I hadn’t prepared to be attacked by Rodents of Unusual Size.
     All I knew was that Duane and I needed a good night’s sleep to have the energy to babysit Third Daughter’s young girls the next day while Third daughter had oral surgery.
     But before we turned off the lights, First Daughter texted that her infant son still hadn’t recovered from bronchitis, and they’d seen the doctor again. And Second Daughter, fourteen hundred miles away, texted she’d gone into labor with her first child.
     Sleep? Inconceivable!
     So I took two tiny homeopathic pills to quiet my brain. In the past they’d given me weird dreams, but I was desperate.
     I tried to settle in, but my mind swirled from the emotional punch of too much at one time. Suddenly, my mother, who has been deceased for three decades, appeared by my side with a twinkle in her eyes as if to say, “It’s life. So live it!”
     Still in the dream, a wall rose before me I had to scale. I ran toward it, but Rodents of Unusual Size nipped at my heels, trying to stop me. I scrambled up the wall. At the top, another R.O.U.S. attacked me. When I kicked it away, I lost my balance and toppled to the ground. SMACK!
      “What’s wrong,” Duane called from our bed.
     I woke up, flat on our wood floor, my hip throbbing. “Rodents of Unusual Size attacked.”
     Duane yawned. “You tell anyone that, and they’ll say you’re crazy.”
     Doesn’t he know these varmints thrive in the Fire Swamps of my most anxious times?
     I crawled back into bed, prayed for rest, and dozed off.
     The next day, First Daughter reported that her son was responding to breathing treatments. Second Daughter gave birth to a beautiful boy. And Third Daughter returned to her home after oral surgery, where I tucked her into bed. Duane and I hugged and cried happy tears of gratitude to God.
     I’m weary. My hip aches from falling out of bed. But I’m thankful my mother came alongside me in my unconscious mind.
     Because sometimes even a grown-up mother needs a mommy.

     Comparison is deadly because it’s never apples to apples.
     Take my friend Nancy. We hadn’t seen each other for decades when she rolled into town. Nancy asked about my writing.
​     “Some books and articles,” I told her.
     She shrugged. “All I’ve done is care for my family.”
     That’s all? Let me tell you what Nancy had just shared. For eight years, she oversaw cancer treatments for her adult son Bryce. They even relocated to Germany twice for surgery with a specialist.
     Now at age thirty, Bryce still has twenty-five tumors in his lungs, but his health is stable. At six foot two inches and 142 pounds, his strength isn’t back yet. But he has enough spirit to clown around in costumes with his mother.
     One day during Bryce’s illness, Nancy’s husband looked up from trying to balance his checkbook. “I need help,” he said.
     Alzheimers.
     Nancy cared for her husband for five years until he passed away.
     Last year - finally - it was time to celebrate. Bryce completed his graphic arts and communication degree. And Nancy remarried “a wonderful man.”
     Nancy’s example reminds me that we dare not compare ourselves to others because we have our own role to play in life’s drama. As the International Thespian Society tells its performing arts members: “Act well your part; there all the honor lies.”
     So what’s your part?

My friend Nancy - she's a gem.

     I was shocked when I first read the pledge Martin Luther King Jr. required of those who joined him in the civil rights movement in Birmingham. Would I have taken it?
     Here it is, with my thoughts in parentheses:
     1. Meditate daily on the teachings and life of Jesus (because Jesus embodied the perfect blend of power and compassion.).
     2. Remember always that the nonviolent movement seeks justice and reconciliation - not victory (Am I willing to align myself with what is morally right, not a particular party or politician?).
     3. Walk and talk in the manner of love, for God is love (Will I love others, not bludgeon them with my opinions?).
     4. Pray daily to be used by God in order that all men might be free (Will I aspire to a high cause like this?).
     5. Sacrifice personal wishes in order that all men might be free (What might I have to give up?).
     6. Observe with both friend and foe the ordinary rules of courtesy (Can I be civil in this uncivil world?).
     7. Seek to perform regular service for others and for the world (What time, talent, and treasure can I give?).
     8. Refrain from the violence of fist, tongue, or heart (Will I refrain from fighting, name calling, bullying, snarky social media posts, and hatred?).
     9. Strive to be in good spiritual and bodily health (Am I ready?).
     10. Follow the directions of the movement and of the captain on a demonstration (What cause deserves this loyalty?).
     Am I willing to live this way? How would we change our world if we took this pledge?

     Nobody relishes a risk, but Margaret Coel dared to take one.     She spent five years working on a manuscript she didn’t know whether she could get published. “And if I did get it published, whether anyone would read it,” she says.
     But she was obsessed with Arapaho Chief Niwot and the slaughter of his people at the Sand Creek Massacre in Colorado in 1864.
     In her thirties with young children, Margaret already had a successful career as a journalist. She didn’t have to take this gamble. But the story wouldn’t let her go. So family vacations became trips to forts, battlegrounds, and trading sites.
     Finally in her early forties, Margaret published Chief Left Hand and launched into a new career as novelist/historian.     She’s continued taking risks as she’s written and contributed to more than twenty-five books that combine history and mystery, including her New York Times bestselling Wind River Series. She’s won enough writing awards to collapse the wall of her study. And now at age eighty, she’s released the novella Man Found Dead in Park.
     I studied Margaret’s writing as I worked on my novel, so it was my pleasure to dine with her and meet the woman behind the stories.
     What’s she like? About the nicest person you could meet. So safe you’d never suspect the intrigues that spring from her mind as she wrestles with how the past intersects with the present.
     It all started with a risk that turned into a lifetime adventure. Which makes me wonder whether I’m willing to open the door to whatever is knocking for me.
​     What about you?