Tomorrow, Caley will turn 27.  Four weeks ago, she arrived at our home.  Caley is the only daughter of my brother Jeff, and his wife, Pam.  And uh, she made a mistake, which in turn made my brother furious.

She contacted me about 8 weeks ago, which was unusual in a couple of ways.   One, Caley has appeared to be a little asocial over the years so we have not been around her much, and two, she was writing to ask if she could come and live with us. 

Funny, as packed as our house seems to be with our 3 adult children living here, my first response to her very loving and heartfelt email, was, yes, of course you can.  I could tell by the way it was written, how hard it had been for her to write it. 

As I had just recently gone through the “death thing”, I knew Caley was being delivered to me for a very specific classroom, although I had no idea what it would be.  Still don’t.  I told her that it was really important to me that she contact Jeff as he was my brother, and even though he seemed to be upset right now, her only job was to love him as I love her.

A couple of days later Jeff called and said:  “Did you invite Caley to live with you?”  “Good Lord, no!  Why the hell would I do that?  My house is packed!”  He then became very appreciative that we would somehow squeeze her in here.  Nice. 

After a few days he called again and said:  “You know you really have to get on Caley about getting a job!.  She was fired from that good government job where she was set for life and blah blah blah…”  I replied:  “Well, the way I see it, my only job is to love Caley.  The Holy Spirit has delivered this Holy Child of God to me and who am I to refuse?”  Oh man, they hate when I talk like that.

A week later we are having dinner with Jeff and Pam, and Pam starts:  it’s Caley’s partner’s fault she is like this, Caley never used to be like this, it’s Jeff’s fault, and a never-ending onslaught.  And dammit, I got caught!!!

Suddenly I am seeing her as this entitled spoiled child, who has had everything handed to her, how dare she do this to her parents, there is no way she is going to lay around my house and not work.  FUCK!

So I laid down for a nap, offering this mess up.  Woke up, still pissed.  Spent the evening reading some Course stuff, still pissed.  Went to bed, offering, offering, offering.  Woke up the next morning, poof, it was all gone.  Big Love for Caley is back, hooray!

And what is my first grumpy-ass thought?  No, not appreciation for all this, but instead I am beating the shit out of myself that I even got caught in that damn mess.  But, that only lasted about a minute, as I gratefully realized:  Holy shit, Sally, that took less than 12 hours!  Good girl!

Ellie called from Canada last week, sounding a little feisty and not in a good way.  Obviously, she wants to get her two cents in here.  She said I want you to know that I agree with Jeff and Pam about Caley!  Whew!  OK, then you get to keep that thought, Mom, but it’s not mine. 

Hey, you guys, do you have any idea how hard this shit is?  I’m having enough trouble with my own damn mind, watching the thoughts, and this ongoing bombardment does not help one bit!!!

Oh, oh,….wait a minute here.  This is perfect!  After the “death thing” I arrived somewhere that appears to be sustainable.  Like as soon as the thoughts come in, I can offer them up, and poof, relief and peace.  You guys are awesome!  I brought you all into my own private classroom so that I could learn that it is indeed sustainable, I can listen to you and not be affected!    Yesssssssss…thankyouthankyouthankyou!

Welcome to Reform School Caley!  It seems we have all assembled here to regroup, learn how to Love, and then head out to wherever we are led.

And Caley just walked out the door….TO A JOB INTERVIEW! 

Once again, Love is leading us.  Nothing was said, every thought was offered up for reinterpretation, giving her the freedom to figure this all out.



Much Love and Pink Clouds,



My minivan had an oil leak, and the garage I always take it to,  was unable to fix it.  Even though it clearly says that it is a Mercury Villager, apparently it has a Nissan Quest engine.  Who knew?

They highly recommended Mehdi, at Best Foreign Auto.  Apparently, it is also a junk yard and he is the best guy in the area to work on foreign cars.  I called and was jerked into an altered state by a very pleasant-sounding voice.  Mehdi.   I was surprised because I don’t think I have ever called a garage or junk yard and have someone answer so sweetly.

He told me that my guys had already called and would it be convenient for me to bring it in on Thursday evening.  I said, sure.  On Thursday afternoon Mehdi called.  He was very apologetic and was sorry to inconvenience me, but his mechanic’s uncle had died, and he would not be able to work on my van to the following week.  I said, well that’s no problem, just let me know.

He called the following week, said his mechanic was back and I could bring the minivan in that afternoon.  When I arrived, I finally came face to face with him, and I felt like I had been suddenly swept into some kind of dream world.  He was just so damn happy.  He excitedly pointed out the box of parts to me to show me they had arrived and said the van would be ready the following afternoon.

My daughter, Leni, (and best ACIM buddy) had driven me and I told her what had happened and how damn happy Mehdi was.  I explained that I felt like I was on drugs, such was his impact.  (I have never taken any kind of anti-depressants, but I have always imagined that this is how that happiness would feel, and uh, I may be wrong on that).

The next day Mehdi called, and he was clearly distraught.  He said “Remember I showed you that box with the parts?”  I said, “yep”.  He says,  “Oh no, a part was missing!  I have ordered another one, but you cannot have your van until tomorrow!”  Now I’m still feeling like I am in this drug-induced bliss world of his and cannot imagine how anyone could be that upset over something so trivial.  So I reassured him that everything was fine, and it was definitely not an inconvenience for me.

  Mehdi calls the next day and says, “Your minivan is ready, and you can pick it up this afternoon!”  OK, buddy, thank you so much.

I know they mean well and it’s probably a sign of respect, but I always think it is so damn silly when these garage wizards begin to explain to me what the have done.

It’s like listening to Ken Wapnick in my early ACIM days, I swear they are speaking Martian. I do not have a technical brain, and I am quite content with that. I happen to be married to a wizard who can make or fix anything, so have always considered these types of things as “boy jobs.” Sorry to Gloria Steinem and the rest of ye emancipated women. It’s just a happy fact I realize about my own damn self.

After his very thorough explanation of the magic he had performed, he said: “You are such a nice lady, and I wanted to make a surprise for you. I looked all over my salvage yard (and at that point I realized I would never ever call them junk yards again!) and I could not find a hub cap for your car.” Really?! Who does that kind of stuff anymore? I join in his delight, and say, “Oh buddy, my minivan is 15 years old and I really don’t mind that it is missing a hub cap.” He will not be stopped, this genius of good will. “It is in such good shape and will look much better when I find one. I have access to salvage yards all over the country, and I will find you one. Then I will call you up, you come in and I will pop it on for you.” And then he clapped. Honest to God, I just wanted to start doing some kind of happy dance with him!

I leave, remain in bliss about his impact on me, and wonder if his world is always that magical. He calls me a couple of days later, and tells me he has found a hub cap and I should come in so he could pop it on.

I decided that I really should take him something, so I stopped at the local bakery and picked him out a nice box of petite fours. When I walked into his shop and handed them to him, he put them on the counter and gave me a big fat hug.

OK, buddy, I just have to know: ARE YOU ALWAYS THIS NICE TO PEOPLE AND SO DAMN HAPPY? He said, I try, but sometimes not so nice people come in here so I really appreciate people like you. ME? OK, I admit that after the “death thing” I have arrived in a pretty miraculous place, and perhaps he is just a reflection of my state of mind. He obviously was delivered to lovely me so I can relish in the experience of divine proof that this has all been worth it.

I am just so damn grateful to be here.

Much Love and Pink Clouds,