A Legacy of the Love of Family & Nature



Daring to Share:

Conversations With My Soul

April 28, 2020 Edition

Welcome to Perceptions by

Donna Fitzgerald!!


Donna is a mother of two wonderful adult children who have moved forward with their own lives and paths. As the author of Chapter 6, From There to Here: Calm in Daring to Share, Volume 1, Donna shared her journey as she bravely sought calm amidst the chaos of struggling through a deep and dark storm. For years, Donna wrote what she calls Conversations With My Soul through daily journaling in order to determine who she is and how she could find the calm she yearned for. She is now inspired to share these heartfelt reflections from the past in hopes that her words will make a difference in the lives of those who choose to listen to her voice.

Following is Donna's March 2020 Blog Post Edition of

Daring to Share Conversations With My Soul

Editor: Diana Reyers

It is a beautiful afternoon as I walk down a country road pushing my grandson in his stroller. He is sound asleep and looks so peaceful, like an angel. I look down the road ahead of me to tall trees lining both sides of the road as a warm breeze blows, The dragonflies dart about in front of me. It’s as if they are bringing memories of a simpler time in my life on their wings to remind me of the blessings of the past.


I look down at my grandson and am taken back to when my husband and I moved from the city to the country to raise our family. We wanted a quieter life with a piece of land for our children to grow and play.


I was a young mother when we moved there, and we only had our son at this time; he was in Senior Kindergarten. Our daughter came several years later. We loved the country from the first day we moved there. It was quiet and calming to go home to after working in the city. We had a small vegetable garden, and in the evening we took walks on an old railway bed down the road.


I remember it like yesterday with so many fond memories - my son and daughter sitting on the cedar rail fence that enclosed our vegetable garden; my daughter wearing the pink fleece jacket with sheep on it, and my son wearing an army green plaid vest I made him. I loved to sew their clothes, and my daughter had pretty dresses with matching hats. My son had shorts and pants with characters, trucks, and cars. I can see my son’s clubhouse in the back corner of our lot with a sign that read, No Girls Allowed.


I baked every Sunday; there was something very relaxing about creating all these sweet treats for our family. I have experienced a renewed love for baking over the past several months and a way to give to others in my community by sharing my love and care through baking.

I remember the morning we woke up and there were cows in our front yard. The owner of the farmland beside us had an adventurous herd that day. When the kids went to birthday parties at the local farm down the road, they played with the animals. Unfortunately, we had to hang their coats in the garage when they came back because of the strong scent of the barn.


We knew our neighbours and our neighbours knew us, and we loved the small-town life. Our children had activities close by; dance, baseball, soccer. There was no pressure to wear name-brand clothing because everyone was accepted for who they were, not for what they wore.

We then had the opportunity to move to a 25-acre piece of land and built our dream home. The home our beautiful little family would spend the rest of our lives in. We moved into this home when our daughter was 5, and our son was 12. It was the perfect place for my husband who loved to hunt and fish, for our dog to run and play, and for all of us to walk back on the old dirt road on the property to a little pond beyond the tress.


As I continued walking down this dirt road with love in my heart and emotions bubbling up inside of me, I remembered these beautiful happy times. I could see me sitting on the back deck of our home we built in the early days and thinking, I could die tomorrow, I have it all. I was so happy. As a young girl, I prayed to God one night to bring my wish true to be a wife and mother. My wish was fulfilled.


In September 1998, my husband was diagnosed with ALS after we moved into our dream home only a few months before. The next six years were painful, traumatic, and mixed with some humor and acceptance of our life path.


As I walk down this country road fifteen years after his death with my grandson sleeping like an angel, I feel so proud of our family’s history. I always worried that the last six years of our 24-year marriage would be what our kids would remember, rather than their dad’s love for his family. He was a man who put his family and children first. Everything he did was for us.

My husband’s love for the outdoors and the country lives on in both our children. My son and his wife are parents to the little angel fast asleep. They live near our home in the country where they will raise their children. My daughter and her husband live five hours away from me, and she too has chosen to live in the country. She works on a dairy farm and loves every moment there, even going to work on her days off. Maybe that fateful day with cows on our front yard was a nudge for her.


I am so grateful for the whispering in the wind today that brings back beautiful memories we created as a family. I have made a new life in the city as a single woman and parent. There were so many times over the years I hoped I didn’t make too many mistakes - that our children would not remember our beautiful life in the country.

My heart is full of joy and gratitude, knowing that my husband’s legacy of love for family, nature, and country life lives on in our children and their families. He has a grandson who will carry on his family name. He has never been forgotten and will always be carried within our hearts.


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