After my Dad’s passing, my sister and I represented the family and my Mom’s wishes regarding the gravestone they would one day share. The gentlemen helping us with monument decisions, asked if any special words or phrase should be added in addition to names, dates and etchings. After conferring with the family, it was an unanimous decision to add the phrase, “betcha a nickel.” It would be two words that would forever link their lives in a loving and playful manner.

We sent many texts, made many phone calls in order to make the plan solid. Game day arrived and Hannah was up early texting and calling. The weather looked iffy with rain and chilly temps. At this point we needed to make a decision and thought we would just go for it. Plan A was in place, no turning back.

The instructor guided us through a journey on the edge between sleep and awake, while bringing us to the awareness of our body through breath and mind. We visualized our own journey, as if floating on a cloud. Everyone was in their own world, hidden beneath and wrapped in the comforting cocoon; drifting wherever their mind and body took them. After about 75 minutes, the class was pulled back from their journey, feeling refreshed, relaxed and renewed.

After game two, we were instructed on more advanced throwing techniques; two overhead at the same time or under arm; none of which I was successful doing. It was a fun evening with good friends, meeting new people, having new experiences and laughing. Sometimes in life, we have limiting beliefs that hold us back from trying something new or going for a dream. I wouldn’t call myself an expert axe thrower, but I had fun learning the process, to that I say…..Paul Bunyan, move over. Life is about the journey; enjoy it step by step or throw by throw. What will your next step reveal?

The evening’s schedule was packed with an autograph signing session with the inductees, cocktail hour, silent auction, dinner, grand prize ticket drawing, live auction, all ending with the induction ceremony itself. I had learned earlier in the weekend that my Dad and brother’s race jackets would be part of the live auction.

Both my brothers Jeff and Greg as well as Kurt Krumm, business partner and race team mechanic, shared memories, told heartfelt and funny stories about the sport, along with expressing their gratitude for my Mom, family, friends, sponsors and fellow inductees. It was a wonderful way to wrap up the induction and ceremony and a night Goodwin Racing Team, family and friends won’t soon forget.

My mind was swirling, as I wasn’t planning on being a grandmother anytime soon and besides they told me they thought they’d wait until they experienced some adventures being married, before they settled down with a family. They travel a lot in the winter for work, so I couldn’t imagine what was causing all this mystery.

When I refer to rolling the dice, I don’t mean being careless about chances, but rather risking your heart to fall in love, showing your venerabilities, trusting your gut or leaping with faith to something you’ve been hoping and preparing for. Believing in yourself without doubt or second guessing. Being fearless to capture  your dream.

You can imagine both my heartache and relief; I knew he had given me the sign I was praying for. It had been a friend that had no idea my Dad had passed. When I retuned the text, I explained we had lost him earlier that morning, she said she was being nudged to send me that message. I knew it was the sign he was near and was exactly what I needed in that moment. I had been given an incredible gift.

I’ve never made prime rib before, but read some recipes and it looked simple enough. I decided to order the roast from a well-known country meat market. It was where my Dad always ordered his meat for special occasions. I called to place my order, including the number of people I would serve; a total of four.

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m a sap…..meaning, I’m sentimental and tender-hearted. The older I get, the easier it is for me to become emotional and shed tears. Maybe it’s the mother in me, but I know many can relate to those emotional ads and tv commercials that pull at your heartstrings and get you started. A few months before my son’s wedding we started talking about our mother and son dance. We originally talked about doing a fun medley of songs with choreographed moves, but after an unexpected knee injury, couldn’t pull it off and decided to just go for the traditional dance.

One of my Dad’s treasures I held close to my heart were some of his hankies. He usually carried them in his pocket; and having them, felt like I was closer to him. I decided I wanted to give one each to my son and his bride-to-be on their wedding day, and wanted them to be personalized.

Back in the early 80’s, my Dad purchased three sets of running gear to be used for either grain or hay wagons. One of these was converted into what would become his prized hay wagon. Over the years it was used when putting up straw from winter wheat, but once he sold the dairy cows, would lend it to friends that ultimately didn’t care for it like he would. After years of wear he decided, he would tuck it away for safe keeping.

My son recently married his perfect match and I thought I’d share a few thoughts on being the mother-of-the-groom. People often say the mother-of-the-groom isn’t involved or have much to do in preparation, but I’m thankful I was included from the beginning. My first experience was when son asked me to help him find the perfect ring. I was touched and happy he wanted me by his side.

Within a short amount of time my Mom will be hosting my sister and her family for a long weekend and anticipation of the visit, we needed to get some things done around the farm. We set aside a day to gather together and tackle the work.

This past weekend happened to be one of those instances where the stars aligned and my calendar and my brother’s both had an open day to get some needed chores done at the farm. Yard work was planned and as luck would have it, the weather was warm, dry and sunny.

This past weekend, two of my best girlfriends hosted a wedding shower in honor of my son and his bride-to-be. Hard to believe my only son will be getting married soon, as we celebrated together with friends and family. The event was held at a local establishment that had recently gone through expansion and growth, and we were unsure how the new space would work. The day was filled with laughter, happiness, reconnecting of old friends and meeting of new.

At a closer glance, it was a beautiful yellow finch. My Dad loved birds; especially colorful ones, including yellow finches. Anytime he would spot one, would announce for us to look. The brightly colored yellow finch has been back several times; always making a racket at the vaulted window, seemingly to get our attention. It makes me wonder if my Dad was giving us a sign he was near. I like the thought of that anyhow, and the yellow finch has been named Chuck-da-finchi, after my Dad Charles….ha.