Monthly, receiving the stamping publications I do, I curl up in bed at night with my magazines, a pen and notebook and dig right in. When “Now What?” appears in my email, it is my online indulgence - and I cannot say how thrilled I am with the quality and informative features you are providing! Thank you, and here is to MUCH future success!

Now, onto your question - it is something I have been thinking about for a long time...

My mom was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1996, and for a few months I lost my ability to create. It was February when she was diagnosed and the first stamping I did after that (she had a lung removed and major radiation treatments), was in April, when I became pregnant with my second son and made a card for my dad's birthday to announce the upcoming new arrival.

In 2000, my mom's cancer metastasized to the brain and she had major surgery, plus continued complications, to the point where she deteriorated almost before our eyes for 2 years. I did not lose my creativity, because I made a concerted effort NOT to.

On July 2nd, we lost this beautiful lady from our lives (though her spirit lives on), and the grief is ongoing. But I made a promise to her, and to myself, to not lose myself - my self through grief. She would not have wanted it. In fact, my mom taught us all how to live in the moment...because not once in her deterioration - and she was cognizant to the last - did she ever talk about her fears or her sadness. No, she talked about her garden, about the grandkids, about her friends and the music she continued to enjoy, and all the interests that kept her who she was to the last. Her protective nature kept her from upsetting us with her fears, but more than that - her desire to drink in Life kept her going. She didn't live for the past lamenting that she wasn't well; she sometimes wished for the future when she could walk again, unaided - probably even knowing she never would. But most of the time, Mommy lived in the moment, enjoying our visits, sometimes braving outings, enjoying her time with my dad, her soulmate...enjoying what she COULD.

In honor of my mom's strength and dignity, I have chosen to live in the moment. How could anyone NOT be inspired by that woman's zest for life? While my grief is sometimes overpowering, I do not let that overtake and interfere with my activities with my children, with my Loved Ones, with my interests and with my art.

I continued to create, even if it was once a week, while my mom was in her last weeks. And the day after she died, a new project came to light - Found Art (something your readers might enjoy - find it at http://www.found-art.com - ), which inspired me to create once every few days, and now, once a day, if not for longer. Every piece I create, whether it is an experiment, a tag, a card, or a full-blown piece of art, is in honor to the “seize the moment” attitude my mom has instilled in me. Live for today, because we do not know what tomorrow brings.

So if you're asking how I live in the moment? I keep Mom's memory alive by honoring her strength. And my creativity feeds my strength, and that in turn feeds my ability to cope. And it goes around, neverending.

Thank you for your thought-provoking question, and the high-quality site you have created. If ever I can help in any way, I would love to!

Warm regards,
Lissa Albert
Montreal, Quebec, Canada

In our premiere issue (July), we asked our readers to share with us their answers to this question:

When was the last time you looked around and said “It just doesn't get any better than this!”? Where were you and what was going on around you? You know, the person who can say that the most times in their lifetime has won!

We printed several of the responses last month, but this one came in right after publication. We thought it was great and want to share it with you.

Early Sunday morning: New Mexico light, cool porch, hot coffee, water lillies just opening, Jays arguing over the peanuts we've put out. The small black dog has managed to lose her toy in the vine that grows up the terrace. That Man, (oh, that wonderful man) is a softie, so he’s helping her find it. I see two bottoms: one small, tailed, and black, the other is my husband’s (which is normal-sized, untailed, and covered in disreputable shorts). They both have their heads poked into the vine. The toy is rescued, and they're both pleased with themselves. It doesn't get better!

Another day, another time: I hear an almighty ruckus in the garage. Now, I *know* That Man cannot hammer, drill, and saw at the same time, so I go to check things out. A cloud of little boys (well, That Man is taller, but he counts) has colonized my garage: the 2-year-old is just picking up tools and putting them down, awed that he’s being allowed to actually *touch.* The 4-year-old is gleefully hammering as many things as he can get his hands on into a piece of wood. The 7-year-old, concious of his maturity and that he can do more than those pesky brothers, is drilling something. The 4-year-old finishes hammering and commences sawing (because the 7-year-old had been sawing). There's a movie (“Robin Hood” cartoon) on the big-screen TV (don’t ask). All three boys ignore it with magnificent insouciance, but don’t let me turn it off. Naturally, it’s hot, so naturally, I reappear with lemonade. All three boys and the man take a break, sit, sweat, and drink lemonade. Ahhh, it doesn't get better than this.

The same cloud of little boys frequently shows up to help That Man in the yard, so from in the house I hear his marvellous deep voice and their higher-pitched replies. Then they all laugh. And then I, too, laugh, for sheer pleasure. Or, if I’m outside as well, I get to enjoy the conversation first-hand. Either way, it's good!

Our son is 17, and I miss having young blood around so I've gone out and scrounged up some children to spend time with. My neice and nephew, 10 and 9, have spent a day with me each week this summer. While there is a modicum of structure (usually they want crafty things to do), we're free and easy. While we paint things, or fold things, or just mess around with the supplies that are out, they get very comfortable and we talk about everything in the world. The day always includes lunch, which they choose, and it's always fast food. I've had more fast food this summer than I did last year! While I'm not wild about the fast food, I'm delighted with the intimacy we've enjoyed, and I've been delighted with the way they've used the supplies. Tory, the niece, has discovered color blending. I've let her just play, but this week I thought we'd play with the color wheel and color theory out of the Now What? Zine. Oh! I just know she'll love the oil-pastel-stained-glass. I guess I'll run by Office Max before Thursday . . . . . . Thanks for sharing the pleasure, all of you--

Margie