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200 pieces of my heart

20151007_111939 — My mom, nephew and I found this heart earlier this month during their Balloon Fiesta visit. We thought of my dad the whole time.

There is a trail by my house that is perfectly challenging and beautiful, and when I take advantage of it, I not only come home with a great view of the city and the occasional cactus bloom or sunflower in my head, but often a better outlook on my life.

Let’s face it. It’s been a rough year.

I recently started running on this trail more often thanks to a challenge from a friend to run a 10K. I wanted to compete in a long race for my dad this year but never mustered up the energy to even sign up for something longer than a 5K until this friend said she was running a half marathon and invited me to do it, too. At that point in the year, I didn’t have enough time to train for 13.1 miles, but figured I could train for 6.2. I made the official commitment on Sept. 1 and signed up for the Duke City race on Oct. 18.

Six weeks was not a lot of time. Things got crazy and I didn’t get to train as much as I wanted, but long-story-short, I unexpectedly ended up running the whole race and finished around my average time. This was some sort of miracle, I promise you, but there were a few other miracles and mind-opening moments while training for that race I want to share.

I told you it’s been a rough year and I know this isn’t a surprise to you if you’re a close friend, family member, or anyone who has been reading this blog since December. For me, it’s really hard to run when my heart feels heavy and overwhelmed. Some days I’d go out on that trail and come home very frustrated because my mind kept me from doing my best. It was filled with the things that make me sad and it’s really hard to keep my legs moving when all I want to do is go home, crawl under my covers and be mad at the world.

There were a few good runs in there though, and one of them in particular has stayed with me. I don’t remember how fast I went that day, or how many times I had to stop mid-hill, but I do remember knowing in that moment that my heart is healing.

The first time I wrote on this blog after my dad passed away, I said, “Sometimes your heart breaks into 1,000 pieces.” It’s true. Sometimes life is just that way. For me, it happened Dec. 16 on my way to meet a friend for coffee. The moment was so unsuspecting. Sometimes life is just that way, too. All of the sudden you’re making U-turns, but you don’t really know where you’re supposed to go because your heart just fell to the ground and you realize the world has no refuge for you. If your heart can shatter right after missing a left turn on a road you’ve driven a million times, it can shatter anywhere.

It wasn’t long before I was sobbing on the floor of my living room. And it wasn’t long after that when I found myself in bed on the phone trying to sort out pieces that wouldn’t be known for hours. It seems I was on the phone all night. At the table. On the floor in front of my bed. In the dining room while pacing and making plans.

On that first day when you’re heart breaks into 1,000 pieces, nothing seems quite real. You almost wonder if you’ll wake up from it. On the second day, everyone is forced to start making really big decisions. Within seven days, you’ve most likely survived the viewing, the funeral, and the burial. For us, nine days later we celebrated our first major holiday without my dad – Christmas. Those firsts sometimes hit like a ton of bricks. Eleven days later, I was back at work editing and posting stories about an accidental shooting. More bricks.

From there on out, life sometimes feels like a corn maze. Sometimes you’re on the right path, and sometimes you’re not. Sometimes you’re going in circles and seeing the same things twice. Oops. It’s haunted sometimes; there’s the regrets and if onlys, and it feels like someone (maybe it’s yourself) is trying to chase you out of this horrible place and you’re screaming while running for the exit you can’t find.

Not all days are bad. There are really good days and there are actually a lot of normal days. You learn that no one and nothing will ever let you grieve for as long as you want to, so you learn to go on and pretend in most situations that everything is OK.

There are possibly more moments when you remember not to take things for granted. You see everything differently – from the clouds, rainbows, and sunsets, to the lightning, wind and starry skies. You notice more deeply when you’re on an adventure your loved one would have enjoyed having too, and you hope he’s with you somehow. For me, one of those moments was riding on a working choo-choo train from Durango to Silverton this summer where Travis, his dad and I all ended up with soot on our faces, wind-blown hair and memories to last a lifetime. The afternoon Travis and I took a boat under the Golden Gate Bridge was another moment my dad would have loved. Of course I thought about him when Travis and I were hundreds of feet above ground in a hot air balloon this August, and on the morning my mom and brother’s family was in town to see hundreds of hot air balloons launch all around us. I also know he would have loved to finish a race with me, so I don’t doubt that he actually did in spirit on Oct. 18.

Remember how I said my heart is healing? It’s a slow process, but I know that it is. During that training run on the trail by my house, I started thinking about how I was really close to reaching my 200th heart post on Instgram since May. I thought about the places they’ve been found and the people who have sent them to me. They’ve been discovered in the sky, as potato chips, in canyons and pumpkin patches. Friends visiting Scotland, England, Ireland and Japan and photographed them on sidewalks, sewer covers, statues and flower fields. Hearts have appeared as watermelons, water spots, bubbles, bricks and bark. They are everywhere, and they often come with a happy story or adventure attached.

I’ve known how incredible this is, but it struck me again during that run. I realized even though my soul broke into 1,000 pieces 10 months ago, every time I find a heart, or every time someone sends a picture, it’s like one of the shattered pieces is being put back together.

Sometimes your heart breaks into 1,000 pieces. It’s true. Sometimes life is just that way.

On that first day when you’re heart breaks into 1,000 pieces, nothing seems quite real.

I’ve lived 313 days since then and I can tell you it’s all real now – the pain, the loss, the grieving. But I can also tell you the healing is real, too, and you’re helping me with that. Thanks so much for sending me your hearts – your miracles – because they’ve become my miracles, too. I always say this, but we’re really all in this together. Thanks for taking me in, for thinking of my family, for sending your love and for helping at least 200 pieces of my heart feel like they’re on their way to being whole again.

As my husband reminded me yesterday when he gave me a heart necklace, every piece of my shattered heart has the ability to love everyone else, too. And one day, we’ll live in a space where there is no suffering, loss, or danger. Until then, I can work on making that place inside my own living, beating, healing heart.

beauty friendship life love

realizing more in the moment

Post author By Manette
Post date August 26, 2015
No Comments on realizing more in the moment

My friend Brittny is really good at helping others realize more about the moment than what most people ordinarily see. She is an excellent writer, so I think some of the observations she brings to the forefront come from that creative, analytic side of her.

In May, I got to be in Washington with her the weekend she turned 33, and we spent the whole time celebrating best friendship, big cities, beaches, and even Beyonce. We made sure to spend a day in Seattle because my only memory of that place consists of my 5-year-old self and my mom in the rain. I think we went to a children’s museum, but I don’t remember anything else.

On the day Brittny and I drove from Olympia to Seattle, we blared music down the freeway, sang top 40 pop songs, Taylor Swift and Yellowcard. She made sure to belt Beyonce at the top of her lungs. It was sunny and everything on both sides of the road was green. Brittny told me this would be our day, and that it was going to be a good day. We would have other time during the weekend to really talk about our lives, our troubles, our heartbreaks, but our Seattle day would be about all things happy.

We left Brittny’s car in a parking garage near the ocean, and started walking down to the waterfront where we watched ferries travel between islands and saw people line up for the Ferris wheel. A lot of people like us were taking pictures of the skyline and the water. From there, we started walking again in the direction of Pike Place Market.

Brittny pointed out the smells of the restaurants and the ocean. Seattle smelled like Indian food and spices and salt water. When we got closer to the market, Seattle was made of wet, squishy, bubblegum between our fingers that we stuck on walls like everyone else. Seattle was a moment when Brittny realized she actually could not blow a bubble and so we laughed while taking at least 20 photos of her attempts.

Then Seattle changed to the smell of seafood and giant fish being thrown back and forth between market workers dressed in orange waders. And following that seafood smell, came the fresh scent of pink peonies, purple tulips, yellow lilies. Bouquets were made in every color, shape and size, while thousands of flowers waited in buckets to be transformed into full-on artistic masterpieces that could be purchased for $15. The flowers, I tell you, were magical.

We meandered through art displays and looked at paintings and photographs. I bought a couple prints to hang up at home and a bag of Rainier cherries the color of sunsets that tasted like summer. We sat and ate those cherries at Waterfront Park before moving on to coffee and Beechers, where we ordered two kinds of macaroni and cheese, tasted curds, and watched through sidewalk windows as machines churned milk in vats.

We walked all day in that lovely city and while we had a plan to see certain things, it often felt like there was no plan at all. We stopped in a shop that only sold umbrellas, and another that sold all things maps and globes. Whenever we got a little thirsty we found another coffee shop to sip on frozen Frappuccinos or lavender lattes.

We took an elevator to the top of the Space Needle where we could see all over Seattle and out to the islands. Sometimes when you’re up high like that, you get to imagine what it’s like being one of the people who live in that city every day. What are their lives like? What are their problems? What are their dreams? Do they feel lucky that they live in a city that smells like salt water, spices, Indian food, coffee and cheese?

We talked about all kinds of things on top of that Needle, and Brittny pointed out the landscape while the wind blew our hair around and made us laugh.

Then we walked to Kerry Park where teenagers in formal dresses of all colors were taking pictures before they headed off to prom. There were selfie sticks and smiles and a little of that teenage awkwardness that always comes along with dating and dressing to impress. Oh to be teenagers again, we wondered. What would we have done differently?

It was a perfect day. From Kerry Park we walked miles back to our car, talking the whole time about nothing and everything. I remember it was a day I felt truly alive.

It was a rough five months between the time my dad died and my visit to Seattle. It’s still rough. I have found, however, that one way I can always find myself is when I’m with a really good friend who makes me laugh, dream, think, explore and realize more about the moment. The same thing happened a couple months later while on a trip with Travis in San Francisco where we filled ourselves with Italian food covered in garlic, purchased loose leaf tea in Chinatown, took a boat that went under the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz, and hiked all along the north beaches. At some point he told me I seemed really happy and I said, “I told you I’m my best self while traveling.”

There is just something about traveling – and there is something about the people in my life – that makes me feel whole again. Life can be blue, foggy, gray and dizzy, but give me a plane ticket, good food and company and I am OK again, at least for a while.

It was so sunny that day in Seattle. The clouds were perfect, the water was blue and once again, I felt like someone or something was watching out for me. That night, we drove back to Olympia and talked about our families. We discussed everything that is hard right now. I cried. I told Brittny about the regrets I have from when my dad was alive.

Brittny and I spent the rest of that weekend eating at cute local restaurants, getting our palms read at a farmer’s market, walking by the water and touring the Capitol. We got dressed up and had dinner with Brittny’s closest friends for her birthday, then danced to Usher and Madonna and dozens of other happy songs in a hot, bouncing bar. I was drunk and nostalgic then as I told Brittny, Devin and their friend Molly I was so happy we were together.

On our last full day, we went to Ocean Shores for Brittny’s real birthday and spent hours running around looking for sand dollars. We sat on the Jetty and listened to music in the wind. Brittny wanted us to take in that moment separately. She wanted to think about her own life and happiness.

I think these reasons are why I felt alive after five months of feeling unlike myself. I needed upbeat music, sunshine, and the ocean. I needed a good friend. I think it’s important to take time out, to see something new, to spend that time with someone who realizes more about the moment than what most people ordinarily see.

life

life goes on

“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”
― Robert Frost

Summer sort of snuck up on me. I’m still very unsure how time moves so fast and I’m sure I’ll be saying that the rest of my life. We’re halfway through June, all the blossoms in our backyard have turned to green leaves, our roses have all bloomed and been trimmed for the first time this year, and my two spring trips to Utah and Seattle now feel far away.

I’m doing much better than I was six months ago. Life has forced me to keep moving since my dad passed away. Six months. Is it really true we’ll hit that point this week?

Life moves on in good ways and bad. When you lose someone, with each season you’re reminded of the things that person should be here for. In May, my dad should have taken the trailer up to Star Valley where he and my mom would spend weekends golfing. He should be out in the yard helping my mom with sprinkler problems and mowing the grass in their huge yard. He would be playing fetch with Sarge and taking the grandkids out on adventures. Maybe he’d be planning a trip to visit me.

No matter how much you want it to stop sometimes, life never does; it changes and pushes you with it, much to your resistance. It feels like people are beginning to forget because you’re smiling, planning, riding your bike, going to work, and by all outward accounts, you look like you’ve returned to normal. People don’t know what to ask anymore and they’re just happy that you seem happy. Even if they did ask, you’d say you were doing well. That’s the standard answer and you often feel like you are doing well because you’re not always looking closely either.

Sometimes, however, you wonder how summer came without you. It’s true that your body and mind can move along as usual with the seasons, even though your heart is still stuck in some sort of place between winter and spring.

People grieve their whole lives, and that is OK, but the way they grieve changes. If I could keep one thing from those first few weeks of grief it would be the realization that so many things I care and worry about don’t matter. I hoped to never return to any type of drama, gossip, or worry that only brought me down. I wanted to rid myself of anything that seemed toxic, from relationships that were not beneficial, to being upset about the most trivial of things. Unfortunately, I fail at this in some way every day and I’m often easily overwhelmed by silly things. Life moved on and those things came with me.

I recently read a couple of blogs that reminded me to live in each moment more, and that is what I am trying to do. I try to put my phone away each day for some period of time so I’m not mindlessly checking it while doing other things. I’m not reading the news right now so that I can reduce my worry of things I can’t change all over the world. I’m using a planner again to help me stay focused.

No matter what I’m doing, whether it be folding laundry, watching my favorite movie, going for a hike, talking to my husband, or working on an art project, I want to be there in that moment. Life is going to keep moving no matter what, and I want to be present for it. I want to feel everything there is to feel in the good and bad moments, and hopefully create more good memories than bad. Writing in my journal also seems to be a nice relief because when I’m writing about life away from a screen, distractions are fewer and time seems to slow down.

I think the hardest thing about life going on is knowing with every second, every hour, every day and every action, you’re moving farther from the last moment you were with the person you loved and lost. You know some memories will fade and you’ll never get them back.

Perhaps if I’m more in the present, I can create fuller memories. Maybe autumn won’t take me by surprise. Only time will tell.

beauty friendship hearts life love

the heart hunt: part 3

One morning on my way to work a few months back, the song “I’m Already There” by Lonestar came on the radio and took my breath away just a little bit. I was coming around the corner to the building, then I parked and sat in the dark while listening to the rest of the words.

“I’m already there
Take a look around
I’m the sunshine in your hair
I’m the shadow on the ground
I’m the whisper in the wind
And I’ll be there until the end
Can you feel the love that we share
Oh I’m already there”

Of course the song hit me as it never had before since it’s about a man missing his family and the ways he shows them he’s never completely gone. The words are perfect for me and tell the story I am living. In the first few months after my dad died, I would get to work before sunrise and was lucky enough to have a few minutes some days to walk up to the roof and look out on the soft pink and smokey blue clouds at dawn. One morning I saw birds flying among them and it felt like it was on purpose – like my dad sent them for me. I’m so thankful for the moments I feel like I’m being looked after, and for those minutes when it feels like heaven is really just barely beyond what I can see.

You know how I’ve been looking for hearts? I see them everywhere now. Yesterday I was on a hike and saw more than I can count, and brought three heart rocks home. Today that Lonestar song crossed my mind again and I thought about how whenever I see a heart, it’s like my dad is saying “I’m already there. Take a look around.”

I also see that this sentiment has reached so many of you, too. I can’t believe how you’re looking out for me. In the last month since I wrote about this heart hunt, I’ve received hearts from places as far away as Hawaii, Florida and even Japan! There have been so many I can hardly believe it. Thank you so much! The last five months or so have been the hardest of my life, but these little surprises that show up in my text and Facebook inboxes make me happy every time. I’m going to attempt to post them all here, and I apologize if I forgot any. Just know every single one has been a bright spot in my day, my week, my life – and your friendship and love means a million times more.

I’ve decided to make a public Instagram page, @huntingforhearts, where I can post hearts as I find them and as they are sent to me. The page will be for my dad and I hope it will showcase love in many unexpected ways near and far. I invite you to join in and/or follow along! I think you might be surprised at how fun they are to discover. I love hearing about the stories and places where my friends and family members have found them.

There have been so many hearts found in the last month I was able to make six collages! They are labeled below left to right, top row to bottom row.

1. My cousin Amee in Arizona sent this photo after she and her kids found a heart-shaped Cadbury egg.
2. Unfortunately, I don’t remember who sent me this photo of beautiful bleeding hearts. I love these.
3. During her vacation in Hawaii, my friend Candace found this coral heart. I’d just read that day that heart rocks are often found at beaches because they are tossed and turned. I love the analogy that love can be carved from the rough waves in life.
4. While visiting my friend Brittny in Washington in May, she showed me this picture in her apartment which contained three hidden hearts (two are pictured here).
5. My junior high and high school band buddy Christiane saw this heart in her bathroom tile the day after she read my last post. She said she probably steps on it every day. Christiane lives in Utah and came to my dad’s viewing after I hadn’t seen her in years. We’re emailing now after she sent this heart. Some friends last for life, no matter the time or distance.
6. Our friends Emilie and Garrett came to visit me and Travis from Utah over Memorial Day weekend. We were standing in line at Chipotle when Emilie noticed she was wearing a heart shirt filled with names of strong women. Emilie is one of the strongest women I know.
7. My friend Devin in Washington sent this photo from Olympia after the trees at his apartment were trimmed. It’s a heart inside a heart, he said.
8. My elementary school friend Latasha sent this heart over Facebook. She said she glanced over at her Ten Commandments plaque and saw the reflection of a heart. She also said she was glad my dad could be in her life every day now. So sweet.

1. After a Florida storm, my cousin Genevieve sent me this heart over Instagram while on vacation. I love stormy skies.
2. My friend Holly, who has been my friend for almost 10 years now, sent this heart from Virginia the day after my last post.
3. My friend Latasha sent this heart from Utah of her fuzzy heart socks. She included the hashtag #huntingforhearts which I’m now using for my Instagram posts and page name.
4. My mother-in-law Irma said she thought of me when she saw this photo of New Caledonia, which is a French territory comprised of dozens of islands. Her text came from Arizona.
5. My mom’s sweet student in Utah made this. “More hearts makes more love.”
6. My sweet cousin Katie Rae almost walked right past this ladybug one day, then had a feeling she should go back. When she took a closer look, she found a heart right behind its head. Her dad died a year before mine and when she sent her text from Utah, she said she knows our dads are watching over us. I know it too.
7. My friend Kelly said this photo is admittedly mushy, but that she wanted to send it anyway. It’s from her honeymoon in Hawaii. I want to see that rock someday if that means I’m in Hawaii!
8. This photo was taken by me last weekend while walking around our neighborhood.
9. Brittny sent this photo of heart-shaped garlic she found while making dinner with Devin one night. She says garlic is heart healthy, you know.

1. I spotted this heart on a stoplight in Seattle while visiting Brittny. We walked everywhere that day and had the time of our lives doing all the touristy things.
2. My dear friend Miranda, who has the cutest boxer in the world, sent this picture from Utah of a heart spot on her dog. His fur just grows that way!
3. Memories of sleepovers at my friend Nikie’s pond in Idaho came back to me when she sent me this heart. I love that place and thinking of the rodeo before sleeping under all those stars.
4. The other day, my lifelong friend Mindy found this perfectly-shaped chicken nugget heart while making dinner with her kids.
5. My sweet sister-in-law Melissa was having a bad day and almost sent me a text to tell me she looks for hearts everywhere and never finds them. Then she looked up and found this on her wall – a heart my brother painted in their bathroom for her a couple Christmases ago.
6. This heart comes from a Scentsy light. My friend Jamie, who used to make me laugh every day at The Herald Journal in Utah, saw it on her wall and thought of me.
7. Melissa continued to see hearts after that day she thought she couldn’t see any. She and my mom found this one in my mom’s yard one day.
8. My mom eats kid food sometimes (she is a first grade teacher after all), and one day at lunch they served her this heart-shaped chicken patty.
9. A gum heart was found on the ground in Ohio and sent to me by my good friend Mandy.

1. During the Tulip Festival at Thanksgiving Point in Utah, my sister-in-law Jackie spotted this brick heart with my mom at The Secret Garden area.
2. One day while helping Travis in the backyard, I saw this heart rock. He turned around and wondered what in the world I was taking pictures of!
3. In Seattle, Brittny and I joined in on the Gum Wall madness and she made this cute pink heart.
4. While in Arizona for Mother’s Day, Travis, his parents and I were walking and I got so excited when I saw these cactus hearts. Pretty much anytime I see hearts I gasp and need to take pictures immediately. I’m sure sometimes this is annoying.
5. Floss fell on the ground and made this balloon-like heart. My sister-in-law Nikki sent this from Washington.
6. We went dancing for Brittny’s birthday and on the way home, I spotted this lovely piece of trash and a cigarette butt on the ground. I got really excited of course and made Brittny snap this photo. Devin was laughing at how non-glamorous this heart was. I have to admit, it was pretty funny … and I was tipsy which probably makes more sense, right?
7. Just the other day, my friend Nikie sent me a picture of her heart-shaped pizza lunch from work. Yum!
8. My friend Holly told her sweet little friend I like hearts and the girl insisted Holly take this photo and send it to me from Virginia.
9. My friend Mandy recently went to Japan on vacation with her husband and spotted this heart shape at a Buddhist temple. Wow … Japan! That was so kind of her to send it and knowing it was from a Buddhist temple, I thought Travis would love it, too.

These hearts were all captured by me on the La Luz Trail in Albuquerque, the beach in Ocean Shores, Washington, and the Albuquerque BioPark Zoo (the heart is on the giraffe’s neck).

These were also captured by me at Ocean Shores; at a coffee shop in Seattle (Brittny told the barista, “she likes hearts, so if you can do a heart, she’d like that”); the Petroglyph National Monument where I got more excited over hearts than the actual petryglpyhs; in Santa Fe right before a hike with Travis, Emilie and Garrett; in Olympia near the water in front of the Capitol Building; in the sky above the La Luz Trail (look for the bird in the clouds here, too); and at my best friend Jenn’s house on the day I met her baby.

Thanks again for making this hunt for hearts reach far beyond what I could have imagined. I will always, always, always be grateful for that.

beauty friendship hearts love

the heart hunt: part 2

I am truly amazed at what my hunt for hearts has turned into. What started as a game inspired by my sister-in-law a few years ago has turned into something that makes me feel loved in a unique, special way by my friends and family during the hardest months of my life. Since I posted about the heart hunt and shared that first photo of a heart potato on Instagram, I have received photos of unexpected hearts found in Utah, Texas, Florida, Arizona, Washington and Maryland while I’ve continued to find them in New Mexico. Please keep sending them to me via social media, text messages or emails, and I’ll keep sharing mine with you. Let’s all feel the love together.

I’ve mentioned this before, but every time I’ve had a few bad days in a row, something good happens and sometimes all that means is seeing a new heart on the ground or in a tree, or opening my phone to see a new one from someone I love. I want to share these hearts with you as I rejoice in the wonderful friends and family I have.

Here goes:

Just a few days after I posted that potato, I was tagged in this photo of spilled yogurt from my lovely friend Hayley who lives in New York and has known me well since the awkward, fun high school days. She helped me survive and thrive my sophomore year, and I still love any time I hear from her.

During my job search, I had to step out of the office for a few minutes sometimes to answer phone calls. One day I stepped out to call a couple of people to see if they would be references. As I was talking to one of them, I looked down and saw this water heart on the ground. I felt that had to be a good sign. Things didn’t turn out exactly how I expected with that particular job I was calling references for, but I truly believe things worked out even better. I needed to remember to have hope.

That day my sister-in-law Nikki also found another water heart in Washington. Two in one day! That had to be an extra good sign.

February was both long and short with ups and downs, but on the very last day of the month, my friend April in Maryland sent me this mushroom that was trying to grow into a heart.

Two days later, I spotted this perfect, tree-made heart on the ground.

And another two days after that, my friend Janalee in Cache Valley, Utah, spotted this heart-shaped chicken nugget and said maybe this heart hunt was turning into a trend. At the time, I had no idea how right she was.

On Sunday, March 8, Travis and I recreated our first date by going to a talk by This American Life creator Ira Glass and eating at a Thai restaurant. Between the talk and dinner I spotted this leaf on the ground of UNM campus. Since this was my Valentine’s Day present to Travis, it seemed very fitting.

The next day the sky presented heart after heart to me.

The next Sunday, Travis and I went to the Botanic Garden and I looked for hearts but didn’t see any. Then just before bed, my friend Brittny sent this picture from Washington Beach. Friends always seem to fill in the pieces.

Later that week, I went to Colorado to see my friend Stevi and go to an epic Garth Brooks concert. I thought about my dad a lot that day because my family was celebrating his birthday in Utah. I saw two hearts that day … twice the love! Stevi was pretty sure the first one was made of geese poop, but hey, a heart is a heart. Plus, I’ve told you my dad loved geese.

On my dad’s real birthday, my friend Hannah spotted this heart in a parking garage stairwell after volunteering at a children’s hospital in Florida for four hours. Perfect timing.

The next photo wins for the cutest heart sent from my sister-in-law Jackie of my little niece Madison. Hearts can be handmade.

On my last day of work, my coworkers surprised me with a cake decorated in pink hearts. It was so kind of my friend Hawa to think of hearts that I almost cried.

The next day, I found a heart in the form of a red curry potato chip.

More hearts came from Washington near the end of March when my friend Brittny visited a cemetery there.

On Easter, I told you we went to the Botanic Garden again, and this time hearts were everywhere.

Hearts came from Maryland again. April said she was on a walk with little ones to look for bunnies. Along the way, the 5-year-old noticed the stars and made a wish to find a bunny named Sparkles. So cute.

A shadow at a park in Arizona created this heart and my cousin Caree sent it to me. So happy.

The next day, my cousin Genevieve’s little girl noticed a rip in her mom’s jeans and said it looked a heart. This photo came from Texas.

Last weekend, I went to visit family in Utah and my first night there, my mom and I found heart sunglasses at Charming Charlie. There was only one pair and my mom said I should have them. She looked so cute in them though so I went home and promptly ordered a pair for her. Now we can be heart twins from afar.

I couldn’t resist putting them on my niece who looked pretty cool, too.

During the trip, my mom and I went to the Tulip Festival at Thanksgiving Point. Near the end, we spotted hearts within the leaves.

My mom helped me with my first bridal show at USU’s Spectrum. While we were setting everything up, I thought, “I can’t wait to tell Dad.” I think it was the first time I forgot for a second that he’s gone. Later during the show, I noticed a section of seats that looked like a heart. I feel really good about that day because I tried something that was scary for me. Even though I didn’t get to tell my dad about it, I think he was proud anyway.

For my mom’s birthday, my sister-in-law had a bracelet made with my dad’s handwriting on it. She got the text from a card he gave her and sent it to an Etsy shop owner. It turned out beautifully.

On my last day in Utah, my mom and I stopped by the cemetery and I got to see the lovely flowers and wreaths placed there for my dad. My uncle Jay crafted the big metal heart. It’s perfect.

I want to thank everyone who has sent love the last while whether it was through these heart photos or in another way. I’ve received more kindness than I’ll ever be able to explain. This week marked four months since my dad passed away. I believe he keeps sending us signs that he’s close by and I never want those signs to end. I love the way hearts are appearing for so many people right now. Love is a miraculous thing and comes in many forms, just as these hearts have. When you look for them, I promise you’ll find them.

beauty hearts life love

scars

Post author By Manette
Post date April 5, 2015
4 Comments on scars

Easter made its way into my heart this year. I’m someone who loves holidays and celebrating for any reason possible, so I have always enjoyed the egg hunts, the candy, and the annual festive dinner. This year, however, Easter meant something more to me because it promises the most beautiful thing we could ever receive – life after death and resurrection. Because of Jesus’ sacrifice and because he defeated death, we will, too. This means I’ll see my dad again and we’ll all be together.

Before my father died, I had other relatives move on from this life, but most of them were timely so the pain wasn’t so harsh. Easters came and went and although I thought of what it meant each year, it never sunk deep inside me. Sometimes your heart has to be ripped open in order to receive the most wisdom and joy.

When Jesus was nailed to the cross, he died with holes in his hands and three days later, he was able to show his scars so that believers would know it was him. The scars proved he lived, and they also proved he was healed.

Everyone will have wounds that will leave physical or emotional scars, but what’s amazing is those scars prove we live and survive. A friend who has almost too many scars to count due to multiple bouts of cancer and several surgeries talked to me about this recently and reminded me that scar tissue doesn’t grow on the dying – it grows on the living – and if we are ever left with a scar on our body or heart, it means we won a battle.

This friend knows what she’s talking about. She has scars on her neck, chest, back, abdomen and more. What amazes me is her positive outlook. She told me, “People think of scars as this horrible thing when really, the definition of a scar is the healing of a wound. So the scar is after the injury and it means you’re whole again. It’s a good thing. The scar is showing that whatever it was, whatever thing you went through, you made it. You survived. And I love that.”

I don’t have many physical scars, but one has been growing on my heart since my dad’s life ended unexpectedly one day. I can feel it, and I know that scar will be there forever. At some point, though, that will mean that I’m healed and even though I will never be the same, the scar on my heart will mean that I made it. I’m sure there is some way God knows all our scars both inside and out and he is proud of them because he knows we fought something hard.

There are people who fight and survive more difficult and tragic things than me. There are so many things I’ve read about that seem unimaginable to go through. I was taught to believe that Jesus knows every one of those struggles, that he died for those pains and he’s there to help ease the suffering. His scars are proof of what he went through, and he’ll be there as we get scars, too.

Today we spent the morning at the Botanic Garden where hearts seemed to be everywhere. Right after I told Travis and his dad to look for them, we found them in some bright red flowers, and then we found some more. Then as I was talking about my dad, two geese flew up from behind a tree, and later two more (or maybe they were the same pair) landed on the water in front of us in the Japanese Garden. My dad loved geese. It felt like he was with us today. And in that moment, maybe a little bit more scar tissue grew on my heart.

I hope you had a wonderful Easter. I hope you never feel alone. I hope whatever battle you’re going through leaves a scar that reminds you that you survived, too.

life

parting ways with news

On Friday, I turned in my badge and walked for the last time out of the news station I’ve been working at for nearly two years. I then made my way to my car and started driving when I noticed the station’s sign in the rearview mirror and got out to take one last picture. It was a cloudless, sunny day as I drove past the building, made two left turns, then a right and passed a line of downtown adobe homes with their white-blossom trees.

As I got closer to the southbound freeway entrance, I ended up behind one of the station’s live trucks. I have no idea where the driver was headed; I missed the conversation as I gathered the items from my desk, got an extra slice of “Best Wishes” cake to take home and told my boss and coworkers goodbye. It no longer mattered if I knew where that truck was going, though, at least job-wise. If it had been a breaking news situation and I was on the clock, I would have wanted to know where it was going and who was driving so I could anticipate photos coming to my email. I would have added them to the story or created a gallery. If it wasn’t a breaking news situation (which it wasn’t), I would have been anticipating a web story from the reporter within a couple hours. But soon after the truck and I entered the freeway, we would part ways. The station would keep on going, and I’d start moving for the first time since high school away from working in journalism.

It was a strange feeling leaving that day. I’d been anticipating it for a while and knew months ago the news business was no longer for me. While I know there will be some aspects I will miss, and I’ll always be thankful for my experiences and all the people I met, I need to do something that doesn’t leave me wishing more for the human race every day in a way that is almost painful sometimes. I went into journalism because I wanted to be a writer, I wanted to make a difference, and I wanted to tell the good stories. I learned early on that I most enjoyed writing feature stories and designing newspaper pages, but since moving to TV and becoming a web producer I have written, edited and published more sad, scary and tragic stories than I can count and my heart was beginning to crack.

On the way home on my last day, I listened to the song “Time” by the Mowgli’s which I heard for the first time earlier this week. It seemed to fit all the things I’ve been feeling the last months.

“I can’t stand working all day
work is wearing out my soul
I think I’ll go out tonight
and I will call in sick tomorrow
I get so down about this world sometimes
I cannot understand people, no not at all
But, I hope to see a change in man
I hope to see us love one another
And I know we can”

This song stood out to me immediately the first time I heard it because it’s positive and negative which is how I’ve been feeling for a while now. I felt like I haven’t been the best “me.” I can’t blame this on the things I read and covered in news, and I can’t blame it on my job. There are too many reasons that make people who they are and there are things I struggle with that have nothing to do with either of those things. I do know, though, that working in hard news versus the features section in a city with higher crime than where I used to live changed my perspective about countless things. It forced me to see suffering in ways I’d ignored before. In order to remain positive, I can’t take in as many terrible stories anymore because I don’t know what to do with them. I tend to harbor and stew over them in a way that is probably unhealthy.

Last weekend, I went to a Garth Brooks concert with a friend in Denver which was extraordinary. We had so much fun seeing and singing with this fabulous country legend that made songs like “The Thunder Rolls,” “The Dance,” and “Standing Outside the Fire” famous. Before he sang one of his newer songs, “People Loving People,” he told the audience that he often watches the news and has to turn it off because it makes him so mad. Then he sang that song which is all about making the world a better place in the most basic of ways – people loving people.

As I leave the news industry, I want to remember that people are good. I want to see us love one another and I know we can. Just last week my station covered a local teacher who made such a wonderful difference in her students’ lives that she was featured on Ellen. The whole thing was so touching I had to fight back the tears. People really are good.

I worked in news professionally for eight years, but if I counted all the years my name appeared in magazines, newspapers and websites, it would add up to about 14. I started writing for a local teen section of a newspaper in high school and wrote for my school’s paper my senior year. Then college began and I quickly joined the features staff and finished as features editor in 2007. From there I wrote for a magazine and newspapers for six years before transitioning into digital content management for a news station. I’m young, but news has been a big part of my life for half my life and there were many, many good stories. Here are a few examples:

• I one got to talk to two women who became friends after one agreed to be the other’s surrogate. It was this amazing story of families coming together to bless one another’s lives for no other reason than compassion.

• I met a woman whose house had burned down and was so inspired by how the community came together to help her family out. They donated clothes, toys and food for months so she and her family didn’t have to feel like they were left with nothing.

• A guide dog once led me around town with his owner so I could see and learn about how he was trained to keep her safe. Seeing teamwork between animals and humans is amazing.

• I sat in a local diner for more than an hour one day and talked with the manager who came from Afghanistan as a college student and worked his way up in the restaurant until he eventually bought it. It had survived for more than 25 years at that time and had become a really special place for some people. He would call the regulars when he knew they were sick and didn’t show up for a few days. He provided a free Thanksgiving dinner for the community every year. He reminded himself that everything in life is temporary so he always tried to remain thankful.

• I met a woman who started the first gay/straight alliance at the college I went to. Her story was not only incredible, but she helped so many students, faculty and families who didn’t have a place to turn to talk about these issues before.

• The woman who was in charge a 24-hour family crisis center told me about how sometimes she didn’t know how she’d get all the bills paid, but that miracles always seemed to happen to keep them afloat. At that time, the center been around for 25 years and every April, they decorated the yards of donors’ homes and businesses with pink flamingoes to remind the community to help end child abuse. Who doesn’t love pink flamingoes?

• Rape victims and their advocates spoke to me when I wanted to do a series on services available to them and the community. I consider everyone who is willing to speak out about this topic – especially the victims – brave beyond measure.

• A nonprofit director told me about how the organization teamed up with a nursery to offer low-income families year-round gardens to help them become a little more self-sufficient. The stories I was told from the families who benefitted were inspiring. Parents were teaching 2-year-olds how to garden and they were so happy with their work.

• I heard the long distance love story of a woman from Norway who fell in love with an American and they made it work and eventually were able to get married and live in the same place. Stories like this later helped me when I was in a long-distance relationship. It really can work, I promise!

• There were the fun and unusual stories. I got to visit graveyards, cabins, fraternities and an old mental health facility that were all known for their alleged hauntings. I got to see how local places made chocolate and ice cream (and the samples weren’t too shabby either). I got to hear the story of how a local coffee shop began and stayed around for decades using the best beans and machines.

The news business treated me well. We are a culture of people who love to hear stories, and for a while, I got to be one of the storytellers. I really learned so much in unexpected ways from unexpected sources. I learned that incredible things happen to ordinary people. I learned that we’re all in this – the good and the bad – together, and we’re all affected by others’ stories.

I’m not going to quit writing. I plan to have my name published again someday. Until then, I’ll contribute to the world in a different way and I’ll be looking for the good.

“When life gets hard
you’ve got to remember who you are
And forget about what people think
just be who you want to be
Don’t you want to see how good life can be?
Let’s make a harmony and life will sing”

beauty life

pink popcorn spring

“… Winter was over and gone with the thrill of delight that spring never fails to bring to the oldest and saddest as well as to the youngest and merriest.”

– Lucy Maud Montgomery

Get ready for a pink explosion.

For weeks now it seems like there is something to take a picture of almost every day because the days leading up to spring were just too beautiful not to save. One day our plum tree decided to bloom with these perfect blush-colored flowers that I couldn’t help but admire against the blue sky. Then two bushes started blooming in our backyard in shades of Barbie pink and lemon yellow, and now we’ve got a small peach tree that decided to burst with cotton candy-like, fluffy petals.

Our tulips in the backyard that my mom sent us last fall for a house warming gift began to make their way through the rocks weeks ago and finally decided to bloom the last couple days. Every time I see them I think of her and my mother-in-law who helped me plant them. Both our mothers are represented in those tulips which is such a lovely thing.

Sometimes when I’m driving home from work, I’m taken away by all those trees that really do look like popcorn has popped on them. When I was really little I learned a song about that in church, but I never knew what the lyrics meant. I mostly just liked the tune and how our leaders taught us to burst our hands open like fireworks while singing “popcorn popping on the apricot tree!”

This spring has made everything feel lighter. I think it’s the warmer weather, sunshine and all those flowers and signs of new life. It does seem strange to move into a new season without my dad here, but in a way, it’s like the world is telling me it’s going to be OK. There is hope in new life springing out of the ground like our tulips out of rocks. There is a happy feeling in the lemon and Barbie blossoms.

Then there have been the clouds. Remember all the hearts I saw in the sky one day? I felt very much like it was an Anne of Green Gables moment. I could imagine her looking for them just as I did, but she would have been talking aloud, imagining and renaming the open space to something like Paths to Divine White Hearts of Hope.

I’ve been watching for heart clouds ever since, but they are much more scarce than I thought. I did see a few on a long drive home from Denver last weekend, but other than that, there haven’t been any when I’ve been watching. It makes me think I witnessed a small miracle that day when they kept appearing over and over.

I’ve been looking for hearts more lately in general, and it seems when they don’t appear for me, they appear for someone else who will take a photo and send it to me. I’ve loved this so much. Those photos brighten my day every time and it makes me think we’re all on this heart hunt together.

I think I’m ready for this spring. It was a long, strange, sad winter. While I don’t know for sure what’s next, I see really hopeful signs that things will be good. I sense that “thrill of delight that spring never fails to bring the oldest and saddest as well as the youngest and merriest.”

Now without further adieu, here are pieces of this beautiful world I’ve been seeing lately.

beauty clouds hearts life love

love is in the air

There’s just something about Albuquerque clouds. I have never seen them gather the way they do here. Some days they sit on top of the Sandia Mountains for hours creating dramatic views of fluffy gray against the brown and gold desert mountains. On the west side, sometimes they look just like clouds from the “Simpsons” – all puffy and white. I’ve seen them in real life the way they look in a few Georgia O’Keefe paintings, and I’ve witnessed them turn every shade of sunflower, tangerine, grapefruit and lilac, and a few times lately they looked just like pink cotton candy hovering above the city.

I knew yesterday would be a day to spend some time admiring the clouds. They’d been gathering over the mountains for hours, and by the time I got out of work, they were everywhere – white, puffy and moving with the wind. I’d planned to head to a trail near my house and go for a walk, and while driving there I turned to my left and saw a perfect heart-shaped cloud turned on its side. I wanted to take a picture so badly, but my car was in motion and by the time I could have pulled over to stop, that cloud had morphed into a blob. It only took two stoplights for it to change – two stoplights that decided to stay green for me, even though I wanted so bad for them to turn red.

This gave me some hope and an idea, though, that maybe once I got to the trail I’d be able to see other clouds shaped as hearts because they were moving and changing so quickly, and there were so many of them.

I parked my car and started searching immediately. I took a few pictures of the clouds before I saw any more hearts, then started on the path, walking slowly to take them all in. I kept looking behind me and to my sides because that’s where the best clouds were. Directly in front of me they were beginning to gather too closely and they were getting dark like they could rain.

I thought of my dad of course, and as the hearts began to appear for me, I had to wonder if he was messing with the clouds just for me. Can angels do that, I wondered? Could he read my mind? Was he learning the sciences of the sky, the earth, the clouds? It was definitely a nice thought.

I must have seen at least eight hearts within a half hour. I may have stretched my imagination for a few of them, but they were there for me. I decided that afternoon that we see what we want to see. If I hadn’t been looking, I would have missed all the hearts in the sky. For someone else, they wouldn’t have mattered at all. It’s all about perspective, and it’s all about choice. We choose if we see the good, the bad or the lovely. We choose whether or not we see something beyond what is presented to us, and we can choose to believe something bigger than this world is watching out for and making the world a beautiful place. Love is really in the air, we just have to seek it. The best part is when we do, it appears everywhere.

beauty life love

the beauty of grief

The last little while has felt less heavy. While most people would think that is a good thing, it scares me a little. It’s like I don’t want to step farther away from the days when my dad was here, even if that means things will get easier.

I’ve been writing more on my own lately because I want to remember those first days and weeks. It was really hard for me to process on paper or in documents then, and some of the most difficult moments still haven’t found their way out of me yet. I realized the other day that some parts were so heartbreaking that I lived them once and they never came back to my memory until recently. For all I know, some of those moments may never return. Then there are other parts equally as heartbreaking that live in my mind over and over for some reason. I don’t want to forget them because it’s like if I forget the pain, then I’ve forgotten part of my dad, or part of my family. It was the worst time of my life, but I want to remember it anyway. I want to remember both the good and bad things so that I can remind myself what it feels like to be deeply lost, scared and loved.

At the same time, I want to live presently. I don’t think I’ve ever been in denial since this all happened. I always knew the truth of it, even right after my mom spoke those tragic words. I knew there was no going back no matter how hard we wished for it. I knew it was a nightmare I’d never wake up from because I never fell asleep.

For weeks I listened to the same songs over and over – “View from Heaven,” “How Great Thou Art,” “Lullaby,” “Take it Easy,” and “It is Well.” Those songs help me focus for moments at a time on what my loss really is. I’ve taken more pictures of sunrises, sunsets and the moon than ever before. When biking or skiing, I’ve asked for my dad’s help, or I tell myself I am doing those things for him. So far, I don’t think it’s improved my performance, but it helps me stay focused on goals that will help me get better.

I’m slowly reading a book my friend gave me at my dad’s funeral. It’s called “Heartbroken Open” by Kristene Carlson, a woman who lost her husband in a very random, unexpected way. Her book has resonated with me so many times and explained in perfect words exactly how I’ve felt. The following passage stuck with me since I’ve noticed myself looking at nature and situations in ways I never did before:

“The beauty of grief is presence. Grieving is a very individual and layered process. On my better days, I experienced a calm wellbeing. I noticed the skies never looked so beautiful. I could feel Richard’s love all around me. I missed him deeply and the full life together I always thought we would continue to live and share. Yet each step I took, I felt somehow I was stepping more into me. …

It is so ironic how grief has a way of thrusting you into the present. When you are early into it and just surviving the loss of your loved one, it is natural to go into memory where you are most comfortable, just as it is natural to be terrified of your future. I was in such deep pain at the beginning that I found I could only handle the past and the future in small doses. I learned to acclimate to the present moment because that was the only place where I could live with a sense of equilibrium. When the person who is gone was with you so recently, the whiff of physical need is overpowering. I wasn’t ready to factor in a future without Richard.

“So I learned to live in the midline of my life – in the present, just where I was – with my past to my left and my future to my right.

“When you live in the present your mind is not busy. It is a quiet yet brilliantly clear space because it is uncluttered. You’re not thinking of anything you have to do, or distracted by anywhere you have to go; you are not allowing Thought to drift into the past you miss or the future you fear. You are living in alignment with the moment. When grief catches you, you feel the wave as you roll into it. It is a space where you exist, right now, where life finds you, wherever you are. It is a place of safety that is also shared by the adventurous. It is a concentrated state that is known by rock climbers and rafters and skiers and anyone else who puts themselves in dangerous situations. There is a heightened state of awareness when you live presently; you see every crevice, you feel the fold of rock, the iron-gray air, the numinous texture of the physical world. …

For now I would ride the river, understanding that it is a series of flow, of currents, rapids, and calm … Grief was a current I would not fight by trying to swim upstream. I would let it take me wherever it went. I determined to let each moment present itself, and just be with that.”

The present is what I want to feel and see, even though I don’t want to forget the past. I want my body and mind to feel everything they need to feel. I want to view the world in ways I never have. I want to recognize its beauty in the center of the world’s struggles. I want it to all unfold slowly so I can truly grasp it.