Two days ago I woke up and looked different. I seemed to have morphed into my Mother overnight.

I actually noticed it as I passed the bathroom mirror at 4 a.m. I dismissed it as sleepy eyes playing tricks on me in the dark, but when Steve remarked the next morning that I looked like my Mom–well there it was, not just staring me straight in the face, but staring others in the face, too. So, what happened over night? What can cause a person to look like his or her self one day and someone else the next day? And why didn’t I wake up looking like Terry Hatcher or Linda Gray (two actresses that others have said I resemble.) Why my Mother?!

I guess it’s no secret why I woke up looking like my Mother–as the commercial goes, “You can’t fool Mother Nature,” the biggest Mother of them all. My question, however, is: why today? Physically, I’m not that much different then yesterday. I didn’t cut my hair into an “old lady” style or gain 20 lbs over night. So I have to wonder what would have my Mom’s face staring out the mirror at me today? Was it the expression? Had I seen that expression on her face before? Am I at a place in my life that matches a stage my Mother went through?

I’m in a relatively new–just coming up to a year–relationship with a man I can see myself growing old with. Whoa–hold the presses. Did I somehow hook up “togetherness” and growing old together in my psyche and alter my physical appearance in doing so? Or is it because my Mom, still married to my wonderful, devoted father wears a certain expression and I’m wearing that expression myself? My facial features couldn’t have changed that much over night, but wasn’t that my Mom’s nose staring back at me in the mirror? And could my expression have changed based on the experiences I’m having with the man in my life?

I do know this different look has caused me to look differently at my life. Why? What caused the shift? And, if I’d stop right now and look in the mirror, who’s face would I see? Is it experience, is it wisdom? Is it knowledge, belief, understanding, acceptance? Is it a cosmic message from my angels to tell me to call my Mom? Is it a reminder of the similarities my Mom and I have, and are they coming to the surface now because of the similarities I have with my 16 year old daughter. (A raving beauty on her own.)

Steve did tell me I’ve been hard on myself this past week. A little more critical of my appearance–of which I don’t give too much thought. I look like I look. And I like how I look. But this whole “different face in the mirror” is causing me to look at my life. I even picked up Marianne Williamson’s new book, The Age of Miracles, about mid-life transition. Just a quick skim of the table of contents tells me we will be lovingly accepting ourselves and morphing our thoughts to living our best life with this new found knowledge. Maybe this is just time’s way of telling me to take a closer look. My Mom has pretty much gotten everything she’s even wanted in life, and at 74, she projects Sophia Loren style beauty.

Have I too–gotten what I want? Or is it time to move toward it? Maybe that’s what I’m looking at. Or what’s looking back at me: the question–what are you waiting for? Are you ready to move forward?

Hmmm, I think I’ll start with a trip to the salon.

“If you loved John Arends, you’re going to love this blog.” (A paraphrased quote from John.)

Woodmen Valley Chapel was full as we assembled to say good bye to a pillar of the Colorado Springs real estate community. I’d known him briefly–an associate in Springs Best networking group. Every Thursday morning at 7 over breakfast at The Olive Branch, a family of business associates assembled to support and enrich each others’ businesses. John and I exchanged pleasantries on a number of occasions.

It was a card he sent me, however, that truly endeared him to my heart. I’d had an article in the Gazette–front page of the Sunday Business section. Debbie Kelley had done a wonderful job of relaying my Generational Communication info. Carol Lawrence had snapped a great, sassy picture. I was delighted as my friends called to congratulate me.

John’s congratulations card arrived a few days later. He’d cut out the article, folded it nicely so my picture was on top, popped it into a card with a beautiful butterfly on the outside and a sentimental “perseverance” quote on the inside. Across the bottom he had scribbled, “Lindee, Nice ‘ink’! John”

The message was simple, unpretentious, articulately and artfully written. It was first class all the way–and sooo John Arends. It’s that optimistic, supportive, elegant presence that we will all miss most of all. He touched so many lives.

Thank goodness Pastor Matt Heard gave us all permission to laugh and cry, because that’s what we did for the next two and a half hours as friends and family shared stories of John with us. Stories of achieving greatness within the ranks of ReMax, awesome long-shot putts (”If you love golf, you’re going to love this putt.”), a spiritual quest after the loss of his daughter, dedication to his Girls–wife, daughters, and grand-daughters, and an appreciation of Colorado sunrises and sunsets–God’s reminder that all is right in the world. Even when one of us has slipped beyond it.

The sadness of John’s passing was summed up beautifully for me by his brother, Dale. He read a haiku written by John’s mother years before:

“Happy times are everywhere, it’s up to me to find them.”

Thank you, John Arends, for my renewed appreciation of an orange, pink, and purple sunset…and the legacy of words to live by. Happy times are everywhere…not only will I find them, but share them, and relish them.

Growing up the daughter of a devout Catholic–two actually–I witnessed first hand the power of Saint Jude. Saint Jude, according to legend and belief, is the patron saint of Lost Causes. While other Catholics would pray to Saint Anthony for lost objects, Saint Christopher for safe passage, and bury Saint Whoever upside down in the back yard to sell their house, my Mom went straight to the top–Saint Jude.

I have witnessed my Mom walk into a 40 acre field, at sunset, and find a tractor part the size of a bottle opener. I’ve seen her find misplaced checks, rogue house and car keys, and glasses gone missing. All she does is say a quick prayer, promise a financial reward as gratitude, and go in search of the missing object. Saint Jude comes through–almost always, and almost always immediately.

I, myself, have called on Jude on numerous occasions–like when I threw out an important bottle of medication and had to go dumpster diving to find it. Jude has helped me find countless items, and more importantly, has helped me through times of great stress…times when my moral has been in the toilet and I’m standing alone on one last shredded nerve. To me, Saint Jude represents faith…and the power of prayer. From that very first time in elementary school when I lost my brand new retainer and had to call in the Big Guy, I’ve been a believer.

Today I invoke Saint Jude. There is only one thing on my list, and I need it now. With heartfelt gratitude, I thank you in advance for coming through. Saint Jude, you’re the Dude.

And, as always, I’ll be sending my gratitude check to Saint Jude’s Children’s Hospital.