Almost 5 years ago, on the Fourth of July, Sky’s dad dropped over dead on his front lawn while washing his car.

It happened very early in the morning, while the rest of the world still slept. He was the type of person to rise early and get the day started. He suffered a massive heart attack and we think before he realized that anything was happening to him, fell to the ground, barely with a pulse. A neighbor across the street, happened to see him on the ground, 911 was beckoned. After several attempts, medical personnel revived his heart. Once at the hospital, we quickly assertained that he had suffered massive neurological insult. Being a nurse, I think I was the only one out of our family, that deep down, realized that the Paul Robbins that we knew and loved, was never coming back to us as the man that we knew him. 

We waited three days to see if there was any improvement neurologically. The wait was grueling. Time ticked by, slowly but effortlessly. There was no change except our realization that the man that we loved lie before us only as a mere shell…brain-dead and vegetative. I had worked with chronically ill, vegetative patients for many years and knew the road that lie ahead of us.

I now stood on the other side. 

My stomach dropped.

My heart broke. I lost a little piece of myself when I realized that day what we were going to have to do.

Nobody spoke to us about our options or what was really happening. I think that they picked up cues that there was a nurse in the immediate family and sort of left me to pick up the pieces. To tell Paul’s wife and only son that he was not coming back. 

The hiss of the ventilator and the wretched smells of the room permeated my senses, etching into the very course of my being. I knew that none of us wanted or deserved this new life that lie before us…most of all, not Paul. That night I had to have the most difficult conversation with my husband and explain to him that we would never see the dad and grandfather that we knew. I knew that time was not on our side to see to our mercy. We had three days from the time of injury to make final decisions.

The next morning was day three.

And so we did it. We euthanized our dad with high-dose morphine.  It was the single most difficult, and the the easiest decision that I have ever made. I knew that Paul would want us to spare him of a life of vegetation and misery…but who was I to play God? Sky and his mom looked to me to tell them what the real deal was and to guide them medically. 

The world was on my shoulders. I carried that ominous weight through his actual death, the funeral planning and the aftermath.

And then I sank.

In the midst of our crisis, Sky had been unemployed for nine arduous months, his grandmother had died and I suffered a miscarriage. I sought grief counseling for some time and came to realize that I suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. I grappled with the decisions that we had made that fateful day, but eventually learned to forgive myself. I grew to understand that if God wanted our dear dad to live, that He would intervened even in the midst of high-dose morphine.

And slowly, I began to heal.

But never really became the person that I was before our tragedy. We will never be the same people again. That time in our lives was pivotal. It was the first time that the rug had been pulled from beneath us and it left us breathless and stunned. And changed forever.

What I did take from it, was a very real awareness that tomorrow is never promised. That each day and each person in our lives should not be taken for granted. That you may never get a next time.

So on this past Memorial Day weekend, my dad and step-mother, Diane came to Philadelphia for a week-long visit. The kids hadn’t seen their grandparents in six months…we unfortunately, do not get to see them very often since they live 300 miles away in Pittsburgh. Our girls love when they visit and squeal with delight in their presence.  We went on picnics, we played at parks, we played softball, scootered, walked the boardwalk at the shore and just really enjoyed our time together. 

We lived in the moment. And we were lucky enough to capture some of these priceless times in pictures.

To remember…when there comes a time when there is not a tomorrow.

So the elementary school had the day off for election day yesterday…

and my good friend, Kristy and I, had worked out a deal that we would swap membership passes for Camden Adventure aquarium and the Please Touch Museum, both located in Philadelphia. You know…a little pay it forward for each other. We originally were going to go with some other friends, but circumstances changed the plans a bit. So I was left with the decision to go with just my girls or not. And of course, I was up for still going. We ended up inviting a few friends along which I really didn’t think much of until people started telling me that it seemed too much to take five kiddos by myself to a museum where the whole point is to run, play and explore. Was I crazy? Being laid back, I knew that I could handle the challenge…no sweat.

And it did prove to be no biggie, because the girls were all very well behaved and followed my two rules: stay within my eye shot and HAVE FUN! 

It was an absolutely gorgeous day with blue skies and sunshine for a road trip. We spent the car ride down to the museum listening to a CD that the girls had recorded at school…they knew all the words and belted them out for a good forty-five minutes. Before we went into the museum, we carved out a few minutes to get a few quick snapshots outside in the glory of the sunshine. Four of the girls are seven years old and Megan brought up the rear of the group at four years of age. So we basically did some America’s Next Top Model posing…elementary-goofball-sytle.

For anyone that has not been to to the museum, it is one that is designed for children right around the 3-7 year old mark. It is very hands-on learning, very creative and is designed to encourage children to think outside of the box without even knowing that they were in the box. It encourages dramatic play through the means of a grocery store, McDonald’s, mini hospital and shoe store. We conquered it all…a Berenstein Bear musical, water play, carousel rides, arts and crafts, scientific discovery and more. It made my heart smile to see the girls just run and play, explore until their playful souls swelled and relish the time just spent simply being a kid. 

I was content. I was not stressed. I was having a really good mom day.

After we talked about recycling, learned about our city’s history and experimented who built the best flying airplane…we all agreed that it was time to call it a day. Our energy was nosediving. Not so much that we couldn’t squeeze in a little shopping at the gift shop…I mean, come on…we are six women ya know…it is what we do. So after the girls picked out their trinkets and treasures, we headed over to the ice cream cart to pick out treats…all well deserved for being such good listeners all day. 

We wrapped up the day on the grand front steps, licking colorful, twirly ice pops. I overheard one of the girls say…”Ya know, today was a good day.” And then another replied, “No, it wasn’t just a good day, it was a great day!” “Yes it was!” they all chimed.

And I was in complete agreement…

I don’t have long to chat tonight my dear friends…

I assure that I am not abandoning you to do worldy and exciting things, sadly, quite the contrary. But I wanted to take a minute and salute all you moms out there in cyberspace for a job well done. Motherhood is often tireless and thanksless, but the periods of exhaustion are sandwiched in between countless times of magic and wonder. I am really trying to relish the tiny things of my kids…knowing that their innocence and genuiness is fleeting. I try to tuck away their little childish nuances, whimsical quips and all of the idiosyncrises that makes them who they are, into the bookselves of my mind, so that one day I can dust them off and remember these times.

I only hope that I am raising my girls to become the incredible women that God intended them to be. Half the time, I am holding my breath, waiting for life’s dust to settle and praying that I am doing an honorable job. Mother’s Day is not about that though…it is not about self doubt. It is not about the times that you scream profanities at the top of your lungs behind closed doors because you are at the end of your mothering rope. It is a day to celebrate you and all of the goodness of you…nothing else.

Now you go on ahead and live it up.

I sure will.

Pinky swear.

I experienced a small miracle while we were in Disney.

Seriously. Sky and I always seemed to be misplacing things while we were away. I don’t know what it was…if we just had vacation brain or were too overrun with all of the activities that Disney has to offer. But we seemed to always be calling our cell phones to find them, had to buy 5 autograph books because we kept misplacing them and our kids’ Disney trading pins kept losing their backs…sending them tailspinning to the ground, temporarily losing them from our sight. 

But my biggest loss by extreme measure, was on the evening of our third day, when I lost all of my camera gear. I repeat…I LOST ALL OF MY CAMERA GEAR. Gulp. Can I say near heart attack??

We were waiting for a Disney bus to take us from our hotel at the Wilderness Lodge to the Magic Kingdom for the evening. Of course in true Shelley-style, I was trying to multi-task up until the last possible minute. I was putting the kids’ hair into pony tails at the bus stop and my camera bag that was slung over my shoulder, kept getting in my way. So I casually placed it on wooden pillar at the bus stop. As I was putting the final touches on Megan’s hair, a bus that was headed for the Kingdom pulled up right behind me. Absentmindedly, I casually boarded the bus without giving thought to my camera. We took a short five minute drive to the Magic Kingdom, hopped down the steps, threw open the stroller and headed towards the gates to start a busy evening. 

Then, fear enveloped me as I came to the dreadful realization that something was missing…something heavy that we had been dragging around the past seventy two hours. “My CAMERA!!!!” I screamed. And then I started jumping up and down in a panic. My first instinct was to run after the bus even though I can’t run worth a darn with my shabby old knee…adrenaline coursed through my blood. But all of the buses at the depot looked all despairingly the same. All white with Mickey ears on the side. All of the destination banners read “Magic Kingdom”. Sky took off in a sprint…also desperately trying to catch the bus that we thought I had just let my camera ride off with. A very nice family of five, heard of our drama and stayed with our kids while we ran around like the proverbial chickens-with-our-heads-cut-off, attempting to flag down our respective bus.

We never did catch up with our bus and were instructed by another bus driver to head to the bus dispatch booth. Panic was really welling up in my gut at this point and the tears were really starting to surface. I blubbered out to the man in charge of bus dispatching that I had just lost all of my professional photography equipment on one of the Disney buses. Not being his first time confronting an hysterical woman who just lost her camera, he kind of dryly responded…”So you just lost your livelihood then, right? “. “YESSSS!!” I bellowed. “Please help me!” I cried.

The Disney employee very kindly dispatched all of the buses that had serviced the Wildnerness Lodge within the past thirty minutes back to the Magic Kingdom.  Several buses were returned just for me. Talk about customer service!

Then it hit me. I envisioned combing the girls’ hair and remembered that I had left the gear on the wooden pillar. It also hit me that there was now a higher likelihood that all of my camera equipment could be stolen. My heart was sinking to my toes at this point. A personal bus was immediately dispatched to take me quickly back to the hotel. 

I stepped onto my personal bus, tears streaming down my face, staining my collar. The very nice elderly bus driver quickly took in the situation and immediately instructed me to pray. Now, I had been doing this since the first millisecond that I learned that I had lost my camera…but hey, I was willing to pull out the big guns. 

It was in that moment, that I knew that I would find my camera. I was very scared, but deep down, I trusted the process. 

The ride back to the lodge seemed to be as slow as a crawl. I wanted to jump out of my skin. I just wanted to pull up to the bus station and see all of my gear on the pillar. But I didn’t. As the bus came to a stop, the bus stop was empty. No people, no camera. 

“Do you want me to wait for you?” the bus driver questioned. “I don’t know what I am going to do. I guess not” I replied.

I sprinted off to the lobby…sobbing at this point. To look at me, you would have thought that I had lost my child. I quickly told the desk clerk the situation. She instructed me to fill out a Lost Property card while she and the other desk personnal looked around for the missing items. As I was filling in the card, it occurred to me all that was in the bag…not only my expensive camera, but all of my lens, my flashes, my flash brackets, my batteries and all of my memory cards. It was only a few minutes that the staff was off looking for my gear, but it felt like time was standing still. As I stood there, my attention was caught by a couple at the far end of the concierge desk who was having some sort of disagreement with the staff. I casually people-watched, killing time and trying to numb my mind. I was starting to come to terms with the fact that I may not be seeing my lost items again.

Then, suddenly my eyes drifted downward from the arguing couple and I was staring straight at my camera bag. I blinked. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I abruptly interrupted the disagreement, throwing all of my manners aside. “EXCUSE ME”! I bellowed. “I am a photographer and I just lost all of my equipment and there it is…right in front of you”! I cried. All of the staff and a few hotel visitors cheered and clapped. It was all I could do not to pee my pants with sheer glee.

I profusely thanked everyone in the hotel and trotted off to the bus station again, to head back to Kingdom, to meet up with my family again and reconvene our evening. As I was coming up on the bus stop, the bus for the Magic Kingdom taillights were pulling out in the distance. I had missed the bus. I sat down and waited. A few minutes later, another bus pulls up to the stop, the doors open and who is in front of my eyes, but the same very kind bus driver that had brought me personally to the Lodge and prayed with me. Now let me explain a little something…you NEVER get the same bus driver twice in Disney.  I believe, this was sheer providence. Needless to say, I thanked her. She retorted and pointed to the back of the bus “You have this nice family to thank”.  I was introduced to the very nice family, who while waiting for their bus, spotted all of my gear and knew that it was of high value. With an honest nature, they returned it to the front desk to wait for its’ rightful owner. I spent the next few minutes thanking them for their honesty, kindness and down right just good karma.

And then I spent the bus ride back to the Magic Kingdom thanking God.

After reuniting with my family recounting the details of the story, adrenaline began to drain from me. What had fueled me for the past thirty or forty minutes, was being sucked from me like an industrial vacuum. We began to walk down Main Street and headed toward the back-end of the park. That night the park was slated to stay open until 3 AM and the crowd capacity was at maximum levels. Yet, goosebumps covered me when in the thick crowds, we rubbed shoulders with the nice family who had watched our girls an hour earlier while we ran around chasing buses. “Did you find your camera?”, they eagerly questioned. Upon hearing that I had, they gushed, “Oh, we are SO glad, we were praying that you would!!”. Again, let me reiterate…you DON”T run into the same person twice in Disney.

Coincidence that all of these events synchronized the way that they did that evening? I don’t think so. I believe that angels passed through those specific people that night…all for me. 

It still gives me goosebumps. 

But then again, what miracle wouldn’t?