For a few weeks in February, I biked the hilly streets of Lake Havasu in Arizona.  I struggled up the streets, concentrating so hard I barely noticed the houses and yards.  At the top, I would rest and gathered up my courage before I could take the steep plunge down.  Each time I was sure I would take a tumble and fall.  But I never did.

Back home on level ground, with both feet beneath me, I slipped and slid.  My feet flew out beneath me.  I hit the snow-covered ground.  My head snapped up and then banged on the hard ice.  My jaw opened and shut.  I felt indescribable pain reverberating through my head.  I moaned and writhed in the snow.  I heard Sheba whimpered near me.  I was sure I was dying but I didn’t.

Just now I tried a session of nail trimming/grinding with Sheba.  She was good with the muzzle and leash, but no way was she going to have a pedicure.  So I failed – today.

Tomorrow is another day.  And I have as much spirit as my furry baby.  It is a little worn out and limp lately.  Life seems to be full of cares and people needing caring.  But I know I still have it in me all the same.  I can still rise and shine.  I can triumph.





My time is coming to an end in the desert.  I have ridden its hills and valleys and have always stopped at the top, standing tall and triumphant.  What an accomplishment for this prairie girl!  But I do remember that I once was a mountain girl.  My village in China was named Mountain Top.

I am grateful for the blessings of the desert – the peace and stillness, the moon and stars, the magnificent sunsets, the sunshine and the warmth.  I will go home feeling rested, restored and comforted by nature’s arms.

I will remember my time in the desert, the place where I slowly learn to let go of all except for the present moment.  How difficult and easy it is at the same time…to stay here in this moment, however it is.  But I have learned to climb the mountains of elation and to face the canyons of my mind.  And I am still here, breathing and whole in the desert.