Tag: family

Running…to Remember Vlady

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in Healthy Lifestyle

By Lisa Calice

This is a photo I took while running the Brooksie Way Half Marathon

Thinking back to my childhood, running wasn’t a specific activity, it was a natural state of being. I’d like to think running was for the sheer joy of doing it, and imagine my little girl self taking off just to see how fast my legs could carry me, almost like flying. As I grew older, running took its place in my life as training for my chosen sports. We had to run for basketball, soccer, softball and even volleyball. Whenever training for a new season began, it would be challenging, but after a few weeks of doing it, running always became effortless.

Over the many years of running, I noticed that regular practice seemed to reap amazing benefits, confidence and I could actually feel my legs and my lungs getting stronger as it got easier and I felt faster and lighter. This is one truth that never changed.

Finally, when I was in my 30’s, the day came that I couldn’t run. I tore my ACL and underwent surgery. Life changed and I thought it might be permanent. Even walking was a challenge and on more days than I wish to admit, I wanted to give up. I went to physical therapy twice a week and my kids came with me. My son, Vlady, took a keen interest in my recovery. He held the clipboard while I did my exercises and made sure I completed them. When I was getting “stretched” by the physical therapist, he coached her to touch my heel to my buttocks. As I lay there feeling like my knee would disintegrate, I wanted to quit. Many, many years later, I am grateful for his tenacity. Other patients we ran into each week, called Vlady my “caddy” and asked where they could get one! At home I just wanted to flop onto the sofa and feel sorry for myself. Vlady would set a chair out on the driveway and have me “shoot hoops” with him. He never let me give up and so I never did. I’m forever grateful for his encouragement. Eventually I got back to running a few miles per week, just like I had before I tore my ACL. I was slow and careful not to re-injure myself, but at least I had the ability to run again.

Many years later, my daughter Lina asked me to run the Brooksie Way Half Marathon with her. I had zero training to do such a long race. I used to do the YMCA Lazyman Triathlon each year because it always coincided with my birthday and for me it was the start of a new year. Lina promised to motivate me each week and she did. We had little time to train before the race but somehow we did it. On the morning of the race, she was in a car accident. She told me to run without her. She did try to do the race when she got there, she had lost her socks in the accident so she was not able to finish due to blisters. She gave so much encouragement to me for which I will also be forever grateful. I completed the race without injury or pain in my knee of any kind. From then on her gift to me was that the Brooksie Way became a tradition. It gave me confidence that I could overcome adversity and accomplish my goals. It helped me to not give up.

Running has continued to thread its way through my life.i began to enjoy doing races with either fun themes, good causes, or both. It always gives me a sense of accomplishment when I meet my goals and complete a race. It can help bring awareness to something I believe in. Running also helps me to honor the gifts my children Lina and Vlady gave to me when they encouraged me and stayed at my side during my difficulties. I think of them and thank them each time that I run.

I was not at all surprised to discover that Vlady encouraged others in their goals as well. His good friend Zachary contacted me recently and told me he was doing a 50K at the Traverse City Trail Running Festival in April. He asked me if I wanted to join in or be there to cheer him on because he dedicating his efforts in memory of Vlady. I decided to join him in a 10K. We also have my sister, Anne, doing a 10K in his memory.

Our entire family and all of his friends miss Vlady every day. This April will mark an entire year without him. We are dedicating our training, our miles run in all kinds of weather, and our race day performance on April 23rd, to Vlady’s memory, with gratitude for having had him in our lives and to encourage ourselves and those who are struggling with his loss, to keep going. On many days when I don’t want to run, I feel like he is with me telling me not to give up. My running has given my life a daily purpose. I hope we can also bring some awareness to mental health struggles that many face, and bring attention to some causes I know Vlady would have supported had he been here with us today. For me I’m hoping to recapture some of that childhood feeling of “running for the sheer joy of it.” Please follow my posts and blog entries in the days ahead as I attempt to do just that. I appreciate any and all encouragement on this journey.

You can support our upcoming runs by supporting these causes:

Stop Soldier Suicide this organization helps veterans and active duty military. They provide consistent, safe, confidential care that saves lives. You can read more or donate on this link or on my Facebook fundraiser. You can also join my training team: Team Vlady and help me do 2000 burpees in the month of April!

UCARE, Inc. (Ukrainian Children’s Aid and Relief Effort) is a non-profit 501(c)(3) Organization whose focus is the children of Ukraine, primarily those living in orphanages and internaty (government run orphanage-schools). I know that Vlady would have appreciated our support as this was his life before he joined our family. Currently the need is great in Ukraine with the Russian attacks and these kids need our help! You can donate to this cause in memory of Vlady on this website.

If you would like to join us in Traverse City on April 23, here is more information. We welcome participants and we also welcome fans to cheer us on!

Ukraine Adoption…A Mother’s Perspective by Lisa Calice

by , posted in Healthy Lifestyle

This article was published in Our Life Magazine in 2001.

I am publishing this article again today in honor of my kids 23rd adoption day. 23 years ago today, they officially became my children. The magnitude of love, joy, pride, grief, gratitude and every other possible emotion you can think of, is swirling through my mind and heart today. Never, in a million years, would I have imagined myself here. As I attempt to wrap my brain around what’s become of my family, I have begun to find a way to take comfort and feel gratitude for the incredible gift and opportunity to become the mom of my three kids. Thinking back, it still amazes me the way things fell into place and when I met my children, I had not a single doubt in my mind that God intended for me to be their mom. Even after all that’s come to pass, I still have no doubts about that. Being their Mom was my life’s purpose and it’s hard to imagine anything I could have done that would have brought more meaning to my existence.

In recent days, I had found myself contemplating their suffering and their struggles and wondered if I had done enough. After Vlady’s death, losing my relationship with Olena due to her challenges, and having Lina a million miles away serving in the military, it’s a very lonely Adoption Day. It would be easy today to be lost in sorrow. However, today as I found myself remembering all that we had together, I was suddenly filled with peace in the realization that I was the best Mom I could be. I loved and will always love the three of them no matter the time and space between us. I pray for the three of them and miss them daily. I thank God today for our many, many happy years.

Happy Adoption Day Vlady, Lina and Olena! Mnohaya Lita! Love, Mom

Only one year ago, I was awaiting a priceless Fed-Ex delivery – our Ukrainian travel visas – while I packed and unpacked the multitude of borrowed suitcases and travel paraphernalia that were strewn about my house. My husband, John and I were about to travel to Ukraine to adopt our children, yet we knew nothing about them. In my “expectant mother” dreams, I often fantasized about a little boy; I guess I had to
imagine some sweet angel who might occupy the bedroom we had so painstakingly prepared.

After the months of waiting – our visas, then our departure date arrived so quickly we scarcely had time to
finish packing. On a Monday afternoon, we arrived in Kyiv, Ukraine. The next morning, we awoke to undertake our first order of business, an interview at the Adoption Center in Kyiv. We arrived early at a modest building that did nothing to foretell the important events that would take place inside. As we climbed several flights of stairs, I felt we would never reach the top. Breathless, I peered down the empty,
dimly lit corridor, at the end of which was the office of the Adoption Center Director. We stood outside in the cold hallway, shivering, until she was ready for us. The Director greeted us in a friendly, yet business-like manner; I felt so nervous that I immediately forgot the greeting I had practiced in Ukrainian. As
dismal as the corridor had been, her office was surprisingly bright and cheerful, with fresh flowers on the
table where we sat, and photos of adopted children proudly displayed.

After a brief interview, another Adoption Center employee showed us photos of available children. Our
translators read us each child’s information, which was scanty, at best, and the photos were two or three years old. Once we selected a child to meet, the director handed us a second photo and suggested we meet this child as well. As it happened, that child is now our daughter, Olena. We waited a in the icy-cold corridor again, for the letter giving us permission to travel to the Cherkasy region. Once we had the letter, we were on our way to Cherkasy where our children were waiting!

What we hoped for, but did not yet realize – we were one day away from meeting our forever children:
Olena, Lina and Vlady. Cherkasy is approximately 2-1/2 to 4 hours South of Kiev by car, depending on
weather, or how safely your driver can pass the multitude of slow-moving trucks and bicyclists on the
narrow, two-lane highway. It was a veritable obstacle course…as if the prospect of meeting our children for
the first time was not enough to fill my stomach with butterflies.

We drove past Cherkasy Children’s Home #1 that evening. We had dinner and tried to get some rest at our
hotel. The next day would be October 27. I think my impressions from my journal describe it best, “…a
rooster is crowing so it must be time to get up. It seemed to begin crowing at 7a.m. I have been awake
since nearly 6a.m. This is the second time I’ve felt cold in Ukraine, and both times have been indoors (the
first time was in the corridor of the Adoption Center)! I crouched in the shower this morning, hugging
myself for some warmth, because I was so terribly nervous and frozen. I was glad to get it over with so I
could stop shivering…I think today is the day we will meet our children.”

“The orphanage is nestled in a residential area, along the Dnipro River. You drive down a narrow, bumpy road with houses on both sides and then there is the orphanage. The buildings look new and there is
playground equipment, mostly monkey bars. It is sad to think they had to build such a place, but I am
thankful for it if our children are there, waiting for us…”

“…We have to dress up again today. We will go to the Cherkasy City Hall, to the Board of Education, and
to the Children’s home after that. My tummy does not feel so great this morning…so far I have eaten most
things because I have been so hungry…I think I am experiencing the most culture shock here. No matter
how much Ukrainian blood is flowing through my veins, Cherkasy seems like another universe…”

It was a mild October day; a soft carpet of fallen leaves covered the ground. When we arrived at the
orphanage, we walked through the iron gates, and through the doors of the orphanage for the first time –
my stomach was doing cartwheels. There was a group of small children walking with a caregiver to a play
area. Near the heavy front door, a cat was looking at us and purring cautiously. Just inside was a set of
stairs going up in opposite directions. We entered the director’s office and sat in front of her desk, not
facing her, but facing sideways – an arrangement that would become familiar in time. After meeting with
her, we walked to a bright, spacious room on the upper level. As we entered the room, I was more
emotional than I expected to be. We met three children, one of whom is now our oldest daughter, Olena,
the same girl we saw in a 3-year old black-and-white photo at the Adoption Center. We decided against
adopting the other two boys we met. It sounds unbelievable, but I fell in love with Olena instantly, though I knew little about her…as she played with toys, she always made sure she kept me in view. There was a minor problem, we desired a sibling group, and she had no siblings. Later that same day, we watched Olena practice for an autumn dance “recital”, where we spotted her future sister, Lina, and brother, Vlady. We fell for them just as hopelessly as we had Olena. John and I looked at each other later that evening, knowing that the idea of three children had been a “contingency plan”, in case, there was a sibling group of three, but we knew these children were our children now. There was no longer a problem – Olena would now have two siblings! It would certainly not be easy, but no other solution was possible – we felt we loved them already.

I later wrote: “Today I met my kids. I think that sentence says more than I could write in a book; MY KIDS – those have to be the two most beautiful words in the English language. MY KIDS…I will say it over and over again until I believe it myself…”

I can find no words to describe with any accuracy, that moment when my children entered my life forever. The caregivers brought Olena in first. I can still hear her footsteps as she came through the doorway of the
room where we were waiting, and without hesitating, hurled her slender body across the wooden floor and
into mine. She slammed into me so hard she knocked the wind right out of me, and then her body seemed
to melt into me and there are no more words to say after that, only tears. There she was, almost 4 feet tall, sweating in her red snow pants. No matter how heavy she felt or how much we both sweated, she kept her
soft, small cheek pressed tightly against mine and ran her fingers through my hair as if to make sure I was real. My two younger children, Lina and Vlady, entered my life in similar fashion. If I had had any doubt, their embraces dispelled it. I went back to our hotel that night dreaming of their sweet, happy faces.

From that day on, we visited our children daily, often twice a day for two more weeks. We spent hour
upon hour playing with them on the wooden floors of the orphanage. We ran and played with them outside
in the play yard, and began teaching them English. The days passed slowly, and I was beginning to get very homesick. We had experienced some nice autumn weather when we first arrived, but by now, winter was setting in.
Finally, we had our court date on November 12 and the days went by quickly again as we made preparations to return home to Michigan. It was a bitterly cold, snowy day in Kyiv when we finally
boarded the plane to Warsaw. A few days and a couple of Embassies later, we arrived home…in the wee hours of Thanksgiving morning…weary, jet-lagged, but relieved to be home at last. I know every Thanksgiving from now on will hold special meaning for our family. We have MUCH to be thankful for…we are a family at LAST!

Dad-i-tude…A Very Happy Birthday to a Fantastic Dad!

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in family

By Lisa Calice, a humble & grateful daughter

Today, I celebrate the birth of the most special man in my life; my Dad. He goes by many names to many people: Lawrence, Larry, Buzz, Uncle, Dido, and Dad. I obviously owe my very existence to him, but even as old as I am, I continue to find more reasons to be grateful for him. To say he always has been and is the best dad really doesn’t begin to describe him.

If I have any complaints about my dad, it’s that he completely wrecked it for me. He just gave me so much that the bar was set pretty high for anyone else. He taught me things I wouldn’t ever have learned in school, and he’s been at my side on my best and my worst of days. He used to say to me, “I’ve already forgotten more than you’ll ever learn.” And he didn’t say that with arrogance at all, and it was always said with humor, but, in the end it really was the truth. Dad has never minced words and in fact is a man of very few words. The words he does say have meaning.

My Dad and I…circa 1964

I am so blessed that my childhood was spectacular; it wasn’t one of great wealth; but it was rich in love. My Dad bought me my first baseball mitt when I was still a toddler and taught me how to play. Despite my stubbornness he taught me how to ride a bike, and how to use tools to build things. We spent time looking at the sky and he bought me a really nice telescope to study astronomy. Together we swam, fished, sailed, boated and water skied; all things I love to this day. We played football and watched football games and he taught me all the rules. It made me feel like I was the coolest girl ever! We went on ice skating, sledding, snowmobiling and tobogganing adventures in the winter.

I loved how he hurried home to be with us every night after work and spent the entire weekend and all of his vacations with us. It was never out of obligation, it was purely out of love. If you ask him, he doesn’t feel like he spent enough time with us kids. How wonderful it is to have someone who loves to be with you as much as you love to be with him!

My Dad even began my art career by giving me paper and crayons early each morning when I was a toddler, so he could get ready for work. I always had plenty of paper to create my masterpieces on! He encouraged me to go to college but he also tried to understand my need to create art.

As I grew up, I watched him always being of help to others, his parents, his sisters, and extended family. He would take care of our yard work and also go mow his mom’s lawn too. Really, he helped anyone who needed it, especially repairing cars, TV’s, and various electronic devices. The number of cars in his “fleet” most likely rivaled the number of stars in the sky. His weekend, late night and cold weather rescues rivaled AAA Roadside Service. I think I’m on the VIP Diamond Premium Plan.

Dad and Vlady

If that wasn’t enough, he is the most amazing grandfather I could have ever imagined. Even when my kids and I struggled, and through the times I felt like a terrible mom, he was our rock. I don’t know how anyone could be so many things to so many people, but so he has. It was also a lot of fun seeing him do all the fun things with my kids that we enjoyed when I was young. I hope they will have all the good memories that I’ve had.

Most recently, the patient, kind and compassionate caregiving he gave to my mom the past few years just blew me away. I often wondered how he learned and carried out the care that he gave. I can only say that it is the result of great love. Those who don’t believe in God or believe in love should meet my Dad. Truly, love conquers all, and gives you the strength to endure and to overcome all. He doesn’t say much and he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t do these things for himself or to look good. He just loves us.

The 1 Corinthians 13 passage says what it is that I’m trying to say about my Dad and his incredible love for his family and those lucky enough to know him:

13 If I had the gift of being able to speak in other languages without learning them and could speak in every language there is in all of heaven and earth, but didn’t love others, I would only be making noise. 2 If I had the gift of prophecy and knew all about what is going to happen in the future, knew everything about everything, but didn’t love others, what good would it do? Even if I had the gift of faith so that I could speak to a mountain and make it move, I would still be worth nothing at all without love. 3 If I gave everything I have to poor people, and if I were burned alive for preaching the Gospel but didn’t love others, it would be of no value whatever.

4 Love is very patient and kind, never jealous or envious, never boastful or proud, 5 never haughty or selfish or rude. Love does not demand its own way. It is not irritable or touchy. It does not hold grudges and will hardly even notice when others do it wrong. 6 It is never glad about injustice, but rejoices whenever truth wins out. 7 If you love someone, you will be loyal to him no matter what the cost. You will always believe in him, always expect the best of him, and always stand your ground in defending him.

8 All the special gifts and powers from God will someday come to an end, but love goes on forever. Someday prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge—these gifts will disappear. 9 Now we know so little, even with our special gifts, and the preaching of those most gifted is still so poor. 10 But when we have been made perfect and complete, then the need for these inadequate special gifts will come to an end, and they will disappear.

11 It’s like this: when I was a child I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child does. But when I became a man my thoughts grew far beyond those of my childhood, and now I have put away the childish things. 12 In the same way, we can see and understand only a little about God now, as if we were peering at his reflection in a poor mirror; but someday we are going to see him in his completeness, face-to-face. Now all that I know is hazy and blurred, but then I will see everything clearly, just as clearly as God sees into my heart right now.

13 There are three things that remain—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.”

Happy Birthday Dad! Thank you for showing me what love is. My life is forever better because of you and your love!

I love my Dad!

If you enjoy my blog and my art, please like, share, and comment below!

Blessings in the Unexpected

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in Healthy Lifestyle

By Lisa Calice

“If you so choose, even the unexpected setbacks can bring new and positive possibilities. If you so choose, you can find value and fulfillment in every circumstance.”

— Ralph Marston

I awoke this morning to the moon shining brightly in the morning sky. Still too sleepy to form any expectations of the day, I was taking in my surroundings without judgement. And what a delight to see the nighttime moon bright and shining in the deep blues and pinks and purples of the morning. If I wouldn’t have bent down to pet my dogs, I may not have noticed the view of the moon juxtaposed to my hanging pot of flowers; the only ones that have survived the hot, dry summer we are experiencing. My view of life this morning was one of joyful happenstance.

It reminded me that prior to March of this year, I may not have been where I was, experiencing the beauty of a sleepy, unplanned view of the sky from my own backyard. I would have been too busy, racing from commitment to commitment. And while I’ve so often grieved over the life I’ve lost forever, I’ve had some beautiful moments of feeling inexplicably alive.

Life in the pandemic is as terrible as it is beautiful. The moments where I can escape the rat race, the fear, the masks and the lost jobs and opportunities have been some of the most inspiring I can remember. I was truly present this morning with nature; in my backyard, in my breath, and with my dogs. We were all connected as one, and the morning and it’s possibilities seemed as endless as the sapphire blue of the sky. I’ve always loved mornings and this morning that love made my heart so full. My pets and I were in harmony and the morning stood completely still. I felt myself breathe.

These are those moments where I know that the tragic setbacks and losses of the pandemic and the choices being made that are out of my control, can one day lead to something better. In my heart I have to believe this. I feel more inspired, energized, creative, compassionate, patriotic. I want to transform my world and I want to transform the whole world for the better. One beautiful moment, one breath, one person can make one small difference.

For the first time in most of my adult life, I have been dragged, at first kicking and screaming into a life I didn’t expect. It happened as suddenly and unexpectedly as if I had painstakingly created one of those intricately colored sand mandalas and someone came along with a large broom and swept it all away. There’s a pile of dirt that remains of my past, and that’s about it.

Gradually at first, there was an awakening to beauty that was equally unexpected. It was a little like rubbing the sleep out of my eyes this morning. Instead of focusing on who and what are never coming back, my eyes opened to what is here. Maybe I was too busy rushing around building my sand mandala to notice it.

As a result, the sky has opened up. There are new relationships to be had; a new career, new friends, renewed friends, new experiences, a heightened creativity. I am moving into the realm of the present, of acceptance. Maybe the difficulties will suck but will actually make me better. The things I used to be afraid of hardly seem scary any longer. How can I; a living, breathing, creative human being; wake up to the moon in summer sky and feel afraid? Many moons have arisen and set over many setbacks that have come and gone, and the world is still here. I am still here. Life passes so quickly. Maybe now I won’t miss it completely. Right here, in this moment, I am blessed.

If you enjoy my blog, please like, comment AND share!!!!!

Lisa Calice, E-RYT200, BFA, CDP. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaCaliceYoga/ Twitter: @lisacyogini Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/lifewithlisayogini/

Visit ilovepete’s shop, for cool artwork on awesome products! https://www.redbubble.com/people/ilovepete/shop

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Every Day is a Miracle…

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in Healthy Lifestyle

By Lisa Calice

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child—our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” —- Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness: An Introduction to the Practice of Meditation

These times have many of us feeling down or discouraged; some of us are depressed or even fearful. I’m not saying I have the answers. However, if you are reading this blog, you are still here, walking on this earth. Fear not, for this life is a miracle.

Difficulties have often opened my eyes to beauty. I can recall times of loss or grief when I suddenly was struck by something incredibly beautiful…a vivid rainbow, a breathtaking sunset, a field of flowers, a loving embrace. Opening my eyes to a spectacular dawn, knowing that my creator has seen fit to give me yet chance to wake up, to walk on the earth amongst not enemies, but friends. I have another day to make a difference, to see the beauty, to appreciate what have and to share it with others.

In spite of uncertainty, it’s not only that I walk, but how I walk on the earth each day that is the miracle making. I may not do great things, but I remind myself to do the little things, the boring or mundane tasks with love!

I woke up this morning and pulled weeds in my garden. While this is a chore, I discovered the miracle of tomatoes that were ripe and ready to eat! They smelled sweet like the sun and the earth and tasted even better! Even in the weediest of gardens, there is delicious fruit. This chilly August morning is a miracle in the making. I am here to see it! The green grass, the colorful flowers, the sun, the moon, the stars, my job, my friends, my family and my pets…all is a miracle.

I pause for a moment and breathe in fully. When I breathe out, there’s some space to notice what’s around me. Here and there I can see opportunities to help those around me to experience small moments where the miracle of life is revealed. I want those around me to know I notice them and they are a miracle to me.

When I taught yoga in the park on Monday, I noticed and pointed out the rainbow in the sky, while the clouds were sprinkling us with rain. That’s how life is, offering us rainbows if we are willing to see them. Teaching yoga, I remind my students of the miracle of each breath.

When I am with my mom on Sundays, the miracle is that in the darkness of her dementia, I can give her a reason to smile, even if it is only once when I compliment her or when I see her enjoying our art projects. It may not sound like a big thing that I have done, but for me, seeing a smile on her weary face is a miracle.

I encourage you today, to smile at someone, to do a small kindness, to take a moment to enjoy the beauty of walking on this earth. Life is a miracle!

Lisa Calice, E-RYT200, BFA, CDP. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaCaliceYoga/ Twitter: @lisacyogini Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/lifewithlisayogini/

Visit ilovepete’s shop, for cool artwork on awesome products! https://www.redbubble.com/people/ilovepete/shop

#auburnhillsyoga #yoga #relax #breathe #communityclasses #lisacalice #wellness #auburnhills #auburnhillsparksandrec #restore #dropinclass #fitnessmotivation #fitness #yogapractice #meditation #pranayama #auburnhillsmi #art #yogapete #lisacaliceart #inspiration #ilovepete #fortheloveofpete

Freedom…Remembering the Joy of Walking in My Bare Feet

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in Healthy Lifestyle

By Lisa Calice

I went on a journey today and like most journeys, it wasn’t about the miles traveled or the destination; it was the memories of the people and places that came before.

On the way home I took an unplanned detour. Why not? After all, I was now alone. While many of my freedoms have been limited lately, today was the Fourth of July, and I felt free. No one knew where I was, or cared; no plans, no invitations, and no expectations. Only my dogs waited at home for me today, and somehow I knew they would understand. My journey continued. I stopped at a place quite familiar to me; a place I had often visited with people I loved. Loved ones who because of circumstance and choice, are no longer with me. I had been longing to return to this place for a while. In part I did this to feel connected with that love and those memories again. And I also wanted to make this place my own.

I began walking the familiar path. My American Flag flip flops probably weren’t the best footwear choice for a trail walk. The river off to my right sparkled and bubbled in the evening sunshine. Drawn to the water, I left the path to climb down the stairway to a winding trail along the river. The memories came flooding back. While the trail was the familiar, it had changed with time.

Being in this place, I felt the presence of my loved ones here. More than mere memories, I felt like little pieces of us had remained here by the river; our words, our laughter, our tears, maybe even a fishing lure. I half expected to hear the sound of a familiar voice, or footsteps behind me.

I was still wearing my flip flops as I walked along the sandy, winding, sloping trail; ducking under branches, climbing over trees. At one point I slipped on the path and slid towards the water. I wasn’t afraid, but that’s the point where I realized my flip flops needed to come off.

How great it felt, finally, to feel my bare feet on the warm, sandy earth! My feet softly gripped the uneven ground, just like they were always meant to do. There was an instant change. More than just memories walked along with me. I was like a child again, filled with the sheer joy of being alive and connected to the nature around me. I was in my element. Dragonflies and other insects buzzed around and led me closer to the river. I came to a point where I could climb down and wade into the water.

The water felt warm and gentle as it swirled and flowed around my feet. It felt soft like silk. I stood there in the water for a long time. It was so peaceful. I continued to plod along the trail, exploring and finding places to climb into the water again and again. My troubles melted away.

Why hadn’t I thought to take my shoes off sooner? Now, in my bare feet, I was transported back in time to a place where I was free. Throughout my childhood, my parents had given me a place to explore freely, and I had embraced it. It was a world where I breathed the fresh air, played in the water, climbed trees and felt the earth between my toes. I lived in my bare feet. Most of the obstacles in this world could be easily surmounted; I simply climbed over them. Love embraces me; surrounded me. I loved the animals, the fish, the birds, and the people in my world. People loved me back. They spoke the truth. I didn’t question whether they truly cared for me. There were no countries, no boundaries, no politics, no fighting (other than some sibling sparring). There was no judging, no drama, no manipulation, no sabotage. I was truly blessed. Love was eternal, unconditional. No one controlled me; they wanted the best for me. As long as I followed some simple and reasonable rules, life was really good.

I felt so alive being barefoot on this winding trail that reminded me of a better time in my life. Remembering it began to fill me with confidence again. The fear of slipping and falling into the river evaporated. My feet were sure and expertly navigated the trail. My feet could breathe again! I could breathe deeply in the fresh air too. This is how I was meant to breathe. I began to feel like myself again and I was filled with peace. I remembered I was someone worthy of being loved. After all, my parents had loved me. Out here in my bare feet, I could finally connect with that love!

As I walked along and waded in the river, the evening was beautiful and perfect. No one could wreck it or make it look ugly. There was no agenda, no threats, no attacks, no criticism. I didn’t mind at all being alone. The love, faith and freedom my parents had given to me, filled me up. I remembered who I was. And who I still am. And I was free!

This river had changed. It wasn’t the same river I had walked along so many times before. Time had passed. The path of the river had changed. I had changed. My recent life experiences were very different from those of my childhood. I had lost people who had chosen to leave me and didn’t love me anymore; and maybe never really did. It hadn’t occurred to me that this was even possible, but it had happened, nonetheless. I now lived in a world where I had to watch my back at all times, could trust very few, and love was anything but a certainty. People have many agendas. The loves I had lost, the experiences we’d shared, were gone for good. The pieces of us whispered in the trees and the water, now only a memory. I had loved as completely as my parents had loved me. I felt my feet on the warm earth and felt like it was time to say goodbye. This loss would always be a part of me, but I decided to leave the memories, the hopes and dreams, along with my tears. I walked away and left them by the river. I watched them float away.

The late evening sunshine glittered on the water. I believed that somewhere out there, exists someone just like me.

As I headed back towards my car, my heart was filled with peace. I really should have taken my shoes off sooner. It’s been such a long time. In my bare feet, I had found myself again. I am loved. I am strong. I am free!

After my hike I walked over to get some ice cream before heading home. Homemade butter pecan ice cream cone, which used to be my mom’s favorite. I sat on a picnic table and ate it, watching some fishermen fish in the steadily flowing river. I thoroughly enjoyed every bit! Here’s to you Mom! Happy Fourth of July! God Bless my parents, my family, my friends, my home and my country. God bless America!

“Never be the person who doesn’t do the wave. Those people die alone.” — Phil Dunphy

“Selflessness is humility. Humility and freedom go hand in hand. Only a humble person can be free.” —-Jeff Wilson

Lisa Calice, E-RYT200, BFA, CDP. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaCaliceYoga/ Twitter: @lisacyogini Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/lifewithlisayogini/

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The Girl in Pink and Other Tales of Mother’s Day

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in Healthy Lifestyle

“I know who you are,” she said, “I remember you.”

“You’re the girl in pink.”

This after she had sat on the sofa with her eyes squeezed tightly shut and the handmade afghan that was as old as I am pulled up over her nose. And not because of the pandemic either. She was fervently waiting and hoping for me to go away.

Today was Mother’s Day, and here my mom and I were sitting across from each other at the same table we had sat at for 50 years, and we were completely estranged. It was an eerie feeling, as if the ongoing pandemic didn’t make things surreal enough. However, our estrangement did not come about in the way that many mother/child relationships end up that way. It was through no fault of either one of us. We were estranged nonetheless. And it was Mother’s Day, making it all the more painful.

Eventually she had to get up to use the restroom. I took that opportunity to put my dogs in the car. A week earlier she had been smiling at them and at me and petting them, asking their names again and again. And again. CJ had sat on the sofa next to her and she had smiled. She seemed to really enjoy them. When we had left at the end of the day, she called Pete over to say goodbye and pet him one more time. Not this week. This week she was afraid of them and wanted nothing to do with me.

Once out of the restroom she must have forgotten about some of what had transpired earlier. At least she didn’t return to the sofa and looked a bit more friendly. This time she looked at me and spoke to me, taking a seat at the kitchen table. At that moment I realized her view of me had changed from unwelcome intruder to potential transportation to her mom’s house. A place that existed only in her eroding memory.

“Pink is a nice color,” she went on to say. “Some people wear those flashy colors like red, but you have this nice quiet pink.”

I was wearing my “pink” Victoria Secret hoodie that had the word “PINK” written across the front.

“You said you remembered me,” I answered her. “What do you remember about me?”

“Well, you wear pink…and I’ve never heard anything bad about you, from anyone.”

She had nothing else to say about the subject and began playing with the plastic bead necklace she was wearing. I listened to her talk to my Dad as he made her an English muffin and some tea. She thanked him for his kindness. It occurred to me that he had now assumed the role of both Mom and Dad.

My duffle bag of art projects sat untouched on the floor near my feet. It was one of the few ways I had been able to break through the barriers of being a stranger to my mom, and enjoy a meaningful relationship with her. Alas, today would not be a day of creating inspiring Mother’s Day art projects together. It wasn’t meant to be. I was “the Girl in Pink” today. A nice but unwelcome stranger and nothing more. She began inquiring about getting a ride to see her Mother. She seemed to realize she wouldn’t be getting a ride from me.

I had ventured into Meijer on my way over. My one and only victory of this Mother’s Day was the muffins I bought her from the bakery there. She actually ate half of one! She said it was delicious! It only took me an hour to wait in line to purchase it. I really wished I had attempted to bake something at home instead! That is something my mother would have done for me.

The past several months marked some milestones in my life. This was yet another one. My 20th Mother’s Day. It seems like yesterday that I traveled to Ukraine with my Mom, and Aunts to adopt my children. It’s been years since we’ve spent a Mother’s Day together.

It was time for me to head back home to get ready to face the inevitability of another day of uncertainty. Despite the pandemic, I felt compelled to give my Mom a hug. These days you really don’t know if you will see your loved ones again. I’ve been practicing social distancing and I work entirely from home. I wear gloves and a mask when I go out once a week to grocery shop. I reached over and gently gave her a warm squeeze. Her once warm, robust body felt like nothing but bones. She didn’t hug me back but she didn’t refuse me either.

“Happy Mother’s Day Mom, I love you ,” I told her sincerely.

“I like you too,” she said.

“I said I loved you, Mom,” I reminded her gently.

“Well, I can like you AND love you,” she kind of laughed it off and made a joke of it. That was ok by me. It was the best she could do. She was being kind to me, a stranger.

The drive home was kind of lonely. I was disappointing and I had to do something to pull myself out of my Mother’s Day funk. I was glad to have my canine kids with me. They are my loyal side kicks! I stopped at the grocery store and promised them I would make it quick! I wanted to find something special for Mother’s Day dinner but the store was picked over to say the least! I felt like I had won the lottery when I scored the last package of two chocolate covered strawberries in the store! The day was not a total loss after all!

Remembering my Mom…I think of her every day, not only on Mother’s Day. She always knew what to say to me, and she never missed the opportunity to say it. She would send me little notes, prayers, magazine clippings, cards, Mass cards, recipes, rice crispy treats, words of encouragement, chicken soup, chocolate chip cupcakes…in the mail or my Dad would drop them off when he was over helping out with something. My Mom constantly fed my soul. Her words and her love feeds my soul to this day. Even though I’m only the Girl in Pink, I feel like a part of her remembers me.

My mom spends her days looking for her mom, even though she’s been gone over 20 years now. On days like today, I feel like I am doing the same thing. I think about calling my Mom, I wish I could share something that happened with my Mom; I wish I could ask her questions about flowers; or I want to brag about something my kids have done. I know how my Mom feels. I miss my Mom too.

I arrived home at last; sat down and ate my chocolate covered strawberries. They were good. But the emptiness and the loss remained. On top of that, I was missing my own kids. Even without the pandemic I would have been alone on Mother’s Day this year.

As if in answer to my thoughts, the next thing I knew, the phone was ringing and it was my Dad. I realized exactly why he was calling. He wouldn’t have even needed to say one word. The connection between us with instantaneous understanding. It was instantly and nearly wordlessly comforting for us both. Sometimes when I was young, my Dad would take me for a ride in the car without saying a word. We would stop and get a coffee and a cherry pie at McDonald’s and very few words were necessary. Tonight was just like that. If my Mom was herself, she might have said, “this too shall pass,” or, “someday you should write a book.” Whatever she said, the words themselves didn’t really matter. It was the feeling of instant comfort that my mom exuded. There was never any doubt of her love or of her kind intentions. It’s a gift I later learned my Dad had too. Tonight was no exception. His words and his feelings were as if my Mom herself had said them. The realization came that my Mom was with me too. For the moment anyway, I had found her!

It was that comfort and that realization that I am never walking alone. Our conversation was a short one, but I felt better for it.

“I love you Dad.” He never says it back either but he doesn’t need to. I can feel it. We hung up.

“Happy Mother’s Day Dad”

After talking to my Dad, I had a few tears on my cheek. CJ came over to me to make sure I was ok, and to offer his own special brand of canine comfort.

“Happy Mother’s Day Mom” he said with his eyes.

On holidays like today, it’s a good reminder to be grateful for what i have. It’s also good to remember that not everyone is having a magical holiday. I too, once helped with breakfast in bed and all kinds of wonderful tributes to my Mom. I also was the lucky recipient of breakfasts in bed and many other enjoyable celebrations of my own motherhood. I will cherish those memories forever. Even though the celebrations are in the past, the love and the connection between us remains a part of me. I love my parents and I love my kids no matter the space that time, distance or circumstance puts between us.

I look forward to new connections in whatever form they may take in the uncertain future that lies ahead of me in these unprecedented times. Perhaps in the midst of change, loss, and distance from loved ones, something even better lies ahead.

Happy Mother’s Day to me, the Girl in Pink.

One of my favorite Mother’s Day memories. The love between us is with me always

Lisa Calice, ERYT 200, YACEP, BFA, CDP

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaCaliceYoga/

Twitter: @lisacyogini

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lifewithlisayogini/

#mother’sday #dementia #lifewithlisayogini #motherhood #grief #love #gratitude #lifeinthepandemic

Happy Birthday Mom

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in family, Mental Health, Seniors

Today my mom turned 82. She didn’t know it was her birthday, but I did, so I knew it for us both. The last birthday that she knew it was her birthday was two years ago on her 80th birthday. This day was not to be one of those days where we would be making special birthday memories together. The snowstorm that arrived today made travel difficult, and shoveling out the end of the driveway a challenge. Instead of visiting, I ended up calling her on the phone, not really sure what to expect. I did not get my hopes up, but set a goal of making her happy.

My Mom and I

I have so many wonderful birthday memories of my mom; the most kind, loving and special woman I have ever known. I remember when she turned 60, I had a huge party for her at my house and I made a Martha Stewart garden birthday cake. It was her favorite, a yellow cake with buttercream frosting. I had gotten the idea from watching Martha herself, as she created an amazing cake for a friend of hers who loved gardening. It had an oreo cookie “dirt” garden path, a garden fence, and silk flowers in the garden. I remember I enlisted my kids to help paint garden signs to place on the cake. I had to throw the first cake away and start over, because my oven ran hot and it was overdone, even though I had set it for less time than the recipe called for. The second time, it turned out perfectly and is probably the best cake I ever made. I had finally made something that seemed worthy of the person who was just like Martha Stewart, only better.

My mom was absolutely the best mom anyone could hope for. The delicious birthday cakes she made for our birthdays alone were enough to love her. Every single thing she did was done with love. Caring for others was never a chore for her; she truly enjoyed it. Even when I was an adult, she sent chicken soup when I was sick, chocolate chip cup cakes when times were tough, and homemade biscotti or oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for an extra special treat. I couldn’t wait to have dinner because everything she made tasted as good as all the love she put into it.

In recent months, at times when I am really missing her, I have prepared many of my favorite dishes she used to make. I believe I have brought the term, “comfort food, ” to a whole new level. I never imagined I would be missing my mom as I do now, while she is still here with us. It didn’t cross my mind that my awesome mom, who devoted her life to me, my dad, my siblings and my kids, would one day that seemed way too soon, not even know me.

My mom did so much more than cook and bake. We did craft projects, went on walks, listened to music, and watched lots of musicals. She read poetry and stories to us every night, and encouraged my love of reading. She taught me to sew, knit, crochet and to do crossword puzzles. She taught me all about the world around me and how to appreciate nature, without even realizing it. She simply shared all the things she loved to do. Life with my mom was a wonderful adventure. Even though she had slowed down a bit by then, she was an amazing grandmother. I don’t know if she ever felt appreciated, but I sure hope that she did. Because nothing she could have done would have made me love her more.

My mom inspired me to be a parent, and I longed to be even half the mom that she was to me. She always had the right words to share, when I was down or discouraged. The phone calls, text messages, cards, letters, articles, and food she sent to me, let me know I was always right there at the front of her mind. A magnet held my work schedule on the refrigerator so that she would know when to call me. It felt wonderful to be thought of as much as she thought about me. I don’t know exactly when or how that began to change, but one day she just stopped calling, and never called again. Many months later, I would get a confused phone call, but it was never really my mom on the other end of the phone again.

I believe my mom knew that her memory was failing or at the very least she knew something was going horribly wrong, but she kept it hidden from me. I have recently learned that this is a pretty normal behavior for many who go through this, and particularly is normal for my parents’ generation. Thinking back, the only real inkling I had that she was aware something was going wrong, is that when she decided to have my son come live with them so she could send him to Catholic Central High School, she said to me, “I prayed to God to help me get Vlady to graduate from high school, and once I’ve accomplished that, I will be at peace and my work here on earth will be completed.” Even then, I noticed she often forgot things we had discussed in relation to him, but I dismissed it as normal aging. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Mom lives in a different world from me now, and once I realized things were never going to get better, I have tried to become a part of her world whenever I visit or talk to her on the phone. Any mental health issues are rather isolating and so life has changed drastically for all family members. I recently attended an Alzheimer’s and Dementia Care seminar so that I could better understand and cope better with my own feelings, but more importantly learn how to enter her world, since it is impossible for her to live in mine. In her world, I do not even exist at all, or if I do, perhaps I am in the second grade. Most of my life has completely disappeared from her mind. I really can’t share memories with her, or help her to remember the things she does remember. Often I wish I could have done something to help her, but all I have is the right now moment and when I am with her, I try to find a way to make her a little happier like she always did for me. I know who she is, and I know it for the both of us, and that will have to be enough.

Today, we had a long phone conversation for her birthday. She didn’t know it was her birthday, and she asked me who the people were who sent her birthday cards. She did not know any of them, but at least she thought they were nice for sending her the cards. She didn’t know who I was either today, and asked me at least 25 times, “what was your name again?” I answered, “Lisa, ” and each time she said, “That’s a nice name.” We talked for a long time today, and she seemed content to talk to me. It was the longest conversation we’ve had in at least a couple of years. When we were going to hang up, or should I say, end the call; I told her, “I love you, mom, Happy Birthday,. You’re the best mom in the world!”

This seemed to please her, and so, she simply said, “Thank you.”

My voice choked a bit with a few tears, but I was especially grateful that she actually liked me and enjoyed talking to me without recognizing who I am. On days like this, I prefer to believe that I seem familiar to her in some small way. And either way, today, she liked me, and that’s enough.

Happy Birthday Mom, I love you and I miss you every single day.

Lisa Calice

Giving Thanks…for the Love of My Family Touched by Adoption

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in Healthy Lifestyle

November is National Adoption Awareness Month and my family has been touched by Adoption.

Adoption gave me the opportunity to be a parent, it gave my parents the opportunity to be grandparents, and it gave three kids from Ukraine an opportunity to have someone to consistently love them and to care for them. However imperfect our family may have been, my kids were very truly loved. They may not remember it, but they were loved by extended family and many friends as well.

In a conversation with my Dad, we were discussing a recent rough patch in my life and he said, “…at least you had a good childhood and parents who loved you. So many kids never even had that.” The powerful truth of his words was not lost on me. Having a parent or parents who love you enough to want you and to raise you and to give you their all; this remains with you all your life. Adoption means every child deserves this chance. Even if your first parents let you down for whatever reason, there’s a chance for you to have this kind of love. I feel this love my parents have for me, every day of my life. Whatever happens in their lives, I always hope my love for my kids will follow them every day of their lives.

Adoption is an amazing option and I am grateful to have built my family through adoption. I remember that after years of disappointment that things were not going to turn out the way I had planned, there was an equally beautiful and amazing plan that God must have had for me all along. When I realized just how many children on this earth do not have parents or families to love and care for them, it was astounding to me. How could I spend another moment trying in vain to bring another child into the world when all of these kids are waiting for a mom, just like I am waiting for a child? When you think of it that way, my kids and I were really waiting for each other. We just didn’t know it yet.

For every family touched by adoption, there is a moment when the tide turns, the stars align, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fall into place, and the moment of clarity arrives. I am not the most outgoing or heroic person, but divine intervention picked up where my courage left off, and guided me to Ukraine. When I met my three children, I had not a single doubt that they were mine. Did I doubt my ability to communicate, to cook, to keep up with my kids? You bet I did! Doesn’t every parent have those feelings?

I still remember twenty long years ago like it was yesterday. I remember the sights, the sounds, the smells of their homeland, Ukraine. I remember thinking how very much my Ukrainian grandfather would have loved to meet them, and I knew he was smiling down upon me on that cold November 12th day. I remember the Children’s Home in Cherkasy, and the many children we left behind. I remember the joy in taking three of them home with me; the three that were mine. At the moment the judge approved the adoption, my kids became my entire world. Even though they were older, I did my best to cram a lifetime into the short years we had together.

It is with tremendous gratitude that I share this excerpt from my journal from the day I met my kids for the first time:

“I later wrote: “Today I met my kids. I think that sentence says more than I could write in a book; MY KIDS – those have to be the two most beautiful words in the English language. MY KIDS…I will say it
over and over again until I believe it myself…”
I can find no words to describe with any accuracy, that moment when my children entered my life forever.
The caregivers brought Olena in first. I can still hear her footsteps as she came through the doorway of the
room where we were waiting, and without hesitating, hurled her slender body across the wooden floor and
into mine. She slammed into me so hard she knocked the wind right out of me, and then her body seemed
to melt into me and there are no more words to say after that, only tears. There she was, almost 4 feet tall, sweating in her red snow pants. No matter how heavy she felt or how much we both sweated, she kept her
soft, small cheek pressed tightly against mine and ran her fingers through my hair as if to make sure I was real. My two younger children, Lina and Vlady, entered my life in similar fashion. If I had had any doubt, their embraces dispelled it. I went back to our hotel that night dreaming of their sweet, happy faces.“

November 12, 1999

Whenever I have doubts or regrets, or feel sad about how some things turned out as time passed, my memories of those first moments and even years together as a family fill me with gratitude every time. They were just as happy to have me as I was to have them. They wanted to be held and loved as much as I wanted to hold and to love them. Many a tear was wiped away, many a bedtime song was sung, story read, boo-boo kissed. The time and the love we shared, the things the four of us did together, the jungle gym in the backyard, riding bikes, swimming at the lake, going to the park, playing games, walking our dogs, the many hours spent with grandparents, aunts and uncles…my memories hardly can do it all justice.

As years passed, I often received criticism, some deserved, some not, for the kind of parent I’ve been. I humbly embrace my flaws. I will say despite my mistakes, there is no doubt in the world these kids of mine were loved. No one could have loved them more than I have, and I am quite certain that no one ever will. In spite of all that’s gone wrong, or whether they like me or not at times, my kids will always be loved. There’s also no doubt that we can have gratitude for being loved by an entire family. After all, it isn’t the gifts, the toys, the material things (most of which are in a landfill by now) that matter at all. Isn’t love what makes life worthwhile? Through this love, and through adoption, this Mom had the most perfect little family on earth. Today I am so thankful for my family and for this beautiful journey of love.

Every kid deserves to have this kind of love.

By Lisa Calice, Adoptive Mom Extraordinaire

Please Come in and See Me…Remembering Our Elderly

by LifeWithLisaYogini, posted in Healthy Lifestyle

“Please come in and see me”

The words were written in my Mother’s perfect handwriting. Her plea was written not once, but twice, and the two little notes were affixed to the door to enter my childhood home from the garage. How many times I had walked through this door in my life, nearly always to be greeted by my mom’s smiling face and cheery voice as I walked into the kitchen. She was almost always in the kitchen preparing something for my arrival. Not today.

Today at least the two sad little notes meant she was waiting for me and wanted to make sure that I knew she was there. She wasn’t sure who exactly she was waiting for, but somewhere inside of her, she knew it was me.

I wiped away a tear, put on a smile, and stepped through the door with some trepidation. My mom was watching TV, and she turned around to see me walk in. I went to greet her and told her that I read her notes and I was here to see her. She seemed pleased that the notes had worked even though she didn’t know to whom she was writing them. I gave her a hug, which she still allows me to do, and told her I was happy to see her.

At times it is difficult to see this frail, confused, and often sad woman, and believe that she is my mother. I think the worst part of her decline is best illustrated by her notes on the door. She waits and waits to see her children, and in her mind, her children never come. I can’t even imagine anything that would feel worse to either one of us. I know for a fact my mother has thought of me every day of my entire life, and yet today she doesn’t really know me. I wish she knew that I think of her every day too.

I also know that even if it lasts only for a brief moment, my mom still enjoys having us visit. She enjoys all visitors. She may forget them the minute they leave but it is clear she wants nothing more in life than to find her way “home.” She wants to find her way back to the times when her children and her entire family surrounded her. Almost every day, she talks about going home.

The good news is, she is home for now. My Dad, and all the rest of us have rallied around her to take care of her the best we can. She may not remember us, but we are there and I know there are moments when it brings her some comfort.

I hope all who are reading this, young or older, who have parents who are still around, read this and reflect on their own lives. Spend enjoyable times with your parents whenever you can. To me it seemed that Mom would always be the same, she would just be an older version of the same wonderful woman. Now I would give anything in the world just to be able to talk with her, share stories, and to eat her delicious cooking again. Spend time enjoying your parents while you can.

Having that close relationship truly makes things easier when and if your parents do begin to decline. All older people love to have visitors. No one wants to be forgotten! I wonder how many other elderly people have notes on THEIR doors that say, “Please come in and see me.”

It is a well-known fact that our population is getting older. There are more senior citizens, and the people visiting them are few and far between. We are all busy living our busy lives. Very few have time to visit elderly relatives.

My parents’ generation is known as “The Forgotten Generation.” I have read statistics in several articles that state that 85% of elderly people in care facilities never get visitors! I find that number astounding. That doesn’t even include those still able to live on their own, who don’t get visitors either. We are all busy, and lead hectic lives, but I hope this article will give cause to step back and think about what is really important. Take time to stop and smell the roses! Sometimes those roses are seniors! It will put your own life in perspective and help you to appreciate each moment.

Here are a couple of articles I found for further reading on the subject:

https://www.focusonthefamily.com/pro-life/americas-elderly-the-forgotten-generation/

https://www.aplaceformom.com/blog/10-17-14-facts-about-senior-isolation/

There are also ways you can help:

https://dailycaring.com/10-ways-to-help-seniors-deal-with-isolation-and-depression/

The next time you have a chance to take a few moments to spend with an elderly parent, grandparent, neighbor, or friend, I hope you will do it. They too, may be waiting for you with a note on their door, “Please come in and see me.”

Thank you for reading and if you do visit a senior, or are caring for a Senior, perhaps you can send me a note and share your experiences with me!

Lisa Calice

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/LisaCaliceYoga/

Twitter: @lisacyogini

Instagram: LisaMarieCalice

Me and my Mom: