of envelopes, anywhere about comments I hear, signs, things, people, strangers, places, observations, and thoughts. Today I recall lyrics from 'SAVE THE HERO' with Beyonce. "Who is there to save the girl after she saved the world? Who is there to save the hero?"

It got me to thinking. I am surrounded by heroes. Friends, people I love and that love me back, that won't let me down no matter what. Strangers that smile out of nowhere when I pass them on the street. My Kelsie whose head is resting warm and content on my leg, as I type this morning. The soft breathing of Gracie in her snugly little bed next to my desk, after a day of hunting Easter eggs with wounded warrior's children. And I am surrounded by people who go out of their way for people they don't even know. People who pray for a little dog they have never met that is fighting for his life. People who are struggling with him, willing him to live. People who are kind and compassionate and full of joy in giving to others, asking nothing in return. People who exude the right stuff, the right vibes, the good feelings. People who are not absorbed in themselves and negativity. And I am surrounded by 'our' warriors, who put themselves last, to protect and defend this great nation.

" I believe we need heroes, I believe we need certain people who we can measure our own shortcomings by."

~Richard Attenborough

I am a better person because of the heroes around me. I totally believe that. From them I have learned compassion, generosity, forgiveness, reconciliation, giving, loving, and self improvement.

Recently I listened as a Stage Four cancer patient on the telephone spoke to me of her deep and abiding love of her animals, "God put these little critters on earth to teach us how to treat each other." Wow! I could not agree more. How beautifully the words of this legacy. I will leave it to you to make of this as you will. Those of you with pets will understand. And those of you without...well I hope someday you will find your own little critter to teach you how to treat others.

Today on this day before Easter, I invite you to think of who your heroes are. Who inspires you and motivates you to become a better person? Who do you give back to willingly without asking anything in return? When any of us are under hostile fire to whom do we turn? Heroes don't brag or toot their own horn. As Jean Rousseau said, "Heroes are not known by the loftiness of their carriage; the greatest braggarts are generally the merest cowards."

So for now, for today TADSAW is there to save a hero, save a warrior. One at a time. For that is all we can do. It is the least we can do. It is the most we can do. It is what we must do.

If you would like to help save a hero please visit http://www.tadsaw.org/ . Donations are tax deductible and greatly appreciated. 100% goes to save a hero!

HAPPY EASTER AND PASSOVER EVERYONE!

GUARDEDLY OPTIMISTIC

2011-04-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

Gifts come in various ways, shapes and forms. On this Good Friday I was given a gift of just two words. "Guardedly optimistic!"

Gunny, a TADSAW (Train a Dog ~ Save a Warrior) service dog in training has been critically ill. He was given a diagnosis of probable distemper, with a longevity of two to three days at the most. Today is day four. After a zillion phone calls back and forth to the veterinarian, today we received "Guardedly optimistic." I will take it!

This dog is a fighter. He has the finest medical care available. His trainer and her husband's lives, as well as their personal family dogs, have been turned topsy turvy caring for Gunny, bleaching everything in sight, force feeding him, and watching him night and day for signs both good and bad. He is not out of the woods yet. But prayers and excellent care are working so far.

Sometimes you just have to believe! Sometimes believing is all you can do ~ believe and pray. Gunny has had plenty of both on his behalf.

I am the visionary. I want the fairy tale ending. I want the dog to break free from this horrific virus he has contracted from a previous life, a life lacking in love and care. I want this dog to go to his warrior that is consumed by PTSD and each strengthen the other. I want the 'happily ever after.'

Whether we get the fairy tale ending remains to be seen. But if wishing makes it so.......

Today Gunny ate without being force fed. He sat on the back porch of his trainer's home and saw a squirrel jumping from tree to tree. He got up and ran and chased it, almost catching it. He picked up his tennis ball on a rope and took it to his trainer. She tossed it a few yards, and he retrieved it, dropped it at her feet and repeated the process. Then he sat down, seemed comfy and dozed lazily in the sunshine. We celebrated this baby step.

He wants to live. He has no way of knowing, but there is a young man out there waiting for him. Needing him, just as Gunny needs him. A young man who also was a fighter in a war far away. He paid the price and is struggling. The similarities are striking. Please God let them meet and live to nourish each other and to teach all of us what returning to life is all about.

Today my Christmas Cactus is full of brilliant pink blossoms. It is Good Friday. I am taking this as a sign. A sign that this dog will survive to snuggle close to a young man who has found that the war doesn't end when you come home ~ it just begins.

GUNNY ~ The Fight of his Life

2011-04-21T06:49:00.000-07:00

It's about life lessons. It is about pain, laughter, love, healing. It's about paying attention to the gifts we have been given. It is about living each day the best we can. And it is about giving back. It is about acceptance. And if we are lucky, we might just discover the truth. One of which is that life has no guarantees.

Today I learned not to give up on someone or something. I am struggling. I am hurting. I am feeling things I don't want to feel. Today it seems that repairing the brokenness in others becomes way too personal for me. Our little service dog in training Gunny is fighting the battle of his life ~ for his life. I want to fix him. I want to give someone anything I have to save this dog's life. I haven't quit praying for Gunny and all the others like him that have never experienced love. He now knows what it is like. I pray it is not too late. It isn't right. It isn't fair. He needs to live to save the life of a warrior who needs him as much as Gunny needs him. I love this dog's spirit, soul, and heart. This dog with a coon skin hat.

Our service dogs are like a protective coating, blankets wrapped around their warriors. But for now all I want in the world is to put a protective coating around Gunny and not let him leave this world ~ not yet. Not so soon.

Today I have to say, "Thy will be done." And then listen and wait and pray. Today I need the gift of courage. I wish I could go out and buy sanity and serenity.

OVERSACRIFICING

2011-04-18T06:40:00.000-07:00

"It was only a sunny smile and little it cost in the giving but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living." ~ Anonymous

Have you ever been in a place somewhere between bafflement and faith? You are not stuck exactly, but not completely sure where you are going. Sometimes I find myself playing a game of eenie-meenie-miney-moe, while trying to deliberate between knowing exactly what I want, versus digging my heals in and changing nothing.

Remember Alice in Wonderland? Alice found by eating the magic mushrooms her size changed. This I understand. Some days I feel very small and then others quite big. Some days strong and some days weak.

I guess to some degree we are all balancing what we are now and what we want to be or become, or should be in someone else's eyes. It is all quite dizzying.

Okay, here is the deal. I oversacrifice my life for others. It's not a secret. Friends tell me, professionals tell me, doctors tell me. And oddly enough, I tell me! This behavior is hard to indulge. It is also equally hard to get rid of. I want to stop, but don't, or can't, or won't. Or there may be guilt involved.

False niceness is sabotaging and needs to be shed, removed, gotten rid of. It is then that you find who is really there for you in the long haul. Excuse me if I have to say that this is liberating, freeing. It is like spreading your wings and flying high in the clouds with a background of bird egg blue sky. Perhaps removing the falseness will make room for the more important things. And perhaps it is in this place that you find joy.

The desire to be everything to everyone blocks our flow. Who we really are vanishes in the process. But how do you say no? How do you set the boundaries? How do you get rid of the 'stuff' and people that drag you to the depths?

Okay, so what is the payoff, our payoff, to remaining stuck? Ahh. That is the question that needs thought. That is the question that needs answering. Listen to your heart.

My Gracie, in the photograph, is who I want to emulate. Almost completely blind, she is joyful at the least little thing. From a running jump into my lap every morning, as I race to get the coffee cup out of the way. She gets her 'snuggle' and her 'settle' and as if to say thank you, jumps off my lap and races around the room, as if she is saluting another beautiful day, by simply running for joy. I want to feel that way.

Gracie opens my heart in ways that nothing else can . As she stretches out upside down on my lap to get her tummy scratches, she is at peace. She can also be irritating beyond belief in her indefatigable pursuit of being the single most stubborn creature on earth. But this I admire. She knows what she wants. She knows who she is. And she is perfectly content with that. Others might find her a bit of a challenge and overwhelming at times, but she doesn't care. She doesn't change her core spirit, and that is just fine. Why can't we all be that way?

Why can't we all find our river and just go with the flow - without having to change direction constantly to suit someone else's needs, wants or desires? Perhaps as we find our true internal guide we can shake the fruit tree and reality will be delivered.

As a creative spirit, I must have downtime, time to do nothing! Withdrawl is mandatory. Without this period of recharging and solitude, I become depleted. But others don't always, or shall I say seldom, understand this. I am considered aloof, unapproachable, and more frequently intimidating. The tendency is to say 'I'm sorry.' But I don't. This is who I am. And I will not apologize. There are times that I quite simply need to nurture myself. I refuse to make a virtue out of depriving myself of what I need the most. Others will need to understand or get out of the way. Sounds a bit strong I suppose or perhaps selfish, but what good am I to anyone, if I am not who I am to myself?

So no excuses, no suffocating in the quagmire of what others think we should be, or say, or do. Today I will listen to Gracie and I will listen to that still small voice inside of me that says, 'I am enough.'

IN THE MIDST OF WAITING

2011-04-17T08:38:00.000-07:00

Waiting is something that can be learned in a garden. Each morning and afternoon I venture to the newly planted vegetable garden to see the progress and visit with a squirrel I have named Fred, as he digs holes to bury next seasons dinner. He is irritating, and I have conversed with him about it, but he is no less a part of nature than the white wing doves, observing it all from their nest in the oak tree just above the yellow tomato blooms.

I wait for the vegetables to be ready to be picked, Fred waits, most likely to try and beat me to them, and the mother dove waits for her babies to hatch. Perhaps it is in this waiting that we find life.

It is 6:30 am and the birds are chattering outside my bedroom window, telling me it is time to get up, as is a cold nose nudging my arm under the blanket. Spring is everywhere. The yellow Forsythia blossoms are vibrant butter yellow. The pansies are showing their most beguiling faces and the herb plants are at their most fragrant. It is the time we have waited for all winter.

But in the midst of this it is learned that last week two more of our warriors committed suicide. They could no longer take the pain of PTSD. This news has shattered the lives of warriors I personally know here that were friends of these young men. How do they overcome this horrific news? How do any of us? How I wish it could have been different. How I wish I could have somehow helped.

I don't have the answer. I don't know who does. This morning I pray for these young men, and I pray for their families. And I listen to the birds. I listen to Springtime. I listen to life. And I cry.

"A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song." ~Chinese Proverb

GIVE ME A HOME WHERE THE BUFFALO ROAM

2011-04-13T07:22:00.000-07:00

What exactly does a 'Therapy Buffalo' do? I hear this over and over and over again. I have thought about it at great length and have no concrete, specific answers. What I can tell you is that "Bunky," Train a Dog ~ Save a Warrior's largest and grandest therapist, indeed does make a difference.

Okay, what kind of a difference does he make? To begin with, he is a catalyst to get our wounded warriors and their families, that have never seen a buffalo much less been close to one, out of their rather closed environment and daily rituals of medical appointments, sitting, waiting, and all too frequent isolation and pain, which leads to depression. Just the thought of a day in the country, in the fresh air, in the country they sacrificed so much for, brings them out of the shell they are living in, to feed a pellet of two to a buffalo and to pet his nose.

There is no scarcity of joy and laughter at the ranch. Bunky will come when called and is more than eager to stick out his tongue to accept a bit of hay or a pellet. There is no rehearsal, no anxiety, no deadlines of 'hurry up and wait.' There is just a slight breeze, a clear South Texas blue sky, and perhaps an occasional thought of buffalo and Indians and days gone by. Bunky delights in bringing light to the dark places. Or so we wish to think. He, without a moment's hesitation, changes moods, lightens burdens, and has a way of making a difference.

Much the same as a Therapy Dog and their abilities of non judgmental acceptance. These warriors have been through hell. Returning to a country they sacrificed dearly for. Some return with missing limbs, some with severe burns and some with missing hearts! They have to learn how to be a part of a life that is foreign to them. They left one person and have returned to us quite another. The shrapnel of war is left in bodies, as well as in hearts. Isn't it the least any of us can do to try whatever we can to say thank you, to say welcome home, to say we are grateful, and to offer no judgement, merely acceptance and love.

"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." ~Crowfoot

It is a peaceful environment where the only distractions are horses, cats, dogs, and fish ponds, where owls and coyotes serenade at night. Where the warrior's children run and play and, at least for a while, remember that they are children in a space free from worry, anxiety and concern for a parent struggling to remember who he is or families who might fight to keep from drifting apart.

Once the bison was food, clothing, life and shelter to the Indians, in a place and time when thousands of these magnificient creatures darkened the rolling plains. Today at least one of these highly intelligent animals is providing a different kind of life to some of the men and women who have, with courage and bravado, provided us with safety in this great country where the buffalo once roamed and seldom was heard a discouraging word!

Today I truly wonder if their glory does indeed exceed ours. Perhaps herein lies the answer.

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Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam

Where the deer and the antelope play

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word

And the skies are not cloudy all day

Home, home on the range

Where the deer and the antelope play

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word

And the skies are not cloudy all day

How often at night where the heavens are bright

With the light of the glittering stars

Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed

If their glory exceeds that of ours

Home, home on the range

Where the deer and the antelope play

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word

And the skies are not cloudy all day

Then give me a land where the bright diamond sand

Flows leisurely down to the stream

Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along

Like a maid in a heavenly dream

Oh I would not exchange my old home on the range

Where the deer and the antelope play

Where the seldom is heard a discouraging word

And the skies are not cloudy all day.