reassurance....

Sometimes living life to the fullest just isn't enough. I've written several blog posts about how I've finally found my place in this world and I've tried to offer inspiration to anyone listening but sometimes it just isn't enough. Don't get me wrong, I'm not regretting my decisions or the choices I've made to pull some people closer and to push others farther away. I'm not questioning my life but I still feel like I need to spend a whole week doing nothing but crying. There is just enough uncertainty in my life right now to make me feel helpless and I'd rather experience any other feeling than that one.


I have two sons...night and day different sons. One has been diagnosed with Phonological Awareness Issues (a form of severe dyslexia), had to get glasses, scratched his eye TWICE and broken his finger in the past six months. As tiring as nonstop doctors appointments have been, his issues are concrete and logically fixable. His problems can either be solved by me or I can get him to someone who will. It's my other son who has me at the end of my rope. Physically, he seems to be in pretty good shape even though he has disfigured feet and will eventually need bone grafts and reconstructive surgery. It seems daunting but right now it's basically under control and his pain is manageable so I'm doing okay with this problem too. It's his psychological issues that are wearing me down. Having been adopted as a toddler, it's expected that he would suffer from separation anxiety and he does...but not nearly as severely as many adopted children. He also seems to suffer from a form of OCD..but not as badly as most. He definitely has some sensory issues but no where near the level his cousin had it and she was on the low end of the spectrum. He has many of the symptoms of children with Asperger's but again, not enough to be diagnosed with it. He is extremely sensitive, but not overly so. He's a great communicator but has limited social skills so often uses his words in an inappropriate time and manner. He is completely unaware of his own personal space and disinterested in anyone else's..... even so...I count my blessings... I realize the possible severity of all these issues and am grateful that he doesn't have a full-blown case of any of them but I also realize that there isn't a doctor on this planet who's interested in helping a kid with a slight case of anything. To the outside observer, he's a little bit quirky...he  has a smidgen of this and a pinch of that. Throw in a slight case of X and an issue with Y and he becomes a child who could...and possibly will...fall thru the cracks. He's the typical kid who doesn't have anything big enough or bad enough to attract the interest of the medical or psychological communities. He's the kid who could just "get by"...just slide thru and never really get any help. Yes I'm going to do everything in my power to find help and fix his issues. Of course I'll do whatever it takes to keep him from falling thru the cracks. I'm a fixer and I'm his mom. I don't for one minute regret my decision to be a single mom...to be his mom. I'm just tired and feeling very helpless and vulnerable. I'm living the consequences of my choices to be a single mom so I've got no one to take the pressure off of me. I can't express my feelings at the end of the day after I've encountered the same quirky issues over and over and over with my son. I'm tired and helpless and I guess feeling a little bit sorry for myself. And then to add fuel to my fire....


my dad is sick. My dad doesn't get sick. I only remember one time in my whole childhood when he was sick and actually missed work. He just didn't get sick...but now he is. He's sick and the doctors aren't fixing him. He's the only man in my sons lives....he's the only man in my life. He's a big, strong man but now he's weak. He's in bed 90% of the day...he can't drive and can barely walk sometimes. He was strong, but now he's weak. And he's also a quitter...when the doctors finally offer a diagnosis , if it's going to be a battle, he'll fold his cards. And I can't fix this either. I can't diagnose him, cure him or motivate him to fight. I can't do anything but watch and hope and prepare myself and hold my breath and pray and wait....and feel helpless and tired and vulnerable.


I'm tired...I'm sad...I'm helpless. But this isn't all there is. There's more to life than these feelings and I've got plenty of reasons to push thru this. Helpless doesn't mean hopeless. Sad doesn't mean it's over. I've just got to push thru to the other side. I've got to take a nap to get my energy back or focus on all the good things my son has to offer...and he has a lot...I just have to let myself cry for awhile and then pull myself up by my bootstraps and get on with it. I've got to give myself permission to experience these muddy feelings instead of trying to avoid them. I've got to experience life, right now, exactly like it is, and I'll get thru this. I am getting thru this. It is OKAY to feel overwhelmed and underprepared. This is my day TODAY but not every day...the sun really will come out tomorrow. And if not, then the next day or the next or the next....

some messages are timeless

Today I received an email from the Daily Inspirational, which oddly arrives weekly, and one inspirational quote immediately grabbed my attention over the others. There were several about speaking your truth or how life begins in this moment and at this point, but the following quote seemed more poignant than the others for me....at least it did today...in this moment....at this point.


"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."


It made me realize how much time and energy we waste tiptoeing around someone else's feelings. Not that I'm saying we should discount the feelings of others or disregard the sting of our words, but simply that we often avoid our own truth by giving more power to the thoughts and opinions of others. I know many people who could take that quote literally and use it quite indifferently. My sister used to say "the truth hurts"...always when she was jabbing at someone else, never when she was the one getting jabbed. That's typical for most of us. We have one set of values and morals for how we want to be treated and another for how we dish it out. We also have a tendency to adhere to things I like to call "temporary truths". Some of these "truths" are driven by society while others develop from our own inexperienced lives. Both my parents can remember when their world was filled with "whites only" signs at lunch counters, in public bathrooms or buses. Segregation was a truth driven by society and accepted by most... minorities were labeled as inferior, disease-ridden and unteachable. Even those who felt uncomfortable with the concept would rarely buck the system. But now, that "temporary truth" seems impossible to believe for my generation who never experienced such a ridiculous lie. The bible talks of how a man should treat his concubines and slaves or how women are unclean during menstruation and should be separated from the family...both temporary truths that wouldn't fly in today's world.


The world was flat...until it wasn't. The sun revolved around the earth...until it didn't. Cigarette smoking was good for you...until it killed you. Landanum was heralded as a medical remedy for sleeplessness, diarrhea and nervous disorders..Landanum...is...opium...is...heroin...is hydrocodone...is one of the fastest growing addiction this world has very seen. Eat eggs...don't eat eggs. Oatmeal- yeah..or not so much. 


It seems these temporary truths are addictive in themselves. We have a tendency to accept them without question but in hindsight, dismiss them as ridiculous. Why then, do we give such merit to something that will most likely be proven wrong in our own lifetimes? Why do we grasp so tightly to these false truths while overlooking and ignoring the timeless ones?


The quote listed above is a timeless one. It was written long before I was born yet it's message is as relevant today as when it was first quoted.It will never be considered a temporary truth. And do you want to know the thing about it that I find most funny? It wasn't written by Confucius, the Buddha or the Dalai Lama. Not even Deepak Chopra or Dr Phil. The wisest words of all were written by Dr. Seuss! Admired as an author of whimsical children's books, Dr Seuss offered the most poignant advise to anyone willing to sift through his lyrical rhymes for their hidden messages. Did he do the world a disservice by burying his wisdom in fanciful phrases and pink fuzzy trees? Maybe. Or did his message reach his intended audience...those who look deeper than the surface, who are fascinated by what lies between the lines? Hopefully. Either way, his wisdom runs deep...here are a few more examples of his work....


"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the 
one who'll decide where to go...”


“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”


"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better. It's not.”


“I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!” 


"Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them.”


“Why fit in when you were born to stand out?”


“You’ll miss the best things if you keep your eyes shut.”

Life's a gamble.....

I have a tendency to look back and analyze my life a lot. The thought of living in a rut, making the same decisions and the same mistakes over and over again, has always seemed much more frightening to me than the alternative of trekking out to forge an untraveled path. I wish I could say I've never repeated a mistake....imagine how quickly your life could change for the better if you were perpetually observing your choices and correcting any errors in judgement before moving forward to the next challenge. That would be amazing. Proudly I can point to several mistakes I only made once but there were a few that took a couple of repeat performances before I learned my lesson and finally moved on.


I've spent a lot of time during the last week really thinking about my history, the twists and turns that got me to this point. Last night I realized that the perfect analogy for my life is a roulette wheel. You all know what a roulette wheel looks like, right? It resembles a large round cake that's been removed from the oven too early, causing the center of the cake to fall and leaving a deep sinkhole in the center. In this hole is the roulette wheel with it's edges painted in numbered black and red tiles. The wheel is spun in one direction while a small white ball is placed on a tiny little lip cut along the top outer edge of the "cake" and sent spinning in the opposite direction. The whole mechanism represents my life and I am the little white ball.


From my viewpoint perched precariously on the edge of this ledge, I am on top of the world, literally with a "penthouse" view. I am flying along high above the rest, carefully balancing myself as I spin in the opposite direction of everything around me. From the outside, I must look like I've got it all...successfully moving at a rapid pace from the peak position, able to see the big picture in my life and everything around me. But on the inside, I can feel the friction of constantly spinning in the opposite direction and the pull of gravity trying to drag me down into the deep sinkhole of the dreaded roulette wheel. Even though I'm living my life with a birds eye view, I can't slow down enough to enjoy it or I'll lose my balance and fall. I can't for one second look down at the roulette wheel spinning below me because I must maintain my focus or gravity will win this battle. So even though I've worked hard to get to the "top of my game", I can't look around to enjoy the view or stop to breathe for even a second. All my hard work has quite literally put me in a rut...the very thing I fear the most.


Eventually the friction of moving in the wrong direction wins...I begin to tire and soon I can't keep up the rapid pace. Gravity pulls at me until I gradually fall off the tiny lip cut along the edge and I begin to fall toward the deep sinkhole. No matter how hard I fight it, gravity will win. I'm too tired to regain the speed necessary to push me back to the top...I can't keep up. 


For the first time, I've slowed enough to actually look down into the valley below me. There are small brass buttons scattered along the sloped sides that I'll crash into as I tumble down. It's going to be painful. This is why I should have worked harder to stay on top. But I failed so I must live with the consequences. I begin to bump against brass knobs on my journey to the center of ....what....my life? What lies in this deep, dark place? I've alway been afraid to look so something bad must be waiting for me there. Hitting the brass buttons pushes me back and forth along the steep side, slowing my descent and preventing a free fall. Hummm, maybe those brass buttons weren't put there to hurt me but instead to cushion my fall. That's weird....


As I clear the final button, I gently roll onto the roulette wheel and bounce around a bit before I finally land into one of the grooved pockets waiting for me. I'm not going to lie, the journey to the center of this wheel wasn't bad at all, certainly not what I'd feared forever so it takes me a few moments to clear my head and get my bearings. Once I'm able to look around, I realize that I'm moving at a rapid pace again, very similar to the pace I kept up top, but there's no friction because I'm not the one doing the work. Instead I'm nestled into a safe, comfortable groove cut to fit my body perfectly, letting the wheel do all the work. For the first time I'm able to enjoy the ride and actually look at the world around me. I notice the beautiful colors of the roulette wheel and how the light reflects off those little brass buttons I as so afraid of only moments before. 


Looking up to the top where I once ran my race, I suddenly realize that's not the "penthouse view". It's actually the view from the cheap seats...the nosebleed section...down here is where the game is played. Down here is where the action is. For the first time in my life, I'm enjoying the ride instead of running the rat race. Instead of fighting the current, I'm letting the flow take me where I need to go.


And the view from down here....is amazing!   Life's a gamble but you can't play it until you get out of the bleachers and into the game.

What does mother's day really mean?

So today is Mother's Day. It's nice to have a day to share with half the human race but I often wonder what it means to other mothers. Naturally I guess your opinion of the day is shaped by your maternal experience. New mothers look at their little bundle of joys in awe and moms of toddlers only need to hear "I love you mommy" to feel their hearts swell. Mother's who've lost a child must ache with bittersweet memories and longing. And middle-aged moms likely feel a roller coaster of emotions when they are caught between their child and an ailing mother of their own.


I look at my own sons, thinking about my own feelings and emotions. I suppose the experience is somewhat different for me because I am single so my two young sons don't shower me with love, gifts and attention because they haven't been taught to do that yet. In fact when I told them they were suppose to treat me like a queen today, they laughed hysterically! I have nieces who graciously give me lovely gifts since I am somewhat of a substitute mom for them because their own mother has passed. It's a wonderful gesture but I never forget that I will always be a substitute on what must be a painful day for them.


I guess my biggest question is not so much what Mother's Day means to me but what does it mean to my sons? When they think of me, what do they see? Of course at this age they tell me that they love me and they don't want another mommy but what do they see? What will they remember of me when I'm gone?


Many moves I've made in my life have been calculated, taken to send a specific message even if I didn't say it out loud. I finished college because I wanted my niece to know that you always finish what you start and I took another niece to New York to a dance workshop because she needs to know to never stop chasing her dreams. When all seemed lost during the adoption of my oldest son and it looked like the country would close before the adoption was complete, I refused to give up even if it meant we started over in abandonment court and added years to our journey because I wanted to be able to tell him someday that I never gave up on him. But as nobel as those decisions may seem, I've made just as many simply by flying by the seat of my pants. I chose several college degree programs and career paths simply by pointing and thinking, "maybe that one is the one" or "I think I'll give that a try". I've learned what I don't want by trying almost anything, never once really thinking about what I truly want. I've made decisions based on income potential instead of heart's desire. So now for the first time in my professional life, I've finally made a decision by drowning out the noise with silence and listening to my soul. It's the first time EVER and while the change feels so right, like I'm going with the flow instead of fighting the current, I have no idea where this journey will take me or what I will encounter along the way. The uncertainty makes me wonder what the journey will feel like for my sons. This is my journey and my dream but will it feel like a dream for them or a nightmare? Will it shape their lives for the better or will they resent what I've done? The world is filled with people who sacrifice everything for their children, even if it means working at a job they hate. I like to say I'd do anything for my kids yet I left a well-paying position and put us on the path of uncertainty. Does that make me a good parent or bad? Did I put my desires before the welfare of my children?


All the decisions I've made so far- good, bad and ugly- won't be remembered by my sons. They won't remember the stress I felt from working in a job I hated and hopefully they'll forget how that stress bled into my relationship with them. I sincerely hope they forget the irrational demands and my short temper because I was so incredibly unhappy in my professional life and just didn't want to admit it. I hope they forget the doubt in my eyes when I wondered if I just didn't have what it takes to be the kind of mother I wanted to be.


I don't know what the next five years, or fifty years, will bring and I won't ever know what my kids truly think of me but I hope they recognize that working in an industry you hate for a large income will always be a price that's too high to pay and I hope they recognize that sometimes you have to put your own sanity and happiness first...and that if you do, everyone wins in the end.


Happy Mother's Day to you all.

Is it taking a leap of faith or having the faith to leap????

July 2, 1981. That was the day in my personal history when I first shook my fist toward the Heavens, silently vowing to prove there was no God. I was sixteen and my brother had died five days before. Even though his death came as a shock to me, he had already died many years before for our mother. She knew his lifestyle would win... she knew she'd outlive her firstborn child and only son. But for me, I was still too young and naive to believe the writing on the wall. So for the four days following his shocking death, I moved robotically through the motions of accepting condolences and casseroles from my parent's friends and neighbors. I slid on and off lightly padded chairs during the two long days of his visitation and funeral but usually I could be found hovering quietly on the front porch of the funeral home where I could busy my mind with observing the long procession of the masses slowly making their way into the viewing room, a place I refused to go until the funeral director could assure me the casket was closed. For days I numbly shook hands with complete strangers, accepted their sorry-filled glances and eventually stood stoically at the graveside service. For those few days, I warmed up the delicious food given to us by caring friends and then threw it all in the garage. I slept little and spoke even less. The Universe actually stood still...for four days. And then the fifth day came.


On the fifth day, reality set in. No longer could I move through the day with preplanned efficiency. On July 2nd, reality came crashing down. I remember sitting alone in the porch swing, swaying back and forth in a trance. On the outside, I must have looked like a patient just emerging from surgery, still slightly drugged and confused by her unfamiliar surroundings. But inside my mind was whirling, desperately seeking a logical answer-someone to point a finger at-a place to lay the blame. And I found it. At fifteen, my brain refused to see the truth for what it was. Instead I firmly decided the fault must lie with God...or actually must be proof there was no God because what kind of God would allow this to happen to my brother, a guy with some troubles but a really nice guy. And more importantly, what kind of God would allow this to happen to me. 


I realize now that I never truly stopped believing in God, no matter how much research I did to prove His nonexistence. What I lost was my belief in faith because even though I knew my brother's lifestyle would probably end his life, I also had faith that someone or something would save him. So when he died, so did my belief in faith. Even though I said out loud that there was no God, what I really meant to say was that I no longer had faith in Him...from that day forward I believed we each control our own destiny and God had nothing to do with it. In fact, God really didn't give a shit what you do or don't do with your life.


It's taken me a long time to regain my faith but it's not the same naive belief of my childhood years. I suppose we can never truly go back, at least not back to where we were but we can find some version of our past to cling to. So eventually over time, over many, many years of time, I regained my faith but it's still not the kind of faith spouted by most religions of today. Do I believe there is a God or something greater than myself out there? Absolutely. Do I have faith in it? Somewhat, sort of...maybe. I believe there are markers on our timelines that we are destined to cross, preplanned hurdles we will encounter. These markers are strategical places throughout our lives at different intervals for each of us. But between these markers are moments, days or even years filled with free-will. It's in these empty spaces that we make the choices that bring us closer to our life's purpose or veer us horribly off course. And it's in these blank moments in time where God doesn't give a shit about our choices. Looking down at our timeline like a Monopoly board, God knows it doesn't matter how many times we draw the "go directly to jail, do not pass go and do not connect $200" card, we will eventually have to cross Boardwalk. He knows because he can see the whole board and He knows where the unavoidable markers are and how close we are to the end. He knows if there's still several hurdles in our path or if we are three squares from the finish line.


It's in these free-will moments of time where I've spent most of the last thirty years. Yes, there were some unavoidable hurdles placed in my path but I used those hurdles as markers in my past, reference points that I could look back at and measure how far I'd come...literally tracking my progress in life. I placed those hurdles on a mantel like trophies won in hard-fought battles. It wasn't until I rounded the final turn that I realized I'd caught my shoelace on the first jump and instead of clearing each structure triumphantly, I'd actually been dragging them behind me. So busy was I humming the Rocky theme song, I failed to hear the metallic sound of those obstacles from my past being raked against the ground behind me or feel the weight of the barriers slowing my speed as I pushed myself toward the finish line.


I can't say for sure when the exact moment was that I realized I'd been running the wrong race for so many years but I know it wasn't an instant revelation. I know the Universe had been whispering the truth in my ear for most of my life, but like a nagging headache I thought if I ignored it then it didn't exist. I know it was low rumble in the back of my mind, quiet but insistent. I recognize now how it grew in intensity every time I cleared another hurdle without noticing how it was now tangled up with all the other ones I'd been dragging along behind me. I know with each ignored hurdle the beat of that drumming headache became louder and more demanding until eventually it was impossible to ignore. I know I tried my whole life to convince myself I was anything but what the low rumbling drum insisted I was. I know those damn hurdles were God's handiwork and no amount of pretending could make them go away.


I've spent the last year enjoying the peace and quiet of life without those damn drums in my ears. I've spent the last year arguing with myself that this is my destiny..but maybe it needs a little tweaking. I've spent the last year talking myself into it while trying to talk myself out of it. I've spent the last year frozen in fear because if I do this, if I take this last step, then I am completely naked. I am stepping out of all the light I've ever known into complete darkness and I've got to have faith that there will be something there for me to stand on or I will be taught to fly. I've got to believe in faith again. I've got to believe like I've never believed before. 


The truth is, I've spent the last year finally looking at my past, examining each hurdle-noticing the scuff marks where they'd been smacked against the ground a thousand times and recognizing the one thing I've been missing for so long. These hurdles placed in my path haven't been obstacles or barriers to the life I wanted. If I'd only had a little faith in the greater plan, I would have recognized their true value. Had I had faith in a higher purpose and stopped long enough to examine these objects, I might have realized that when gently laid on their sides, these obstacles become stepping stones creating a staircase leading me in the direction I was meant to go all along. I stopped believing in faith thirty years ago because I refused to believe the truth. And now to live my truth, I have to have faith. I've spent thirty years examine the wrong side of the coin because I've been too afraid to turn it over.


But tomorrow is a new day filled with light...and I've not afraid of the dark.

are we seriously that bad?

In the 60's, a Yale professor conducted a test called the Milgram Experiement. The point of the experiment was to test individuals obedience to authority figures. Recently the test was revised to see if anything had changed after years of sensitivity training and increased awareness of humanity. In the current experiment, volunteers were told they were testing people's ability to memorize a list of words and to see if negative reinforcement increased the subject's correct answers. Two volunteers were taken to a room where the first volunteer (who was actually a paid actor) was strapped down and hooked up to a bunch of wires and electrodes. The second volunteer was then lead into another room and sat before a large electronic board. Once the experiment began, if the first test subject answered a question incorrectly, the second volunteer flipped a switch to send a jolt of electricity to the first person. With each wrong answer, the voltage was increased. At first nothing happened but soon the poor guy being electrocuted began to cry out in pain- first with "Ouch" and working up to severe screaming. Eventually the guy was begging to stop the experiment and complaining of heart pain. Most of the volunteers who were administering the electricity asked to stop but when the doctor said it was important to continue, they did...even if they were very uncomfortable about the whole thing.


Eventually the experiment ended and the lead scientist came out to talk to the volunteers. He explained that the poor guy getting shocked was actually an actor and never received any electricity. The other volunteer was always visibly relieved....amazing since he had just chosen to shock the crap out of this poor fellow.


The whole point of the experiment was to see what people would be willing to do if a person of authority told them to do it. Over 77% of the volunteers continued shocking the guy even though his screams indicted his life might be in danger. It turns out when the experiment was originally conducted in the 60's, 65% of the volunteers continued to the end...in other words, we've gotten worse.


Amazingly, these volunteers had all signed agreements that clearly stated they could leave at anytime. Several of them even pointed that out to the doctor in the back of the room but when he told them to continue, they reluctantly did. They thought they were electrocuting someone and they continued because a guy in a lab coat told them not to stop.


Are we really that controllable? Of course I tell myself that I would have stopped, but would I have? Are we that hungry for approval or so weak that we'd basically murder a stranger because a doctor told us to? I'm sure everyone reading this thinks they would never do this, but experiment after experiment, everyone acted the same. There was even one lady who was crying as she flipped the switches but she just kept flipping them.


What does this say about us? As a member of the human race--the race that's suppose to be the superior race--doesn't this reduce us to the lowest life form? I know of no other animals in the animal kingdom that would purposely inflict pain and suffering on a member of their tribe just for the sake of inflicting pain. If we are willing to do this to our own people....how are we any better than Hitler's henchmen? And why do we become enraged when someone like Timothy McVey or Al Qaeda commit terrorist acts against innocent people on US soil? At least their attacks were based on a belief system and sent a message--no matter how skewed. At least they committed horrible murders for the greater good--in their warped minds. What kind of people are we if we are willing to torture and possible kill someone- one on one-- just because some guy in charge told us to? What chance does the human race have of ever finding world peace of these are the acts we are willing to perform?

follow the yellow brick road.....

The Wizard of Oz has been my favorite movie for as long as I can remember. As a kid, the idea of being transported to a magical land held so much appeal and somehow the beauty of Oz seemed almost surreal with colors so bright and shimmery yet still believable. Every year I looked forward to watching it...yes, my birth occurred long before the birth of video tapes, DVDs or DVRs. If you missed it, you waited another year for it to be rebroadcast!  But, I digress....


Now as an adult, the movie holds a completely different fascination for me. I still love the colors even though they seem slightly less believable than they did before. I enjoy the characters and how they interact with one another but it's the true message that intrigues me now. Dorothy finds herself in a foreign land with strange occupants but even though it's a thousand times more beautiful than the black and white world she came from, all she wants to do is go home. So when a woman proclaiming herself to be a "good witch" arrives on the scene via a giant iridescent floating bubble and offers Dorothy a way home if she's willing to follow the yellow brick road, she eagerly places her feet on the painted path and starts walking...without question or hesitation. Once the journey begins, she never wavers. She doesn't look for a shortcut, she doesn't try a different route. She was told to follow the yellow brick road where a solution would be waiting for her at the end and that's exactly what she does. She graciously allows several others to accompany her on the long journey without judgement of their personal predicaments. She fearlessly fights the Wicked Witch of the West and valiantly defends her new friends and loyal dog against flying monkeys and palace guards. With her first step on the painted bricks, she begins a journey of unquestioning faith. The yellow path takes her into the unknown where she encounters many obstacles yet she never doubts the outcome. She doesn't stop to feel sorry for herself nor think of turning back. She trudges on with no idea of what may lie before her. Even when the Wizard himself gives her attitude, she straightens her back and refuses to take any crap from this gigantic green head breathing fire at her. Yet with all she overcame, she doesn't seem bitter or jaded. She's  just determined--quiet resolve and single-minded focus. She simply isn't going to take no for an answer. And then to wrap it all up, the "good witch" re-appears and tells her she's always had the answer but just wasn't ready to hear it. 


And isn't that always the way life plays out? When we look back to examine and analyze our life, don't we usually see the answer was right in front of us all along, we just weren't ready to admit it? So why don't we all have the same unquestioning faith in our journey as Dorothy had? Why do we constantly question our decisions and spend so much time searching for the answer that already lies directly before us?