If only every child had someone in their life that loved them enough to claim it with such loving expression. Realizing the indelible nature of this gift, I asked God to give me words that would be as penetrating - and as worthy to convey my gratitude to my mom. No sooner did I send this request to the heavens than the words fell softly to my paper like snow meeting the branches of a pine. My poem, "When You Thought I Wasn't Looking," was inspired by my mother, Blanche Schilke, and an answer granted to my simple prayer.  

          Realizing I needed a medium to display my poem, I created a whimsical water color painting of a tree using soft brush strokes and warm colors as a backdrop for my words; and I then found a gold rimmed frame to encase my small gift. I presented it to my mother the day I graduated from college. As my mom read her poem for the first time, her eyes expressed what words could not. Emotion tugged, and tears slipped gently down her cheeks. Anyone who knew my mom knew she not only understood the adage, love is in the details, but she embraced it, breathed it, and lived it. Her vocation became her family and doing all the things nobody notices - until they're not done. My poem simply reached out to let her know that what she did ... mattered. After a small family celebration, my mother hung my framed poem on her living room wall; a place of honor.

         A week following my graduation, I was married with the intention, of course, that it would be forever. After twenty-five years, sadly, my marriage imploded. Even in the pain of that dark time, it was clear that the true gifts from those years were my three children: Jennifer, Andrea, and Josh. I thought them to be remarkable at the moment of their birth - and they continue to generate awe within me. They absolutely make this world a better place, not only with their professional accomplishments in their respective disciplines, but in the way they live their lives with grit, imagination, and kindness.

         It was at my wedding reception where I first shared "When You Thought I Wasn't Looking" in a public platform. As my way of thanking guests for joining our celebration, I planned to sing a medley of songs (family favorites) with my guitar. As the time drew near, I decided to conclude this mini-concert with a musical rendition of my poem as a surprise tribute to my mom. It's a moment I will never forget. As love filled the room, I knew that my tribute had been understood. Afterward, guests asked for a copy of my poem, and I obliged by sending printed copies with the handwritten thank you notes sent out that summer, never giving a second thought to the possibility that it would be shared beyond that circle of family and friends. At my mother's urging, I secured a copyright for my poem, and this - as in most cases proved that mom knew best.

         Fast forward to June 6,1997 - as our family traveled to Columbus, Ohio, I was reading A Fourth Course of Chicken Soup for the Soul when I turned to page 136 and saw the title of my poem staring back at me. A spontaneous scream erupted, and a shiver shot down my spine. I felt as if I were having an out of body experience. Certainly, it could not be real. I handed the book to my daughter, Jen, in the back seat, and asked her what she saw. She said, "Mom, it's your poem!" It was then we noticed at the bottom of the text, the words, "Author Unknown."

         Unraveling the mystery of how my poem landed on a page in the New York Times' best-selling book, Chicken Soup for the Soul, was like putting together a jig-saw puzzle without all of the essential pieces. Nonetheless, I was able to determine that the editors of Chicken Soup gleaned my poem from another book titled, Stories for the Heart, written by Alice Gray. Ms. Gray explained that she was first introduced to my poem through the published writing of Dr. David Walls - Learning to Love When Love Isn't Easy. It turns out that Dr. Walls was a minister at the Church of the Open Door in my hometown of Elyria, Ohio. He could not recall who gave him a copy of my poem, but that copy had no author's name attached. Since that time, my poem has popped up in places as common as Dear Abby, The Detroit Free Press, and TODAY Parents. Helen Birnbaum, who hails from Israel, recently included it in her book, Healthy Body, Peaceful Mind, Awakened Spirit.

         Life has not been an easy journey for my mom. Nonetheless, we realize the gift of each day, and find joy in the simple things; mostly in time spent together. The original piece remains a prominent presence in her home, and the years have not diminished the bond these words formed between us. As I celebrate my mother, now at the age of 87, there is an even greater understanding that kindness, begun with a mother's love, and carried like a feather in the wind, reaches places beyond what I will ever hope to know. I am thankful for the friendships generated by its journey, and pray the words given to me continue to bless those, united by chance - or design - and that love will always win over all.

         Speaking of love winning over all ... just when I was convinced a second chance at love was not in the cards for me, it came knocking at my door.  A year after my phone number (given from a mutual friend - thank you Mary Zielinski!) sat perched upon his desk, John Sill called to invite me to dinner. Not only did I fall in love with him - but his son, Gordon, (who happens to be insanely talented, musically) became a rich part of my life as well. We married on 9-10-11, and among family and friends, celebrated a new beginning. This year, to mark seven years together, I wrote the following - my gift for John.

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