Signs From Heaven

Some moments feel ordinary while they are happening, only later revealing how sacred they truly were. I thought my baptism would simply be an outward expression of my faith. I did not expect it to be another sign from my mother.

My baptism was not an impulsive decision. It was something my heart had been moving toward for nearly two years.

My faith and beliefs are deeply personal, and the path that led me here has been anything but straightforward. It has been tumultuous at times, peculiar at others, but through it all I have finally found peace. Simply put, I have found peace in Jesus.

I have found peace in His resurrection and in the deep certainty that there is life beyond this one.

I do not consider myself religious in the traditional sense. I do not believe a relationship with God is confined to one church, denomination, or prescribed path. I struggle with dogma, self-righteousness, and the idea that any one person holds all the answers.

What I do believe is that every individual can develop a relationship with the divine if they sincerely seek it. And I believe THAT relationship can and will transform a life.

For nearly two years I wrestled with whether I should be baptized in Utah or Phoenix, simply because of all the religious tension that has been in our extended family for over 30 years. I worried about how it might affect my children, daughters-in-law, and grandsons. In the end, Phoenix felt peaceful and uncomplicated, simply an experience I wanted to keep between myself and the inward relationship I had gained with Christ.

The morning of my baptism felt like any other rushed Sunday morning. At the last minute, I asked my husband to grab my mother’s Bible from the nightstand and put it in my backpack.

I have several of my mother’s Bibles. For some reason, I wanted one with me during this trip to Phoenix while helping care for my husband's 94-year-old mother. I chose a small mahogany Bible with gold-embossed leaves on the cover. I had never read this particular Bible, but without question my mother had read it cover to cover, just as she did all of her Bibles.

My mother had a relationship with scripture that I deeply admired. The Bible grounded her. It guided her decisions and seemed to make her softer, humbler, and more peaceful with each passing year.

Because the Bible had become so important to her, the one thing I wanted after she died was the Bible she had been reading. One day, she opened it and wrote my name on the bookmark.

On January 31, 2024, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. She calmly decided against treatment and passed away on April 3, only a little over two months later.

The final months we shared became priceless. We talked for hours and came to know each other more deeply. We tried to be honest about almost everything, though some painful truths remained untouched because certain wounds felt too deep and too late to fully reopen.

The final days of my mother’s life felt surreal, as though the veil between heaven and earth had grown thin. Days before she died, she called out for her sister Barbara, who had passed years earlier. As Mom drifted in and out of consciousness, I read Psalms aloud to her from her Bible. I opened to Psalm 100 and, after reading it, tucked the Bible beneath her arm where it remained until she passed away.

Later, when designing her headstone, a line from Psalm 100 felt perfect:

“His steadfast love endures forever.”

I believe that is the message my mother would want us to remember.

Before she died, I asked her several times to send me a sign from heaven if she could. I never remember her answering me directly, but I knew she heard me.

Because the Bible had become so important to her, the one thing I wanted after she died was the Bible she died with under her arm and I read Psalms 100. Before she died, she opened it and wrote my name on the bookmark that had all the books of the Old and New Testament on it. I used that bookmark for months and then lost it. I have been so sick about losing it and hoping one day I would find it.

The third sign came the day of my baptism.

That morning, Kevin grabbed Mom’s Bible and tossed it into my backpack before we left for church. Somehow we mixed up the baptism time and arrived thirty minutes early. Sitting quietly in the back seat, I pulled out Mom’s Bible to read and settle my mind before the service.

When I opened it, I saw the same type of bookmark she had written my name on years earlier.

And it was resting at Psalm 100.

I wept.

That bookmark resting at Psalm 100 felt like another whisper from my mother reminding me:

His Steadfast Love Endures Forever.

Stepping Into the Light

When my mom was dying of pancreatic cancer in 2024, I asked her—if she could—to please send me a sign from heaven. I needed to know that her soul lived on. As a Christian, I’ve always believed in an afterlife, but watching my precious mother—my best friend—fade so quickly brought me such tenderness for her and deep anguish in my soul. It happened during an already difficult season of my life as my son and I were losing our dealership, the grief of everything felt almost too heavy to bare.

Three months after my mother passed, I received the sign I had been quietly longing for. My husband was out of town, and I’d spent several days alone. That night, as I walked into my bedroom to go to bed, something caught my eye—gently resting beside my nightstand was a photo I had searched for endlessly. It was of my mom, my sister, and me. A photo I hadn’t seen in months. I dropped to my knees, overcome with gratitude. I knew—it was her or God who had placed it there.

Today is my birthday. As I was starting a load of laundry, something unexpected happened again. At the bottom of the basket—one I’ve emptied countless times over the years—lay an earring I had been praying to find for over a year. But not just any earring. These were the earrings my mom wore to my wedding. My husband’s shirts and a few towels had just come out of that same basket, but there it was. My mom, sending her love in the most personal way—on my birthday, no less.

In my previous two blogs, I shared that I’ve been on a deep and painful journey to uncover the darkness I’ve carried for as long as I can remember. I had asked my brother, to be my guardian angel—to help me face what needed to be faced. Slowly, painfully, memories have returned. Some I already knew. Others came in like a flood. I’ve felt my mother and brother with me as I shuffled through this unfolding and understanding of the darkness I have carried, and how it carved me into the person I am.

This birthday gift—this small, shimmering sign—was her way of saying, “I’m here. I see you. I love you.” And maybe… that I’m not alone as I step into the light.

Mom's Last Breath

My mom died a year ago this month. Her lamp, which now sits in my living room, still gives off light day and night. She is missed daily -- not just by me, but by many.

I can finally write about her. I still cry. My throat still chokes up. I miss her so much. Have you lost a parent or close loved one? It's gut wrenching, isn't it?

Now, I am firm in my belief in an afterlife. I've read the book "Imagine Heaven" by John Burke three times. It hasn't made me anxious to die, but it has made me look forward to what lies beyond this earth after we take our last breath.

My mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at the end of January last year and died in April. She was 81 years old. She had no interest in treating it--she went into palliative care quickly, and we kept her comfortable and out of pain as much as possible.

I got married three months prior to her diagnosis. There was an embrace we shared after the ceremony when we looked into each other's eyes; we had tears, which was unusual for my mom. I knew her tears were tears of joy--that I had finally married Kevin after 10 years. My tears were of joy as well, but I also had a premonition that she would be gone from us within a year.

She moved in with my sister just three weeks before receiving the news about the lump in her pancreas. That timing was such a blessing, as my sister lovingly cared for her and they were able to spend precious time together. I was also fortunte as I was not working and I got to spend long afternoons talking, laughing and hugging her.

The week after her death, I felt strong mentally and emotionally. Physically, I had lost 40 pounds from other stresses, and my health had taken a beating. Two weeks later, the reality of her absence really hit me -- and I had never felt that kind of pain in my life. It was close to the pain I felt when my brother died, due to the terrible circumstances surrounding his death, but this was a different kind of pain: an emptiness, a loneliness, that knocked me directly to my knees begging God to help me through another day.

My mom was my rock--the person I turned to for everything. She knew every little dirty secret about me, and she told me plenty of hers as well. We connected. It's strange how we lived such parallel lives.

The grief my sister and I felt was so overwhelming that we took a sabbatical from one another to heal in our own ways. I was dealing with too many issues on top of my mom's death, and so was she. Our sabbatical took away the other closest person I could talk to about my mom, which was her. Both of us usually just sobbed when we spoke of her. I don't know why we are so deeply connected to our mother; she was just the best listener one could ever want.

I'm sad to admit this, but as addiction will always be a challenge for me, I statred drinking again. It numbed the pain. And for five months, I kept myself slightly--sometimes dangerously--drunk. I've never wanted to die of an accidental overdose. I shudder to think how many times I've come close.

Addiction is a curse. It's Satan's way of controlling my life--because everything in my life slowly deteriorates. My will, my self-esteem, my relationships and my health.

I got sober because I found purpose again and started doing something I love and was born to do: write. I am now writing and publishing my own books.

If you're grieving from a loss and struggling with addiction, be kind to yourself. Keep busy. Find purpose in life. Stay connected to friends and loved ones. Talk to a counselor. Go to support groups. Eat good food. Walk.

I watched my mom take her last breath. My sister and I held her hand for the final 15 minutes as she labored to breathe.

My heart ached to see her go--but I rejoiced for her, because she was finally being released from all her cares and sorrows, of which she had many in her lifetime.

The heavens opened up for her and celebrated her as the queen she was. And she finally got to meet the King of Kings, which she had prepared for and talked so frequently of. I know of no one that was more ready and humble than her.

Dedicated to Shirley Louise King November 2, 1942 - April 3, 2024

IT'S ABOUT TIME

After ten years, I finally married the love of my life in October 2023. Life has been an adventure—filled with challenges that have made writing difficult—until now. Our wedding was beautiful, and I wouldn’t change a thing. The ceremony was intimate, shared only with our dear mothers, sisters, brother-in-law, children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews.

This picture is especially dear to me because, just a few short months later, my mom passed away from pancreatic cancer. That night, after the ceremony, we shared a special hug. She had been experiencing pain on her right side and had been seeing the doctor. In that moment, as we embraced, a thought hit me—I wouldn’t have her much longer. We locked eyes after that hug. Tears welled up in hers, which was rare for my mom, and I shed one of my own. No words were spoken, but I think we both knew the truth. And I also knew she was happy that I was finally married.

Since my oldest grandson was eight months old, I’ve made it a tradition to have Friday night dates with him. As three more grandsons have joined the family, I’ve tried to keep that tradition alive. This past year—between getting married and everything else that has happened—it has been harder, but we’re finally getting back on track. These rascals bring me more joy than I could ever put into words. We’ve had our own parades, squirt gun fights, game nights, and countless trips to Wendy’s. These moments will be etched in my heart forever, even if they fade from their young minds. One of our favorite traditions at the end of our visits has been dancing to Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars. So, it felt only fitting that my grandsons introduced me as the bride with festive dancing, while Collin followed up the rear holding a sign that read: IT’S ABOUT TIME.

I have been blessed immensely with 3 boys that I absolutely adore and make me proud to be a mom. They have stood by me through some really tough times since 2011 when my life started to unravel. I think they all sighed a bit of releif when we finally got married, as they knew that I was happy and I had someone to grow old with.

As for me and my partner in crime...we have our moments. We are passionate people. We live life big. We love hard. We fight fiercely. We work too much. We play too little. We love to learn. And we work on getting better as individuals and as a couple, every single day of our lives.

A Rare Woman

My Mom was 14 years old when she married my Dad and had my sister. Can you image? 14! The first time my Dad saw her she was standing on the steps at her elementary school. He thought she was a teacher! My parents stayed married for 37 years (something rather rare these days). My young mom provided a wonderful childhood for me and my sister and brother.

My mom went to work full time when i was 2 years old and she worked for 3 different companies, the last being my business, Phazes Salon & Day Spa. She worked for Phazes for 24 years. Few people have that track record; certainly not in today's world.

There are few women i revere in this world, my Mom is one. She's a principle person, she says what she thinks and she lives as she believes. I find this rather rare, certainly in today's world.

When my Mom was my age she lost the 3 most important men in her life, her husband, son and father. She still got out of bed every day, came to work, served others and mourned privately.  Dignity and privacy in our world today?..i find it rare.

It's her 74th birthday today and I would be hard pressed to give her a tribute that would measure the love, respect and admiration i have for her. In my very darkest of hours in life, it was always her i have turned to.

My wish for others is that they have a good woman in their life like i have...love you Mom!

Yep, my mom-- a rare woman...

Recent fun outing with Grandkids

Suffering and the Ego

Tomorrow i turn 53. Birthdays are a good time to reflect. I started writing this blog over 8 years ago. Chase, one of my boys, was on a church mission and i wanted to stay connected and share life lessons, family tales and every day epiphanies that would help him through his journey. He suffered terrible homesickness. I also hoped my other boys would read my entries, it was my way of preaching...without preaching.

In the 8 years since i began writing, life has whipped and turned, toppled and triumphed over so much life that i marvel how God works in our lives to teach us exactly what we need to learn! I have experienced the highest of highs in life; and the lowest of lows. I have been open and candid about my journey, hoping to help others in theres.

The year i turned 40 was a memorable one and i will never forget coming across this passage that had such a meaningful impact on me then..and now..

Eckhart Tolle

It's kind of a deep thought, one that requires some time to ponder. It's that last line, "until you realize it is unnecessary", that gives me such pause. Suffering in this life IS NECESSARY, and then when the ego has burned up, which means the lesson has been learned, acceptance has taken place, and humble reverence for the journey is felt, well, THEN, it IS UNNECESSARY! 

In my opinion there does seem to be a preponderance of suffering in some people's lives. Why? I have no idea? Some would say it is self-inflicted. Maybe? And some suffering just IS...and then it ISN'T. Hold on if you're suffering, because it's happening for a reason, look for the reason. And when you find it, let it go...it has served its purpose.

Dedicated to my Mom. She has suffered much, endured well and has no ego. She has been the one consistent person in my life who has cared for me during my darkest hours of suffering. She has earned her place in heaven. Thank you Mom.

The Circle of Life

I have said so many, MANY times before that things come full circle in life. I am experiencing yet another one of those situations as I now live again with my mother for a time.  Her house is quaint, one that anyone would love living in because it has charm and a warmth that only a Mother can provide. I have needed this warmth and time of healing for a very long time, and there is no one else that can do this for me like my Mother.

Mom is a funny sort, literally funny. She laughs and we laugh together, she is a jokester at heart. Growing up with my Mom has so many delightful memories..she loved playing tricks on people, silly things that kept everyone in stitches, fake throw up by the toilet, fake mice that she hooked up by a string, hid and then as you walked by she would pull it across in front of you, and you danced like nobody’s business; and loads creating an explosion in cigarettes of co-workers at Evan’s Grain where she worked for 18 years.

 

A typical look from Mom

After Evan’s Grain Mom joined Phazes Salon & Day Spa and spent 24 years by my side. At times tensions were high because we were so consumed with business. No one had our back like my Mom. She always stood for principle and at times would challenge an employee or customer if they were taking advantage of us. She is a woman that never backs down on what she believes in, and family blood runs through her veins more than anyone I know. She will defend her children, grandchildren, parents and siblings like no bodies business. In truth she’s not always popular, because she says what she feels and lives what she preaches. I find this rare these days.

The integrity and commitment I have in my life is due to the example she has set for our family and me. This is a woman that hates pomp and circumstance, particulary if it is over her. I admire that in this day and age when so many of us seek the approval and attention from worldly matters.

 

Sherry, Mom and me

I never comprehended how much my mother loved me until I had my first born son T.J.. I remember calling my Mom from the hospital after I delivered and saying to her, “I never knew you loved me this much.” The love of a mother is second to none, other than God’s love for us, which, I suppose, is uncomprehendable. He did give us families after all. I cannot imagine life without my family, and I am sure you feel no different. I have been blessed with not just good parents but great parents. They started as teenagers back in the 50’s. Times were different then and work was a plenty. I know few women that worked harder up until she retired than my Mom. This woman labored and found satisfaction in it. She began working full time when I was 3 years old. When she came home from work she cleaned and cooked (another second to none), sewed clothes for us kids, washed window every month, played with us, talked to us, took Sherry and I shopping and made family trips fun.

Another typical scene..Mom cooking in the kitchen. (look at those homemade rolls) 

My Mom is grey now and still beautiful, and, I know my mother will die some day, and I will miss her terribly. It will also be a day of celebration for her because she will be able to rest from her labors. She has sacrificed much and deserves rest from this world. That may sound morbid for we are uncomfortable speaking of death but I have become somewhat comfortable with the thoughts of a beautiful life after death. I have many loved ones on that other side and someday we will all join them.. and Oh what a good day that will be!

Pigtails

Yesterday I said to Zion, "the best things in life are free...or a buck ninety-nine." I was referring to my recent purchased of Chips Ahoy cookies that i got at the bargain price of $1.99.

I just want to play soccer Mom.

I like simple things, cookies, pigtails and my Dad. This morning on the drive to the farm to see my Dad I called Mom and wished her a "Happy Father's Day." I thanked her for all the times she had brought out power tools to help me hang or fix things, she's a handy woman. She laughed and asked, "well did you wish your Dad, Happy Mother's Day, on Mother's Day?" I said, "no, but I should have because he put my hair in the best pigtails in grade school!" We had a great laugh because i loved how my Dad's fingers were the right size for nice ringlets; Mom's fingers were too small. Dad's hands are massive and he got pretty good at putting a hair pin in too.

One of our Vegas Trips

Today as I ate breakfast in the same place i grew up in, looking out the same window at the farm, circumstances in our lives have changed; Rondy, Mom #2 sat to my left, Sherry and Dave my brother and sister were not there and I have raised my 3 boys. It was quiet yet peaceful, the cows have been replaced by horses and there is beauty all around because there is still love in that little old home on the farm. Lives change but love is eternal...and life is eternal...all is well.

After storms God sends Rainbows

No Bragging Allowed

I have had some incredible experiences with some remarkable people in my life. The list does not include anyone famous, no presidents, no movie stars, just ordinary people doing extraordinary things, quietly with no pomp and 
circumstance.

In fact they hate pomp and circumstance, and when someone makes a fuss they retreat.

What motivates some people to do the things they do???

We all have a need to love and belong to someone, somewhere... 

 

to have purpose and feel needed...

it plays out on that "Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs" of which I referred to a blog or two ago. 

Chances are you have people like this in your life also, the unsung hero. They make our world a BEautiful place...

Thoughts...in a BOX

One year for Christmas I gave my beautiful mother a decorative “Christmas” box with a copy of the book, “The Christmas Box” and a letter I had written to her. My intentions were to write her a letter each year so she could keep it in her pretty box. As good intentions go, no other Christmas letters have been written but my sweet mom has started a tradition of her own.

When we were little Mom made each of us our own Christmas stocking. Each of us was very proud of our stocking because she spent several hours on each one. Christmas day is now rather quiet for our family and after all the hustle of the season we welcome the peace. I asked my mom what she was doing for Christmas this year and she said, “I’m staying home alone and writing my letters to each of you kids. I like to be alone on Christmas.”

I found out several years ago that Mom started writing letters to Sherry, Richard and Amanda, (Dave’s children) and me.  Honestly I do not know what kind of a “stocking” my mom is putting these letters in, and I don’t care about the stockings, but I am touched by her love and expression of making it a tradition to write a letter to each of us. Sometimes the spoken word is difficult for us. What a treasure we will have for years to come when our loved ones depart and we have their feelings and words to reflect upon.

Sometimes we don’t capture the “moments.” Such as when our children say the cutest and funniest things! If you are a parent, I know you can relate. We think we will remember…well, we don’t! I did write down some of those things…I just can’t remember where I filed that paper…I know it’s here in the house…SOMEWHERE! 

So my advice, get a beautiful box, chest or trunk, and some pretty paper and every time your kids do something cute or funny jot it down and put it in your BOX. And don’t forget… sometimes we have an ephiphany or two of our own… write those down too, and then some time, grab a quiet night and open your box or boxes…and enjoy those quite times alone. You can reminisce, cry, laugh, and enjoy right where you are. Oh, and I suggest you indulge in your favorite drink and treat, a coke zero and a cookie would accompany me, along with a pack of dogs.

Roxee, Dozer, Zion...Lucy had not joined us when this was taken... and they are not as obedient since she has! We are working on things. Puppies. :)

Christmas Traditions and Change

Mom and Me at Cemetary

Some traditions live on…and some change. After Dave died we would gather around his grave on Christmas Eve and sing Christmas songs, shed tears, share stories, laugh through our tears and pray. That tradition changed a few years ago when the family got bigger and older.  Each of us still remember Dave through the holidays in our own way. I dropped off my wreath this year and was delighted to see he had been visited by many already. He is not one who is easily forgotten. He comes by a stature of command naturally through my dad’s lineage, (6 ft. 4, 230 lb.) so playing Santa was a natural and rather humorous affair for the adults who got to witness the event.

Back in the “olden days” when I was a kid there was no Santa costume and Grandma Allen bought red and white tissue paper for the children and we would create Santa on my dad which was fun, albeit certainly no mystique in the legend of Santa. Then one year investment in the whole Santa costume get up was made and the delight of Christmas parties was never the same! Year after year Dad plowed his body into that hot costume and HO-Ho'd his way with bells and a bound into all the family parties and a few others. I’m not sure who had more fun, the kids or Santa?!

Dave as Santa holding Richard

Dave watched Dad pour on the Santa charm and took over in his twenties. I’m not sure if the kids were smarter in the 80’s or if we were just so naive, but those kids were on to Santa Dave like nobodies business. Nevertheless it didn’t spoil any of the fun. Dave could lead our musically deficient family through a string of Christmas carols, and you better believe Dave never missed a word. Mom taught us all the classics.

From left to right:my Dad, Sherry (wanting to be Santa!), Santa Richard

In all honesty I don’t remember if Dad picked up during the interim when Dave was gone and Richard was too young to carry on the Santa tradition. Some years you are a little numb during the holidays. But we now have the tallest, skinniest, off the cuff Santa ever! Santa Richard, Dave’s son is carrying on the tradition with varoom! The children are a tad bit intimidated by his towering height but endeared to his loving disposition and enamored by his questions. As for the adults…tradition does live on…inside that Santa costume is a little bit of my big Dad and my big Brother. You can hear it in his voice, you can see it in the gestures and you definitely feel it in the love.

My Practical Mother is Shirley 67!

"There's been an explosion!" "Hurry come quick!" We all scamper to the shrieking sounds of my mother's voice and the string of Bangs going on downstairs!! No matter, mom is up to another one of her shenanigan's, this time she lit fireworks...just BEcause.?

This happened often growing up with mom. Fake poop, throw up, mice. Cigarette loads, the kind that went off in the guys face when they lit up at work. A string of compounded four letter words and ending with "Shirley!" would ensue. She had a reputation. My mom loved to play practical jokes...it runs in the family. And we loved it! Many stories to tell...

Oh and speaking of story telling, she can hang with the best of 'em. When she tells a story she is so animated and giggly that you don't know what is more funny, her or the story!

My mom turns 67 today. She works nearly full time hours at our Salon & Day Spa. She has been faithfully dedicated by our side since one year after we opened. Twenty one years of working with your daughter and son-in-law--now that's dedication, or brain damage?!


Mom was also a young mother. I was her third, and last, at the tender age of 21. By that time she had proficiently learned how to cook, clean, can, sew, garden, and work in the fields during harvest season on the farm. This picture was taken last year on Thanksgiving Eve as she is trying to teach some of us the finer art of all her "KNOCK OUT COOKING". This woman can STILL work most 20 and 30 year old's under the table.


But as I look back at my mom's life and all she has been through what I love most about her is her resilience. My parents divorced after 37 years of marriage. Shortly thereafter her son was killed and her father also died. She sustained many losses and handled it with quiet grace. Never does she talk about herself unless asked, and even then she is more interested in you than in going on about herself. She will serve until she is exhausted.

The practical jokes have left our family for quite some time now...they are slowly coming back, time does heal and we are grateful.

Mom is the life blood of our family. She is principle oriented and is never afraid to stick up for what she believes is right. She is loved and respected for that, even when it was not popular under many circumstances. She does not like pomp and circumstance...and particularly if it is about her. Luckily my practical mother has practically NO SAY in what I blog about!

We can all learn a few things from this "generation". This breed who felt no entitlements, worked hard for every penny they earned, believes in going the extra mile when they do a job, and if a "job's worth doing, it is worth doing well. Both my parents taught me to work hard and now my children and I are the beneficiaries of such a wonderful example.

Happy birthday Mom and wishing you many many more. I love you, I love you, Shirley most surely I DO!!!

Sunflowers & Sunshowers

Today is my sisters birthday. My mom's birthday is 4 days from now. There is 21 years between the three of us. I am the youngest in the family. My brother who was between my sister and me was killed 14 years ago, he was our only other sibling.

I am crazy about my family. They mean everything to me. We LOVE spending time together. Life seems to restrict that more these days since our children are grown and going in so many different directions. My sister and I practically raised our children together, she was single most of the time.

Every family has their issues. Ours is no different. But I can honestly say that since Dave died my sister and I have cherished each other and rarely said a cross word to one another. My mom and I have worked side by side in our business now for 20 years, she has been steady and consistent throughout. She is forever protecting us girls and serving us tirelessly. Sometimes so much so that she has sacrificed herself and other relationships.

One thing our family does not do is take for granted how far we have come. We talk things over. We talk things through one on one and in groups. We have come to know that when we do this we all come away with a better understanding and appreciation for one another and ourselves. At times this has been uncomfortable, but we learn to push through the discomfort and we always feel better afterwards. Unconditional love, acceptance, understanding and appreciating one anothers differences is what got us through tough times. We had to learn this over time. It did not come all at once necessarily or even naturally...I am sorry to say, or maybe not, those things worth working for always mean the most.

Taken from Like A Sunshower by Journey:
We find the sun through the rain
Caught in a sunshower
We'll be all right, no one's to blame
After the storm, we'll shine
So rare you and me disagree
Love's like a sunshower