Wayne Koop courageously battled cancer. His quiet courage and strength inspired me and so many others his life touched…however closely, however distantly. For me, I loved his sense of humor which he never seemed to lose to fear or bitterness in the face of adversity.

For his family, there is so, so much more.

Today is his memorial service where I am in spirit.

His wife has honestly and poignantly shared their journey in her blog, In the Moment. It is a memoir in the present. It is a beautiful tribute to life lived. Beyond her family roles, she is a photographer. Her work visually accentuates the words of her blog. The courage with which she shares her daily stories and insights is a gift to the reader and reminder that life is not for the faint of heart.

Wayne and Val are a testament to courage.

I remember Val best as a tenacious little girl. I loved her sense of adventure when she would come visit Grandpa and Grandma. The farm was her playground. I remember her desire to climb on the hay bales. Now the small square bales were not near as tricky to navigate, except you had to be careful not to knock down any loose bales in the stack or there would be trouble to be had. However, the round bales were pretty daunting for a couple little girls. Nonetheless, in shorts (this is significant because there is nothing soft about hay…it is very scratchy and unforgiving), and with spirit I remember our plans to climb to the top. Of course there were always a few challenges, and I don’t remember if we ever made it to the top…but that is a testament to the importance of the journey because I do remember the teamwork and the occasional frustration that would be replaced quickly with laughter and the task at hand.

The spirit in that little girl is still evident. Though she has been plunged into difficult life circumstances, she has emerged like steel. Each unexpected tempering makes her stronger…slowly and carefully she has become molded into the woman she is. It has not been easy. Nor will the days ahead be easy, but I have faith that amidst the tempering her strength and courage have emerged and will carry her forth wrapped in the comfort of precious memories and surrounded by her loving, close-knit family and the little hands of her children.

I love you Val, Caeden, and Claire Koop!

I stepped outside this morning and this first blossom greeted me, though the bush will soon be in full bloom. I love the landscape surprises in my yard.

The vibrant pink reminds me of a little lady that I occasionally see walking along the sidewalk close to my neighborhood. She wears a fabulous red hat with a fancy ribbon. She is dressed in purple and red. She walks slowly with her cane. She has watched a few years come and go. I love her spirit from afar because she obviously embraces life with her own design. She sparks my imagination. I am curious about the stories she could tell. I do not really know what she looks like, though I would love to meet her at the bus stop and pause to greet her and let her know she inspires me.

Several months ago I read an article written by a woman in San Francisco. She shared the story of watching her neighbor grow older, and in the end her disdain for the physical aging process was evident despite the sweetness of the lady next door. Ultimately, the author, aware of her own aging body, stated with contempt she would never wear purple or enjoy being old.

This has haunted me.

Do we really live in a world that despises age? Is youth really the pinnacle? What about the wisdom of age? What about the lessons of living? My grandmother's wrinkled face was so endearing to me...I always looked at wonder at the photos of her youth...this pretty young lady that I never knew. The photo I love is of my grandmother with my children. Her gray hair and the lines that hug her soft smile...the familiar face that I loved so much.

Perhaps I am nostalgic, as I can see age is certainly wrought with challenges, but whatever my life's journey, I truly want to embrace the moment. I want to wear red. I want to wear yellow. I want to be wrapped in all the colors of the rainbow if I choose. I want to see the children on the sidewalk. I want to enjoy the warmth of the sunshine and aromatic, blooming flowers. I want to live.

I may walk slower.

I will see more.

I may not have the supple skin of youth.

I will have lines from years of smiling.

I may not wear the latest fashion.

But, I will wear purple.

Last night, after my phone had charged (it had died in the late afternoon), I was checking my messages. I learned my darling niece had a fight with her sweet brother. I absolutely love these stories because...well, because I remember these tenacious toddler days, and frankly, it is funnier when it is someone else's kids...particularly, your little sister's!

Nonetheless, it is definitely worth sharing. The text went something like this...

Poor Jag...Jaela bit a chunk out of him. After he quit crying, he told me (straight-faced, completely serious), "I think Jaela might be a little vampire, mom."

When life gives you lemons...

maybe it is time for lemon meringue pie. Also, perhaps we could create some lemon ice. This giant stainless steel bowl of yellow on my table is waiting.

In the meantime, we cruised down the coast yesterday. The tide was tumultuous as it crashed into the rocky coast line. I love the ocean. We also discovered a quiet little sandy beach nestled amongst the rocks. As we walked along the shore, the kids started to run and soon they were all running down the beach. As I gazed at their footprints in the wet sand, I realized that the imprint had toes, and when I looked up I saw Kiahra sprinting across the sand, shoes in hand as she raced after her brother, hair blowing in the wind and the faint voices accompanied by the crashing waves.

The ocean rejuvenates the soul. It is the meringue of California for me.

As I was navigating my nightly traffic jam, Kade commented on the crazy moon. A few minutes later, Nikela spotted the moon.

"Look, it is the Cheshire Cat!"

Sure enough, the moon was high in the sky and the tiny sliver that was illuminated across the bottom looked exactly like Cheshire Cat looking down on us with the cheesy grin.

California is attempting to balance the budget...so the headlines now read "Aren't you glad you are in California?" with photos of the stormy Midwest. Then the photos demonstrating the unrest in Egypt. Nevermind that those photos could soon be California. People are hungry here too. Finally, the budgetary issues are carefully tucked inside because the solution...are you ready?...means more taxes. I skip to the comics first.

All snow jokes are growing cold with me. Personally, I would prefer to buried under the snow and not more taxes.

The Pittsburgh Penguins were playing last night. The score was tied at the end of the game. Overtime. Still Tied. Shootout. First three players are chosen, and then each individually tries to shoot a goal. If no goals are made, then the shootout continues in sudden death mode. Thus the setting, as Kade watched it live. His voice filled the room. His enthusiasm undeniable. Finally in the seventh round, his beloved penguins won. Moments later, he was sharing the euphoria with his dad on the phone.

A bit later in the evening, Kade quietly mentioned, "Mom, I think I heard they found the body of the missing boy." My heart quivered, as I questioned if he was sure. Kade was pretty sure he had heard correctly, but he said nothing else was said. I let the conversation drift...

When the little four year old boy went missing, the billboards along the freeways were lit up with the necessary information in addition to all the other forms of media disseminating the news.

Today I confirmed that Kade had heard correctly. His little body was found in a canal. It wasn't just my heart that quivered this time.

Then I realized that a mother would never hear her son cheering on his favorite team.

Instead, I will try to find the words to share with my son about her little boy, whom Kade has worried about for two weeks. And justifiably so.