Keepsake

March 19, 2016 Cheryll Snow

This month marks the twenty-second anniversary of my mother's passing. She was forty-nine years old. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, sometimes it feels like an eternity since I saw her last. In honor of this wonderful woman, I'm posting a story I wrote that was inspired by Amber Nagle's Project Keepsake blog. She was kind enough to publish it on her website. Shortly after that, Chicken Soup for the Soul picked it up for their book, "Inspiration for Nurses." I hope you enjoy it. And if your mom is still with you, give her a hug today.

Mom had beautiful hair. From an early age, she loved trying out different styles and trends. Looking at pictures of her from childhood to middle age was like thumbing through a hair-styling magazine in a beauty salon.

When she was diagnosed with brain cancer at the age of forty-eight, our family was devastated. Mom was especially dismayed when the neurosurgeon told her they would have to shave her head in the operating room.

My mother was a simple woman, born and raised in the foothills of Ohio in the 1940's. Times were tough and she enjoyed few luxuries growing up. But the one thing she treasured and spent considerable time and effort on was her hair.

As a small child, she sported a short pixie cut with razor-straight bangs. Then came barrettes and hair bands in grade school. As a teenager, she graduated to long brunette locks with a side part and gorgeous waves. She was rocking the Cindy Crawford look before Cindy was even born!

My mother never finished high school. At seventeen, she met my father, who was a submarine sailor in the United States Navy. After a whirlwind courtship they eloped, and over the next thirty-one years, my father took my mother all over the world and did his best to spoil her.

One of her favorite ways to pamper herself was going to a hair salon, something her family couldn’t afford when she was young. Over the years, there were pin curls and perms, bouffants and bobs, and an unfortunate wedge in the 1980's that Mom couldn’t grow out fast enough. The one thing she didn’t do to her hair was change the color. Her dark mahogany brown was a prettier shade than anything from a bottle, with auburn highlights in the summer from days spent on the beach and gardening in the sun. She gave in a bit however in her forties – “just a wash” – to cover those dreaded grays.

The night before her surgery, I spent extra time with Mom, brushing her thick, luxurious hair while she shed more than a few tears.

After her operation, she woke up in the intensive care unit with a blue surgical bonnet covering her head. Once she got her bearings, the first thing she did was yank off the bonnet and ask for a mirror. She stared at her reflection for a long time, gingerly running a hand over her bare head, careful not to touch the railroad track of staples and sutures on the right side. Then she dropped the mirror on the bed and asked us to put the cap back on.

“It’ll grow back,” I reassured her.

In her drug-induced stupor, she only nodded and said, “Okay.”

A nurse came into the room and handed my father a clear plastic bag. “The scrub nurse in the O.R. saved this for you.”

It was Mom's hair.

I don’t know what prompted the nurse to do that—no one asked her to—but I’m so incredibly glad she did. Contrary to our hopes, the subsequent chemo and radiation treatments left Mom with permanent hair loss; only a few wispy strands grew back. My father spared no expense in finding her two of the finest wigs money could buy. But it wasn’t the same.

Mom lost her battle to cancer a year later, but I still have a piece of her with me. I’ve kept it for more than twenty years now, wrapped in tissue paper and tucked away in my bureau drawer. Once in while I take it out, and the scent of my mother comes back to me all over again, reminding me of everything good about my childhood and what a wonderful, giving person she was.

It’s not your typical keepsake, but it means more to me than the trinkets or jewelry or any material possession Mom handed down to me. I am so thankful to that scrub nurse who thought to sweep this treasure from the OR floor.

It's Not Easy Being Green

March 11, 2016 Cheryll Snow

Remember the song, "It's Not Easy Being Green," that Kermit the Frog made famous from Sesame Street and the Muppet movies?

I hate feeling "green." By that, I mean being in new situations where I don't know what I'm doing or I don't feel in control.

I recently started a new job after being out of the nursing field for a while. The experience was very stressful at first. New setting, new faces, new responsibilities, new protocols to learn. By the third day of orientation, I cried all the way home that night because I was overwhelmed by all the changes. It also didn't help that I locked the med cart keys in my cart and had to call my supervisor to unlock it for me.

In short, I felt stupid. Which I know isn't true. I'm an intelligent, capable woman with twenty-six years of experience as an RN. But that didn't stop me from feeling that way.

We've all been there. We go back to school and discover we're the oldest student in the class. We embark on a new job or career and freeze when a customer or fellow employee asks a question we don't know how to answer. We bring our first bundle of joy home from the hospital and find ourselves calling our mother long distance to ask, "How do I give her a bath?"

I've learned that when I find myself in those "green" situations, the worst thing I can do is give in to the panic. After my meltdown in my car, I pulled into my garage, turned off the engine, and took a deep cleansing breath. Then another. And another.

Instead of berating myself over all the things I didn't know or did wrong that day, I turned the equation around and made a list of what I did right.

"You got all your charting completed."

"You learned how to do the paperwork for an ambulance transfer."

"You took off those new orders and logged them in the computer."

"So what if my preceptor had to help me with that last med pass? It's only your third day!"

"You made one of your patients laugh."

By the time my list was completed, I felt energized and much more confident. I got out of my car and said, "You can do this!" I kept repeating that mantra the next morning as I crawled out of bed at 5 AM and got ready for work. I even wrote a note to myself with those exact words and placed it where I could see it throughout my workday.

Kermit was right. Being green isn't easy. It's uncomfortable, intimidating, and sometimes scary. But it's also a good thing. It means we're growing - that we're moving out of our comfort zones, trying new things, and becoming better people.

Now that's something to croak about!

Daffy Doodles

February 25, 2016 Cheryll Snow

“...And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils. ”

— William Wadsworth

I saw the first daffodils of the season today. I was driving past an old abandoned barn when my eye caught a blur of color amongst some tall weeds. As flakes of snow swirled around in the crisp February air, those headstrong blooms stood tall and proud as they raised their butter yellow faces to the morning sun.

Unable to resist, I pulled over and walked out to the field and plucked a few. I brought the flowers to my nose and inhaled deeply. "Hi, Mom," I said, and smiled.

I love daffodils. In fact, they're my favorite flower. My mother loved them as well. She called them "Daffy Doodles." She said no other bloom can boast that same shade of yellow or one-of-a-kind aroma, which for me has always been the promise of spring. The mere sight of them never fails to bring back a flood of memories, all of them revolving around my mom.

I was a navy brat growing up, so we moved a lot. But my mom's daffodils always went with her. After the moving vans pulled out of the driveway, my mother would dig up all her beloved Daffy Doodle bulbs and put them to bed in a burlap sack filled with loose soil, where they slept soundly until she transplanted them at our new home.

She told me one of the reasons why she loved daffodils is because they're so stubborn. No matter where we were living, those bulbs came back year after year. In Maine and Connecticut, they pushed their determined heads through blankets of snow and shivered in the cold for a few short-lived weeks. In the warmer locales of Virginia and the Carolinas, they stretched their toes deep into the Southern earth and stayed a while, soaking up the sun and balmy breezes.

She especially loved to find daffodils growing in the wild. Every March she would look for them in her travels and mark where new ones had sprouted up. Then she would come back at a later time to dig them up and add them to her burgeoning collection.

I asked her why she didn't just pick the flowers and dig up the bulbs as soon as she found them.

"You have to let the flower die so that all the food goes back into the bulb under the ground. If you don't, they won't come back."

I didn't understand what she meant at the time, but I've never forgotten it. To this day, I never cut back plants or dig up tubers and bulbs until the flowers and leaves have died. Just one of the many things I learned from her while helping in the garden, and not just about plants. My mother wasn't what you would call an educated woman. In fact, she never graduated high school. But she was a wealth of wisdom when it came to her family and her faith. And of course, Daffy Doodles.

It's hard to find daffodil bulbs nowadays at a greenhouse or nursery. I asked a woman at a local nursery why. She said, "Daffodils are so easy to grow, you rarely need to buy them. You can plant a few bulbs and fill up a flower bed in just a couple of seasons."

Like Mom said, they're stubborn that way.

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Turtle Bumpers

February 4, 2016 Cheryll Snow

I came across a story the other day that made me smile. On the Caribbean island of Bonaire, the residents discovered the population of loggerhead turtles was dwindling. Normally, as soon as a baby turtle hatches from its egg and emerges from the sand, it scrambles to find safe harbor in the ocean depths. But for some reason, the majority of newly-hatched turtles were heading in the opposite direction away from the water. Exposed and vulnerable, they became easy prey for predators as they roamed around in circles, unable to find the shoreline and escape to safety.

In an effort to reverse this trend, volunteers decided to stake out the usual places where the female turtles lay their eggs. Then they waited. As soon as they saw signs of the turtles hatching, a large crowd gathered to form two lines, one on either side of the nest, that led all the way to the water's edge. In essence, they created a human wall, or what I like to call "turtle bumpers," to help guide the tiny creatures to the water.

We all need bumpers in our lives - that still, small voice of God and those loved ones and friends who gently prod us in the right direction, even when we don't want to hear it. I'm so thankful for the times when someone asked me, "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Or when God whispered in my ear, "Maybe you should think about this first." Or when my husband advised against making a rash decision over something that, in retrospect, was better off tucking away under the category of Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time.

Not all the turtles heeded the bumpers. Confused, some crawled back into the nest and wouldn't come out. Others, despite volunteers going so far as to physically turn them in the right direction, still insisted on going the other way and eventually wore themselves out or were gobbled up by seagulls.

Just like those unfortunate turtles, we don't always listen to sound advice. Sometimes we forge on, despite the consequences, and we win in the end. There's something to be said about believing in yourself and pressing on, no matter what the obstacles. That's how greatness is achieved. But we also lose sometimes due to stubbornness and insisting on the motto of "my way or the highway."

One of the great things about life is that, as we become wiser from enduring hard knocks and learning how to get back up, somewhere along the way we evolve from that struggling baby turtle into that volunteer who helps newly-hatched turtles find the ocean.

Be a turtle bumper!

“In helping others we shall help ourselves, for whatever good we give out completes the circle and comes back to us. ”

— Flora Edwards

Titles available from my Shop!

Star Wars and Stormstrippers

January 29, 2016 Cheryll Snow

I love "Star Wars." I was twelve years old when I saw the movie for the first time at our local theater in Norfolk, Virginia. It played for over a year. My mom would pack me and my friends into the car and cart us to the mall to see it again and again. Toward the end of its run, the cinema manager had to order a new film reel because the first one was worn out from showing it three times a day, seven days a week.

Cutie patootie farmboy-turned-hero Luke Skywalker. The antics of R2D2 and C3PO. A princess with moxie. Darth Vader and Stormtroopers. Fantastical creatures and intergalactic battles. We couldn't get enough of it! And the timeless themes of friendship, courage, and good guys vs. bad guys were things we could all relate to.

Suffice it to say I was more than a little excited when I found out that, thirty-eight years after the movie's debut, a new Star Wars film was coming out featuring the original cast. (Don't get me started on Jar Jar Binks and the utterly disappointing "pre-quel" movies that were made after the original three. Uggghhh....)

Our five year-old grandson, Cayden, was staying with us for two weeks over Christmas break. Caught up in a wave of Star Wars fever for a new generation, he had already asked Santa to bring him a Star Wars bedspread and toys. He couldn't wait to see the movie. He put on his Darth Vader costume and we headed out.

The theater was packed. From the moment the lights dimmed, he was hooked. Halfway through the movie, he turned to my husband and said, quite loudly, "I really like this movie, PaPaw!"

Cayden's enthusiasm for all things Star Wars continued over the next several days. He wore his new Star Wars pajamas 24/7, and his Luke Skywalker lightsaber that Santa brought him was his constant companion. The day before he left to go back home, I captured a moment on videotape that still makes me laugh. He was standing in the kitchen with his blue lightsaber in front of his face, just like Luke.

"Who are you?" I asked him.

"I'm Luke Skywalker!" he said.

"What do you do?"

"I fight bad guys and Darth Vader!"

"Am I a bad guy?" I asked.

"Yes!"

"Which one?"

"You're a Stormstripper, Nana!"

I love being a grandmother.

Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys

January 14, 2016 Cheryll Snow

As I get older, I find myself wanting something more and more in my life, and that something is less drama.

I'm not talking about the excitement and fun that comes with moving out of our comfort zones and discovering new things. Or that good friend who needs a shoulder to cry on or advice about a tough situation. I'm referring to those in our personal circle who seem to thrive on drawing attention to themselves and pulling others into whatever "crisis" is going on in their lives.

We all know at least one person like that. Maybe it's a co-worker who constantly grumbles about her job. Or maybe it's a certain friend or family member who routinely find themselves "in a pickle" and others rush to bail them out again and again.

Sometimes the situations are real. We all need to vent at times, and we've all encountered difficult circumstances. But I've found that the Drama Queens and Kings of this world create their own chaos by blowing small things out of proportion and then attempt to suck us into their self-made vortex of negativity and playing the victim. We listen, and maybe even offer help or advice, but after a while, we start to feel like a limp dishrag after yet another lengthy "woe is me" pity party.

We all want to be caring people and help others. But this kind of behavior isn't healthy for either party. It's especially exhausting for the person who feels compelled, time and time again, to DO something to make that person's situation better.

The truth is, we can't fix everyone's problems, no matter how hard we try. And so I've adopted a new motto for my life, and that is, "Not my circus, not my monkeys." Unless it affects me, my family, or other loved ones directly, I'm not going to get involved in other people's petty drama. I have enough problems of my own, thank you very much.

As a result, I've found that when we don't allow other people's drama to dictate our lives and emotional well-being, those people inevitably move on to someone else who will. I've also found that, when pressed into a corner over some new crisis and nobody comes to their rescue, they somehow find a way out of their situation. It's especially hard not to intervene when it's a close friend or family member, but I've come to the conclusion that sometimes we have to let those we love work their own stuff out.

A Very Special Christmas Blog

December 25, 2015 Cheryll Snow

"Mary Did You Know"

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will calm the storm with His hand?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby you kissed the face of God?

Mary did you know...

The blind will see.
The deaf will hear.
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap.
The dumb will speak
The praises of The Lamb.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.

~Words and music by Mark Lowry and Buddy Greene

Christmas Cheer Contest!

December 10, 2015 Cheryll Snow

Would you like to win this basket of goodies?

Here's what you get:

Signed copy of "Project Keepsake," by Amber Lanier Nagle (www.projectkeepsake.com) (www.amazon.com) (www.booksamillion.com)
Signed copy of "Return to Taylor's Crossing," a novel by Janie Dempsey Watts (www.janiewatts.com) (www.amazon.com) (www.barnesandnoble.com)
Your choice of any Chicken Soup for the Soul book from my Shop
Vanilla Bean sachet
Mannheim Steamroller "Christmas Extraordinaire" CD
Wind Willow White Chocolate Cherry Cheeseball/Dessert Mix
Christmas tin filled with Lindor Assorted Chocolates

All you have to do is share this post on Facebook and email with friends and family! And if you're new to my website, you're automatically entered when you sign up for my blogs here! How easy is that?

The contest will run today December 10 thru midnight December 20. The first ten people to share this post will receive double entries! Good luck!

Titles available in my shop.

Masks

November 19, 2015 Cheryll Snow

Masks. We all wear them, whether we realize it or not. There's the "face" we show to co-workers and strangers, the one that smiles even as we're crying inside and gives the appearance of having it all together. Then there's the real you - the one we allow only our closest family and friends to see, if at all.

I've battled with depression most of my adult life. I've taken Prozac, off and on, since my early twenties.

A few years ago, I was having lunch with a friend who knows me very well. I told her my little black cloud had returned and that I was back on my medication. "It's a chemical imbalance," I explained. "It comes and goes in cycles."

She nodded and said, "I think it would have to be some kind of chemical imbalance."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well... look at your life. You have a wonderful husband and family, a great career, and a beautiful home. What in the world do you have to be depressed about?"

Appearances can be very deceiving.

I know my friend wasn't being mean-spirited with her remark. It's simply the truth of how we tend to perceive others. We only see the shiny sugar-coated outer layer and not the darker, uglier stuff that lies beneath.

Depression, like all mental disorders, is widely misunderstood. Society as a whole is certainly better educated these days and more accepting of those who struggle with it. But the diagnosis continues to carry the stigma that if everything appears to be okay on the outside, then how can anything be wrong on the inside?

We can't see depression. There isn't a blood test for it like anemia or diabetes. It doesn't show up on an X-ray film like a broken bone or a tumor. Society today demands proof of everything. We tend to distrust what we can't touch or see.

Also, the manifestations of depression vary from person to person and can be easily misdiagnosed. Fatigue, sadness, aching joints and muscles, stomach issues, headaches, crying spells, insomnia, violence and angry outbursts - these are just a few of the symptoms of depression. In the meantime, other causes are ruled out and the wrong medications prescribed as moms and dads and teenagers and seniors from all walks of life struggle to get through a typical day.

Depression, like cancer, is no respecter of persons. It affects rich and poor, young and old, healthy and infirm, male and female. It can also be hereditary.

We all have issues - physical, emotional, or spiritual - that we keep carefully hidden from others with a variety of masks. Perfect lives don't exist, despite the jet-set celebrity personas pervading our culture today. So the next time you start to feel inferior to someone who seems to have it all, remember that what you're seeing is just a disguise.

Titles available in my Shop!

Life in the Walmart Fast Lane

November 12, 2015 Cheryll Snow

We've all had one of those days. There I was, at the back of a very long line at my local Wally World. I hadn't slept well the night before, my doctor's appointment earlier that day ran ninety minutes late, and I had a nagging headache. I just wanted to get home.

A cashier manning the register next to me caught my attention and pointed to the "20 Items or Less" lane. "She'll take you over there," she said.

Nobody was in line. I looked down at my cart, knowing I had at least thirty or more items. I shrugged and pushed my cart over to the express lane. No sooner had I begun unloading my groceries when three people got in line behind me. One woman had a pair of leggings draped over her arm. The other two had three gallons of milk and a jar of peanut butter between them.

The woman with the leggings didn't seem to notice I was way over my item limit. But the other two were giving me dirty looks and shifting their focus from the Express Lane sign to my cart to me. I felt bad. I wanted to defend myself and say, "Hey! The cashier said I could get in this line!" I even opened my mouth to say something, but then I stopped short.

"Why do you feel the need to do this?" a little voice inside my head asked.

I went on with my business and loaded my groceries into my car. But I couldn't get the incident out of my mind. Why do so many of us, especially as women, feel compelled to explain ourselves all the time? Or defend ourselves for the choices we make or the things we do?

My husband has told me for years, "Honey, you'd be a lot better off if you stopped caring so much about what other people think."

As I've gotten older, I've tried to embrace the wisdom of that. But it's so hard for me to do.

I had a friend in high school who loved to do silly things in public to see what kind of reaction she'd get. One of her favorite things to do was let loose with this loud, snorting laugh while sitting at a study cubicle in the library or at the theater right before the movie started.

I would stare at her, horrified, and she would just smile and say, "These people are never going to see my face again!"

Life is too short to worry about unnecessary things, especially the perceptions of people we don't even know! We have no control over what others think or say about us. Our true friends and family love us for who we are, not who we appear to be. To embrace that is so freeing.

"When we finally let go... that's when the real fun begins."
~ The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Name That Ghoul Contest!

October 29, 2015 Cheryll Snow

11/5/15 And the winner is: Cindy H. of Wisconsin! Thanks, everyone, for playing!

To celebrate Halloween week, I thought it would be fun to challenge your knowledge of all things spooky! Get all ten questions right, and you could win a copy of Stephen King's newest suspense novel, "Finders Keepers" (Scribner 2015)!

The following clues are from films, books, pop culture, and creepy trivia. Some are easy and some will require you to put on your thinking caps. Or hit that Google Search button, whichever is easier! Email me at cheryllsnow@yahoo.com OR via my Contact page with your answers. The first ten responses get double entries. The contest is open to everyone, so share with your friends! Contest ends Wednesday, November 4th at midnight. Good luck!

Questions:

1. This 1997 music video went on to become one of the most popular Halloween/monster videos of all time. Name the pop group and the song. (Note: if you say NSYNC, you are automatically eliminated from the contest and forever banned from this website. Juuuust kidding. Kinda.)

2. "The Addams Family," a TV series about a creepy family, ran for two seasons in the 1960's. However, it actually had it's start in 1938 when Gomez, Morticia, Uncle Fester, Lurch, Grandmama, Wednesday, Pugsley, and Thing appeared in a series of cartoons by Charles Addams in a prominent weekly publication. Name the magazine.

3. Name the horror film with this quote: "It puts the lotion in the basket."

4. Which novel by Stephen King published in the 1980's had people thinking twice about burying their beloved dogs and cats after they died?

5. In 1816, Mary Godwin and several friends visited Lord Byron in Geneva, Switzerland. The group decided to write supernatural stories and see who could come up with the best one. That night, Mary had a dream of a corpse that came back to life. She turned the dream into a short story, which eventually became a novel. Name the title.

6. In what year did the Salem Witch Trials begin?

7. Name the movie with this scene:

8. You'll have bad luck if this particular creature crosses your path.

9. This 1999 film, starring Bruce Willis and Haley Joel Osment, put director M. Night Shyamalan on the map. Name the movie.

10. According to folklore, what is the only thing that can kill a werewolf?

Have a safe and fun Halloween, everyone!

* Note: This contest is not affiliated with Scribner Books or Stephen King. Any books given away in this contest are from my personal library.

Starter Home

October 22, 2015 Cheryll Snow

My husband and I recently visited the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina. For those who aren't familiar with this spectacular place, the Biltmore, a 250-room French Renaissance chateau built by George Vanderbilt in 1895, is the largest private home in America. Since opening its doors to the public in 1930, millions of visitors from all over the world have toured the home and surrounding 8000 acres of gardens, farmland, and forests.

Our tour guide talked about the history of the home and the Vanderbilt family. George Vanderbilt lived at the massive estate for three years as a bachelor until he took a bride, Edith Stuyvesant Dresser of New York in 1898.

"At the tender age of twenty-four," our guide said, "the new Mrs. George Vanderbilt became heiress to the Biltmore, a home containing over four acres of floor space, including thirty-five bedrooms, forty-three bathrooms, and sixty-five fireplaces."

I turned to my husband and whispered, "That's quite a starter home!"

Later that evening as we were getting ready for bed at our hotel, we talked about our first home. After our wedding in 1984, we signed a one-year lease on a tiny two-bedroom bungalow in Norfolk, Virginia. The rent was $275 a month, which was a bit pricey for my meager salary as an accountant's assistant and Jerry's pay as a third-class yeoman in the Navy. But we were so proud of that little bungalow, and I did my best to make it more "homey."

Not a stick of furniture in the house was ours. Every piece was given to us, including a horrid gold and red velvet sofa and chair that, years later, even our local Goodwill was hesitant to take off our hands. And, of course, nothing matched. We were rocking Shabby Chic before it ever became a fashion statement!

The original hardwood floors in the bedrooms were lovely. But the carpet in the living room was a mustard yellow shag that smelled like dirty socks no matter how many times we vacuumed or shampooed it, and the linoleum in the kitchen was worn down to the cement flooring in a few places. No microwave, but we did have a two-burner stove/oven combination and an ancient, wheezing Frigidaire with a freezer compartment the size of a shoe box.

"Remember the washing machine?" my husband asked, and we burst out laughing.

There wasn't a separate laundry room, so a washer and dryer were squeezed into the tiny kitchen next to the sink. The kitchen didn't have adequate plumbing for a washing machine, so every time we ran a load of clothes, we had to place the washer hose in the sink and let the dirty water drain into there. On more than one occasion, the water filled the sink too quickly, and we had to mop up a major mess from the kitchen floor. I bet Mrs. Vanderbilt never had to do that!

In truth, we started out with very little, but we were happy. Over the next thirty years, we worked hard in our chosen careers, lived within our means, and made saving and investments a priority. It wasn't easy, but there's a sense of satisfaction in knowing that, while we're certainly not rich, we're comfortable financially and able to travel and do things for our family because we persevered through the lean times.

I wonder if Mrs. Vanderbilt ever felt that sense of accomplishment. With enormous wealth at her fingertips and a mansion full of servants at her beck and call, she lived a life of privilege that didn't include crawling into work after staying up all night with a sick child. Or celebrating the fact you finally scraped together enough money for a down payment on that home. Or working overtime so your child can go to sports camp.

I truly believe we don't appreciate what we don't earn. And looking back on the sacrifices we made and that cramped, dysfunctional bungalow, I wouldn't trade those early days for anything.

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On Turning Fifty - Happy Birthday to Me!

October 15, 2015 Cheryll Snow

This week, I'm turning fifty years old. The big 5-0. The half-century mark. The bane of nearly every woman on the planet.

Why do so many of us dread this particular milestone? Is it the thought of missed chances or lost opportunities? The consequences of reckless behavior or poor choices in our youth? Is it the realization that, according to statistics, our expected life spans are more than halfway over and we’re headed downhill at breakneck speed with no guardrails in sight?

Determined to make that glass appear half-full, I turned the equation around. What about the upside of becoming older and, hopefully, a bit wiser? I thought back to the younger version of me and what I would say to her if I could go back in time.

I pulled out pen and paper and jotted down a few lines. The words kept coming, and soon I had a plethora of advice to that twenty-something woman who thought she had all the answers back then. Maybe you can relate to some of these.

Don’t try to please everyone. It’s exhausting. And there are some people you simply cannot make happy.
Money and jobs will come and go. Your self-worth is not determined by a paycheck.
Cherish good friends. Especially those who don’t care if you have dust bunnies under your bed or if you’re still in your bathrobe at 10:00 in the morning.
Age and dress size are just numbers.
Don’t waste your time on negative people. Surround yourself with those who will uplift you and make you a better person.
Change can be a good thing. Learn to embrace it.
Follow your instincts and your gut, even when others try to tell you differently.
Don’t try to be SuperMom or SuperWoman. Your child’s first-grade class will not remember the gourmet cupcakes you stayed up until midnight to bake.
Quit worrying what other people think. It’s your life, not theirs.
An occasional dinner of Hamburger Helper or a stop at the drive-thru at McDonald’s after work will not kill your family.
Nurture your marriage. When the kids are gone, it’ll be just the two of you again at the breakfast table.
Set aside time on a regular basis to do absolutely nothing. It’s good for the soul.
Let go and let God. Take Carrie Underwood’s advice. It really works.
And finally... Laugh more! It improves your face value!

Titles available in my Shop!

And The Winners Are...

September 24, 2015 Cheryll Snow

10/1/2015And the winners are:

Edward B.

Beth D.

Congrats to both of you! I will be sending out an email soon with details of when you will receive your free book! Thanks to everyone for entering!

Would you and a friend like to win a signed copy of any one of my books from my Shop? It's so easy! Here's all you have to do:

Ask three friends to go to my website at www.cheryllsnow.com and sign up for my weekly blog. That's it! When your friend signs up, BOTH of you will be in the running for a free book each!

The first ten people to email me will receive TWO entries in the contest! I will draw the winning names from two lists - the ones who referred their friends (that would be YOU!) and the new sign-ups. But this offer won't be open for long! Contest ends at midnight September 30, so get those entries in now!

In the meantime, enjoy "Easter Surprise," a story about our rescue pup, Sadie - the sweetest dog that ever lived - from Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dog Did What?

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When It's Time To Hit The Unfriend Button

September 17, 2015 Cheryll Snow

I'm a people pleaser. Always have been. And I think my family and friends would say I get along with most everyone. I try to be respectful of other people's opinions and views, even when they're the polar opposite of my own. You say to-ma-to, I say to-mah-to. You say po-ta-to, I say po-tah-to. Diversity among us is what makes this world so interesting!

But there comes a time when us people-pleasers have to do what is best for our own well-being and stop worrying so much about offending someone.

I recently decided to stop communicating with someone on Facebook. I've known him for over thirty years. But I've come to the conclusion that, while he has many good qualities and is my brother in Christ, he truly brings out the worst in me. And to add insult to injury, he appears to delight in that fact. The reason WHY he continues to do this with just about everyone he knows is beyond my ability to understand. But it's not my circus, not my monkeys.

This may sound trivial to some. But I'm at a point in my life now where I'm finally healing from a childhood filled with scars and shame, and I'm now taking care of ME. And part of that healing includes eliminating negativity wherever I can and surrounding myself with only positive people and relationships.

How about you? Is there someone - a friend, a boss, even a spouse or family member - that brings too much negativity to your life? Do you feel you're a better person for having that someone in your life, or do they cause you only pain and frustration?

The people we choose to have relationships with should uplift us and bring out the very best in us, not bring us down! If they're not doing that, maybe it's time to hit that "unfriend" button and move forward in a more positive direction.

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Chapter One of "Sea Horses"

September 10, 2015 Cheryll Snow

It's Blog Thursday! With a twist. Several people have asked me to post a sneak peek of my novel, "Sea Horses." I'm actively seeking representation for my manuscript and have an agent looking at it as I type this. Please pray for God's purpose and timing, not mine.

In the meantime, sit back with a cup of coffee or your favorite beverage and read Chapter One here! I welcome your comments and feedback! And please share with friends!

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Rick Springfield and Wilson the Volleyball

September 3, 2015 Cheryll Snow

Okay. I realize the above is a rather unique title. What in the world do a Grammy-winning rock star and a battered volleyball from the movie "Castaway" have in common?

I'll start with Mr. Springfield. If you don't recognize the name, I'm sure you remember the song, "Jessie's Girl" - that catchy tune from the 80s that no one can get out of their heads once they've heard it and is a hands-down favorite at karaoke bars everywhere.

I've seen him in concert several times, and one of the highlights of his live show is when he performs the song "Human Touch." As he sings the lyrics, "We all need... the human touch," he goes out into the audience and tries to connect with as many fans as he can. I can also attest that at one show he stood on the chair beside me and made me sing in front of thousands of people.

But I digress.

Then there's Wilson the Volleyball. For those who haven't seen the film, "Castaway," Tom Hanks plays a character who ends up on a remote tropical island after a FedEx plane crashes into the ocean. He spends four solitary years there before he is rescued.

During that time, he forms an unusual bond with, of all things, a volleyball he names Wilson. He draws a face on Wilson, he talks to him, he asks for his advice and perspective on things. When Wilson is lost at sea toward the end of the film, it's an agonizing scene as Tom Hanks' character weeps uncontrollably over his loss.

God put within each of us a need for human contact, that human touch. In fact, the need is so great that when we are deprived of it, we form connections with whatever can fill that need. It's one of the reasons why pets are so important for the elderly who live alone and for those who are isolated due to mental illness or disabilities.

For those of us fortunate enough to interact with friends and loved ones on a daily basis, even when we fuss and argue over petty things that aren't important, we give thanks for this wonderful blessing. Take time today to reach out to someone in need of another's words and touch.

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On Turning Fifty

August 19, 2015 Cheryll Snow

“In fact, looking back, it seems to me that I was clueless until I was about fifty-years-old.”

— Nora Ephron

My husband and I took an overseas trip recently to celebrate our thirty-first anniversary. I was sitting out on the balcony of our cruise ship one evening, contemplating life, as traveling abroad has a tendency to make one do. I consider myself to be a positive person. And yet I found myself discouraged at the thought of more than forty-nine candles on my birthday cake this year.

In a few short months, I’ll be fifty years old. The big 5-0. The half-century mark. The bane of nearly every woman on the planet.

Determined to make that glass appear half-full, I decided to turn the equation around. What about the upside of becoming older and, hopefully, a bit wiser? I thought back to the younger version of me and what I would say to her if I could go back in time.

Don’t try to please everyone. It’s exhausting. And there are some people you simply cannot make happy.
Money and jobs will come and go. Your self-worth is not determined by a paycheck.
Cherish good friends. Especially those who don’t care if you have dust bunnies under your bed or if you’re still in your bathrobe at 10:00 in the morning.
Age and dress size are just numbers.
Don’t waste your time on negative people. Surround yourself with those who will uplift you and make you a better person.
Change can be a good thing. Learn to embrace it.
Follow your instincts and your gut, even when others try to tell you differently.
Don’t try to be SuperMom or SuperWoman. Your child’s first-grade class will not remember the gourmet cupcakes you stayed up until midnight to bake.
Quit worrying what other people think. It’s your life, not theirs.
An occasional dinner of Hamburger Helper or a stop at the drive-thru at McDonald’s after work will not kill your family.
Nurture your marriage. When the kids are gone, it’ll be just the two of you again at the breakfast table.
Set aside time on a regular basis to do absolutely nothing. It’s good for the soul.
Let go and let God. Take Carrie Underwood’s advice. It really works.
And finally... Laugh more! It improves your face value!

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