She has come a long way in the last five months, a journey that less than a year ago she and her husband never imagined they would travel. But they are grateful. And they have learned about unconditional love â€“ as has everyone around them.
That said, life changed far too soon and unexpectedly. This part of life has been hard. Very hard.
They are only in their mid-70s -- not so old, really. Something like this was supposed to be years away. They weren't ready for this new life.
Like many photojournalists I know, I started my career early. In the fall of 1986, as a scrawny high-school freshman, I joined our yearbook staff. My mother had required me to do an extra-curricular activity and I wasn't good or even interested in many sports. The yearbook sounded like fun.
I was pretty much obsessed with news photography from my first "assignment" -- a football game. I recently discovered a photo from that game. A quarterback was pitching the ball as defensive linemen was taking him down. Even by my standards today that photo would be publishable.
One of the strongest temptations in our contemporary culture is to see ourselves as having always to be on the move. We condition ourselves to move from one thing to another, jumping from one activity to the next, often without paying much attention.
At work, we are encouraged to multi-task as a way to be effective at our jobs, and we learn to juggle a variety of projects. The same holds true for our family and personal lives; we run around each weekend, making sure home projects and personal errands are completed before the new week starts.
Joseph Kenny | email@example.com | twitter: @josephkenny2
A guy who has known success on the baseball field lends his voice to those who remind us that youth sports is about fun and not winning.
"You see a lot of teams more interested in winning games than developing players," said former St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Alan Benes. "In the end it's about what you're teaching, how your kids are competing rather than the win-loss record. A lot of times that gets lost in the shuffle."
Agnes Koenigsknecht had the look of an air-traffic controller, the one that strikes so many mothers of the bride.
"We need one round table on the stage," she instructed on a Friday morning in June, the eve of the big day. Her legion of helpers was in full force, a swirl of activity in the church hall: hauling tables, wheeling chairs, folding linens, slicing carrots. A 72-year-old uncle surveyed the scene, while a 9-month-old nephew scooted about.