Wellness Woman 40 and Beyond Magazine

I'm so excited to be part of the Wellness Woman 40 and Beyond magazine. Its format and style are just simply beautiful. The messages within the magazine shine as much as the layout.

Feeling so blessed to be a contributor to such a wonderful magazine! Check out my article on page 13.

Wellness Woman 40 and Beyond,Different Backgrounds...Same Journey"

Happy New Year readers ! This year I toast to new beginnings and following your dreams!

Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dating Game

I talk often about following your dreams. I want to encourage people to follow their dreams because I know how it feels when a dream comes true. For me, I would dream of be a published writer. I wanted to walk in a store and see by book on the bookshelf. I wanted to pull it out, flip through the pages and say "I did it."

It was one of those things I always wanted to do. But never really thought I could. Who am I? Why would someone read my stories? I must be delusional.

Funny thing, when my first story was accepted by Chicken Soup in 2011 my first that was "Got lucky." It couldn't be anything other than luck. When my second story was accepted I thought "They must not have had many submissions."

This is now my 5th story accepted and published by Chicken Soup. I might have to actually start believing this dream of mine is no longer a dream. It's my reality. And it feels fantastic!

If you have a dream. Something in the back of your mind you've been thinking about for years. Go for it. Each day do something to work toward that goal or dream. Get equipped.

My dad has a favorite saying: Luck favors the prepared mind. Prepare for that dream of yours!

Try, just try and see what happens.

What is your dream? What can you do today to help that dream become your reality?

Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dating Game will be in stores (on Amazon) for purchase December 17th.

My Heaven

I walked into my mom’s little apartment and scanned the room. It looked exactly the same as it had 12 years ago. I looked over to the kitchen table. I stood, stunned, silent. My mom was sitting at the table talking with my son, who was eating something covered with ketchup. I walked over to my son who was laughing and talking now to me, about who knows what. Something ketchup related I think. I don’t really recall. I was so caught up in just looking at him. I kept staring at his little face.

“I remember! I remember! How do I remember him so clearly looking 4 years old?”

I knew I was in a dream. I knew my son was now 23 years old. Yet his face, his smile, it was exactly the same as when he was 4. I cleaned up his small hands as my mom walked to the kitchen. Her back was to me. I was scared to talk. I was scared if I spoke she would disappear. I waited to see if she would say anything. She didn’t. Still knowing I was in a dream. Still knowing my mom died 12 years ago I walked over to her. I just stood there. Her back still to me.

I thought, what am I doing here if she isn’t going to talk to me?

I turned, walked back, and sat in the kitchen chair.I looked at her still waiting for her words of wisdom.

She said nothing.

Finally, I screamed out, Mom I just miss you so much!

Without turning around I heard a voice. It wasn’t her. It was a man. He said, “She is in the room with you right now.”

I woke up to the sound of my own voice. “She is in the room with me right now?”

I looked around the dark room. I deeply wanted to go back to my dream. Be there for just another minute. Hear her voice. Just see her even if she didn’t talk. But in that moment a sense of peace came over me.

I started to wonder, was that her heaven? Her little grandson at 4 years old laughing covered in ketchup. Just hanging with grandma in her small apartment? Did I just walk into my moms heaven? Or maybe, just maybe, I just walked into mine.

I remember the first time I wasn’t sad after my mom passed. I remember thinking “Hey, I had a good day today.” Then some days strung together. A good week. I know I still miss her and I know some days are worse than others. As the seasons change and it becomes “holiday season” I know I can enjoy the holiday but I also know it’s different now. These are the times I miss her most. I know there are others out there like me, missing someone they love this holiday season. Or maybe it’s just a bad day. I want you to know, you’re not alone.

We might not see them. But they are in our hearts. They are in our thoughts and memories. They are with us.

Police Wives Talk Radio

Police Wives Talk Radio Hosts a "Recovering Dysfunctional"!

Join PWTR for  "Ride Along" with Diana Lynn - A "Recovering Dysfunctional": 

http://tobtr.com/s/5701555

This week I had the great joy of being on Police Wives Talk Radio. I know there are a lot of thoughts and prayers given to our police officers daily. Rightfully so. But next time you put an officer in your prayers. Please add a little pray for the families who wait for that loved one to come home each night.

I, myself haven't had much interaction with "the law". But I did have an encounter with an officer on my way to get married. Check out Pieces of Me: Life of a Recovering Dysfunctional for My Perfect Wedding.


Much much love and respect to officers and their families.

A guest writer ---Picasso smile

Below is a poem from my friend Kim. I find her words beautiful, almost magical. Every word so carefully chosen. Its as if she were in my head, taking my thoughts, and putting them to paper. I wanted to share 1 of my favorites pieces with you today.


I look into my mirror, a shattered picture as it falls,
and dig into the shards of glass to restore the image I recall.
A broken scrambled vision is all that I can see
but somewhere in the pieces must be a part of me.
As though I were a kaleidoscope, with each turn the pictures change
and though its my hand on the vessel, I cannot control what is arranged.
Where have I disappeared to? Can somebody tell me how
I could lose my own identity within vanity's favorite shroud?
I feel so lost and fearful that I may never find
the person who still lives within the corners of my mind.
Did she once reside within a youthful stare?
Or have my memories forsaken me and left me painfully aware
that I may never find the girl the my broken mirror stole
and perhaps I never liked her even when she still was whole.
Even then I searched for the image to be enhanced
and never gave what I had to offer its rightful passing glance.
I've tried so hard to remember and yet cannot recall
ever smiling at myself to recite "mirror- mirror on the wall".
Perhaps that’s why the mirror fell, like a broken heart unhealed
as if to say "you never did appreciate the person I revealed".
So as I put together each piece of broken glass
I see each shard representing future, present, and my past.
and I wonder as I come closer to my end of time
what proof of my existence will I have left behind-
The color of my children's eyes, the words I chose to style
or perhaps a broken mirror with a Picasso looking smile.
I pray there will be many treasures I will have to give,
the good, the bad, the everything that’s says
I was here, I lived.
-Kim-

Wellness Woman

If someone were to ask me: What magazine's do you read? Two weeks ago, I'd say "None."

I love reading books but I'm not really into magazines. I'm not sure why. Maybe the content doesn't capture my attention like a good book. But I have to say. That's all changed now. If someone said what magazine do you read?

I'd say Wellness Woman Magazine. http://bit.ly/WellnessWoman40andBeyondEMagazine.

This magazine is jam packed with wonderful, beautiful tips and insight we can all benefit from. It's formatted like a real magazine. You flip through the pages as if you are holding an actual magazine. It's a great layout and fun to read.

If you are looking for a little inspiration, check it out.

The Wellness Journey

I'm so looking forward to being on The Wellness Journey today. Listen live at: 

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/thewellnessjourneylive/2013/10/24/pieces-of-me-life-of-a-recovering-dysfunctional

Last Kiss (page 13 of Pieces of Me: Life of a Recovering Dysfunctional)

“Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence.” — Vincent van Gogh

The big red numbers on the clock lit the room. Six thirteen a.m.; it was way too

early to call Angela. I rolled out of bed, shuffled to the bathroom, and turned on the
 
shower. As I stood waiting for the water to warm up, I wondered if I should write down

my dream. Would I remember it by the time I talked with her? Something told me I

would never forget it. As I drove to work, I replayed in my mind every detail. It was so

real. It had to be real.

But why would Charlie come to see me?

It had been six years since he passed away.

It was the first time anyone I truly cared about had passed. I was only 24 when he

died. He was just 26. His death shocked all our friends, but most of all it sent Angela

reeling. Charlie and Angie had been in love since they were 15. I don’t know if any of us

fully got over the loss of Charlie. I am not sure if Angie ever will.

When I got to work, I looked to see if my boss was in yet. I couldn’t wait to talk to

Angie. I couldn’t wait another minute. I sent her an email asking her to call me as soon

as she was free.

I let out a little laugh when my phone immediately rang.

“Angie?” I said.

“Yea what’s going on?”

“I had a dream last night.”

“Was it about Charlie?” she asked.

“Yes!” I said filled with excitement.

I knew it! It was too real. I knew it!

I asked her, “Did you dream about Charlie last night?”

 

...
 

Check out Pieces of Me: Life of a Recovering Dysfunctional for the ending to this story and many more.

 

http://www.amazon.com/Pieces-Me-Recovering-Dysfunctional-Volume/dp/0615663222/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1377976480&sr=8-1&keywords=pieces+of+me+diana+lynn

 

Thank you for your service!

Do you ever just flip through the channels and randomly stop on a show you never watch? For some reason it just catches your eye. That happened to my husband yesterday. He stopped on a show neither of us watches, although we have passed by it many times.

Bomb Patrol, Afghanistan

It was scene after scene of these men blowing up roadside bombs. Some were blowing bombs up with remote control devices and some had to walk right up to the bomb to prepare it to be blown.

We watched one man balancing on the side of the cliff putting a device over a bomb to blow it up. It was pitch black. We couldn’t really see what he was doing we could only hear his breathing. I was frozen watching him.

He safely prepared the bomb and returned to the other’s waiting for him.

As he smiled he said, “That got real.”  Then he said, “I hope my mom doesn’t see that one.”

This is someone’s job. This is someone’s job! There is a mother out there that has a son that blows up bombs, in a different country, for a living. I cannot even begin to imagine what his family must feel on a daily basis. How do you adjust to that? I freak-out when my son goes to Seattle on a Saturday night.

I know. We all know that there are people risking their lives. I know we lose men & women in battle--in war often. But as I sat watching these men building devices to blow up bombs it really hit me what they risk and sacrifice every day.

I found myself saying, “This is sad.” “This show is sad.” “I feel sad.” “I don’t want to watch this anymore.”

I think now what made me sad was me. I’m sad I didn’t give them the respect, the care enough to think of these guys daily. To pray for them daily while they are over there and for their safe return. Heck, I couldn’t even stop on a show about the men & women working so hard for us overseas.

Of course, I would be thankful and I would think it’s terrible we are over there.

But. I get it now. I see it differently.

I am so truly grateful for what the service men & women do for this country. I am so truly appreciative of the families waiting for their children to come home.

A very heartfelt thank you!

Local Author’s Inspirational Memoir to Aid in Encouraging Homeless Families in Transition

Kirkland, WA – July 10, 2013 – A local non-profit is receiving a gift of books from a Kirkland insurance agency with hopes the story will encourage men and women faced with the challenge of homelessness.

John Cysewski, owner of Insur-All Agency in Kirkland, purchased 20 copies of Pieces of Me: Life of a Recovering Dysfunctional for donation to Vision House.

Vision House, founded in Renton in 1990, provides transitional housing and services to homeless single mothers and their children. Residents are allowed and encouraged to stay up to 36 months in order to gain stability and self-sufficiency. Its new Jacob’s Well housing complex in Shoreline is opening this fall, increasing Vision House’s capacity to accommodate 35 families. On-site counseling services, case management, child advocacy programs and licensed, accredited daycare are some of the key services available to residents.

Pieces of Me is a personal story of perseverance in the face of many struggles endured by local businesswoman Diana Lynn. Lynn overcame the challenges that accompanied young motherhood, an abusive relationship and divorce, estrangement from one parent and death of another, starting a business, and finding a new relationship. Through it all, she remained optimistic and upbeat. Her story is an inspiration to readers of all ages.

Lynn met Cysewski at business networking functions. He heard her story and sought a way that it could help others. Vision House’s mission offered that. Cysewski‘s Insur-All Agency at 11416 Slater Avenue NE in Kirkland supplies Allstate Insurance products that provide support of one sort. His donation of Pieces of Me will lend support in another manner.

Learn more about Vision House at www.vision-house.org. Pieces of Me can be found online through Amazon.com at http://amzn.to/X8y08d or can be ordered at local bookstores.

Only Fools Believe (page 51 of Pieces of Me)

Only Fools Believe

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; and don't lean on your own understanding. In all things acknowledge him, and he shall direct your way.”--Proverbs 3:5,6

            It sounds crazy to want to see a psychic. All that phony-bologna stuff. They aren’t real. They steal your money and give you false hope. They are evil. They take advantage of the innocent. Only fools believe.

I’ve heard it all. Yet, I found myself sitting on the edge of my seat as my hairstylist spoke of a psychic she met at a party she recently attended. She listened as the psychic told a stranger a story of his grandfather who had passed. She watched the man cry, along with everyone else at the table. They were mesmerized by this woman’s words.

I had heard of a local psychic, Teresa. She was friends with a few of my girlfriends. I met her once. I thought of speaking with her many times. I just couldn’t get the nerve to ask.

I missed my mom. I missed her just as much as the day she passed, June 18, 2001. They say it gets easier. They say with time…

What I say is, “You never fully get over it. Life will never be the same.”

Does life go on? Yes, of course. Do I laugh? Yes, of course. But there is not one happy occasion, holiday, or accomplishment achieved that isn’t a little less grand because she isn’t here to share it with me.

I used to run through her front door shouting out whatever good news I had.

She would run up to me, throw her arms around me, and say, “That’s my girl!”

She had a way of making everything in life a little better.

            I thought, if I could just talk to my mom. If I could just have a few moments with her I would know she was OK. I would know she was up in heaven. I would know she was safe. One day, I will see her again. One day, I will hear her voice again.

I popped out of my own internal thoughts when my hairstylist said, “Yeah, her name was Teresa.”

“Teresa!” I shouted. “I can’t believe that’s who you saw! I know her.”

Could it be I was being pulled toward her? What are the odds? I fought internally for weeks. You are a fool. But, what if? You are crazy. But, what if? The coincidence was too great.

Next thing I knew, I was sitting on Teresa’s couch.

I felt the nerves and emotions rise as I sat quietly looking around her home. My hands started to shake and my heart race. I wondered if she could tell I was scared. I felt the tears welling up before she even spoke. I looked at this beautiful woman as she slowly closed her eyes. She rubbed her hands as if she was putting lotion on them. Quietly, she started to pray. She opened her eyes looking deep into mine.

“How is your sciatic?” she asked.

“Oh my gosh, that’s crazy!” I shouted out. “It’s bad. I am getting a shot in my back on Thursday. How did you…?”

“I’ve got an uncle figure here. He is an artist. A painter. Known for his unusual brush strokes. Very unusual. They kind of run together,” she said.

“This is crazy! Crazy! That’s my Uncle Frank. I have one of his paintings in my living room,” I said.

“He’s here. He’s here with an Uncle Tony.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s his brother. I can’t believe this,”

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t clear my head. I was just looking at her, looking for words. How could she have known?

We spent the next two-and-a-half hours talking about my family members who had passed. We talked about my future. We talked about my dreams. Things she never would have known. Things even I didn’t know about my own family. I was overwhelmed with the information she had given me. I was thrilled with my new discoveries but still a little disappointed that my mom didn’t come through.

She asked if I had any questions. I wanted to shout out, “What about my mom?” But I just couldn’t make myself do it.

“No, no…I don’t think so,” I said.

She looked at me and said, “Who’s Joyce?”

“My mom.”

To hear the rest of this story and many others check out my book. Pieces of Me at http://amzn.to/X8y08d

 

Boston Law Enforcement....Thank you.

 For 1 day the united states were just that, united. We all watched the different agencies going door-to-door, the 24 hour news coverage, the sound of gunshots in middle class America. All right in before our eyes.

What sticks out for me, is that 1 citizen who looked out their window and thought "that looks odd." To observe something in their backyard. To see something is off and more importantly to make that call to police.

What do we even know about this person? This hero that helped bring an end to the terror in Boston. And how do we ever thank them?

I listened to the news stories of bombs being thrown at the police agencies as the chased down the suspects. Fear of booby-trapped homes, explosive vests, and gun battles on the streets of Boston. It was something out of a movie. But the men and women of law enforcement faced that terror head on, and won.

What do we even know about these men and women? These hero's that helped bring an end to the terror in Boston. And how do we ever thank them?

How do we ever thank them for stepping up, taking action, and protecting their city? They served their city and their county when we were all living in fear of "what's next?"

I hope as time fades and normal every day life returns I don't forget that every day brave men and women step up, take action, and protect this country.

Perfection not required...

I've been thinking about it for years. Although, the question has changed several times, the end result is still the same.

Q:  Do I want to be baptised?

A: I kind of want to be baptised as an adult. I want to show God and the world my commitment and belief in him.

Q: Should I be baptised?

A: I know I should, but I'm nervous. I'm scared to go stand up in front of all those people. They will stare. What if they make me talk in front of everyone? What if I drown?

Am I worthy to be baptised?

A: I've made so many mistakes in my life. Would I be a hypocrite if I were to confess my love and belief in God when I've not followed him as I should?

This was the one, the one question that has stopped me from doing it.

I've finally realized something... if I wait until I'm perfect, I'll never do it. I'll never be perfect. Perfection is not required. Just love and belief, that's it. And I have that.

So now I have one more question. "Does anyone want do it with me?"

If you've been thinking in the back of your mind this is something you would like to do. If you have been feeling that tug to be baptised but were like me, scared and doubtful, come with me. We can do it together.

I'm attaching a link to Eastlake Church. http://eastlakecc.com/

Check it out. This is a church that is working to reach the everyday person. You know, all of us with our flaws and doubts. Ryan the head pastor is the first person to admit he is human and had challenges just like the rest of us. Therefore the whole church community is very welcoming and very real.

I'm looking to get baptised at the next event. It hasn't been posted yet, but I assume it will be in May or June. If you are interested in being baptised, interested in checking out Eastlake, or want to come see me be baptised just let me know.

I'd love to have you along with me.

LOVE IS

Love is patient
Love is kind
Love does not envy
Love does not boast,
Love is not proud.

Love does not dishonor others
Love is not self-seeking
Love is not easily angered,
Love keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil
but rejoices with the truth.

Love always protects,
always trusts,
always hopes,
always perseveres.

-1 Corinthians 13:4-7

STOP

Just another busy day in the midst of tax season. Not much time to stop and smell the roses. Actually there isn't any time to eat, drink, or have a thought that isn't number related.

But yesterday I saw something that caught my eye. It stopped me and made me think. It was a bumper sticker. It said:

Don't always believe everything you think.

How many times do we say, I can't do it. I'm not smart enough. I don't fit in with that group.

OR maybe, I'll never have my dream come true. I can't lose the weight.

If we tell ourselves that enough, we start to believe it. It becomes fact.

If you catch yourself thinking/speaking poorly of yourself...stop yourself. Say the word STOP. Change that sentence. Replace it with what you can do, what you will do.

Becoming aware of your words is the first step to a better self image and having the life of your dreams.

Marketing Magic

When I tell people I've written a book there are a few questions people always ask.
One of them is "How did you do it?"

There are so many details that go into writing a book and getting it published. I couldn't have done it alone.

I asked Jeff Hoerth of Zing HQ to help me:
format the internal lay-out
design the cover
format the cover for Kindle AND Amazon.com (yes, they do require different formatting).
create materials for promoting the book
a marketing strategy
and finally...moral support!

huhhhh...wiping sweat of brow.

I highly recommend Jeff to anyone looking to publish a book or promote their business.

His humor, creativity, and wisdom can't be beat.

I've attached a link to my Blog for more information about Jeff.

Where does the time go?

I'm starting to wonder if half the reason we don't follow our dreams is simply, "time flies."

We are all so overwhelmed with deadlines at work, kids to taxi, and piles of laundry we don't find any time left over for our dreams.

I recently started working-out with a personal trainer. I faithfully go twice a week. Every Wednesday and every Friday I show up at his door-step waiting for his next grand idea of torture. (Yes, torture is the right word.)

I show up because it's scheduled. It's planned, part of my day. I know at 5:00 on Wednesday he is expecting me. Therefore, I always show up. But here's the interesting part. He went out of town for a week. And during that week, I couldn't find the time to work out.

What changed? I had been working out with him twice a week for a few months. Now the 1 week he is gone, I couldn't seem to find the time.

Somehow because he was gone it was no longer part of my plan. And I let the week slip away (guilt.)

I wonder how often we all let the week slip away.

Do you have a dream? Do you want to lose 10 pounds, start a business, find love? Are you taking steps each week to achieve your goals and dreams?

Schedule it in, find time, from 5-6 on Wednesday, I'm going to .... (fill in the blank).

Take the first step. Each week, each day, do something to follow your goals and dreams. You will reach them before you know it. But the very first step is make it a priority, find the time, schedule it in.

Good luck!

The Heart of My Team

Sad day in my world. The Seattle Seahawks lost their play-off game today.

But in the midst of the heartbreak I noticed something exceptional.

The Heart of My Team.

Even if you don't follow football or sports, one thing we all know, being down by 20 points isn't good.

For those who do know football, being down 20 points at the end of the 3rd quarter really isn't good!

Only 15 minutes left in the game, down by 20 and the Hawks came out to play as if it were the first time they stepped on the field today.

What heart.

They didn't make excuses, give up, or give in. They fought back and took the lead with 31 second left in the game.

Ultimately the Hawks didn't win the game. But what a great lesson of us fans.

Never give up! Fight for victory no matter how far down you fall. Always live your life with heart.

Thank you Seahawks for all you have given us this year.