Today is a special day! 59 years ago, Henry and Gloria Kogok and their two sons, Henry Jr. and Bill, added a new member to their family, another son, Bobby. His mom always said he was the best surprise they ever got. As his older brothers were married and he was the only child left at home by the time he was 10, he enjoyed the fun part of being raised as an “only child”. He loved doing the normal “kid” stuff—riding bikes with his best friend Pete, drawing rocket ships, ice skating on the C & O canal, participating in cub scouts, and he especially loved summers at the family vacation house in Colonial Beach, Virginia.

Of course Bobby soon left behind his bicycle for a loud, hot, Dodge Dart, which he drove a little too fast while living a little on the wild side during his high school years. But during those years, his easy smile, friendly demeanor, and quick-to-help personality remained intact. These traits helped to secure his job at a Washington Metro area television station, right out of high school, where his creative side helped produce ads and programming. He loved the quirky people he worked with there, he loved meeting the occasional television celebrity (like Shultz from Hogan’s Hero’s) and he loved fishing with one of his friends from the station, catching Rock fish big enough to put his name in Fishing and Game Magazine of Maryland, three years in a row. He also loved music, and sang in the church choir, and for that I will always be grateful, because that’s how I met this terrific guy. There I was, the new girl in the alto section, and the cute bass with the long curly hair and big brown eyes immediately caught my eye. The rest is history, as we tied the knot two years later.

I probably know Bob better than anyone else on earth. He’s a remarkable man. Without him there’s so much of my life that just wouldn’t be the same. He’s a godly man. He’s faithfully given God the glory for all of our blessings and allowed Him to guide his life for almost 40 years. He’s a sacrificial giver, giving up the career he loved in television to turn his attention to the family roofing and sheet metal business when his father’s health began to fail. He’s an amazing Dad—if I had picked a husband based on the ability to father, he would have been the one, hands down. He’s got a healing touch, which is evidenced by his successful massage therapy practice which has given so many hurting people relief from pain the last eighteen years. He’s a generous man, opening his home and his wallet to those who have needed shelter and relief over the years. He’s funny and fun, compassionate and kind, smart and practical, and so much more. Perhaps most endearing, he loves our family, and puts us high on his priority (second only to the Lord) list. To his delight, that family has grown with the addition of grandchildren in the last ten years. He is loved by all who know him.


So, today is Bob’s birthday. It’s a special day to honor him, let him know how much he is loved and cherished, to shower him with gifts, make his favorite foods and pamper him in every way possible. Amazingly, as I prayed for him this morning, it dawned on me that I was the one who got the best gift of all today. 59 years ago, the love of my life was born, and there aren’t words enough to say how blessed and grateful I am. Happy Birthday, Bob! To a most amazing man, I love you honey.

Imagine being chased by a lion. Just picture: 450 pounds of solid muscle, dagger sharp claws, a mouth full of teeth that can tear apart prey like a baby gumming its oatmeal, its breath so close the heat can be felt. Madly running ahead of the beast, driven by adrenaline, heart pounding, palms sweating, lungs barely filled by shallow breaths, chest aching, consumed by fear-- the hunted! Positive death is imminent; the only means of escape is over a cliff into a river raging below. Moments later, exhausted, struggling to breath and shaking uncontrollably the survivor is washed ashore, alive . . . but still terrified. The lion is still out there!
I’ve never been chased by a lion. I have, however, been pursued most of my life by a different beast, one that causes my heart to pound, palms to sweat, lungs to strain for air in my aching chest. This relentless hound has consumed me with fear and filled me with the certainty that death is imminent. It has pushed me over a cliff and left me shaking uncontrollably, terrified as my adrenaline-filled body slowly calms, knowing that this pursuer will return. It has followed me into classrooms as a child, movie theaters (where I have sat close to an exit in order to make a quick escape) as a teenager, into my marriage as a young adult, and even dared to approach and attack as I sat praying in church on Sunday mornings. It’s a beast called Panic Disorder and I am not its only prey.

Panic Disorder, could in my opinion, also be called Adrenaline Malfunction Disorder. I have learned a lot about this terrifying hunter. I know from experience that lack of sleep, too many caffeinated drinks, and stress can give this beast advantage over me; but, I’ve also learned that even a rested, non-caffeinated, stress-free me is vulnerable, sometimes attacks are unprovoked, so to speak. Thankfully, experience, education and, when needed, medication have helped to tame this beast in my life. As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned how not to provoke my long-time enemy. I try to stay rested and calm, I know how to use breathing techniques to regulate my oxygen when my adrenaline malfunctions, and I have learned to keep my thoughts in line when I feel the terror rising.

Experts say one in seven people suffer from panic disorder. It can appear suddenly and with no warning and it is terrifying to say the least. The good news is the beast CAN be tamed. I am grateful for medications that have helped when needed over the years and for experts who have spent countless hours researching and exploring the roots and solutions for this disorder. I am grateful for friends and family who have prayed for me, held me when I was shaking uncontrollably, been the voice of reason when the terror was so great it threatened to consume me, and sat with me nights when I woke in the throes of panic, overcome even in sleep.

I inherited many wonderful things from my father. Like him I am a naturally curious person, like him I ask a lot of questions, like him I am genuinely interested in people, what they do, how they do it, and like him I have panic disorder, it often runs in families. I too have passed the “panic gene” onto the next generation, one of my daughters is now learning how to outrun and overcome this terrible pursuer. I’m praying for her and for all of the others who suffer from panic disorder.

I have many friends who suffer from various mental illnesses and disorders. They are true heroes. They are some of the most intelligent, brave, strong, and amazing people I know. They run businesses, are historical scholars, are lawyers, teachers, pastors, and doctors, they are people, just people, living life one day at a time. Most of all, they are learning to slay the beasts in their lives, and that gives me hope when I feel the adrenalin rising and panic breathing down my neck. I’m grateful that it’s been many years since this disorder has had the upper hand in my life and I’m here if anyone needs some encouragement in their own battle with panic disorder . . . there is safety in numbers.

Just for the record, I hate dieting! On the flip side, I LOVE to eat. I love great French food, good old comfort food, chocolate, all kinds of ethnic foods, cakes, French fries, seafood, pies, eggs, bacon and home fries, candy, and . . . well enough said. Sadly, I more often than not give into my desire to sink my teeth into the closest, yummy cuisine and the next thing I know the needle on my bathroom scale has gone up a tick, or two, or three. Most recently I haven’t needed the scale to inform me of my weight gain, my jeans, skirts, dresses and slacks let me know in no uncertain terms that it was time to rein it in. So today, day two of my latest effort to conquer the bulge, I am in full battle mode.

I come from a family that loves to eat. We do it really well. My mother was a great cook, my grandmothers were both great cooks, my sisters, daughters and husband are all great cooks. Our family loves to gather around a heavy laden table, share good food, good stories and good times. Not only do we enjoy the moments around the table, but the anticipation leading up to each feast is enough to get the taste buds tingling. In our family temporarily setting aside sensible eating guidelines and eating what I want only at special occasions just doesn’t work. Besides the major holiday meals, there are always birthday celebrations, (twelve in just our immediate family, over twenty when we celebrate with extended local family), church dinners, cookouts, parties, ice cream celebrations after band concerts and award ceremonies, heck, just being alive another day is cause for celebration! In other words I’m the queen of excuses, but I’ve drawn the line and tomorrow is day three of healthy eating.

I’m not very pleasant to be around the first few weeks I begin a healthy eating plan. I’m a pious dieter. I say things to my husband like,

“You aren’t really going to eat that WHOLE bowl of ice cream are you?!”

Or as he’s enjoying a late night snack I might snap,

“Didn’t we just have dinner like an hour ago?”

He usually just keeps his distance, smiles at me over his bowl and continues munching, which is okay since most of the time his waistband isn’t telling him to back away from the refrigerator.

I know as the days pass I’ll get over my sugar dependence and I’ll even enjoy my oatmeal and shredded bran wheat in the mornings. I know that seeing that needle on the scale heading the right direction will give me the thrill I’m missing at the table. I know that being able to bend over to put my socks on and still being able to breath while I’m doing it will feel fantastic. I know that hearing my doctor tell me my cholesterol, sugar and blood pressure counts all look terrific will give me a boost. I know that every mile I walk on the treadmill will get easier and easier again. I know that being around and being healthy so I can watch my beautiful grandchildren grow up is all worth it.

Here’s to a successful battle of the bulge in 2012, I’m fighting for a lighter, healthier me. Oh and just one more thing for the record, I’ve found I stick to my healthy eating plan better when I allow myself one small daily treat. So on a final note, I am usually, even when dieting, able to hold it together, but fair warning, don’t EVER stand between me and my evening, dark chocolate truffle, it’s hard to say what might happen.

 love the times that I have one on one with my granddaughters. The minutes and hours are completely different than when the whole family or even just one other person is around. The dialog is different, the activity level is different, and there is a beautiful intimacy about it. It’s something I’m trying to be more deliberate about, special times alone with each of them. Most recently I had a special day with just Katie. A couple of months ago I had a special day with Taylor. They are my oldest two granddaughters and once school starts our time together is more limited. I’m thankful my two younger granddaughters are still available for more frequent visits.

When it was Taylor’s day to be “an only child” she chose to go to the Museum of Natural History downtown. Bob and Jean went too. It was a wonderful day for all of us. Even though I shared her that day, she was the “queen bee” and it was amazing to watch her drink in the attention. At the end of the day, her aunt, Jean said to me,

“Taylor talks so much more than she used to. She seems so grown up.”

I laughed,

“She doesn’t talk more; it’s just that when she’s the only child she can get more words in edgewise!”

It was a memorable day and I can still see Taylor viewing the exhibits slowly, no rush, because it was “her” day, no little sisters pushing her to move to the next activity.

Katie didn’t really have an agenda for her special day. I got to choose the activities. First stop was the toy store. Again, there was no rushing, somehow, when there is only one child they seem less hurried. I think Katie explored every corner of that shop, carefully weighing and thinking through what special item she was going to take away as a memento of our day. We left with a stuffed horse and a penguin that was almost half as big as Katie. She carefully buckled her new black and white friend into the car seat next to her; she wouldn’t have been able to do that if another little one had been along.

Off to lunch next, she chose the restaurant and wanted to sit next to each other, not across from each other. I loved all the lunch time snuggles and the great conversation. We talked about school, we talked about how brown hens lay brown eggs, white hens lay white eggs and yet how when you crack them open they look just the same inside, and how people were like that two, the same inside. That’s a conversation that would be hard to have with all the kids talking and moving and jostling for attention. It was a special moment, it was a deep moment, it was a memorable moment, she is a very thoughtful little girl and it made our lunch that day especially memorable.


Then we were off to a wonderful play, a great opportunity for sharing one of my loves, live theater, and one of Katie’s loves too. We both enjoyed laughing and clapping our way through the show. Tired but happy the chatter continued on the ride home, about half way there Katie said,

“Grammie, the time goes so fast when we are talking; it makes the ride so much shorter.”

I smiled back at her in the rearview mirror; the day had gone so quickly.

And so I’m looking forward to my next get togethers with my big girls. Lest you think the little ones are neglected I’ve had several lovely lunches with Nora and days enjoying time with our sweet little Aubree in the interim. Their time for scheduling special get togethers will be here way too fast. I’m thankful I live close enough for these special outings. I can’t recommend these special one on one times enough. Now it’s time to get my calendar out and get some dates on it, time to make some memories.

I recently read a quote that made me stop and think about my life, where I was headed, what was moving me day by day. It wasn’t attributed to anyone, the author was “unknown”, but I think “unknown” said it well with these words, “When work, commitment, and pleasure all become one and you reach that deep well where passion lives, nothing is impossible.” Passion, that’s the word that really struck me. What is the thing that I am the most passionate about, who are people I know who are driven by their passions, and what does it mean to be passionate about something? With the New Year beginning, reading that quote highlighted my need to define my passion and let it drive and direct my every step.
I love to be around people who are passionate about what they do, their faith, their ministry, their calling, their profession, their art or life’s mission. Typically, these people radiate a contagious excitement. Sometimes it just takes a small spark, one word in a lengthy conversation to ignite their passion and out it spills, words, emotions, and excitement taking the dialogue to a whole new level. I find it even more exciting when two or more people discover, quite unexpectedly, a shared passion—it’s electric!

This morning I was blessed to share a cup of coffee and some conversation with a friend who does missionary work in different large inner cities on the East coast. John has a quiet, calm demeanor, and a kind of laid-back easy way about him; however, there was a transformation that took place today when he shared his ministry. This quiet guy became animated, excited, and energized when discussing his passion for bridge building between people of faith and those who have no faith, between those who have and those who live without, between black and white, rich and poor, inner city dwellers and suburbanites.

I also have a friend from high school who has worked with special needs children most of her adult life. We have reconnected through Facebook. Joan’s Facebook wall is filled with the things that drive her: first and foremost her love and commitment for expanding horizons and creating new opportunities for these special needs children and their families, and secondly her passion for animal welfare. She uses her Facebook page as a platform for her passions.

John and Joan both inspire me to embrace my passions and look for opportunities to share them.

In my past I’ve been passionate about, all things frogs, teapots (which now line the walls of my dining room) and kaleidoscopes, however, most people who know me realize very quickly that my faith is what I’m most passionate about. It’s what drives me and makes me who I am. I’m glad that is a passion that spills out into all the other areas of my life. So if you want to see me get excited, then mention the Lord Jesus—it will ignite a spark in me! He is what drives my life and my desire to live, love, forgive, and serve like Him. I know that there will be times in the coming year when I will be tired and my energy will wane. During those dry times I will need to let my passion for Christ drive me to rekindle my fire through time in the Word, fellowship with others who share my faith, and the strength of the Lord. For me, that’s what it means to be passionate about something: having the drive to continue moving forward when the next step seems impossible. All this to say, thank you to all the passionate people in my life, you inspire me!