Most people think of a box wrapped with grid on one side to make sure you’re cutting straight and a glossy message of hope, excitement and a bright bow on the outside. Or now days society has become so lazy it’s a colored bag with a little tag on it.

I was raised in a family where birthdays were everything – most times the celebration lasted the whole birth month. However Christmas had very few box gifted with bows and flashy wrapping paper. The gift was the holiday card – it was often a ‘We’re going to…’ message.

The gift was the time together as a family. Time was valued from the day I was born and my parents made it a humble quiet lesson they would teach me growing up.

Looking back I can think of few major ‘time is a gift’ experiences that shaped me to continue this mentality as an adult.

I was raised in the same house my dad was raised. The Christmas tree was in the same spot as it was for my Dad growing up. The kitchen table where my dad gathered for meals with his family sat in the same spot as our kitchen table. Our bedrooms were shared by my dad and his siblings and me and my sister. Time was the gift. The traditions continued and the walls heard the same stories three generations in a row. We had our first family dog in the that house. My dad also had his first dog in that house. The small things…

My Mom climbed the corporate ladder and had the opportunity to move our family away several times but denied it every time. Why? Mom and Dad agreed giving my sister and I the opportunity to know my grandparents on my mom’s side was worth more than any paycheck. Time with grandma and grandpa on the farm – I think that’s the second best gift I’ve ever been given.

I would beg Mom and Dad to let me ride the school bus an extra 30 minutes so I could go the farm and spend a couple hours playing jokes on grandma and grandpa, running the four wheelers through the creek, tapping watermelons in the garden, raising my first pig and taking it to market at age 5, riding sheep, and ‘stealing’ the eggs from the chickens. My grandpa taught me the difference between a storyteller (me) and a really good storyteller (him). Even though his stories changed a few details every time he told it.

My grandma had knee surgery when I was 12 and while most of my school mates were in sports, summer camps, and spending time at the local swimming pool, I was granny’s nurse. It was fun – I would make breakfast every morning, ride to town with Grandpa, go grocery shopping, and I was learning what it was like during the old days all at the same time.

During that summer, my grandpa taught me to drive a car. It was really no big deal – he had already taught me to drive a tractor, lawn mower, and four wheeler. Time catches memory making moments like a flyswatter catches a fly. Like the split second I looked in the rear view mirror while driving with grandpa only to see my dad staring back at me. He was on an appointment and I happened to end up in front of him. That’s how he found out Grandpa taught me to drive. 24 years later and I can still picture his expression like it was yesterday.

The time with my grandma and grandpa taught me to value the ‘little things’ in life because those moments are really the big moments. Take the time to live the ‘little things!’

Our holiday gift was often a vacation – most times it was with my grandparents. Canada was our getaway. Fly back fishing with no technology was the highlight of growing up with a value of time. Storytelling, book reading, fishing, swimming, cooking, fish frys along the shoreline, watching and respecting wildlife, pretending to be a bear in our cabin, and pulling pranks on one another. It was an amazing gift.

It was no surprise in 2004 when I graduated from the University of Iowa (60 miles from home) that I turned down opportunities to leave the state of Iowa. I was staying close to home. Grandpa was sick and I knew time was limited so I wanted to make the most of it – even though it was hard taking Grandpa on the four wheeler after taking 20 minutes to load up his oxygen tanks on the back. I would do anything to make his day better.

Grandpa gave me his last gift in 2005- the experience of death. A peaceful at home death surrounded by family and a fabulous Hospice team. He left me with an appreciation of a long, happy, and mostly healthy life living just as he wanted to.

Granny only time followed – it felt weird yet valued. She was my cling to both her and Grandpa. We continued to do a lot together – she was proud of her first grandchild to go to college in her hometown so we had a lot of ‘old days vs new days’ comparison experiences. After Grandpa’s death, Granny taught me the strength to get through death in my own way.

I remember her hesitation to support my decision to leave Corporate Tax and go self employed – no health insurance, no guaranteed paycheck, no retirement contribution, and a reliance on my parents to push me through. What she didn’t know is I wasn’t making the change solely for me; I was doing it to have more time with her. Time was shifting from grocery shopping, Cubs games, and road trips to doctor’s appointments, ER visits, and scooter trips.

Time with her was the gift I was seeking.

She passed away in 2011- Grandpa although not physically here helped me through Granny’s death. This round was a bit easier because it wasn’t my first time in this situation.

I vowed from that moment on I would do my best to focus on the gift of time, take advantage of it but not take it for granted.

Time. It’s. A. Gift.

Above – Madi (bottom) and Mini (top) dreaming of days filled with toys, treats, and work.

I do not ‘fit’ into one safe place…yet. I’m still searching for that.

However I do have a ‘floating’ safe place as long as Madi, Moo, and Mini are with me.

Madi – she’s a carbon copy of myself. She’ll be 8 years old this month and I’ve been lucky enough to have her since she was a puppy. She’s a black tri herding dog mix. She was an unexpected gift; the product of an unexpected litter of pups at my sister’s house. Father is a smart Australian Shepherd/Australian Cattledog mix. Mother is a playful, carefree, snuggle Border Collie/Pit mix.

She makes humans and dogs alike work to earn her attention, respect, and honesty. She’s bossy, independent, opinionated, a perfectionist, semi-social at best, and offers the highest level of energy when she’s happy. Her tail is consistently wagging – expressing her satisfaction of my quest to make sure her days are filled of wag worthy experiences.

Madi has taught me patience, unconditional love, and what it feels like to have a gift so great that there’s no way I could ever do enough to deserve. She instantly taught me to be more simple and less complex.

She’s my trial and error dog – she’s the first dog I trained. First dog I put in the agility ring. The first dog who taught me the relationship between a dog and a human. Taught me the importance of body language. Taught me the success teamwork can produce. Taught me that agility is not about the jumps, weave poles, hoops, tunnels – it’s about those 30 or so seconds that we get to spend together. Just the two of us. The gift of time together.

She’s my strength through the good times and the bad times. Without her, working through death of loved ones would be impossible. Without her, good days wouldn’t exist. Every day would just be a day. Each day with her gives the day meaning and purpose – my reason to live. Truly live each day.

Mini – she’s everything opposite of Madi and I. She’s my ‘No Moo’ opportunity. She’s a blue merle 4-year-old Australian Shepherd that I rescued in January 2018. She’s carefree, playful, affectionate, loves to be worked, instantly trusting, wears her heart of her sleeve, is fearless, and over curious. She’s the most driven and fastest straight speed dog I’ve ever been honored enough to own. She too is in the works to become another trial and error dog – in the agility ring, at home, in the truck, in hotel rooms, at dog parks. Location doesn’t matter – she always teaches me.

Mini challenges me to be more creative and seek out new resources to help her reach her potential. She’s a consistent reminder that a dog can only be as close to its greatest potential as its human will allow.

In nine short months, Mini has taught me to take the risk of loving again. She’s responsible for picking up the pieces of my heart – the pieces that were shattered after the unexpected passing of Moo.

As hard as it is to love again, Mini makes it easier. As easy as it can be. Mini needs me almost as much as I need her.

The tears drip down my cheeks as I write this knowing full well that part of the process of getting to a solid safe place is to release the ‘No Moo’ opportunity details that lead to Mini. Those details will spill out of me once again over the next couple weeks.

For now, Moo rests peacefully in a box next to our bed, in her birthstone ring on my finger, and next to my heart as I wear a handmade piece of jewelry everyday in her honor.

‘Floating’ safe space starts with solid foundation of my immediate family – Madi, Moo, and Mini.

I’ve been told this for years but I still do not know why.

• I don’t lead a high profile People Magazine life
• I am not a grammatically correct writer
• I do not consider myself comical
• I am not overly adventurous – although I have been to over half the US states including Hawaii and Alaska
• I do not strive for excitement
• I have no organization to my thinking
• And I certainly do not like to be in the spot light

However most say my life is a breath of fresh air to most – I’m simply:

• Bluntly honest
• Progressive thinker
• Fact driven
• Strong and independent
• Successful businesswoman
• Solid in execution of my principles and beliefs
• Goal focused
• Self-accountable
• A fabulous Mom
• One of few close-knit friends (quality is valued more than quantity)
• A believer in the #1 gift in life is time
• One who wakes up everyday eager to go to work at a business I created from scratch
• Introvert with an Extrovert on switch
• Small town Iowa girl with a love of the land, nature, and ma and pa restaurants

Nothing flashy – so why ‘write’ a book on it?

Maybe because some shared life experiences will help me grow – personally and professionally. Some will allow me to release some of the negative emotions hanging around from those life experiences I wish I didn’t have to live through but did.

Maybe because some shared life experiences will help those who read this grow – personally and professionally. My friend Allyson is not perfect but she’s a ‘journalist’ on FB page. I read her posts and leave them with a sense of ‘Wow, I’m not the only one struggling to juggle a full life!’ Today’s Allyson discussion is on safe place.

 ‘When I think of a safe place I think of a soft place to land with a good feeling knowing, a place that feels like home, a place lacking judgement, and a place full of acceptance. A soft place to land is where I feel heard. A soft place to land is a hard place to find these days in relationships. From friends to spouses it can be difficult depending on the season you are in or the season they are in to feel at home, to feel you have a voice, to feel welcome, to feel safe emotionally’ – Allyson.

Maybe that’s why I need to write a book – for myself and others to find that safe place.

Or maybe it’s because I have a lot to say…