My best friend Tammy turns 50 today. Her wonderful husband Joel threw her a fabulous party to commemorate this milestone. I wanted to stand up and share something at the party, but the opportunity didn't present itself.

The mere thought of getting up in front of a crowd makes me start sweating (I wish I was kidding). Something about having more than one person's attention at the same time causes every thought in my head to leave. Anyway....because I knew I would be incapable of remembering one thing once I got in front of a microphone, I wrote something down and this is what I had planned on sharing....

Almost 32 years ago Tammy came on one of our church retreats. I'd never met her and I gushed to Bob, "Doesn't she seem like a nice girl?"

He said she wasn't nice, that she was wild and that I wouldn't have anything in common with her. He was wrong. We ended up sharing a bunk and we stayed up all night long talking and laughing. I told Bob the next morning that I loved her, that in fact, I might love her more than I loved him ;)

I think it was probably a good thing we didn't have any idea what the next 32 years would bring, because well, if we did, we might not have laughed that hard. Actually, though we have been through some tough times (and are sure to go through more), we've laughed much, much more than we've cried. I would never have been able to imagine back then what a wonderful gift Tammy was going to be or how closely our lives would stay intertwined...having kids at the same time, vacationing together, growing in our faith together, even having the unbelievable experience of working together (for almost a quarter of a century!) I could go on for hours and not run out of hilarious stories to share with you.

God knew exactly the kind of best friend I needed to share my life with, and He was so, so good to me when He brought me Tammy...a loyal, loving, faithful, smart, beautiful and funny friend to laugh and cry with for decades.

I can't think of words to describe how thankful I am that God put her on this earth, in my little corner of the world, 50 years ago today! Happy Birthday Tammy...I do love you so.

There is a song by Snow Patrol called Chasing Cars that always reminds me of Bob, of his willingness to just be there for me. The sad and glad days, the silly and mad days, whatever it is I'm going through he's willing to (try at least) experience it with me. The words of the song ask: "If I lie here, if I just lie here would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

I have days where sadness overwhelms me. Days when I just want to retreat into my closet, curl up into a ball on the floor and cry my eyes out. If Bob happens to be home on those days, I try and "will" him upstairs to me. I want him to lie down beside me, to hold and comfort me as only he can.

Often he'll ask me what it is that's making me so sad. I usually answer, "I'm not sure, I thinks it's just everything...Brett. All the things I wish I would have done differently. The fact that my mom doesn't have anyone to lie down with her...just... everything." And the crying continues.

I know what I should be doing-- counting my blessings, forgetting the past and pressing on towards the goal and all that-- but sometimes I just need a good, cleansing cry. It's on those days that I am most thankful that I have someone that will "lie with me,  just lie there...and just forget the world."

Sweet Babe, thank you for putting up with me...the sad me, the mad me, the silly me, the real me and (the hardest one!)...the scared me. I cannot imagine doing life without you.

Happy Birthday.

My dad used to say he'd make sure the words "Oh well" were put on my mom's gravestone. You would have had to have grown up in our household to understand how bolstering and encouraging those words have been. More often than not, her "Oh well's" were followed with "God knows all about it" or "It'll all work out".

When my parents were newly married, my mom fell in love with a little dinette set...but it was too much money, and they didn't have much money so they couldn't justify buying it. When the Holidays rolled around, my dad decided to surprise her with it. He went out and bought it and strapped it onto his car. On his way home it broke loose, blew off the car and broke into a hundred pieces. He pulled over, picked up all the pieces and put them in his trunk. When he got home he asked my mom to come outside to see what he'd gotten her for Christmas. When she looked into the trunk and saw all the sticks, she asked him what it was.

"Kindling", he answered, "I bought you kindling for Christmas."
I can just hear his big laugh.
My mom's response? "Oh well."
She could have said something like, "You'd think, being an engineer and all, that you might have figured out a way to strap it down so it wouldn't blow off." But no, that wasn't her way.

Throughout their marriage there would be many times that my dad would hear the heartening "Oh well." Like the time he came home and said that their business had gone belly up and they didn't have two nickels to rub together. Her response? "Oh well.... It'll all work out."

All of us, probably me more than anyone else, have gotten our share of "Oh well's".
Me: "Mom...I totaled the car." Mom: "Oh well, the most important thing is that you're not hurt".
Me: "Mom...I've really made a mess of things." Mom: "Oh well, sometimes you just have to live and learn."
Me: "Mom...they're telling me my baby might be blind, that he'll never walk or talk or respond to us in any way."
I will never forget what she told me that time: "Honey, God is either sovereign or He isn't."
Those words somehow both calmed and comforted me. I repeat them to myself often. God is either sovereign or He isn't.

I know there couldn't be a grandchild in the whole world who gets more kisses from their grandmother than Brett does (and he's not always happy about them either). I have a vision of my perfect, handsome Brett (who looks so much like his daddy), coming up to my mom in Heaven and telling her that all those kisses were a little over the top.

I've been thinking the secret is to my mom's incredible strength and joy in spite of all she's been through and I've decided the key is gratitude. She has never stopped being grateful. Last Sunday was the anniversary of my dad's home-going. When I went over to see her that day, I wasn't thinking about the date and I wondered why she seemed down. She said she was having a hard time believing my dad had been gone 12 years and said, "there aren't too many people..."

I thought for sure she was going to say that there aren't too many people who have had to endure the heartache she has, but no, I should have known better.

She said, "there aren't too many people that can say they had over 40 wonderful years with the man of their dreams, or experienced the joy and laughter that your dad and I did."

That's my mom, always looking on the bright side and always being thankful.

Happy Birthday Mom...I do love you so!

I must admit, I hate getting old. I especially hate looking old. I just turned 49 a few months ago but recently a pilot thought I told him that I'd been flying for 44 years!! I only realized he misheard me when he said that I looked good for flying for 44 years. (You can imagine how high I was riding after that conversation). I wanted to tell him I wasn't even 44 years old! Of course, he was just a boy.

Seriously, when did all these boys start flying our airplanes? Frankly, some of their landings feel like a little boy landed it. Not too long ago, after a particularly rough landing, the flight attendant was able to say with assurance, "use caution when opening the overhead bins, as your luggage HAS shifted about during landing."

I've always had a problem with caring too much what I look like. When I was in 7th grade I made the unfortunate decision to get the oh-so popular Dorothy Hamill hair cut. It was a time in my life when I desperately wanted to look like a girl but, evidently, the new cut threw into question exactly what I was and I was mistaken for a boy on more than one occasion. It was devastating. I can at least by thankful that I'm no longer a "Pat." If you're not familiar with Pat, tune into some Saturday Night Live episodes from the 90's and watch the hilarious confusion over exactly what Pat is.

Believe me, I'm not telling my sad story because I'm trolling for compliments...although a few assurances that I really don't look like I've been flying for 44 years wouldn't be unwelcome. But no, I have a mirror. "Yeaaah...I see it." (Only fellow flight attendants will get that line.)

I know time is marching on and that aging is inevitable, but it is difficult not to get discouraged at the ever increasing pace of the march. I've always believed that my job makes time go by even faster, maybe because we live by the month rather than the week, or maybe because we cross time zones and lose track of what day it is.

I try and remind myself that the most important thing is what's on the inside. "Pretty is as pretty does" and all that. Every day I see suffering and sadness that makes me being bothered by someone thinking I've been flying for 44 years seem particularly shallow.

Fortunately, I do know that this world and all its suffering is not the end of the story, which is probably why I've always loved 2 Cor. 4:17-18: "Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." Yes!

I was prompted to try to open my eyes to the good passengers, rather than focusing on the jerks. Oh, but it is sooooo much easier to find the jerks. The summer months are an especially difficult time to find the goodness in passengers. I can't tell you how many of our stories begin with: "Just when you think you've seen it all...."

The stifling airplanes, filled to the brim with hot, grouchy people, the thunderstorm delays, the infrequent flyers that are indignant someone took "their" bin space, the ones that claim our seats keep getting smaller and smaller. I want to ask them if it ever occurs to them that they might be getting bigger and bigger? Because I've been down that road of denial. I remember those days in college when I was sure the dryers were shrinking all my clothes.

Regardless of the difficulty, I am determined to find the goodness. Not long ago a female passenger had a mortifying accident (wearing white pants, no less). She scampered back to the lav and stayed in there for a very long time. No doubt doing the best she could to wash them out.

A large man sitting next to her eventually came back to the galley with a T-shirt he had retrieved from his suitcase. He discretely explained that his seat mate needed his shirt. He didn't want it back and he didn't want her to know where it came from. He figured his shirt would easily reach her knees, saving her from the indignity of wearing the stained pants. Talk about thoughtful! His heart went out to her and he sat there and came up with a way to help her.

See? There really are some very good, thoughtful people out there....and maybe just by "keeping my eyes peeled" for them (one of my dad's phrases), I'll be inspired with goodness rather than discouraged by an increasingly self-centered world.

I bought the "One Year Bible" several years ago with the intention of, you know, reading it in one year. Unfortunately, I didn't achieve my goal. From the first verse I started counting how many times the Bible tells us not to be afraid. The number reached well into the hundreds before I was even halfway through. Every time an angel appeared with a message for someone, the angel's first words were always "fear not." Understandably! If an angelic being suddenly appeared in front of me, I doubt a "fear not" would be enough to stop the screaming. God knew what scaredy-cats we were going to be and how fear would be used to immobilize us and make us buy all sorts of things we don't need.

About 25 or 30 years ago I was walking through the "aisles of beauty" at Hudson's. The Estee Lauder counter had some kind of machine that you could look into to that supposedly gave you an idea of what you'd look like in 25 years. I couldn't resist looking into it and was justifiably horrified at the image looking back at me. Though it was frightening, it didn't scare me enough to stay out of the sun (or buy the age protecting product they were hawking). Consequently the multi-spotted image I saw that day is pretty much what I see in the mirror today.

One of the reasons I chose not to stay out of the sun was because I felt it was too late, the damage had been done. Sunscreen was unheard of when I was little. We belonged to a swim club and it was not unusual for us to be dropped off for the day. Our summers involved multiple peelings, even contests to see who could peel off the biggest piece. I remember one day we were dropped off because my mom and aunt were going to be canning all day. It didn't look like the greatest day to spend at the pool, but Mom assured us it was supposed to clear up. It didn't clear up, the sky turned green, the wind whipped up and tornado sirens started going off, yet still... no one came to get us. The lifeguards were less than enthused that they were forced to stay with us. My older brother was particularly annoyed, commenting that "you'd think reports of tornadoes touching down might clue Mom in to the fact that we're no longer having a good time here."

The tornado warnings weren't what scared me the most. What I feared the most was the PRESSURE COOKER! The dreaded pressure cooker that was only brought out for canning. I didn't even know what a pressure cooker was (I still don't), but my mom put the fear of God in us about that thing. It was so dangerous it was really best if we weren't even in the house when they used it. The slightest misstep could blow us all to kingdom come! I was terrified that the thing had finally blown and we wouldn't be picked up at all. I was never so relieved to see our old station wagon fish-tailing around the corner, with my mom screaming at us to hop in as quickly as possible.

There are literally hundreds of phobias. I used to question the very faith of those that are afraid of flying. To be fair, most would say it's not the flying they are afraid of but rather...the crashing. Don't these people realize that they are not in control? That when it's their time it really doesn't matter where they are, or how they chose to get there? Thinking about my own irrational fears has humbled me and made me realize that all of our fears involve some degree of faithlessness. In spite of all God's assurances, we still needlessly worry and fret about things we have zero control over. How freeing it would be to take God at His word and "not worry about tomorrow" (Matt. 6: 34), trusting that our days truly are "in His hands" (Psalm 31:15).

Do you ever have days where you're just not "feeling the love"? I confess I have more of those days than I care to admit.

Those days where the slightest traffic delay or people taking a little too long to answer my questions get on my last nerve. Despite my impatience on the road, I've shown remarkable restraint with my car horn, I can count on two hands how many times I've actually used it (possibly because a friend's accidental beep once caused a skittish Japanese lady to dart out into traffic and almost cause a horrific accident).

But, I kid you not, those few times that I did blow my horn I've ended up feeling like a total loser. One time I couldn't see why traffic had come to a stop and blew my horn in frustration. As I got closer, I realized everyone had stopped because a mother duck was leisurely waddling across the street with what seemed like 30 ducklings behind her.

Another time I was irritated that the cars in front of me weren't turning right on red. Don't those morons realize they can turn right on red? As I got closer, I saw a little old woman painstakingly crossing the street with two grocery bags hanging from her walker. Talk about wanting to slink behind the wheel and disappear!

Another time, cars were driving ever so slowly by what looked like a dead animal in the road. What's wrong with these people? Is this the first time they've ever seen such a thing? As I passed slowly by, I saw that there was a dead duck lying in the street but its live mate was sitting beside it. I know ducks mate for life so that sad little image haunted me for weeks.

At work, one of my biggest pet peeves is passengers not removing their headsets when I get to their row. Practice your lip reading on your own time, buddy! When they do take them off they wonder what I said. Are you kidding me?? What do you think I'm asking you...if you've heard a good joke lately? The really aggravating ones tell me what they want to drink, put their headsets right back on and then we go through the whole rigmarol again to find out if they want peanuts, pretzels or cookies. Come on people, it's not like you've never seen this routine before.

I actually considered doing a weekly blog featuring those I deem to be the jerk of the week. There would be so many contenders! Something small, like telling me to smile, could rocket them to the top of my list.

Fortunately I decided focusing on the negative wouldn't be as healthy as focusing on the positive. I've been humbled too many times in my impatience and irritation by the genuine goodness of people, the grateful and happy ones that often don't appear to have anything to be happy about.

I'll probably always have days that I really struggle to feel the love, but God will continue to humble me with positive examples of goodness... reminding me that there are a lot of good people out there that fortunately, are feeling the love.