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Hope Is

• Receiving a card in the mail confirming a planned dinner approximately a year from now at 42.65525° N, -86.20289° E with one of the vital individuals at my table.  At my table you ask?  Someone once told me that they have approximately five people they invite to their table, or given that it is a quest, perhaps it is better for me to say invite to my campfire.  Those individuals who “get” us, accept us, hold the safe space for us to be vulnerable, who encourage us, who give us honesty when we might not feel brave enough to look into the mirror, who don’t ask twice to put on their boxing mitts and fight for us, who celebrate with and for us, and cry tears with us, too.  In other words, as those in cold noses would say, those who are part of our pack.  

The thing about this vital individual is not just that she has been sitting at my campfire for, mmmm, let’s see, twenty-eight years and counting.   If it were not for this individual, I would not be writing to you some of the messages you will soon read.   I was living of the mind.  I knew I had a body, though it was this separate aspect of myself, in that taking it for granted kind of way.  I was not in touch with hearing my soul.  I did not know the power of integrating all three.   Because this dear lifetime friend walked up to my campfire and whispered may I take a seat? I began a spiritual journey of aligning my mind, body, and soul.  Through the seeds she planted, or more like the initial crack she helped me make to begin my transformational journey, I am the author of To the Moon and Hope Has a Cold Nose and the coach and teacher that you are reading from today. 

Hope Is 340 days until our next dinner, give or take a day. 

• Hope Is in the butterfly wings that whisper peace and always by your side.  I have a very special friend who I’ve written about before.  She became a dear part of my heart when I had the sacred honor of writing her and her husband’s life story.  I could write so much about the radiant light that she is for this world in how she perceives and lives life, how much her encouragement of my dreams means the world to me, how much she has influenced how I want to live the best rest of my life.  But today is for writing about her most recent phone call to me a few short days ago. 

My dear friend had been on my mind especially strong to call her, and in that synchronous way life works between hearts, she called me.  I answered believing we would talk about the family trip she had recently taken with all her family – children, grandchildren, great grandchildren.  She called to share the news that her oldest daughter had passed away.   A sudden moment in which life tapped, and life became before and no longer the same. 

Margie.   Margaret her formal name.   But, oh, as I type, I am smiling as I hear my dear friend’s beautiful melodic voice saying Margie.  I can still remember how I felt writing about Margie in my friend’s life story, how I thought she was a precious and rare gift to this world in what she could teach us.   In my eyes, Margie was the epitome of being a perfect soul sent to Earth with a big purpose to fulfill as one of the world’s change agents.

Margie had special needs mentally.  Margie had this incredibly expansive loving heart – of which had been physically challenged when she was born.  Margie also had this wise wise knowing, and when suffering was occurring around her, she was the calm “sage” offering grace and peace.   When my dear friend called to share the news, one of the things she shared was that Margie was born during a time when children with special needs were hidden away, society’s way of coping – or lack there of.  My friend and her husband vowed they would not hide Margie.   They let her light shine.   My friend became a special needs teacher because of Margie.  Many children’s lights were allowed to shine because Margie paved the way.

Margie had been diagnosed with cancer just a few short weeks before my friend’s call.  Just a few days before an annual family gathering in which Margie was so excited to go.  She was able to.  Family.  Gathered from all across the United States.  Together.  As one large, connected, loving nucleus.  And then a couple of weeks later, as my friend and I talked, Margie’s soul would whisper it is time to go peacefully without invasive surgery or intensive life extending measures.  I have fulfilled my purpose here on Earth.  

After my friend’s call, I started to notice the butterflies dancing in the sky.  A couple of hours later I was on one of my bicycle training rides and the butterflies continued their joyous dances.  In front of me and beside me.  I was reminded of the butterfly that danced with Ginger the year after my beloved Roo left Earth.  I believe that encounter is one of the stories in To the Moon.  Roo’s way of whispering to me that day that death is not goodbye, still by your side and peace. 

Dear Margie, I only had the honor of meeting you on paper and in photo.  Yet, just as your beautiful heart danced on this Earth, keep dancing joyously where you now are.  Your footprints have left this Earth a better place.   Your purpose achieved.   Fly high dear soul.  And thank YOU for the reminder in the butterflies you sent to dance with me.  Death is not goodbye.  Always by your side.   Peace. 

I welcome your handwritten messages or drawn pictures.  You can email me or send what Hope Is to you at:   

P.O. Box 327

Gobles, MI 49055

ATTN:  Hope Is

42.20098° N, -85.59168° E

Reframed

Inspired by one of my students who is writing a book about her mother’s journey with multiple sclerosis in such a way that she is offering not only a legacy story for her mom’s forty-five grandchildren who didn’t have the opportunity to know their grandmother.  This student is writing a story filled with vulnerability, with the “realness” of the story in all its raw emotions.  In the words of Brené Brown:  Vulnerability is the core, the heart, the center, of meaningful human experiences.  And vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.

Given that I view our world as cracking open, like a butterfly in a cocoon through metamorphosis or a swan breaking out of an egg, I am going to share a reframed story with you that I may be doing my part to create the kind of change I wish to see our world crack open for.

If you were to look at the front of my legs right now from my knees to my ankles, you would wonder if I had gotten burned.  You would wonder about the current circular scarring that weaves its way down my legs, predominantly my left leg.  I anticipate you would wonder, while graciously not asking.   Or maybe you’d stare.   We humans can be like that in our curiosity.   

They are the scars of my story.  They are the chapters that continue after the last pages of To the Moon in which I had started stepping into my personal sense of

Worth. 

When the eggshell started to crack open, when I started to step into vulnerability, when then it all became “real.”  (smile)   When my soul was saying this way and I began the dance of grace between opposites in which buried emotions kept asking are you sure you are comfortable in your own skin?  Are you sure you are comfortable being seen as intuitive author, coach, teacher?  Are you sure it is safe to be seen? 

A physical rash developed at my ankles around the time that I was going through a significant internal transformation as a result of catalytic life changing events (corporate work roles-responsibilities, a parent’s passing).   After all, that is how transformation is initiated.  At least how I believe. 

I was a runner.  In Nature.  On trails.   Translation, I would run where a certain vine that contains “itch me” juice grows fluently.  It looked like poison ivy.   It acted like poison ivy.  Must be poison ivy. 

A half dozen spots would appear a little bit higher up on my leg, and they would go away.  On I ran.  On trails.  Through the days.   

The rash stayed even in the winter.  Because I had come to believe that our mind, body, and soul are not separate entities but are intertwined in intricate ways, I knew I did not want to ‘band aid” a solution.  I knew I needed to understand holistically what might be going on.   At the deepest level, I knew it was not poison ivy. 

This led me to holistic health measures that determined foods my body was not appreciating so that I could change my diet.  It also led me to understanding a subconscious fear of sharing my voice.   “Armed” with these two understandings, I set out on a healing journey to eliminate the rash.  

I published To the Moon.  Put voice out there.  Check.   I radically dissolved the “I love you, ah but I don’t like you in return” relationships with certain foods.  Eating better.  Check.  The rash disappeared.  Mostly.   A handful of dots would occasionally show, but without any itch.  Out of sight out of mind.   Focused on every morsel of food I ate for that familiar itch or rash, and I’m showing up speaking my voice, so I believed all better.  Solved.  

The person in me who loves that feeling of accomplishment said check.  Done. 

Life continued to bring the metamorphosis.   After all, it is a lifetime journey, and as I like to tell others when they say they are a work in progress.  Good, because if not, then it’s time to flat line and I am not ready for you to flatline.   I completed a master’s program.  My corporate career came to a close.  I started my own business.  I published a second book.   I became one of all of humanity to experience a pandemic.  

Along the way, my rash came back.  Stronger.  Bolder.  Definitely in sight.  Definitely on mind.  I closed 2021 and entered 2022 determined to “find my way back” to what had felt like a detour on a tributary of the river of life.   This time I knew it wasn’t “just” the dairy or peanut butter I had let enter back into my diet.  I could feel it was, as they say, “deep in my bones.” 

My mind, body, and soul were not in harmony.  

I was not feeling safe in my own skin.

I started peeling back more layers of the onion, so to speak to understand what was happening physically and emotionally.   Among the Divine messengers put on my path to aid this healing journey is Dr. LeAnn Fritz with New Hope Health.   (For those of you who live in / near Kalamazoo, MI, I cannot say enough positive things of the benefit of working with Dr. LeAnn.  Physical alignment meets historical scores (or traumas) held in the body and both meet emotional belief systems known or subconscious.   At the risk of using words that may not hold the same level of sacredness the more frequently they get used – game changing!  If you do not live in the area, please still check out her web site and blogs!  She has a powerful mission she articulates in her latest blog.   And since you know I am about casting ripples of hope and things I believe whole-heartedly in.   Check out the link below!)

https://newhopehealth.com/

The layers were asking me to see and see again what I thought I had already read and “resolved.”   My journey of writing my memoir had taken me into the first chapters of my life in which, as we all experience, had known elements of what I like to phrase as pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair.  And grief.  Yet, I came to understand that though I went to these places when writing my memoir, there were emotions I had buried, not yet discovered and certainly not yet released.  Buried deep under the skin were stories I had told myself growing up, framing them in such a way that they became my internal compass that was often, not always consciously, my starting place in how I heard, saw, and chose to respond.   Which was you are not enough yet in that skin. 

I was still holding deeply under my skin the childhood feelings I had framed for myself that I should be ashamed of who I am.   As Brené also says when she describes guilt and shame.  She communicates that guilt is the sense I have done something bad.  Shame is I am bad.   My rash was begging me to understand that not just at the surface, but to the core place where the stories first formed, and then let it all go.  It was begging me to form a relationship in which if I felt even the slightest twinge in one of my legs at the surface, I could then ask what is triggering my sense of safety and worth in this moment?  And then understand.  Reframe.   Let go.  Step forward.    Legs.  The motion of forward. 

The rash – and my entire body – was asking me to find grace, compassion, and love of the first chapters of my story.  It was asking me to embody what I believe thru every one of my cells and not just ones I was selectively picking and choosing to hold inside.  We enter this life with a plan of what we wish to learn at the soul level, but we do not remember that plan when we take our first breaths.  So, we start out learning the opposite in preparation for the future, so that at a point in life, at a point of transformation, when we begin to crack open, we can begin to step forward into experiencing our purposes for this lifetime.   

We can begin to step into the comfort of our own skin.

And guide others in how to reframe their own stories that they too can know how to thrive with life. 

Now do I think as I did several years ago after publishing To the Moon, ok, done.  Oh, certainly not.  Life is a journey, and I have many a spiral staircase circles yet to climb.  I am not ready to flatline.  (smile) If it took me the time it did to write the first chapters of my life creating experiences to doubt my worth, I have quite some time ahead of me to write the chapters I have yet to live differently.  (smile) Yet, I now have a solid foundation to build upon that is not fragile behind the “walls” of my skin with buried debris.   

I am in harmony with the foods I fill my body with that are aligned to the emotions that flow through my body and both are in congruence not only to my mind, but also to my soul’s desires.  I’m now very aware of the limiting pattern I had where I would hold a soul wish, let my mind go to a long-standing hidden collection of doubt I’m “enough yet”,  experience the emotional trigger sometimes unconsciously, that said ugh, not feeling safe in wishing this, while my body and mind then conspired with that whisper of the troublemaker on the shoulder jabbing go ahead and eat the peanut butter to quiet that emotion and get to a place of feeling safe.    Now I can choose to practice building new patterns every day – every 86,400 moments of every day, for it takes time to build up any new muscles! 

So, now there are scars.  Beautiful scars that are part of my story of this one joyous, wild, crazy, rugged, HOPE-full, amazing miraculous life each of us choose to enter into to be the best versions of ourselves we can be to leave the world a little bit better than how we found it.  Scars to remind me Hope Is new beginnings.  And the joy of striving to write new chapters going

Forward.     

42.59429° N, -86.09806° E

42.241177° N, -84.40951° E

A Cold Nose

On Thursday evening, August 4^th, I had the very special and sacred honor of being a guest on Wine and Words with Viola Shipman (Wade Rouse).   If you have Facebook, you can listen to the replay here.   As one of Wade’s writers when he was first mentoring aspiring authors (and one of Wade’s writers I will always be), I am grateful, humbled, privileged and proud to have been a guest, and to be a mentee of such a bright light of hope in this world through his books and his hope-full words as Wade and as Viola Shipman in honor of his grandmother.  

https://fb.watch/eKbp0fiafW/

I was a guest with Laura Steenrod, author of the book Gratitude, who is an amazing soul for cold noses!  And horses, too!   Laura is a radiant example of hope, and she dances exquisitely between the two things life brings us very well – joy and suffering holding the same space.   In the moments when a fur soul is suffering most, Laura is there to offer the greatest gift of all.   Love.    Each soul lives the balance of their life knowing love.   

The mission of Love From Louie. Love from Louie has developed a reputation for taking on dogs that have been deemed unadoptable by other agencies or unable to survive in an incarcerated setting due to injury, illness, or advanced age.  Laura ensures they know nothing short of physical well-being and love! 

To learn more, please visit Love From Louie.   

(Gosh, I just this thought.  I am sure blessed to be surrounded by such amazing people of hope in my life!)

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Hope’s Spiral Staircase

Your inspiration for this month.

N ° S ° E ° W °

Hope Whispers, Nature Speaks

Your assignment for this month is this.   While spending some time peacefully in nature, reflect on a sentence, paragraph, or chapter of your story you are telling yourself that is nudging reframe me.  Now stand in front of a mirror, look into the person’s eyes looking back at you, and tell that person who is cautiously, hopeful, and eagerly looking back listening a reframed sentence, paragraph, or chapter.  One that whispers you are more than enough.

A true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

Sincerely,

-Christine

P.S.

If you have enjoyed this month’s message, please pay it forward to others.  They can also subscribe to future emails by visiting www.christinehassing.com.   If you know of someone who has a Hope Is message to share, please encourage them to share via the post office address (or via email).  I welcome sharing their input on the Hope Is website or in future blog messages!   

Namaste.’ 

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Hope Is

• Being joyfully surprised to receive a letter in the mail from a friend who has relocated to another (warm and breathtakingly beautiful) state and being reminded that this special friend has been very instrumental in the pathway that has led to this quest for what Hope Is.  Hope Is how circles come back around, and though we are no longer in the same place, we have certain stair steps that will forever hold an imprint as one of the best steps we took.  (Thank YOU, my friend, for being one of those steps!)

As a reminder, feel free to send what Hope Is to you at:   

P.O. Box 327

Gobles, MI 49055

ATTN:  Hope Is

37.85924° N, -122.48859° E

Reframed

Recently I read a speech by Paul Hawken, environmentalist, entrepreneur, author, economist, and activist shared by Neil Pasricha.  The speech was titled You are Brilliant, and the Earth is Hiring.   

Near the end of his speech, Paul said hope only makes sense when it doesn’t make sense to be hopeful.

That dance of grace between opposites I periodically write about. 

To fully know the essence of joy, for example, we appreciate joy at the deepest level when we’ve also known a struggle in being sad.  We celebrate crossing a finish line or completing a test and we especially celebrate when we’ve trained or studied with a little bit of nervousness or felt uncertain if we would do well.  Because we knew doubt, we especially hi-five ourselves when we accomplished the end goal.

Hope Is

Making sense most

When we question why we should keep feeling hopeful.

Nearing thirty years later, I still hear a friend’s words of wisdom make it matter that it happened. 

His words spoken to me at a time I questioned Why? to a tragedy I had heard about.   A time when I questioned what is hopeful about loss.

If I chose to increase my awareness and make a positive change, I would give purpose to what I wish had not happened for the sake of those now deeply grieving. 

Make it matter that it happened. 

I think about what first drew me to writing Hope Has a Cold Nose.  To learn that twenty-two lives per day lost hope.  I think about sitting at the top of Mount Adams nearly two years after HHCN was first published, tears flowing down my cheeks because I was up there not only for the stories in the book, and not only for the stories I had yet to hear.   I was up there for the stories I would not have the opportunity to hear. 

Because the last moments before that right dash would be engraved on a headstone

were lived without hope.

If I didn’t learn of a staggering number of twenty-two per day that challenges hearts to feel hope-full

I might not have had the opportunity to lean very hard the other way and

Make it matter that it happened.

To play some small part in ensuring

There IS always hope.

42.76698° N, 12.493823° E

A Cold Nose

Swimmer Lynne Cox Discovers Water Rescue Dogs — Dog Save The People Podcast

For those of you who followed my weekly social media post “Ripples and Starfish”, you will be familiar with Dog Save the People podcast and the weekly inspirational messages I extracted. 

Lynne Cox, the open water swimmer of the English Channel, and International Swimming Hall of Famer for her over 50,000 miles she has swam shared her experiences learning about water rescue dogs.   Newfoundlands, German Shepherds, Golden Retrievers, Labradors, and Leonbergers.    

Lynne first learned of Newfoundlands that would leap out of helicopters and swim to people.  As she explored further, her path was led to Scuola Italiana Cani da Salvataggio, or The Italian School of Rescue Dogs. 

Lynne shared how dogs are trained to circle the person in the water first, make eye contact with the person, watch and observe the person, and if the person does not seem afraid of dogs, come in close so that the person can grab the rescue handle and be pulled to safety. 

These rescue teams (dogs and their owners) work in conjunction with the Italian Coast Guard and Italian Airforce and can be seen patrolling beaches all over Italy and can also be seen on beaches in Germany and Switzerland.   Some training is also beginning to take place in the U.S. and in Canada.

Newfoundlands can pull up to six people in distress at one time. The other breeds can pull two to three people at one time. 

Lynne wrote a book about one particular water rescue dog.  Tales of Al.

If you want to learn more, Lynne recommends searching online for “Italian Water Rescue Dogs”.   And then enjoy all that you can learn!

42.38337° N, -85.95741° E 

Hope’s Spiral Staircase

N ° S ° E ° W °

Hope Whispers, Nature Speaks

Your reflective assignment is this.   Take a walk outside and observe. 

Where might you see an image of hope where it might otherwise seem improbable or nearly impossible? 

Everything that is done in the world is done by hope. Martin Luther

Sincerely,

-Christine

P.S.

If you have enjoyed this month’s message, please pay it forward to others.  They can also subscribe to future emails by visiting www.christinehassing.com.   If you know of someone who has a Hope Is message to share, please encourage them to share via the post office address (or via email).  I welcome sharing their input on the Hope Is website or in future blog messages!   

Namaste.’ 

…Just like moons and like suns, with the certainty of tides, just like hopes springing high, still I’ll rise…out of the huts of history’s shame I rise, up from a past that’s rooted in pain, I rise. I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear, I rise. Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear, I rise. Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise. I rise. I rise. – Maya Angelou

 More beautiful than a puzzle that takes shape based on reference to an image on a box is how we can reflect on the moments in our lives that are fitting together to fulfill what calls to our souls this way.

I didn’t know when as a child who strived to keep her voice quiet that I was learning how to listen for the voices that don’t feel worthy of being heard.   I didn’t know that my best friend in my silence was also cloaked in fur of unconditional acceptance and hope.

I knew a deep footprint had been pressed into my belief system when near thirty years ago a friend said to me: Christine, everything that happens – good, as well as tragic – is planned. If you make a positive change in your life because of this accident you have heard about – perhaps you drive slower when the roads are icy or you express love more frequently – you will give purpose to why this accident happened. You will make it matter that it did.

I knew it was from the depths of my heart that I wrote the following when completing my MA: “My perception is the world needs hope. The world needs faith that purpose exists in all things. I want to live in that “place where deep gladness and the world’s hunger meet”, where my joy at helping people not give up meets with the world’s need for hope (Palmer, 2007, The Courage to Teach).

When I began writing the manuscript for my second book, Hope Has a Cold Nose, I knew it was bringing together these moments, interweaving them with other moments from my life, that I might inspire dignity, hope, and healing.  What I didn’t know on the journey of creating Hope Has a Cold Nose, the world would reach a point where, in fact, it has become starved for hope. Nor that I would be led to amazing organizations who embody making it matter that it did, dignity, hope, and healing.

One such organization is The Big Fix Uganda.  I am honored to be one of their champions. I have been given a privilege to not only support their mission through my writing. In some small way – though I hope it will cast large ripples into our broken world – I am being given the sacred honor of being a voice for those who have struggled to have their voices heard.

I have a personal belief that we enter this lifetime not only to fulfill what our soul wishes to learn. We also enter this lifetime to break cycles of pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair that have come before us, that what comes after us may be for the better to keep humanity moving forward and flourishing.   We are not sheltered from pain, tragedy, or profound grief. It is part of life’s circle. Yet, we give meaning to that which we cannot always understand “why”, by how we choose the opposite of pain, trauma, sorrow, or despair in how we live.

To know the true depths of perseverance, we must experience reasons to choose the will to not give up.   To know the true depths of faith, we must know what it is to stand fearfully in uncertainty.   To embrace unconditional love, we must have an appreciation for what it has felt like to feel unworthy. To be able to look and then listen with compassion to stories that seep into our core of what if that were me?, we must bravely be able to look our own pain and griefs in the eye and let them go.   Forgiveness of the tragedies of life beget an openness to the goodness that life is.

I have not had the privilege of listening to the gentleman’s story in the picture above left.   If I did, perhaps it would go something like this:

Tears I have cried in silence no one else could see, for those whose shoulder I would lean on are no longer on Earth with me.   I am the only one that remains of my siblings, though I sometimes think they the luckier that they no longer breathe. They no longer must live with loneliness and the memories.   I had thought of joining them a time or two.   But then I found Ma Haru.   His name means “superhero”, a warrior spirit strong and brave. We have something common he and I, each other we have saved.      

Dad, when I close my eyes as I lay by your side, do you know what I dream? I dream of the moment you came walking up to me.   I knew when your eyes looked into mine, I had found someone to love. I could see in your eyes that you were alone.   I think I could recognize that look, for it matched what I felt in my heart. But, hey, dad, neither of us have to feel that anymore, now do we?!   I’ve got you, and you have me.   Dad, one more thing – my fur welcomes the tears that slide down your cheeks.

A.D. Williams writes when I look into the eyes of an animal, I do not see an animal. I see a living being. I see a friend. I feel a soul.   Perhaps that is one of the reasons I am passionate about the holistic healing capabilities of dogs. They are not only our hope with cold noses.   They teach us how to unconditionally feel a soul, that we might collectively heal the world.

As the manuscript for Hope Has a Cold Nose continues in its progression, I continue to be equally blessed to listen to extraordinary stories of veterans who have found healing on their journeys with pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair.  That healing has been significantly aided by a soul with paws, fur, and a cold nose.

It is my privilege to provide you another excerpt from Hope Has a Cold Nose.  It is my honor to introduce you to Jon and Jaeger.   Once you read their extraordinary story, please then visit https://thejaegerfoundation.org/.    Pain is Purposeful Action Initiating Next – Author Unknown

JON AND JAEGER

The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away. – Pablo Picasso

Hey dad, tell me the story again, will you please? How your heart called out to me before we would physically meet.   I especially love the part when I came to your side without you beckoning.   How my heart knew it had found where it belonged as soon as I sat paws to your feet.  

 I’m a lover, not a fighter, as you and I both know. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy in my first home. Yet, my purpose wasn’t to be a protector in a K9 guard kind of way. I was meant to be a shield to keep anxiousness at bay. Dad, I think I’m a chip off the ole’ block in having a destiny to try and stop the bleeding.   Though you began fulfilling your calling for patients with physical injuries, now both of us have a mission to stop the invisible flow before a heart stops its rhythmic beat.

Dad, I am always so proud of you when you tell me your stories, about how saving someone from dying was your number one priority.   Dad, I also wish, too, there was more I could do besides listen, snuggle closer, and catch your tears of grief.   I know, I know dad, and I believe you when you tell me how much I help you in those moments you feel hopelessness and are afraid. Yet, because I love you with all my heart, I still wish there was more I could do to take your sorrow away.  

Dad, can I tell you a secret, between you and me? It makes me feel really special that you named your Foundation after me. I mean, shucks dad, you didn’t have to, and its not that I needed to be in the limelight or famous in any way. Its just that because I know how much this foundation means to you, I feel very honored that you thought that much of me to make the foundation my namesake.   I guess we both understand unconditional love in a very deep way.

I certainly don’t begin to measure up to my God given name most days.   I am one of the most imperfect beings who wakes each morning praying I will be stronger than the fears I face. My name means “gift from God”, though I certainly don’t know about all of that. If I can live my life fulfilling even an ounce of that meaning, I will consider myself humbly blessed.

I am grateful to my mother – and not just for this gracious name she gave me. I am grateful to my mother for opening my eyes and my heart to a desire for helping others in need. My mom’s career was in Special Education, providing opportunity for some of the most extraordinary and unique friendships I would have while growing up.   This would teach me that some individuals need others to look out for them because their capabilities may be deemed as inadequate or not enough.   Perhaps this experience came first or perhaps this experience opened my heart to its calling. Either way, a life commitment to stand up for and to help others who cannot easily or fully help themselves is what fulfills me.

I’ve debated where to begin my story. Should I start with how I met hope in the form of fur and a cold nose, aka. Jaeger, who you already started to meet?   Or should I start with the oath I made to serve, protect, and give my all for my country?   One thing I know for certain is what isn’t necessary.   The play by play details of life in combat is not what you need to read.   What is most relevant – and what I believe can help my brothers and sisters in uniform – whether Marine, soldier, police officer, fire fighter, or EMT – is a glimpse into one’s heart who now finds themselves walking with PTSD.

I’ve shared with you my passion to help those who struggle to fully help themselves thanks to my mother and her students with special needs.   My father was also an influencer in my desire to help others when they are in crisis or experiencing a significant emergency. My dad was a firefighter when September 11, 2001 rained evil action on our country.   To witness the toll on firefighters like my father grabbed a hold of my heartstrings. The strings were tugged tighter thinking of innocent lives victimized at the hands of extremists both in the United States and in other countries.   Many helpless individuals didn’t have people taking a stand for them is what I strongly believed.

I joined the Navy because I loved all whom I had at home. My parents, my siblings, my extended family, friends, and people I didn’t know. Perhaps as a reader, you have a perception that someone joins because they loved to play Cops and Robbers as a child, to be a hero, or they can’t wait to shoot a gun and “get rid of the bad guy”.   None of these were my motivators – in fact, I will share with you a conversation between my staff sergeant and I.

It was my first week of training as a combat medic with the Marines when I had a weapon put in my hand and was ordered to point down range.   My immediate response to my staff sergeant was no thanks.   After all, I had joined the Navy to become a greenside corpsman with the Marines; my ultimate goal was to be a combat medic saving lives whenever the need. Staff Sergeant, I’m not here to hurt people, if I may respectfully say.   Of which he responded in turn this way. Marine, whatever you need to tell yourself, do so immediately. If you want to save your brothers, then you must be prepared to take down the enemy. Think of it as preventative maintenance so that you don’t have to patch up a Marine in the first place.   If you don’t learn to shoot first, you risk the Marines you aspire to save go home in a body bag.

In his words was a wisdom I realized I needed to internalize.   Effectively knowing how to use a weapon was part of being able to save my Marine families’ lives. I believe that many brothers and sisters I served with signed up not for heroism nor because of some kind of superman or wonder woman attitude.   Many choose to sign up to stand up for something more important than themselves no matter the personal cost or what they may lose.

No matter the personal cost or what they may lose…every day the reality of this can be hard to push through.   I am a husband, father, son, friend, cousin, uncle, neighbor, church member, to name a few.   I am the person I was before I served in combat, the person everyone sent prayers for while I was deployed overseas. And yet, I am also no longer the same person as I was before Doc, no matter how hard I try or want to be. I struggle as I want to be who you remember was once me, and I struggle to be who I am now for fear you won’t accept who I can no longer be.

I think worse sometimes than deployment memories that want to rewind and replay, is the guilt I feel that because of my choice to enlist my children and wife also experience emotional pain. Life teaches us through opposites, that constant tug and pull between extremes. I joined the service so that I could keep safe those I love the most – my family. And now that I am home, I often feel those whom I am hurting the most are those who I wanted most to keep in safe keep.

Granted, I wasn’t married to my beautiful wife at the point I enlisted in the Navy.   When I became Doc, my “better half” was those I served with as a combat medic with the Marines. Yet, now I am a father of four, and a husband to, quite frankly a saint who has the ability to not take some of my actions personally.   Yet, when I see fear or hurt flash through my children or wife’s eyes, my heart is crushed by the weight of my choice when enlisting. Though I knowingly knew the risk I might suffer post combat, I realize my choice has a ripple effect far greater than me. My wife and my children also suffer each time PTSD tries to put me in a tight squeeze.

I had one goal when I was deployed and that was that no life would be lost under my watch as a combat medic. I am gratefully and humbly proud to say, that was a goal I was able to achieve.   I owe not only God, but a special little girl for the gift she gave me.   This special little girl taught me what a precious commodity life is and that we always have two choices we can make.   Life will bring us to crossroads in big and in small ways. Sometimes it is a life changing event, like it was with this special little girl I knew only briefly.   Sometimes it is several times in a day to keep fear and hopeless from their relentless knocking.

I was working in an ICU in North Carolina, a new medic with an eagerness for learning.   When the ICU had no patients on a particular day, I requested emergency room duty. After all, I wanted to be the very best life saver I could be! In that way that we are shown God will bring us the people we need in our lives at the right time, I was meant to be in the ER on this specific night.

A little girl was brought into the ER with 75% of her body covered in burns allegedly at the hands of those who are supposed to keep children safe and cherished.   Though this special little girl couldn’t experience either outside the ER, under my watch both safety and love she would receive.   The degree of a burn is critical, don’t misunderstand me. Assessing if first second, or third is certainly top priority. But there is also another key component that is paramount to staying alive.   It is all hands-on deck to ensure no infection sets into skin that has been so severely compromised.

When one is serving in a medical or first responder field, there is one driving force that guides every decision made.   Damn any statistics, damn any graveness you might see and face. You will do whatever you can to fight for someone’s survival no matter how bleak things may seem. I would say that if someone is serving in a medical field and they begin to discern based on statistics that indicate probability, it is time for a person to walk away from the field or at least pause until their heart gets back in the driver’s seat.

This special little girl with burns covering the majority of her body was now bringing opportunity for my first experience in a raging war zone.   Though it wasn’t a war with artillery fire, it was a fight against evilness and death standing at the door. We stabilized this tiny body that was wrapping a fighting spirit so very tightly. We ensured she was in a sterile room, with a ventilator to aid her breathing.

I returned to my barracks after what had been three days of twelve-hour shifts, preparing for my two-day rest and reprieve.   Of course, these two days off were not for play as doing nothing felt like idleness to me. I would normally take those two days off to work as a first responder, ever vigilant within me was listening for someone struggling and in need. But anyway, back to this special little girl who was in dire emergency. When your purpose in life is to serve others whole-heartedly, you listen to that inner whisper when it begins to scream do not sleep.   There was a little girl in a hospital room alone except for the medical staff and a social worker who would be checking on her periodically.   I did not want this little girl to lay in that bed having only felt unconditional love fleetingly.   I needed to be beside her so that she would know the feelings of love and safety.

Because of the critical requirement for sterility, I couldn’t sleep in the same room with her, but I could be in the next room available in a moment’s need.   Like a parent – or a Marine – who sleeps with one ear listening, this little girl could trust I had her back while she was sleeping. The primary medical doctor of our hospital came to communicate I did not have to stay. He could see in my eyes and hear in my voice my heart was firmly rooted in place. Without any additional words, he understood I was right where I needed to be as he gave me his knowing head nod and a simply stated okay.

On the second day word had spread to the commanding officer the vigil I was keeping. That earned me a visit, which is a privilege because a commanding officer making an appearance in ICU is a rarity.   Determination and compassion are a powerful duet; the commanding officer can affirm these combined can make one strongly adamant.   He was ordering me to get some sleep for that was not what I had been doing. I was respectfully letting him know I was not leaving.   Not toe to toe and chest to chest as movies like to portray. Heart to heart in a room next to a little girl who was beginning to die, this commander officer and I compromised for her sake. Sir, with all due respect, I will not leave her side. I want her to leave this Earth having known what love feels like. I know she has nurses who are caring for her oh, so gently.   I was one of the first people she could feel safe with after such cruelty. I want to help her as she dies to know that she was worthy.   Please sir, let me stay to be present when her hearts stops beating.

Jacobs, you will not be any good to her if you don’t get two hours rest; that is all I am asking of you.   It is an order, medic and then you can be with her until the mission is through.

Hearts can hear each other across space, at least that is how I believe. This little girl knew I had her back, so she waited before her soul decided it was time to leave. I rested two hours and then I heard the monitors begin to speak. It is time kind Doc for me to go to a better place.   Don’t worry, I am no longer afraid. Thank you for your part on my journey in this life. I am grateful to you for being by my side.  

There is a process medical staff go through after someone has passed – because you don’t need specific details, I will call it post-mortem care of the body.   After I completed these steps, then, and only then, did I allow the questioning.   On the smoke deck of the hospital I asked – no, I demanded to know – Why? Why, God! I hurled these words into the sky. The answer didn’t come immediately, as our greatest wisdom often comes only after hindsight.

I am not sure the impact to my number one priority if I had not crossed paths with this special little girl whose purpose was to teach me. If I had not witnessed what a lost soul can cruelly do when it lashes out at innocence and I had not walked beside death and grief, I am not sure how engrained my mission would have been within me to ensure it was one I achieve.   I would like to think my servant-heart to help others and my value of humanity would have given me the same deep-seeded drive to have none of my brothers or sisters lose their lives.   Yet, because I also believe we must know one extreme to know the other, I know this little girl was very influential in ensuring all whom I served as Doc came back alive.

Whether a medic in the military, a civilian medic, or a first responder accountable to save lives, each of us has that defining moment in which a heart is not destined to continue breathing. Oh, and then how the mind loves to step in and question everything.   Did I do enough, did I do the right things? Why couldn’t I save this person; I think I now doubt what I have believed. We are angry and we step to the edge where we question if we should quit what we signed up to do.   Remember that crossroads I mentioned up above, where we stand poised with two paths to choose?

In the darkest moments of our grief and self-doubt and anger raging I don’t understand why, is when we are giving a choice to make the loss matter by how we choose to step towards light. I will bring all my Marines home alive, this I vow to do! Dear little angel, your death was not in vain and I am most grateful for you.   You taught me that evil is a fact of life and isn’t something we can eradicate in entirety.   It may not make sense, but suffering is a necessity. What matters is not if we can stop evil, but how we can overcome or move through what suffering brings. We can’t get over it, but we can move through it and turn it into positivity. What is truly important is the good we make out of the pain and tragedy.   Dear special little girl, much good came out of yours, and it is continuing. For the rest of my life your life will have meaning.

I would like to share with you about a training experience I went through in an effort to bring understanding to what veterans feel when they return from deployment to civilian life. It may still be hard to fully grasp, but my best I will try. I took part in a simulation of what it would be like when I found myself in Iraq as a combat medic with the Marines. Think desert – Mohave to be specific, think dark of night, and think night vision goggles to help you see. Also think about what it would be like to go outside without the lights of the neighborhood around you, one eye blindfolded, wearing one hundred pounds on your back while carrying another hundred pounds of medical gear for responding to emergency.   I will also share, adrenalin from simulated yells and screams and only seeing with one eye in the night puts a whole new spin on depth perception where you are walking.

In the first simulated round I missed a step while exiting a seven-ton vehicle earning me a landing directly on my back.   To say it hurt wouldn’t begin to describe the pain that coursed through muscles and parts of my body I never knew I had!   Yet, what kicked into gear because of my additional training, and because of my personal standards and beliefs, I must not be taken out of this simulation for to do so would admit I was weak. If I admitted I was weak, my fellow Marines would lose faith in me. They could not afford to start distrusting I have their backs – they need to be able to count on me! After all, we are a team! I have a mission to fulfill – no lives lost on my watch, and that mission I WILL achieve! Suck it up, the pain will subside, you have been through worse things. Come on Doc, get back in that simulation and show your team they can count on you no matter the chaos happening. The need to know they can trust you unconditionally. These the words I continued repeating.

If you are reading this and you are a veteran or still on active duty, I know you can relate to this mental toughness you live and breathe. If it seems hard to understand, think about someone you love dearly like a child or a best friend who you strive to please. Perhaps you have said to someone there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Or when you watch your child, you sometimes are so overwhelmed with love you know you would lay down your own life for theirs if you had to.   That depth of caring for the well-being of those we love is the degree of determination and will that fuel a serviceman or servicewoman no matter how hard it might physically seem.   We want to come back alive to you and we want to return to you in one piece, and we know those we are fighting beside wish the same thing. We will do anything we can for each other to ensure your family does not become fragmented and incomplete. We need to push through any split second we perceive weakness is trying to knock so that we survive the times of intense uncertainty. In life and death situations, there is ample space for acting from the heart, but there is no room for being weak. Because there is nothing we wouldn’t do for YOU, who to us are our everything.

We bring this mindset – and the experiences in which we needed to draw upon this mindset – back to you, our families. We miss those who we served beside – being without our brothers and sisters is extremely lonely. Please forgive me for saying that because we know you are there for us and that we are not alone.   It’s just that, well, it’s just not always easy once we return home.

We are replaying and trying to process through so many memories. Not all of them are bad, either, contrary to what you may think. Have you ever had a time in which you had an experience – let’s keep it positive and talk about the birth of a child or a wedding day – and you feel like you are on a cloud and the rest of the world is far away?   You struggle to describe your euphoria when talking to a friend who isn’t a parent or married – there just isn’t adequate words to convey.   You find it easier not to try, and there is a certain sacredness to keeping your feelings tucked away.

It is similar when veterans return to civilian life and their friends and families.   There is this place we are in emotionally that feels far away from where we now find ourselves physically.   We also are still carrying the trained mindset to protect you from things we’ve experienced and seen. And deeper still is the engrained training that brought us home to you still in control of how we think. We are not weak, and cannot be weak, and will fail if we start to show that we are becoming weak, for all of you we have been fighting for need to trust we have your backs no matter the intense uncertainty.   IT IS the difference between life or death our certainty! See, that is the thing about training for life or death and how the human brain becomes the exceptional student in its mastery.   Even when it is no longer life or death, our brains hold tight to what we have taught it such that this mindset does not leave.

And though I struggle to retrain this mindset on my journey with PTSD, I will also tell you I am grateful that it is etched into an essence of me. For it is this training that has helped me win the three-year war against Leukemia that threatened to be a life thief. Dear Leukemia, you can try to take me to my core with your evil poisonous cells, but you will not succeed. For I have my wife, my children, and medical staff who have my back – they have most definitely got me!   You can try to steal hope from me, thinking you are victorious when I cannot become a civilian firefighter or EMT because of my compromised immunity.   But there is something you underestimated when you began attacking me! I will find other ways to serve those in need even if I can’t do so with tangible bandages, physical tourniquets, or tanks of water to douse a burning flame.   The ones who now need me to fight for them don’t have visible wounds or noticeable fires anyway.   It is the cries of souls that now need me to stop the bleeding of their will power that is rapidly washing away.   They need compassion, and hope, and help in the form of a lifeline. They need to trust someone has their back and will not leave their side.   So, Leukemia, you are not stronger than me!   And if you have any doubts, I dare you to take it up with those who keep watch of me. No one stands a chance thinking they are mightier than my dear wife, Kelly.

I will tell people the secret to our marriage can be summed up into one word and one word alone.   Shear stubbornness is a strong foundation that my wife equally knows. I have a fierce determination, but let me tell you, my wife can hold her own, too.   She is tiny in stature, but she is powerfully large in what she sets her mind to do.   In that way that I mentioned above how God puts people into our lives at the right time, this is certainly true for when Kelly re-entered mine. I had known my wife when we were in middle school, though we were in two different circles – think I was so not in her league! Don’t get me wrong – I don’t say that because Kelly was snobby or stuck up or any of those things. I say that with complete admiration that this once chess champion is married to someone who was a model and a beauty pageant queen.

Fast forward to my return from deployment and Kelly experienced working as a tutor for veterans journeying with PTSD. A social media message to reconnect, a detour to work due to construction, and yes, the rest became history. Both of us joined together with a foundation of stubbornness, and a common understanding. Kelly knows her own journey with PTSD on this side of enemy lines, so she can empathize when my pain and trauma begin to rise in visibility. Let me tell you, though, I can’t shake the guilt I feel that she must put up with me. I know, she’d yell right now if she heard me say it this way – that she is putting up with me and my fears and anxiety.   It is just so hard sometimes to see her and my sons’ eyes when I’m struggling to “right-side” my mind’s thinking.   I want to maintain their innocence and let my children be kids laughing and shouting in playful glee. PTSD is not singular even if it is one person’s journey. It ripples and cascades and it…bleeds. I made the choice, not my children nor my wife – they don’t deserve putting up with my hypervigilance and anxiety.

And just like Jaeger, who gently touches me when I can feel anxiety rising high, I am gently touched by the fierce love of my wife.   She will say in a way to get me to laugh and shake off the guilt I carry heavier than that hundred-pound gear I used to wear as a medic: I’ve torn up the marriage certificate so good luck returning me without a receipt!

I am almost to the point in my story where I will share more about Jaeger with you. First, I need to tell you about another dear soul who is guiding what I do. I proudly served beside one of the finest Marines and gentleman you could ever meet. He was a wise old soul who only ever raised one thing; never his voice, and only a positive attitude with each day’s greeting. He was one of my Marines, one I vowed I would bring home safely to his family.   I can still see the smile he always wore, never a time I can’t remember him not smiling no matter how tough the moments of war. A fine Marine and gentleman that I was privileged to fulfill my promise to bring him home alive.   I even have his initials right here on my arm – B.G. – as a way of keeping him by my side. Not that I need a tattoo to keep him close to me.   He has left footprints on my heart that will never fade or leave.

I will not have the honor of walking beside him on this Earth again, though I’d give much to see his smile light up a room. B.G. reached the end of hope a few months after we returned from deployment, his life at his own hands ending too soon.   I didn’t see it coming, in case you were wondering.   I guess it goes to show there is always more to someone’s story then what we may perceive.

I knew it was so very hard and very lonely stepping off the plane without my brothers after we had spent time immersed in death and life. I didn’t realize that it was even harder for a fellow comrade and friend who is no gone at the hands of suicide.   You know how I mentioned up above about the human brain and its learning? I still felt responsible for B.G. though we were no longer deployed together as one team. He was my Marine, my responsibility and somehow, I missed the signs! What did I miss and what should I have seen so that B.G. would not desire to end his life?   Oh, Guilt, now you are knocking like a vampire that wants to suck the life force from my veins!   How could I have failed B.G. by bringing him home whole and safe? What kind of life did I bring him home to if he felt so afraid? I brought him back to a torment that was more brutal than the enemy fire that could get aimed our way.   Dear B.G., I’m sorry I let you down by not keeping your demons at bay.

Since I didn’t see it coming that B.G. was struggling so to choose life, I’m not sure what B.G. felt and can only imagine what was storming in his mind. He didn’t want to appear weak, after all he is the one always smiling. What would his family and those he served with think if he said hey, man, I have these images that won’t leave me in peace? I’m thinking it might be easier to shut them off by permanently going to sleep. He would see the fear in the eyes of whomever he told this to. And once he introduced doubt, then loss of trust with follow suit. And once loss of trust, then those he had vowed to keep safe would now fear he no longer had their back. And if they were now afraid, they could be vulnerable in an attack. If they weren’t up to par, he would be compromising their lives, too. He could keep everyone safe best by ending his own life before he caused others harm or death too soon.

At least I anticipate that was what his mind may have been saying and the risk that others would think he was selfish was far less than the risk they would not be safe. In his mind it was a selfless act for his loved ones’ sake.   I miss you man, every day I wake up and know you are not going to answer the phone if I ring. I wish I had heard your heart when it was struggling. Damn, I was so in-tune to watch out for you if you would sustain a physical injury!   I completely missed that when the artillery fire went quiet, you were at the greatest risk of bleeding to death internally. B.G., I’m sorry, man, I’m really sorry.   You were on my watch for life, and I didn’t keep my vigil for you. I hope you can forgive me as slowly, oh so slowly, I’m learning to also do. I think you would be happy at the mission I’m now focusing on. I’m going to make it matter the life you lived B.G. – your legacy of the fine Marine and man you were, are, and will always be will live on.

I may make you gasp and shake your head when I tell you that I wish I could go back to war some days.   During the war there was black and white and no grey. There was control and order and such things as procedures that guided rules of engaging and when to escalate force concisely and orderly.   I knew what to do when a weapon or bone broke and how to immediately bring calm in emergency.   I knew who needed urgent care and who only had a surface wound that a bandage would suffice. I knew how to encourage or motivate when someone was homesick or missing their wife.   Now I’m not in war and everything around me is grey. I can’t reach for gauze or a tourniquet when my son has his first girl crush heartbreak. I feel helpless when I have to let my son go through and grow through the down moments of life. I feel like a failure when I get in an argument with my wife.   I was trained to repair tangible things, things I could physically touch and see. It is oh so very hard to know how to heal the essence of what enables us to live and breathe.   Sometimes I’m not sure how to help my heart stop bleeding its grief.

Every day I dig deep to overcome the fear that wants to grip every inch of my insides. Come on heart, it’s okay, we’ve got this, breathe.   That’s it, deeply in, deeply out, repeat, repeat. Feel that nudge under your hand and that tap at your knee. He’s here to help you find a steady rhythm again so all you have to do is breathe in, out, and repeat. There, the anxiousness is subsiding isn’t it? The fear is taking a time out, releasing its menacing grip. Hand, reach out and feel his fur and other hand motion for him to come to your lap if that can help, too.   Eyes, you can stay closed if you want to. Feel his warmth and hear his heart whispering to you. He’s got your back every step of the way. Ah, yes, heart, here we take another step forward today.

I believe it is a song by Chumbawamba in which the lyrics include “I get knocked down, but I get up again” that could be words written about me. I have known the depths of despair and hopelessness but stronger in me is fulfilling my destiny.   My heart is a medic, firefighter, and EMT, yet I am being given signs from God that He now wants me to help in healing those whose wounds society cannot visibility see.   I’ll tell you sometimes I wish His signs weren’t so bold, like Leukemia, but hey, I also trust He knows my heart and what is best for me.

I say a prayer of thanks every day for not only the life He has given me and the family and friends, too.   When I was nearing the end of my faith, He held my hand through all the dead-end avenues. As He held my hand, he sent Earth angels to do the same physically. Before Jaeger, hope came in the form of a mentor, and soon-to-become best friend, who met me at the lowest valley – or perhaps I should say the highest edge I stood at precariously.   At the height of my pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair, standing beside me was someone I had known but had never fully seen.   Son, I do not walk in your shoes, but I understand your anxiety, pain, and grief.   Let’s get you away from the edge, you don’t need to leap. My stepfather, a Vietnam veteran, whose quiet demeanor was one of the overarching themes to my youth, was now the one to do what he also did exceptionally well, which was fiercely protect his brood.

Jaeger has given me purpose to rise each day. My wife and my children are also the reasons I keep stepping forward through the suffering and pain. My stepfather is the reason I am here for my dear wife, my children, Jaeger, and the foundation mission to aid others on their healing journeys.   If it wasn’t for my stepfather…well, I don’t want to dwell on what might – or might not have been, for what matters is what is currently happening. I’ll just simply say, someone who is now one of my closest friends pulled me back from the depths of PTSD.

We don’t always see that when we keep receiving no after no, it is because we are being redirected to something much bigger and better than we know. I explored VA programs for a service dog only to have that not be budget nor time friendly. Astonishing costs and a long waiting list do not lend to immediate nor affordable availability.   It became a dangerous spiral down the more I tried to hold on tight; the more I tried to find a service dog, the more I found no hope in sight.

Until a local business founded by a retired Airforce K9 handler became my lifeline. A willingness to train a dog for a cost more in the range of possibility I was being guided to find. This handler knew someone who had a dog for me to meet.   A meeting was arranged at Pet Smart and it was an instant connectivity.   Jaeger and I were now this Airforce handler’s trainees. Now the next step was to obtain funding.

God wasn’t done bringing His greater plan together for He had additional people I was meant to meet. On a random day at a not frequented store my path would intersect with a President of an organization interested in providing funding. Jaeger and I now had everything we needed to become a formal team.

Fast forward to today, and this tribe of “helpers” have aided Jaeger and I in crystallizing our purpose into a reality.   The Jaeger Foundation is now an approved non-profit entity. Our mission is to provide funding for veterans and first responders who will benefit from canine hope. To aid others in obtaining service dogs is mine and Jaeger’s WILL BE achieved goal.

God heard me in those moments I cried There is no help! I cannot believe there is no help for people in need! In these moments what I wasn’t hearing yet was that God was responding. Jon, my son, I hear your cries. Trust I have sent you as a gift to the world to save lives. In order for you to do the job I have given you to the best of your abilities, I need you to have a sound understanding. Because you know the depths of hopelessness you can empathize. Because you know what it is to feel alone, you will be a steadiness at others’ sides. Because you have known fear and a waning will to keep going, you will be hear the hearts that are crying out silently. You will ensure that others do not hang up a phone wishing the person on the other end could help ease their agony. You cry out that people don’t have someone to turn to. Dear Jon, they do for I have sent them you.

It is hard for me to hear that for I am not sure I am worthy of His faith, for what I am best at is being so imperfectly me. Yet, to save lives when they are experiencing emergency is my reason for being. I guess I’ll end my story here, but I would like to share one more thing. When I have to tell you not to pet my service dog, please know telling you no is not easy. I love animals, too. And I would love for you and your children to be able to snuggle against Jaeger as I get to do.   Yet, he has a job to perform when he is beside me, and distractions impact him being able to do so to the best of his ability.   If you see someone with a dog and the dog is wearing a vest marked “service”, your kind smile is welcome as you let us pass on by. Know that we will be able to feel your compassion and care even if we don’t stop to say Hi.

What is it Jaeger? What are you thinking?  

That I’m proud of you dad, for sharing your story.   Hey, um, dad, about that special little girl when you were first a medic?

Yes, what about her Jaeger? You know you can ask me anything.

It’s not so much a question as a thought I had that may sound silly. You know how you think of me as a kid in a fur coat for that is the depth of your love for me? What if this special little girl was a canine in skin, so to speak? What I mean is that I think – actually I know I would have really liked her for she sounds like she had an ability similar to me. She could hear hearts speak without words; unconditional she was in her listening.   I can’t help thinking she wasn’t harboring anger or judgment at what had happened for her heart was pure in its love. Like me, something deep within her knew she had been sent from above.  

As the quote reads from an unknown author “Kindly the Father said to him, I’ve left you to the end. I’ve turned my own name around and called you Dog, my friend”.   I think perhaps God whispered the following to this special little girl the day she took her first breath. He wanted her to know that He gave special jobs to the best. “You, special angel will help someone save many lives as a result of meeting you. Trust how much I will love you in the pain you will go through. Your life on Earth will be shorter than some but your light will shine brightly as if you lived to be one-hundred-and three.   Thank you for your willingness to make the world a better place my special angel. God speed.”

Dad, we are lovers of humans and we are fighters, too! We are fighters for the human soul to keep pushing through. Like you I wish I could remove suffering, but then again, we probably wouldn’t be the dynamic team we are if people weren’t internally hurting.  

Hey dad, two more things.

I got your back. Trust me.

It is my honor to fulfill my mission and vow I have made. That you will find peace at home and many more lives to save.

Hope Has a Cold Nose continues to lead my path to extraordinary stories of hope. As I have the sacred privilege of listening to and writing stories of brave military veterans, Hope Has a Cold Nose is desiring to expand my awareness.   I am being guided to hear stories that may not involve experience fighting a war as a soldier; yet, it does involve fighting an enemy as a civilian – the enemy of pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair (PTSD). The enemies of negative perception and judgment.   And. Or. As you are about to read, the enemy of abuse.

Once again, I have had the sacred honor of writing about the strength and beauty of the human spirit. I have listened to how courage and will are mightier than the barrage of inflicted reasons to doubt, to feel unworthy, and to feel stripped of dignity and value.   I have listened to how hope prevails. Through another inspirational story, I am witness to how hope flourishes with the aid of a soul in fur who exhibits no greater attributes than unconditional listening and love.

It is my privilege to share with you the story of:

JOY and SARA.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom – Unknown

Some say that in order to fulfill our purpose in life, we must first experience the opposite of our destiny.   I can share with you an example, or perhaps two, or maybe even three. One would be growing up as an apple of a father’s eye; an only daughter among brothers, receiver of my father’s adoration and pride. I was safely wrapped in the protection of his love when I relied on him to take care of me. When daddy’s little girl grew into her independence, his self-worth began floundering. Not able to “make it all better” as he could when I had a skinned knee or a boy made me cry, he chose to build a wall around his feelings of helplessness thick and tall enough to push me out of his life.

No longer my father’s favorite little girl I could be. Broken from my heart was another piece, though it wasn’t the reason for my heart’s shattering.   Because I was trying to glue the broken pieces inside me back together again was the reason that being my father’s daughter came to an end.   Like that bud that reaches a point where it must begin to bloom, I had reached a point where I had to honor what was my own authentic truth.   I had experienced pain and trauma that had striped me of my self-trust and my sense of security.   That I couldn’t flip a switch and move forward easily my father’s struggle to be understanding.

Before I share the third experience, let me share the second experience that has greatly influenced who I am meant to be.   The second example is being a teenager who experienced seizures frequently.   Imagine studying for a test, and then in an instant the material you studied has been wiped from your memory. If only it could be as humorous as the movie Fifty First Dates, but that isn’t reality.   There is a gift in this, though, for it led me to serve others in need.   First as a 911 dispatcher and then training as a technician assisting during surgeries.

Let me first talk about being a dispatcher, for that will lead me to my third puzzle piece, the piece that snapped “perfectly” into place to guide me towards my wholeness that had been stripped away from me. When you become adept at living with an unknown you became a calm voice when others experience significant uncertainty.   Never certain when a seizure would render me to a blank stare; the exact timing of my mind’s erasing I was never aware. I became a 911 dispatcher receiving incoming calls; help me, I don’t know what to do, she’s unconscious from her fall. Or, he’s not breathing, I can’t get him to wake up, please hurry, help me, please! Or, I’m scared, I’m so very scared he’s going to find where I’m hiding.

Sure, not all calls were of such gravity, yet for the more distressed ones, I knew I was where I was supposed to be. That I would enter a career in the medical field had been calling since I was a patient, too. After all, an attendee of hospitals and doctors’ offices I frequently knew. When you have unexplainable seizures, you become a specimen to test, trial, and prescribe medications to.   My choice to respond to these experiences was to be develop a gift of empathy for what others who are ill go through.

I met my first husband while in college, while both of us were in need.   I, with my seizures; he with a kidney disease. Illness our bond until my seizures ceased. No longer being dependent on him unveiled a deeper sickness I did not see when I said I do. His sickness in the form of verbal, psychological, and border-line physical abuse.   It began on our honeymoon, though I didn’t realize it at the time.   After all, I was still a for better, for worse, until death do us part blushing bride.   Though our honeymoon was eleven months after our wedding due to a restriction on vacation days, I was still focused on happily ever after per the vows I had made.

How is it said two sides to every coin, or said another way, two ways we can look at signs we receive?   It is hindsight that often provides us our best wisdom, to see more than what we initially see.   Our honeymoon was bumpy from the moment we flew to our destination, flying over Hurricane Rita’s tumultuous energy. In my naïve-ness, and my dutiful wife love, I thought our honeymoon experience about the tests that marriages endure and rise above. Now I realize it was symbolic of the massive storm that would soon rage, a storm that would try to erode my self-worth and dignity in every way.

The storm began as near-misses, meaning a remote control that avoided my head yet caught my arm. An immediate second later was the “make it all better” by his expressing he meant no harm. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, I believed had been spoken with sincerity. Until a coffee cup, an office chair, and then a fire extinguisher was at later times hurled towards me.

Though I was familiar with First Response processes and procedures, I was not knowledgeable about how to work around the rules meant to be in place. The man I was legally married to was very savvy in leveraging relationships to sweep his actions away. The marks he was leaving on me were invisible to the naked eye; the rips and tears I was experiencing were administered deep inside.

The psychological wounds took place in public by the continued monitoring of my whereabouts while I was working.   If only those were the only wounds I had received. Pieces of my soul were pierced when in the privacy of home. Behind closed doors where the only witnesses were the walls who couldn’t communicate what they know. Actually, I take that back that the concealed injuries only took place in what was supposed to be a safe haven from harm externally. There was also an experience while at the Mayo Clinic after he received a new kidney.   Not at home, yet still a shattering nobody – except my dear mom – could see.

About four years before the fire extinguisher met with my strength to leave, we traveled to Mayo Clinic for the transplant operation as more than a two-person family.   I was pregnant, though my condition was not of importance in his mind.   In pre-op, during-op, and post-op, unwelcome tones and words by him and his family communicated it would be best if I remained out of sight.   My mom, always only a phone call away, flew eight hours to offer moral support to me.   If it wasn’t for her, I would have been alone during a time of increasing grief.

It is said we have guardian angels that keep us in safe keep. Yes, my mom as one, but there was additional guardianship that took place, or at least how I believe.   A child I was not meant to bring into this world and myself were angels to give each other what would be best at that time. I had a miscarriage while in Arizona, a baby that would not know this life. I was not able to fully grieve the loss, yet I was also at peace. I know that it was best for this little soul and me. My mom taught me well that unconditional love is about loving another over one’s own needs. As much as I would have loved this child, this soul was safer not becoming part of our family.

After a three-month recovery period at Mayo Clinic, we returned home where once again we were hidden behind closed doors and out of sight of a closed support systems like the police.   It was during this time my second guardian angel was conceived.   This time my child was meant to enter this life and our family; twelve years ago, my son Benjamin entered this world to complete me. My son Benjamin, whose name symbolizes strength of the right hand, is without a doubt my right- hand person who inspires my strength to believe I can.

In the beginning I talked of opposites and how we must experience one extreme to then fulfill our destiny.   I am thankful every day for the gift of my son I received.   He was conceived from fear for my life -and his – that I would then learn I would give my all for my son and I to live. My son was conceived from a deep hate directed at me, that I would learn there is no greater love than the one I have for my son and his well-being. Benjamin entered this world full of smiles and laughter, exhibiting the joy I had locked tightly away. My emotional pain and my despair have been anchored from drowning me by Benjamin’s giggles and radiant smiling face.   Benjamin my right- hand strength, anchoring me in the moments when the rest of my life has felt in such disarray.

There are things I haven’t been able to shelter him from, innocence my son is losing far to quickly.   Yet, unlike his miscarried brother or sister, I know Benjamin – and I – are better that his soul entered this life to experience it with me. Benjamin’s biological father had tried to develop Benjamin into a weapon of control since my former husband is unable to yield domination of me as if I a puppeteer on a string. It is not easy to share joint custody with an individual who views his son as a chess piece.   Yet, true to Benjamin’s strength and his wisdom beyond his tender age of twelve, Benjamin knows that he is close to setting his wings in flight. He can already discern between genuine love and love that comes with a price. I strive to bring a foundation to Benjamin that fosters his independence and his safety; in turn, Benjamin gives me the bricks in which to build a solid foothold beneath both our feet.

And now let me tell you about my third experience in which – at long last – my heart has found home. I first had to know the depths of lost, frightened to the brink of death, and feeling completely alone.   To know what unconditional love feels like one must know conditional hate. If I hadn’t experienced someone’s hatred, I may not have recognized when I found my soul-mate. Though our souls very old friends, we have been newlyweds every day since August 7, 2011 formally.   Informally it was the day Ken offered to cook me dinner and our voices and text messaging became a face-to-face meet.

My husband experienced his own storm, his opposites to guide him to his destiny.   Though his journey was not filled with emotional abuse, his experiences were guiding him to me.   A military veteran, well-versed in serving those at their most vulnerable time, my dear husband has saved lives and has graciously held dignity for those who reached the last moments of life. Both of us calming voices for those who are struggling. We have been brought together to heal within ourselves as we walk towards a purpose to serve humanity.

I’m not yet able to go back and work in an operating room because I still need Sara – my service dog – beside me, and her fur is currently a barrier for sterility. I know we haven’t yet talked of Sara – I promise I will share more about Sara shortly.   My husband has paused his role as sheriff, currently serving people in a different capacity.   My dear husband – the kind of unconditional love that puts first above all else my well-being. I need more time to heal the sight of uniforms and side arms from my memories. That my husband can wear plain clothes to his job is helping reframe the images that equal my T (for trauma) in PTSD.

What do you think when you hear the numbers 9-1-1? Maybe you think emergency or perhaps you think September 2001.   For my husband and I both meanings resonate equally. I was dispatcher when my husband and I began communicating casually. My husband was at the Pentagon when life became before and no longer the same for all of us nationally.   This number so significant to us, it formed the development of my wedding ring.   Some interpret the number nine as symbolic of living one’s life committed to being of service to humanity. The number one is about unity and new beginnings.

Our four sons – three from Ken’s first marriage and of course Benjamin who I’ve already introduced to you – are the center of our committed service in all that we do.   Our extended family such as my mom, my brother Mike, and my niece are the next layer of who I strive to service, and who equally give back to me. As Ken and my servant-hood expand, we wish to inspire others on their healing journeys.

I know what it means to fight for my life, not just in my past, but each and every day. Fear is such a powerful force that threatens to imprison one from believing they are no longer in harm’s way. I also know what it is to fight not only for that inner voice inside me that has a will not to give in; I know what it is to fight for one who is an extension of my flesh, blood, and each of my limbs.

I didn’t understand the depths of the cuts when objects were being hurled at me, nor the depth of the trauma the day my son was conceived.   I could apply a simulation as if I was a teenager again having a seizure to render my mind a blank. Only this time I was still alert, opting to erase any feelings that might distract my focus on staying safe.   Being scared was allowed only enough to keep me on my toes; caring that my dignity and self-security was slipping away I swallowed and then buried whole.

I did not know the pain that would sear me and nearly cut me in two while in the throes of fighting for my son and what he had been through.   Like a person whose adrenalin leads them to extraordinary feats despite the fire raging around them nearly burning them alive, what was creating scar tissue inside me I was oblivious to as I focused on ensuring my son would be alright. This time I could feel emotions – feelings stronger than anything I had ever known. What I wasn’t feeling was the flames burning into my flesh and bones.

Like that bud whose petals can no longer remain tightly wrapped around its soul, the pain and trauma I had experienced needed a place to go. It started to rise to the surface in a place where I felt safe.   Thankfully it was caught by unconditional love and gentle strength. Ken was wise enough to look beyond a wall I was building to not take my distance personally. Adept at calmly breaking down barriers, Ken guided me to people who could help me.

One such “person” is Sara, who I briefly mentioned above. Yet another to enter my life giving me unconditional love. It is said that we have experienced a fortune if we are blessed to have one great and true love in our life. I thought my cup overflowed to have two great loves in mine. It was love at first sight when I held Benjamin in my arms after his first breath. It was love at first sight when Ken was peeking around the curtain to see his dinner guest. Somehow despite the darkness that makes up a significant portion of the life I’ve lived, I have found not just one, nor two, but three great and true loves to share my heart with.

I think of that rose still a tight bud and I think of the so very prickly base in which it rests atop the stem and waits. The thorns a protection that no harm will come to its delicate petals before they are ready to unfold and captivate.   My physical self-cutting moments in which I was trying to release the core to my bones pain of not feeling worthy. My panic attacks and my anxiety heightened in crowds who I was certain was full of people who wanted to further hurt me. These crippling fears my thorns to protect the fragile yet strong heart tightly tucked inside. Through many layers of believing I was not loveable, my soul was whispering there are three angels who will be your guides.

Sara and I met for the first time when she was a mere four weeks of age. Another love at first sight when her tongue and my hand integrated that day. No, it wasn’t a puppy teeth bite, but a kiss she gave me. In an instant I knew she was the service dog for me. We have been inseparable since she could come home.   I am convinced she can read every whisper of my soul.   Without words Sara can hear my body and my heart when either or both in need. She senses my emotional fears and she is in tune to my hypoglycemic crashes before I know they are about to happen to me.

Sara is my crowd control to be my front or my back ensuring people don’t step inside my box of comfort when I am in a public domain.   Sara can turn on and off lights and press the button to open a handicap assessable doorway.   Before Sara I found the risk of leaving home greater than my bravery to leave.   Now the petals around my heart are unfolding ever so slowly. Thanks be to Sara who is my guardian, my eyes, my ears, and my even breathing.   Sara enables me to believe again in my own bravery.

Both Ken and I have had individuals try to tarnish our reputations, to discredit our integrity. We chose not to fuel the lies printed about us as a result of court proceedings.   It would also be easy to keep my personal story tucked away – after all, most aren’t comfortable listening to another’s pain. Yet, the more I bravely risk stepping out of that bud, and the more my petals unfold, the more I fulfill my destiny. If one person finds the strength not to give up because I have found the courage to share my story, then I have made it matter and given purpose to the pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair that has engulfed me.

Mom, it’s me Sara, and have I told you lately that I am proud of you? I know it isn’t easy, yet I continue to watch you pushing through. You give me credit believing I am the one that has given you your life back since my paws entered your life. I would like to remind you it isn’t until a student is ready does a teacher arrive.   You and dad consider me a guardian angel to keep watch over you. I appreciate that, yet your forward momentum is at the hands of YOUR bravery, too.

I know I alert you before you can hear that the sirens are about to get louder and nearer to our home. Yet, it is you that makes the choice in how you will respond as the frightful noise draws close.   You could choose to flee, to hide, to ask dad to sell our home so that you could find a place even more isolating.  Yes, I know we live in seclusion now, but there is always hermitcy. I am your strength, I know, but please don’t diminish the strength that is growing in you because of your own courage to boldly and beautifully bloom.

Mom, do you know what one of the best things about our relationship is to me? How you and I can communicate so much without my ability to speak to you in English.   I know you feel there aren’t enough words in a dictionary to communicate how much I have helped you find your gentle petals waiting to beautifully unfold. It can be hard to adequately express what a heart feels and knows.   Yet, mom, that is the joy of our relationship – yours and mine.   You and I don’t have to try to find words to express the rhythm of our hearts that beat in perfect unified time.    It’s like the beautiful roses you talk about in your story; when the petals of a rose unfold, they can take someone’s breath away because of their beauty.   And in that intake of breath someone doesn’t need to try and verbally convey their awe and reverence of a most miraculous grace. We are like that rose that has unfolded to steal a breath or two; such is the power of our love and how I show you the courage that is YOU.

            Mom, you know what else I can’t wait for is to see what number forty-five, forty-six, and even eighty-eight might be! I love how your tattoos also communicate your story.   They contain beautiful colors and imagery and they are the healing art to release your deepest to the bone once held belief that worthlessness was your only deserving. In their messages they communicate your invisible scars are what enhance your radiant beauty. Forty-four petals visibly showing your bravery; forty-four tattoos telling a most extraordinary story.

I would also like to say thank you for equally giving to me what you so lovingly say I provide.   Unconditional listening and love you give back to me every moment of my life. I see it in your eyes, I hear it in your voice, and I feel it each time you touch me. I feel it in the home that you, dad, and Benjamin have created for all of us as family. I know the song “1000 years” is one you and dad share to signify you are each other’s everything.   There are certain words to that song that my heart also sings.  

“Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything take away
What’s standing in front of me
Every breath
Every hour has come to this” – David Hodges, Christina Perri

Mom, you are everything to me and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Thank you for the honor you’ve given that I would have the privilege to keep watch over you. I could not think of a better person to be a guardian angel I was sent to.   And mom, as much as I wish you had not experienced the pain, trauma, sorrow, and despair you’ve known as part of your story, I am grateful only in that because of your journey I have been able to fulfill my own destiny.