Archive for January, 2009

This week I am sharing with you a very inspirational video. This video is by Michael Neill and has been put together by one of my own VA’s – Jeanne. Her talented work and Michael’s inspirational message are worthy of sharing. Please enjoy and feel free to forward this link to others!

For more inspirational tips visit Geniuscatalyst.com

May you soar through life!

Recently my longtime friend and the woman who sat my children from birth, passed away from pancreatic cancer. My 16-year-old daughter delivered the following eulogy (which she wrote) with her 18-year-old sister. There are lessons to be learned here…

“Love is stronger than death, although it can’t stop death from happening. No matter how hard death tries, it can’t separate people from love. It can’t take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death.”

Not too many kids get to grow up with two mommies. It’s a rare thing. But my sister and I were extremely blessed and lucky kids. For those that don’t know, Susie took care of me from the time I was born and up until I was about twelve, and likewise with my sister Karla. We spent every day with her, and once we started school, every morning and afternoon. She taught us how to read and write, walk and talk, and pretty much everything in between. Yet those aren’t the most important things I took away from her. I think anyone who knew Susie, whether personally or simply as acquaintances, saw something amazing in her.

She was the most loving, caring, giving, unselfish person that I’ve ever met. Not to mention patient.

When I was about eight years old, in the summertime, we went out somewhere in the car. I had just gotten my brand new box of 124 Crayola crayons. I was so excited, and it was just my pride and joy, so I brought it with me – not to Susie’s knowledge of course. Not so brightly, I left the box in the car on this ninety-degree day. As you can probably guess, the following day there was a completely melted rainbow of wax covering the backseat of the car. I was a completely oblivious eight-year-old. I had no idea what I had done until I saw it. All she did was smile, laugh and clean it up. By the next week I had a brand new box of crayons, along with a new rule: keep the art supplies in the house.

I didn’t get in trouble. I didn’t make her angry. It didn’t even phase her. It’s times like this that amaze me. Looking back, I realize that Susie was truly meant to be a caretaker. Even my amazing mother would have lost it at the sight of that mess. She took care of everyone – friends, family, strangers, children – everyone before herself. She never held it over their heads, or wanted credit for the things she did. She just did them. She made us breakfast and lunch every day until we started school. To put that in perspective, between my sister and I, that’s about 3,012 peanut butter & jelly or bologna & cheese sandwiches. Not to mention the other kids she took care of throughout the years.

Susie always had the ability to light up a room. She looked for the best in everyone and everything and taught me to do the same. She was a firm believer that wherever you go, no matter the weather, you should bring your own sunshine. She taught me the sunshine song, which ironically enough sums up the way most feel about her.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.

I think that Susie left a little of her sunshine in all of us, and I know she loved everyone in this room dearly. She always had enough room in her heart for everyone and distributed love frequently. The most important thing to me has always been to make Susie proud – to show her that I was listening all those years through the ups and downs of childhood. What I’ve realized is that no matter what, she would be proud of me, and I know that she is. I think she’s proud of all of her children, whether blood-related or otherwise.

Susie never gave me any idea that I couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do or be whoever I wanted to be. She filled her house with books, and music, and love, and fun, unfailing in her efforts to give me inspiration and role models. As she raised me, I don’t know if she ever realized that the person I most wanted to be was her.

Once Susie passed I was worried, that for all that she had done for me I hadn’t given enough back. Sadly, I don’t know if we answered those sandwiches with 3,012 thank you’s. But Susie also told me she loved me every day, and that, I always returned. I’ve come to realize that was enough for her. That was everything to her. That’s about 5,245 I love you’s. But I think she deserves one more. So let’s make it 5,246. Susie, I love you. We all do.

The lessons I wish everyone who heard this and now everyone who has read it can take away from this are as follows:

1. Bring your own sunshine no matter the weather – it often makes the day brighter for others.
2. When things are tough, when you are hurting the most, you can rise to the occasion and help others, no matter your age.
3. Remember to see the beauty in the accidents of life – such as melted crayons.
4. Say I love you to those close to you while you can.