in defense.

There are many times in life I wonder why. I wonder why bad things happen to good people and vice versa. I wonder why someone ever invented panty hose? I wonder why God decided to make this Earth the way it is. I wonder why people are so mean? 

When I was younger, my mom used to tell me that I was filled with "righteous indignation." At the time, it sounded like a spell a witch puts on you; however, now I consider it a great compliment. I watch others hurting and get filled with passion to speak out or do something to make it change. One of my favorite shows is "What Would You Do" put on by John Quiñones. I watch these episodes designed to have people step in and speak up for someone else in a difficult position. I've often struggled with knowing when to speak up for others, especially when my passion is strong, and still maintain my own integrity and character in the process. 

At this point in time, I feel it necessary to speak up for a man I truly respect and admire: 

Coach Jim Rowland 

Recently, an article was published in the local paper that called into question Coach Rowland's character and accused him of running a "good ole boy system" in the Fort Smith Public School's athletic department. While everyone is entitled to his own opinion, I also feel it is necessary to publish facts when the article is published in anything other than the opinion section. There were no concrete details, only accusations based on "whispers and stories" from people in this area. And let's face it, if you're getting information from dads of junior high and high school kids, you know your information will be embarrassingly wrong. 

So let's talk about Coach Rowland. He started working in the Fort Smith Public School system  in 1963. He was a track and football coach at Darby Junior High and then moved to be an assistant football coach at Northside High School for 4 years. In 1970, he transitioned to become the head football coach at Southside High School for 12 years. In 1982, he was Southside's assistant principal until 1991 where he became the Fort Smith Athletic Director, which is the title he still holds 23 years later. 

One of the points made in this article is how awkward it must be for players from Northside to come to play at Southside when the stadium is named after the Athletic Director. First of all, I highly doubt that players will ever care about the name of a stadium. That has to be the last thing on their mind on Friday night.  Secondly, what is wrong with honoring a man who has been devoted to ALL Fort Smith schools since 1963? Most cities (until recently) in this district haven't had to encounter NEAR the amount of balancing and work that Fort Smith has had just by having 2 high schools in the same town. Some may say there is favoritism over the other, but neither school has received any upgrade (turf, indoor facility, etc) that the other hasn't also received as well. This put Fort Smith as a whole behind other schools, but it was what was fair. Lastly, the Fort Smith School Board was responsible for voting that the stadium be named after Coach Rowland.... and rightfully so. The man deserved it and still continues to deserve it. What other stadium/arena/venue would have been renamed for him? This was a perfect opportunity, and I was honored to watch its dedication. 

I've never known a harder working man than Coach Rowland. Growing up in the Fort Smith Public School system basically my entire life, I've seen this man at almost every sporting event I attended.... and not even just the games. He's at practices and meetings and painting football fields at 5 in the morning and mowing grass and meeting with horrible, awful parents who just want to complain about anything... all in between riding his bike daily, loving a breathtakingly beautiful wife, raising a loving family, and having fun with his grandchildren. I honestly don't know how he does it, especially when there are people as bold and as rude enough to criticize the job he has done. 

I'm sure after working in that position since 1991, there have been a few mistakes made. The writer pointed out how the "whispers and stories and allegations" he heard were about people sneaking their kids across town to play sports in a different district. I wonder how a man as busy as Coach Rowland is doesn't have time to investigate and study these things? I wonder how a man with a schedule as full doesn't think to follow and go door-to door after every address is turned in at every school at the beginning of every season and verify that each athlete currently resides at each address? If you want to hold someone responsible for kids going to school in the wrong district, how about their parents? When did we fall so far away that we have to blame administration for something that wouldn't be a problem if parents did the right thing? If there's a finger to point, it's with the kids' parents forging documents and lying for their children, not with the athletic director. 

All of this to say, I wonder why this man decided to publish this article? What was the purpose? He stated many times that Coach Rowland should retire. I'm assuming that will probably happen. Why state the obvious? Of course Coach Rowland will retire. I don't think he even wants to work this hard forever. So why even say it? Why drag someone's name through mud just to make a point that someone without Fort Smith ties needs to be hired? The article could have easily been written without all of the nonsense published for the entire city to read.  The writer mentioned "powerful leaders" in the school system including Dr. Gooden, Mr. Haver, and Dr. McDonald, and went out of his way to EXCLUDE Coach Rowland from this group. My sir, how wrong you are. If you knew this man at all, you'd have a different story.

And after I read the article, I was hurt.

 I was hurt because this man has been my mom's boss for nearly 15 years. I know this man. He's watched me grow up. I've seen him come to practices in the summer Arkansas heat to check out the teams and encourage the coaches. I've seen players and coaches get hushed and quiet and show respect that you can feel down in your bones for this man. I've watched him come in and out of that athletic office, walking with that rushed, forward leaning walk only he has. I've heard him handle stressful situations and parents who are unbelievably rude/clueless with class and respect. I've watched him care for my mom and be a wonderful boss to her. I've seen him get up from his busiest days behind his desk just to come out and ask me about life and how I'm doing. I've witnessed him lose his lifelong friend as well as his long-time secretary to cancer and grieve for friends and colleagues in difficult situations.

Good ole boy system you say? 

Who I know is a good man. 

im thankful.

carrie anne

Coach Rowland and I after State Bowling Championship in 2005. Rebs won!

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to my daddy on his birthday.

Most kids didn't get the same upbringing that I experienced as a child. I had the greatest privilege of having a stay at home dad beginning in elementary school. Even then, it was still a little odd for many families to have a mom who worked and dad who stayed home, but that was how things worked out in our family. I never realized, until recently, how special that setup would mean to me. You see, today my dad turns 68 years old. Since I'm just 26, you can see how my dad was (and is) considerably older than most of my friends' dads. 

I used to think that this was a very bad thing. Then I realized that I had a brain and changed my mind. I realized that dad got to stay home with me, come to all my school performances and games, and had ample time to teach me to swing a bat or throw a ball outside. I got the benefit of having an "older dad" in all the best ways. Where my friends' dads weren't around a lot because of work, I had a dad who had retired when I was young and could give me all the time in the world. 

If there's a downside... it's the fact that my dad is the same age as my husband's grandparents now. Every time he makes mention of a worry of them passing away, my gut drops to think about my daddy. Where some of my friends think about their parents being great-grandparents one day, I dream and hope to have my dad be a grandfather to my kids. I could sit and worry and fret all the time, or I can do what I'm doing now... and be so thankful and blessed to have spent 26 amazing years with my dad and to have more time together in those years than a lot of daughters get with their fathers. 

So on this 68th birthday of William Oscar Craig... I would like to highlight some of the best moments, favorite memories, and things I love about my daddy. 

My dad is a southern man to the core. We're not talking boots and cowboy hats, but we are talkin growin up in a house with a dirt floor, no electricity, and takin care of animals on the farm type of southern. Dad is "old school" to say the least and is proud of his roots. One of dad's funniest jokes (that he didn't know he was making) was when he told the family how he sold his pig on the farm to buy his family their 1st color TV. Daddy still does not own a cell phone.

Is there a bigger razorback fan than my father? It's highly doubtful. Our family spent our Saturday's watching the hogs on TV or at the stadium in the Fall, our winters full of hog basketball in Bud Walton, and springs/summers listening for those crackin bats at Baum. I can vividly remember the night we won the 1994 NCAA Basketball Championship. I ran out of our house screaming and yelling, and I think where most people in the neighborhood thought I was a strange 7 year old girl, dad couldn't have been prouder of his hog lovin daughter. 

Growing up, dad had an old blue Izuzu pup truck. There were many times where he, Casey and me would squeeze in and ride together. Of course, I got the middle seat, and one of the best memories I have is moving the stick shift like I was really driving the truck. It wasn't until I got older and realized that I only had my hand on the stick, and dad was moving my hand to shift.

Speaking of cars, there's not a time I can remember my father coming to pick us up, take us home, or pulling in the driveway when his radio wasn't blaring full blast. Imagine the teenager's embarrassment of their father coming to get them in front of all their friends blaring "Fat Bottomed Girls," and you knew it was only going to get worse when you opened the door to get in.

My dad is a pretty quiet guy, not known for being extremely loud. He's very talkative and has never met a stranger, but he's not a "loud" type... until he gets to sporting events. Yes, my dad was "that dad" at the game, yelling at the Ref/Ump, yelling at one of us playing, or just yelling. I could always hear my dad in the stands when I batted or when either of my siblings was out playing. Let's just say there may or may not have been a time where dad got thrown out of a softball game/entire ballpark for yelling a little too much.

My dad is very thoughtful. Growing up, there were always flowers on the table that he had picked up for our mom, brought me treats to school when I was having a bad day, and he pretty much always made us "stuff" when we asked him ("Stuff" is a special recipe made only by my dad. It includes peanut butter and other sweet and fattening things - perfect for emotional teenage girls). On my birthday this year, dad pulled me aside and said, "Well, I know how much you like elephants... so I figured you'd probably like this." Nothing loud and showy - just a sweet and thoughtful gift he pulled down from his closet to give to me. When I asked him where he got this amazing bronze elephant statue, he said, "Oh, I picked it up when I was in Bangkok... I had one about 5 times the size of that, but I dropped it in the water when I was getting on the ferry... I dove in and looked for that thing for probably half an hour and never found it." There's always a story.

Oh yeah - I left out a pretty big part of my dad's story: He was a NAVY SEAL and served in the Vietnam War (hence the elephant from Bangkok). As a little girl, you take pride in your dad's ability to be able to beat up other dads... it's just what you do. They protect you, and you think about who they could save you from. I didn't have much fear of anyone hurting me when my daddy was around. Knowing that your dad went through SEAL training and fought in a really ugly war, you take pride in feeling protected and taken care of. Dad can also swim like a fish (go figure). Growing up, swimming was the best because daddy could hold his breath for so long and stay down on the bottom of the pool for forever.

(There are lots of war stories... some daddy hasn't and probably won't ever tell us, maybe anybody. We do get to hear the R&R stories. That's a separate blog post I may write in the future, with his permission. Let's just say that you shouldn't punch the Burgermeister in a German bar, even if he takes a swig of your boot).

You'd think all that training and military expertise would make my dad a fairly coordinated and agile man. I cannot count the number of times my dad has banged his head on anything and everything around. Closet rods, doors, cabinets, walls, etc etc etc. Daddy seems to always have a wound on the top of his head. There was also this one time at Sunday lunch after church where Dad was telling a story to another table about a football game, threw his hands up in the air shouting "TOUCHDOWN," and nailed the sweet Chinese waitress in the face with his elbow. It was funny until we realized she really did get hurt.

Dad has also had a whole lot of falls: down the stairs in the house we grew up in (with the laundry basket nonetheless), down the icy sidewalk at the neighbor's after putting their newspaper on their doorstep, and that one time he was home alone and decided to cut branches off the tree in the backyard... his ladder moved and inched off the tree, leaving him hanging on this branch until he finally had to just let go and fall. He gets irritated with us laughing about these falls, but I'm crying while I type this I'm laughing so hard. Love you, daddy :)


Dad is also known for his little sayings. Here are just a few.
 
When asked how he's doing:
"If I was any better, I'd need a twin." 
"If I was any better, I'd have to take something."

When asked if there's anything else he needs (restaurant, etc):
"How bout a shoebox full of $100 bills?"

When threatening someone else who is starting a fight (ex: us kids) :
"You'd rather french kiss a rattlesnake"
"That'd be your second mistake today"
"There ain't but 2 things stoppin you..." (fear and common sense)
"You gotta sleep sometime"
"I outta bust your chops"

When ordering food:
"Yunyins" (onions)
"Me-gium" (medium)

When yelling at his kids playing sports:
"Keep your elbow up"
"Keep your shoulder up"
"You're dropping your shoulder"
"Keep your eye on the ball"

When meeting anyone in particular:
"Where ya from?... I'm from Central Arkansas in a little town called Beebe."

When talking to younger folks:
"When was the last time you had your ass kicked by a 68 year old man?"

When giving me away on my wedding day:
"I give her to you. You take care of her... 'cause if you don't, I'll tie your ass in a knot."

I am really good at giving good gifts. A good gift requires a simple thing: meaning. It has to mean something to the receiver of the gift. Dad has given me one of the greatest gifts I've ever gotten....

Music.

It wasn't until I got older that I realized where my love of music comes from. Dad has ALWAYS had music playing and not just any music... GOOD music. I'm a 26 year old gal who can sit for hours and listen to classic rock and oldies like I lived in that era. Gimme some Eagles, Doobie Brothers, Three Dog Night, Steve Miller Band, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Jackson Brown, ELO, Led Zeppelin, Queen, Billy Joel, Joe Cocker, any Motown, Fleetwood Mac, Boston, Foreigner, CCR, Chicago... and on and on it goes -- and I'll be the happiest girl around. There's something so sweet and special to me that my dad blessed me with the love of music from a realllllly early age. I remember rides in his truck with him always asking, "Who's this, Carrie?" when a song came on the radio. I'd venture to say that dad passed on his love of music to us kids, and I know that I'm proud to have such an eclectic taste. These songs will be something that remind me of daddy for the rest of my life.

I think what I love about my dad more than anything, though... is that fact that he's a changed man. Have you ever met someone whose life had truly been changed? I've only known my father the past 26 years, and he's pretty much been the same man; however, before I was a blink of an eye, my dad was different. He would be the first to say that he wasn't living a good life, not making good decisions, and not planning for a future that was anything worth having. It means something to me that I've had grown men come up to me as I was becoming an adult myself and say that my dad has been the only person they've ever known who has ever turned his life completely around when they thought there wasn't any hope of change. It speaks to the character of my father now, but it speaks even more so to the grace and redemption God brings. My dad was touched and changed by the grace of God.

That change allowed me to have the childhood and upbringing that I did. I was blessed to have a father who was present and engaged with his kids, who didn't drink or do drugs. My dad was and is a loving and thoughtful father. The change in his life changed mine. There actually probably would be no Carrie Anne if William Oscar hadn't turned his life around... and I wouldn't be the same person if he hadn't continued being that same good man all my life. I know there are probably many people who gave up on my dad and some other people who didn't. My deepest and heartfelt gratitude goes out to those who didn't. My life would have been dramatically different if you had lost hope. My greatest thanks goes to God Himself, who is the only reason I'm able to type out my love for and warm memories of my daddy and his life. God has blessed me overwhelmingly with this amazing dad of mine, and I am unbelievably thankful that God's goodness and mercy hunted my father down and left him a changed man.

There are so many other parts and stories and memories and things I love about you, dad... too many to ever get down on paper. You have been my biggest hero and quiet strength all of my life. I take pride in a few titles in my life. Very few can match the honor I have of being called your baby girl.

I love you, Daddy.
Happy Birthday.


im thankful.
carrie anne

As usual, let's get some pictures to tell more of this story (prepare yourself - they are excessive).

Me trying real hard to try and look like my daddy.

Who has a dad this cool?

First picture with Bella Marie.

Bella and Pops

Best Buds.

Silly daddy.

Forgive the poor quality. This is Daddy's family -- parents and siblings.

Wedding Day.

Man's man.

LOVE that Navy Uniform!!!  Weak spot for sailors

Classic photo op with Daddy, Casey, and me

Here's the typical 1990's family.

((GO CARDS!))

"Casper" -- nickname from Navy days (("Kojak" was another))

"At home" navigating the boat.

Siblings :)

Our first picture together.

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who writes the song of your heart?

I'm prompted to write a post tonight given recent events related to mental illness. Since the gun violence across the country has sparked a major conversation and spotlight on gun control as well as mental illness, I've found myself in deep reflection since my career is based deep in the mental health field. I also saw today that Pastor Rick Warren's son struggled with mental illness most of his life and unfortunately took his own life last night.

Many people like to believe that Christians don't suffer from mental illness. I strongly disagree. Some will point out the unsettling fact that a well-known pastor lost his son to suicide and think that this shouldn't... couldn't... happen to that family, or any family who believes in God.

The truth is, mental illness is just another glimpse into the very human nature we all carry in us. We are human and fallen. Some experience physical sickness, addiction, jealousy, performance based lifestyles/perfectionism, greed... Others experience mental illness. It's only a facet in the big picture of what humanity deals with. For some reason, possibly the negative publicity from the media or unknown/unwillingness to learn about mental illness, mental illness becomes different, heightened problem than others we face or observe.

From my experience with working with clients who have severe, chronic mental illness, those who voice belief in God seem to understand and know Him more than me. They are strong because they rely more on Him than themselves. They acknowledge their weaknesses because they find them very apparent when attempting to perform daily tasks that others see as effortless. During discussions about what "mental illness" really means, I often tell my clients that everyone has problems and that their problems just have a name. They are people just like you and I... And they are loved by God just as much as He loves us.

I wholeheartedly believe that God can choose those with mental illness to be His own. Though they may suffer on this Earth for a lifetime with mental issues and turmoil, eternity in heaven provides a new body and a new mind. Salvation is worth that if nothing else... even with a lifetime of mental illness on this Earth.

I'm reminded of a story of a man in an insane asylum who wrote a verse on the wall of his room in the early 1900's. This was later added to the hymn, The Love of God. The composer said this:

"One day, during short intervals of inattention to our work, we picked up a scrap of paper and, seated upon an empty lemon box pushed against the wall, with a stub pencil, added the (first) two stanzas and chorus of the song…Since the lines (3rd stanza from the Jewish poem) had been found penciled on the wall of a patient’s room in an insane asylum after he had been carried to his grave, the general opinion was that this inmate had written the epic in moments of sanity."

Frederick M. Lehman, “History of the Song, The Love of God,” 1948

A man who was struggled with mental illness to the point of permanent placement in an insane asylum... who died in that same place... was able in some moments of his life to write such beautiful and pure words about God. I believe God wrote and kept that song in that man's heart. We are blessed to see a glimpse of that purity in the midst of a difficult life.

I get the honor of sitting across from those who are hurting and struggling everyday. I'm blessed to see those glimpses of God's love and purity in the midst of my client's turmoil and grief. I hope that if you or someone you love, care about, or know struggles with mental illness, you find hope and peace from knowing that God can write the song of your heart and theirs as well. I hope that if you also have the honor of sitting across from hurting people, that you choose to look and listen for God's provision and redemption in each of your clients' lives. I said a special prayer tonight for anyone who reads this post who has contact with mental illness in any way, whether therapist or client, family member or friend. My prayers are with you tonight.

I leave you with the words this man wrote on the wall of his room. I hope you can envision his situation, his struggle, and his hope in God above all of it... no matter the condition of his mind.

im thankful.
carrie anne

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what a wonderful world.

where to begin...

To say that my weekend turned out differently than I had planned might be the biggest understatement ever. My mom and I have planned a vacation on Spring Break for the past few years now. They've been extremely memorable -- driving to Charleston, South Carolina one year and then Houston, Texas another. We planned to do another one of those trips again this year - we originally planned for Kansas City, but we changed to a shorter, closer trip instead. We left for Rogers, Arkansas Friday morning. It was misty and freezing cold, but we made the best of it. We shopped and ate and watched movies and finally had a chance to relax. 

Friday night, we watched a movie called The Impossible. We cried and cried in our hotel room and grieved for this family experiencing such loss and trauma in the midst of a major disaster. We made comments during the movie that sting now. I remember saying, "Oh wow, they're so worried about setting the house alarm, and they have NO idea what's about to happen to them." I also remember thinking, "Wow, I hope that our family never has to experience something like that just to say the things we need to say or do what we should be doing." 

Then Saturday came. 

Even as I type this, it doesn't feel real at all. Over lunch, Mom and I were talking about babies and me being a mom one day and all the little motherhood things that daughters ask their mommas. Leaving the restaurant, I got in the car and Mom told me that my Aunt was being taken to the hospital via ambulance. She had been sick the day before, and we didn't think it was anything too serious. We kept in touch throughout the afternoon, and we got news that she was getting better after getting fluids. Mom and I kept on with our afternoon, and our biggest concern at the moment was getting to a matinee movie on time. 

During the movie, Mom got a call and came back saying that Aunt Elaine needed surgery, and as soon as her blood pressure was up high enough, they'd take her back. Then another call came. Mom came rushing back in the theater, said, "Elaine's coded." I grabbed my stuff and said, "Let's go now." 

Most of that trip home from Springdale comes in pieces... like going under water and coming back up again. I could confidently say that I flew us down 540 where 100mph felt like 7mph. I wanted so desperately for my mom to see her sister again. I remember feeling like I was hearing things I wasn't worthy enough to hear in that car ride... I listened as my mom prayed and begged God for her sister's life, and I was there as she got the news that she had passed away. The rest of our trip down felt like we were driving to another country, and I was helpless as to what to do other than just comfort my mom and get us there quickly and safely. 

There's something about being with family that makes you feel so much better. We knew what was waiting for us when we got to the hospital, but we also knew that our family was there. And there was no stopping that magnetic pull toward them. Once we got to the room, sadness and grief overwhelmed us completely. I hurt the most seeing my family hurting - my relatives who lost a wife, daughter, sister, mother, mimi, aunt, cousin... all of us lost someone so special and unique to each of us. More than craving family, I crave Jesus so much in those moments. In the midst of my grief, all I wanted was to talk to Him and have Him help with my all this pain. I wanted and needed Him. Just Him... and peace comes when I realize that my Aunt Elaine is with Him.

My Aunt Elaine is hard to describe, to be honest. She was incredibly funny and had a great outlook on life. Her life was marked with a lot of pain and suffering, but one thing we've all pointed out is that she never complained. I never heard her say a negative thing about her life or how she wished it was different or better. She truly thought life was wonderful. Where would many would have negative comment, she just chose to see the brighter side of it all.

Memories of Aunt Elaine almost always include laughing. She had the best laugh... that always ended up with her getting choked and coughing and always, always crying. She kept us laughing since we were little kids. I remember the best days coming out of school in the afternoons were when Aunt Elaine was in the car with mom picking us up. Another thing is that Aunt Elaine ALWAYS had a Sonic cup with her... and she'd hold it with her little arm against her chest.

What I remember the absolute most about my Aunt Elaine is that she was my mom's very best friend. As annoying as it was when I was a little kid and wanted all my mom's attention, they'd talk on the phone ALL the time. You'd ask mom (knowing who it was already) who she was talking to, and the response was 99% of the time, "Laine." I hurt so much for my mom knowing just a fraction of how big this loss is to her.

Aunt Elaine also adored her grandkids. The day the twins were born was like heaven on Earth for her. I was young, but I remember it. I can vividly remember her showing almost everyone pictures in her wallet of the twins in those bright colored jumpers with balloons behind them. She was so, so proud to be Mimi. And then when Madison came along, you'd have thought she hung the moon. Those kids were her world almost entirely. 

Not too long ago, I posted a blog to my niece on her 3rd birthday (Read here). In it, I described one of the most special times I've ever shared with my Aunt Elaine - when she saw me in my wedding dress before the ceremony. Words can't do it justice. I earnestly believe the most talented writer in the world can't describe that moment... that just she and I shared in some old bathroom together. The moment stuck with me as I looked at my own niece and realized that Aunt Elaine used to look at me the same way when I was a baby. 

I was blessed with 26 wonderful and beautiful years with her. I'm so thankful that for the past few years, I've been able to genuinely share my love for my Aunt with her. There was no awkward, do I say I love you or not, with her. We openly said that we loved each other, and we said it often. I'm glad that "the impossible" didn't have to happen for me to tell my Aunt how much she meant to me. I'm glad she read my blog about our special moment and knew exactly how I felt and how meaningful that was to me. I'm thankful that I was a little more intentional in my interactions with her given the chance that I might not have another one. I'm also grateful that I got to tell her on Saturday in that room (and will continue to tell her as days go on) how she was the one who taught me about being an Aunt and that I'll never forget how beautifully beaming her face when she saw me on my wedding day and that I promise to try and be as good of an Aunt as she was.

My heart is incredibly broken. Today is not the same as yesterday, and our world has changed in a way we didn't know it could... and didn't know it would so soon. Our family would greatly appreciate prayers and warm thoughts during this time. I especially would appreciate prayers for my Uncle who lost his wife, his daughter and family who lost their Mimi, my Mammaw who just lost her first child, my Uncle who lost his little sister, and my mom who lost her big sister and best friend. It's a grief that feels unimaginable and unreal but so painful. Our family firmly believes that we will see Aunt Elaine in one heavenly and beautiful reunion one day. Our hearts grieve and break and yearn for heaven, our home, until that day comes. 

We miss you so much, Aunt Elaine. I'm still in complete shock that you're not here. I'll miss your laugh and your humor. I'll miss you saying such wonderful things about my husband and how much you love him. I'll miss your Sonic cup and feet not ever touching the floor when you sit down. I'll miss you being part of arguments on what color Papaw's eyes are and stories about how shy you used to be. I'll miss you in hospital rooms to lighten the mood when someone is sick, and I'll miss you pestering my mom and your Fridays with Mammaw. I'll miss you... all of you... and how you always thought that the world was truly wonderful.

I'm so blessed and honored to call you my Aunt, and I'm only writing this blog to honor you since you loved reading what I had to say and supported me always. Thank you for the years we shared, memories we made, and stories I'll never stop telling. You made my life wonderful.

im thankful.

carrie anne

Aunt Elaine's Favorite Song: What a Wonderful World

I see trees of green... red roses, too
I see em bloom.... for me and for you
And I think to myself.... what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue... clouds of white
Bright blessed days... dark sacred nights
And I think to myself... what a wonderful world.

The colors of a rainbow... so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces... of people going by
I see friends shaking hands... sayin how do you do
They're really sayin... I love you.

I hear babies cry... I watch them grow
They'll learn much more... than I'll never know
And I think to myself... what a wonderful world

Yes I think to myself...

What a wonderful world.

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