Just Because I like it

I got called out this morning to cover a Haz Mat situation on Lincoln Parkway.  No real biggie, a semi tank of flammable liquid went off the road, and was sinking in the mud that has resulted from heavy rains the last couple days.

No fuel was spilled, no one was hurt in the one vehcile mishap.  I went out, did my usual observations of the situation, got it in my mind what facts I could presnt, and snapped a few pictures that acutally applied to the situation at hand.

Then, I lingered.  Always and forever I look for that one perfect shot, the one that is exceptional, and today I got it!!!  These are two members of the Lincoln City Fire Department.

I am cheating just a bit, because I also sent this pic to my editor telling him I was sending it "just because I like it".  He emailed me back and said "I don't like it..........I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  Look for it to be one of our top pics in tomorrows paper!  But now YOU get a sneak peak!

Have a great day!
N

A Special day for Memorial -- Heaven's Tiniest Angel

Memorial lay on her tummy peering of the edge of a fluffy white cloud.

In her hand she held a small pouch of gold dust swept up from Heaven's floor.

As she dipped her tiny fingers into the pouch and released the dust in the morning breeze, she giggled in delight as it landed on the dew kissed petals of the rose below.

She lay on her tummy, kicking her feet about her back, watching as the little girl in the garden below ran from flower to flower. Memorial clapped her hands in delight when the gold dusted rose caught the eye of the child.

As the little girls skipped toward the rose, she exclaimed "Grandma, we need this one! It's the prettiest rose in the garden?"

"Memorial;" the voice of Gabriel spoke behind her; "what are you doing here?"

As she stuffed the pouch of gold under tummy she looked back on the senior angel and with wide innocent eyes, she replied; "I'm just watching".

"And what are you watching?"

The little girl below is helping her grandma pick roses from their garden. I'm helping her. Oops, I mean I'm watching her."

"What are you hiding Memorial? I saw you tuck a pouch under your tummy, what is in it."

"Just some old dust I picked up off the ground."

"Just some old dust; you mean just some old gold dust don't you?'

Memorial ducked her head, and her tiny halo went tumbling forward, and landed on the soft pillows of a nearby cloud. "Yes sir", she whispered.

"Uh hum, well, you know, you've been warned about this. Now fetch your halo and come with me."

Memorial rolled over the edge of her perch, and landed in a soft plop' on the cloud that now held her halo. With tiny fingers, she picked up the halo and did her best to right it into its proper place.

Gabriel stood near by, patiently tapping a toe on a cloud as he watch the little angel piddle and stall.

Finally she was beside him, and he reached to take her tiny hand.

Together they went through the gates of Heaven, and walked to the great throne where sat God, in all his glory.

He looked down on Memorial, and spoke in a low quiet voice. "Have you been misbehaving again Memorial?"

The tiny angel shuffled her feet and closed her eyes against the look of disappointment she knew she would see on God's face "yes sir, I have."

"And what were you doing?"

"Helping the little girl pick flowers."

God smiled only briefly at the innocence of the reply, then pressed further even though he knew the answer, "And how were you helping?"

In barely a whisper Memorial said "I was sprinkling gold dust on the prettiest one."

"If it was the prettiest one, why did it need gold dust?"

"I don't know, just because."

"Because why?"

"Because;" Memorial stomped her little foot, and sent her halo ajar. "If I didn't help her, she might not see it, and she needs the prettiest flower in the garden because she's picking it for her mommy, and if she missed it then saw it later she would be sad because she didn't see it in the first place. I didn't want the little girl to be sad, you don't want her to be sad either do you God?"

God chuckled; Heavens tiniest angel was feisty, sometimes naughty, but always well intentioned. "Well, no Memorial, I would not want the little girl to be sad, especially not today."

Memorial cocked her head to the side, and again the little halo went askew. "Why not especially today? Is it her birthday? It's not Christmas, no roses at Christmas, Mother's day was just a moment ago, so why especially not today?"

"Today is a special day, a day when everyone on earth remembers all their loved ones who have gone to Heaven. And, for today I have a special chore for you."

Memorial gasped in delight as she clasped her tiny hands together. No one had ever given her a chore, not the minor angels, not Gabriel, and especially not God.

She bounced up and down, clapping her hands; "I have a chore! Oh my! What is my chore? Is it really special? Will I like doing it? Is it important to you? Can I tell the other angels you gave me a chore? Oh!"

She looked into the eyes of God and saw that he was trying to be quite serious. She clamped her hand over her mouth, and waited for him to speak.

His eyes twinkled, but he kept a straight face at her little outburst. "Today you are going to visit with humans as they visit a special place. You chore is to help them remember the people they love who now live in Heaven."

"As far as liking your chore goes, you know that I would not give you a bad chore, but it won't always be easy. If you think it is getting hard, remember me and know that you are indeed doing something that is very important."

Memorial whispered; "yes sir, I will remember you."

At that Gabriel took her tiny hand and led her to that special place that God wanted her to go.

Memorial was a little puzzled by what she saw there. It was like a large garden, but instead of growing roses, it appeared that the garden grew stones.

The stones were a variety of shapes and sizes, and Memorial saw that each stone had writing on it. She asked Gabriel what the writing was, and why this place was special to God.

Gabriel explained that when people die, their souls go to Heaven to be with God, but their bodies are put in a special place called a cemetery.

The stones with writing on them are markers so that when loved ones want to visit the grave of their loved on, they can find it.

Memorial cocked her tiny head to one side, a puzzled look on her face, "But why? Why do they come here, when the souls are in Heaven?"

"Because, they can't come to Heaven, not yet at least. So this place is where they come to feel close to the one who has died, and to remember them in special ways. That is your job today Memorial, to help them remember."

So memorial planted herself at the gate of the strange garden and waited for someone to come who needed help.

By and by a couple came to the gate, their steps were heavy and their faces looked very sad. They carried a wreath of rose and carnation, decorated with a ribbon of red, white, and blue.

Memorial watched the pair, and knew that it was her chore to make them smile. She skipped along behind them until they knelt at a stone. No larger then a fleck of dust, she perched near the ear of the lady. She whispered gently, and the lady smiled. "Do you remember the day he enlisted?"

"I do", the man replied. "He was so happy to be going to serve his country. He felt it was his duty, his responsibility."

"He got that from you". She smiled "Always do what's right, always stand up for what you believe in. You told him that all of his life. He felt complete when he wore that uniform."

The man smiled; "Yes he did, but he got part of that from you too. Always look out for those who are weaker than you. Always show compassion to those who are not as blessed as you."

Again she smiled; "he was a fine man, a son to be proud of."

"Yes indeed" the man said.

When the couple left the special garden their steps were a bit lighter, their faces wore faint smiles of gentle remembrance. They had lost a son in battle. But his memory was renewed that day, and they felt a great sense of love and pride.

Memorial smiled wistfully, she had done a good job on her chore she knew, and wondered if the next one would come along soon.

Soon came along an old man, carrying a bouquet of snow white daisies. He walked slowly, using a cane to support himself. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Memorial knew she had a chore to do.

Too stiff to bend, he could do nothing but drop the flowers in front of the stone. Memorial drew a deep breath and blew on the flowers until they fanned out beautifully showing each little petal and each golden center.

The old man laughed, "Imagine that! They landed just the way you used to spread them out! I remember you always took such care to make everything perfect. I didn't know it mattered until now, but it did."

He chuckled out loud; "remember the time you fell down and spilled the flowers? You looked so funny sprawled out on the ground with peonies and iris and roses scattered from here to yon. You hollered when I laughed, but I couldn't help myself, even now, it is as funny as the day it happened. And in time, you laughed over it too. Not that day, but in time you did laugh."

As the old man turned to go, for just a moment, he caught a glimpse of his lovely wife, laughing and poking fun at herself, and Memorial knew she had completed her chore.

Throughout the day folks came and went. Memorial planted memories and happy thoughts like a country gardener planting flowers.

As evening grew near, she knew that her chore was going to end soon, and she hoped that God would be pleased with her work.

As she sat there wondering what he would say, she spied a child coming through the gate with a bouquet of roses clasped tightly in her hand.

Memorial gasped when she saw the rose, the very one that she had sprinkled with gold.

She wondered why the little girl was there. She had picked the roses for her mommy, and her mommy couldn't be here.

Following behind the child was a woman, the little girl called out to her "I know the way gramma"! Memorial hesitated and wondered, the little girl didn't look sad. But there had to be a reason that the same little child she'd helped chose roses was here at this place.

She followed behind the lady and girl, and stopped just short of them when they came to a stone.

The little girl laid the flowers on the ground, and said "here you are mommy, I picked them myself! Oh look at this one; it is the prettiest of all!"

Now angels are never sad, they have no sorrow in Heaven at all, and Memorial wasn't sure what the feeling inside her meant, but her tiny blue eyes grew misty, and her heart began to ache. What did God want her to do? She couldn't give the little girls mommy back to her, so why was she here? For surely nothing else could make the child happy.

The lady put her arm around her grand daughter. "Do you remember your mommy" she asked.

The little girl dropped her head and shuffled her feet, and immediately Memorial knew that this was the most important chore of all.

With invisible wings she flew to the child and whispered great things in her ear.

The little girl looked up at her grandma, "Yes I remember mommy! She used to hold me and sing songs to me.

"We used to play house together under the kitchen table, and when I would fall down and skin my knees she healed them with kisses.

"And she told me that no matter how big I got or how far away from each other we were, I would always be her little girl, and she would always love me very, very much!"

When the little girl left the special stone, Memorial lingered, making memories of her own. She was there yet when Gabriel returned and took her by the hand.

As she stood in front of God, he asked her how her day was, and she told him it was the loveliest day she had ever spent.

He smiled a great smile that made his face glow, and he told her that this was the day for which she had been made.

He told her that she had helped them all in a very special way, for this day was her namesake, Memorial Day.

So when you go to visit a stone, just know that you are not there alone. Memorial is there right at your side, helping you remember all the good things you should, and wiping away your tears with gentle memories of a life lived, not a life lost

Walking Through Fog

In the spring of the year when the air is warm, the humidity rising, and yet the earth remains in its more frigid state, a fog will rise.

The fog begins low to the earth and rises up from the valleys to ascend the hills.

I walk into the fog at its first rising. I feel like a tall tree or perhaps even a mountain as I turn my face to the heavens and behold the twinkling of the stars, and the soft glow of the moon, just as they are peeking through a crimson and golden sunset.

As I cast my face back toward the earth, I see below me a mist, which clouds my vision and makes my footing unsure.

Yet, as I look up again, there is wonderful clarity.

Walking through the fog can be a marvelous thing.

As the twilight deepens and the skies lose their crimson glow, the fog comes to meet my face.

The cool dampness of it caresses my skin and cools my body from the warmth of the day.

My sights are limited to the spaces before me, and those I see as though in a room lit dimly.

My mind leaves that place of worry and wondering about what lies in the far distant future, and concentrates solely on what is in the immediate.

Walking through fog can be illuminating.

In the depths of darkness, the moon and stars are hidden from my view by the mire of the fog that surrounds me, suffocating me, making me invisible.

I am lost in its density, struggling to find my way on a path I’ve traveled for all of my life.

My heart sinks in despair, then raises into my throat as fear envelopes me and robs me of all good judgment.

Walking through fog is terrifying.

I pray for strength, I pray for insight, the pebbles beneath my feet feel like boulders as I struggle to stay on the path.

I reach out my hands, grasping for some something solid, someone solid to give me a sense of security, only to find a vast wall of nothingness.

Tears are blurring my vision, flowing down my cheeks in waterfalls of despair; I am lost and alone, with no hope.

Walking through fog is humbling.

My struggle seems to last my lifetime, the journey is endless in a world that is no longer familiar to me.

I push forward in fear. I fear what lies ahead, yet I am afraid to turn back, afraid to face what is behind me.

As I struggle forward, I stumble, I fall, I cry out in fear.

On my hands and knees I crawl forward, and suddenly the fog lifts, I see my surroundings and laugh aloud.

You are standing there, your smiling eyes peering into my soul, you hand reaching out to bring me upright again.

The moon shines brightly illuminating your face, your smile reassures me that I am once again in a safe, secure place.

As the fog dissipates, and the sky lightens with brilliant splashes of blues, purples and gold, a new day begins.

The fog is once again at my feet, and I am a mountain or perhaps a tall tree, turning myself to embrace the warmth of the rising sun, and the promise of a new day.

Walking through fog is a marvelous thing.

Spring has sprung

How do you know...

When spring....

Has sprung?

When you can see....

That the burning.....

Has begun!!!!

It's that time of year in Logan County when the skies turn a hazey gray with occasional pillows of black smoke wafting through the air.

It's burn off time for the native grasses!

Yea, soon they will be green again, the skies will be blue the temperatures warm and all will be well with the world!

OF Earworms and Fond Memories

Well it has been eight days since I attended my nephew’s performance in the IEMA concert at Peoria.


It has been eight days that I have had an earworm.

No matter how hard I try I can’t shake it, UNLESS that is I revert back to the earworm that I had right prior to that.

I’ll define an earworm for you, as I only learned this recently and think there could be others who don’t recognize the terminology.

An earworm is that song that is stuck in your head that keeps playing over and over again. Anytime you’re not thinking of something specific, as in those moments when you could be blank, in comes the worm, wiggling through your brain and haunting you with its song.

Earworms can be quite annoying. Sometimes I will myself to think of other things in order to push the earworm out.

That in itself can be a bad thing, or a good thing depending on what comes in to replace it.

For me this week it has ended up being a walk down memory lane.

The concert we attended was really wonderful. The kids who were participating were truly talented musicians, and I enjoyed very much the blend of instruments, the blend of voices, the drama of the conductors, it was all just perfect in my opinion.

The music was lovely, but I shared with my sister and nephew somewhat to their disappointment that it wasn’t genuinely the kind of music that I like.

I wasn’t saying anything negative about the performances; I was just saying that the music was much more sophisticated than I was.

When I was in high school, we attended an entirely different type of event each year. It was a gathering of school choral departments, and we all got to go.

It lasted one day only, starting early on a Saturday morning, and ending with a Saturday night concert that our parents attended.

We had special music, and special conductors, who were generally very charismatic, and most of the teenage girls in the group imagined themselves in love with the conductor and saw a future as the wife of the maestro.

I remember distinctly one such gentleman who at the beginning of the morning, taught us all to sing; “I’m alive, awake, alert, enthusiastic, I’m alive, awake, alert enthusiastic, I’m awake alert alive, alive awake alert, I’m alive awake alert enthusiastic!”

Then we’d sing it again, faster, then again, faster, then again, faster until finally we were all singing so fast that the girls would succumb to giggling, the boys would roll their eyes and laugh, but in the end, we had started the day on a very good note literally.

This was but one really good memory from my high schools years. Attending Robert’s concert also brought to mind other years.

I recalled attending this special gathering in Paris Illinois one year. It was a grand day filled with hard work, but we did get a break before the concert.

I recall a small group of girls who decided to walk uptown and go “shopping”. Well, I went along, and as I traversed through the shops I found an excellent gift for my mom. Now I don’t remember the occasion I was buying for, but I remember the gift. It was a carnival glass bell, and it cost me 15 bucks!

I think back now, and I’m not so sure but what that may have been the first time ever I chose a gift for my mom without being accompanied by my dad or my grandma.

Back to memories of school, I remember the fall I had to start school with both of my feet in snow white bandages and wearing old grandma style sandals.

Bruce Balding made fun of me, saying that for the Chorus picture for yearbook we were all going to prop our feet up on the chair in front of us. I was mortified!!

I also remember Rose Sunderland our choir director and her strange and quirky ways.

I remembered the skirt she wore to one of our concerts that was made entirely of men’s ties.

I remember the only lines I ever had in a musical; Gideon’s Rainbow, and my lines were “Gideon!’ she calls” again a bit louder, “Gideon!” Finally, very loudly, she cries out to the wonderer, “Gideon!”

HA! Definitely not a defining moment in my acting career! But I took it seriously, and bragged a bit that my words would be the ones that launched the play!

Then there was the yawning experiment. It was Rose Kocher and Judy Dallmier who started it. They sat in the alto section, in the back row on the end. The two had a bird’s eye view of the entire group, and watched and laughed as first Rose, then Judy offered up a large yawn, and one by one, everyone in the room followed suit!

When we noticed their giggling, they were obliged to explain what they had done, all in good fun. I denied yawning, I was certain that I had not. But they swore we all did it unconsciously! What a hoot, that was my first role as a guinea pig in a “scientific” experiment.

Another memory was my first Madrigal Dinner. Yet another earworm, “With boars head in hand bear I bedecked with Bay and Rose-mar-i!”

My mom made me the most beautiful shiny blue umpire waste dress with shimmering sequins. I loved it. As a matter of fact, I still have it!

Some of my best memories of high school came from being in Chorus. Now of course not all of them were good, there were bad moments and things that embarrassed me, but alas those memories are no longer worth remembering.

So what has brought on this full eight days of walking down memory lane?

It was a poem written by Robert Frost entitled The Garden Girl, and set to music.

A Neighbor of mine in the village

Likes to tell how one spring

When she was a girl on the farm, she did

A childlike thing.

One day she asked her father

To give her a garden plot

To plant and tend and reap herself,

And he said, "Why not?"

In casting about for a corner

He thought of an idle bit

Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood,

And he said, "Just it."

And he said, "That ought to make you

An ideal one-girl farm,

And give you a chance to put some strength

On your slim-jim arm."

It was not enough of a garden,

Her father said, to plough;

So she had to work it all by hand,

But she don't mind now.

She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow

Along a stretch of road;

But she always ran away and left

Her not-nice load.

And hid from anyone passing.

And then she begged the seed.

She says she thinks she planted one

Of all things but weed.

A hill each of potatoes,

Radishes, lettuce, peas,

Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn,

And even fruit trees.

And yes, she has long mistrusted

That a cider apple tree

In bearing there to-day is hers,

Or at least may be.

Her crop was a miscellany

When all was said and done,

A little bit of everything,

A great deal of none.

Now when she sees in the village

How village things go,

Just when it seems to come in right,

She says, "I know!

It's as when I was a farmer--"

Oh, never by way of advice!

And she never sins by telling the tale

To the same person twice.

There were many words to this song, and while the tune was not difficult it was quite lively.


As we raced through the piece it was vital that everyone be succinct.


Enunciation was vitally important. With the fast pace had we not be precise in our work, it would very well have sounded like a bunch of teenagers high on sugar and caffeine speaking in tongues!


Of course the old saying if you start together and end together no one will notice what happened in the middle never applied when Rose Sunderland was directing It was right all the way through or it was a disaster!


Singing in the chorus required watching the director, listening to your neighbor, reading your music and hearing the accompaniment all at the same time, and believe me we all did it religiously for no one wanted to be the person who would blurt out the first word a half beat too soon, or hold the last note a tenth of a second to long!


We practiced that song, and practiced that song.


Then it was at the spring pops concert that we actually performed it.


I remember it. I remember it so very well. As we sang along, it perfect tone, not a note missed, not a word out of place, the farther we went, the happier I was.

The song filled me heart with laughter because it was such a silly song, such a silly girl.

And I remember that after the concert, it was my folks who said they had noticed how very happy I seemed when I sang that song.

And, what can I say even today singing still makes me happy.

Though I’m older, and a bit raspiers, with those beautiful high soprano notes no longer attainable, I still enjoy singing along with the radio, TV or a CD.

But frankly, in spite of the wonderful week of memories, I’m really getting kind of tired of this earworm.

I know that a small handful of my old classmates read this blog, and I’m giving you a gift tonight, MY EARWORM!

If you were in chorus in high school, and sang this song, surely you too have memories of what fun we used to have singing in the chorus.

So, here it is, it’s yours now, and I’ll go back to the one I had before last Saturday.

I get off on a 57 Chevy.

I get off on screamin guitar.

Like the way it gets me,

Every time it hits me.

I’ve got a rock and roll,

I’ve got a rock and roll heart.

Words -- Decatur Illinois

This is one of my favorite blogs for photos.  This fellow is a storm chaser, and produces some wonderful cloud bank pictures and so on.

Right now his last three or four posts are focusing on the recent snows and bone chilling temperatures.  He has a macro lense that is remarkable, and has managed to capture some of the most amazing close up pictures of ice formation, you just MUST take a look!!


http://pawleewurx.blogspot.com/

Mount Pulaski Illinois -- How high can they pile it??

I took these pictures in Mount Pulaski Illinois Monday afternoon.  This large pile of snow is the end result of the town cleaning up their streets.

They are doing a really terrific job of making the downtown area available to visitors without forcing them to wade through the white stuff, or park in piles of it!

As you can see the pile is quite high, and I am estimating that the square footage of the lot they are filling is about the same as my entire house!

And, the large area begs the questions....how high can they pile it?  And, how long will it last??

All God's Creatures

With extremely cold temperatures and now a new cover of snow, don't forget to look out for all of God's creatures.

Birds and squirrels are stuggling to find food and will eat nearly everything you toss out to them.

Also don't forget your outdoor pets.  Be sure to keep them safe and as warm as possible, even if it means bringing them in the house with you.

Whatever on New Years Day you do, that you'll do the whole year through

Have you heard it said; whatever on New Year's Day you do that you'll do the whole year through?  It's an old saying, I have no clue who first spoke those words, but I do recall that my mom and my grandma both considered it very seriously when the new year rolled around.

The jest of it was, on New Years day you wanted your house clean, dishes done, laundry washed, dried, folded, AND put away, and in general everything in your home in perfect order.

The idea behind it was that if you started the new year with your home in good condition, you'd be able to maintain it all year through.

Well, I've tried it.  It doesn't work.

But this year, I had a thought.  Maybe I'm living in Seinfeld's "Bazzaro World" and in order for me to have a smooth year, I need to do everything just the opposite of what I should.

Regardless, I'll tell you about my day one 2010.

This morning I woke a little before 6.  The hubs was in the bathroom finishing up getting ready for work.  I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling, snuggled deep in my blankies and just relaxed for a few minutes. 

I then had my first thought of the new year.  I thought how thankful I am for a roof over my head, a warm house, a comfy bed, and a husband who is busy in the bathroom getting ready to go to a job that may not be perfect, but then again whose is.

And I thought to myself, this I will do all year through.  I will have a home, a safe place.  I will have a husband whom I love deeply and whom I know loves me. 

What a great way to start the new year!

As I saw Rich off to work, I was thankful for two vehicles that run, and are both paid for, and the garage they sit in so there is no snow or ice for us to have to deal with first thing of a morning, and I thought to myself that for the next year, I will have these things to be thankful for.

Later as I sipped coffee I was thankful for a coffee pot that works and the coffee that is nearly the price of gold right now, yet we had the money to buy it.

Later I was thankful for the washer and dryer in the laundry room that both work, and the clothes that I put in them.

For I now know that for the next year, I will have the ability to cover myself, and to keep those coverings clean.

As I ran hot water into the sink to wash dishes I was grateful that the water bill is paid.  I was also grateful for the real dishes, glasses, cups and silverware that I store in my cabinets everyday.

Earlier in the week I had sat down and paid all the necessary subscriptions we have such as gas, electric, water, sewer, and yes TV and internet.  When I was done, I realized that there was still enough money in the bank to go buy groceries.

So, as I headed out this afternoon to buy a few food items, I was once again thankful that even though we have notably struggled this year, GOD has given us what we need.

I hate the cold, I don't like snow, and I despise ice, all three of which I had to contend with in my little excursion to Kroger.  But even there I found something to be grateful for.  I thought of an acquaintance I have in Alaska where the winter temperatures get to 40 below zero, and I was grateful that I live in Illinois, where as I thought this all through I realized that warm weather is only about 90 days away!!

And, finally this evening as I put our traditional New Years dinner of pork, potatoes, carrots, and cabbage in the oven, I thought once again about all the things I have, and how thankful I am for all of them.

Rich and I will never be wealthy, but we will always be rich.  First we have each other, next we have family that we dearly love, we have jobs that we don't hate, we have friends that we care about and care about us, and we have all the necessities of life; a home, food, clothing, vehicles.

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions.  My definition of resolution in this case is promise.  Many people make resolutions (or promises) they can't keep.  And, if whatever on New Years Day you do, that you'll do the whole year through, is true, why would anyone want to spend their year making promises they can't keep?

So, rather then end this with a promise, I'm going to share with you my GOALS.

My GOAL for the new year is to TRY and be a good person, a good wife, a good daughter, sister, step-mom, gramma, and friend.

Another GOAL for this new year is I am going to TRY and always remember what GOD has given me in my salvation, and to spend more days like today, noticing what I have instead of what I don't have, and being grateful for all of it.

To all those who read this, I challenge you to be grateful as well.  Count your blessings, and find the good in your life.  If you do, you will surely find that most times the good out-weighs the bad.

God Bless
and
Happy New Year