Because We Matter

06/02/2026

My Name is Uke the Nuke and I still need a home.

I have been in foster care since January with absolutely no applications, and I am still waiting for my forever family. I know my perfect person is out there — I just need help finding them.

Please consider making me your new best friend or help by sharing so more people can see me.

I do need to be an only-dog home, and I’m not a fan of small animals. While that has made finding my perfect forever home a little harder, I know my person is out there!

I know how to sit and stay, I love to play catch, and snuggling on the couch is one of my favorite things to do. I have so much love to give — I just need the right home to give me a chance.

For adoption information, please contact Critters Pet Rescue. Let’s find me the loving home I deserve.

06/02/2026

05/30/2026

Luther just sitting and waiting for my return:

Have you ever woken up in the redundant routine of life where everything just feels the same? Constant. Repetitive. You wake up hoping for a change, for something to give, for something—anything—to feel different.

And then life hands you moments like these.

Hours upon hours upon hours spent waiting in hospital rooms for possible answers… or possible more questions. Staring at walls and clocks. Watching heart monitors and breathing machines. Observing every inch of the room over and over again until it somehow becomes your new normal for a short amount of time.

One week in the hospital feels like a month. One month feels like a year.

And suddenly, everything you once dreaded when waking up in the morning becomes something you crave. The normalcy of everyday life. The routine you once thought felt stagnant suddenly becomes the thing flooding through your veins that you desperately want back.

Because in moments like this, you realize your routine is not stagnant at all.

Your routine keeps you going. It keeps your mind peaceful. It carries you through the day-to-day. And while it may feel frustrating or repetitive at times, when you are pulled outside of it and forced to sit in your own thoughts, you begin to realize just how blessed you are to have that normalcy.

This last week in the hospital has been one of the roughest for my mom and for those surrounding her. Seven blood transfusions. No real answers—just guesses of what it might have been or what it could have been. That uncertainty floods your mind.

But through all of it, I am incredibly grateful for the doctors and staff who have surrounded us and helped care for her.

It is hard not to let frustration take over when you do not know the reason why. But at the end of the day, she is still here. She is still fighting. And we are praying the internal bleeding does not return.

Today, we are hoping Mom comes home. Hoping to find comfort in our routine again. Comfort in being home rather than staring at sage green and tan walls, machines strung everywhere, loud hospital beds, constant blood draws, and honestly terrible hospital food.

We hope to not return for a very long time.

Please continue to keep us in your prayers and thoughts that today we leave Virginia Mason and get Mom home so she can continue healing from the extreme surgery she underwent on the sixth.

I also want to apologize for not going live and not posting as regularly this week. Life has been incredibly busy, and our priority has simply been getting Mom better and trying to find answers.

Unfortunately, those answers may have to remain unanswered for now. We have to trust the doctors that whatever happened self-resolved and pray that we are in the clear moving forward.

For now, we are just grateful she is still here.

05/30/2026

Women shouldn’t have dogs over 50 lbs.’ — excellent clickbait, I must say. My daughter was 5 in that video… with a 130 lb dog. Anyway… I’ll keep saying yes to big dogs.

05/28/2026

Did you know?
Animal facts brought to you by the residents of BWM

05/26/2026

Beeping machines around you begin to drown out the chaos, creating a gentle hum of survival and stability. The conversations in the hallways and the pitter-patter of busy feet somehow become soothing — the sound of help nearby, of security, of people ready when needed.

The soft orange lights glowing beneath beds and tucked into odd corners throughout the room become a quiet nightlight, a reminder that there are no monsters under the bed. The steady rhythm of running IVs and the gentle beating line across heart monitors somehow become peaceful — a symbol of safety, of life still moving forward.

The kind nurses who peek their heads in to check on you, or rush in when the call button is pushed, walk into the room carrying compassion in ways words cannot explain. In your most vulnerable moments, they show up. You can almost see the glow around them as their servant hearts shine through.

Through this experience of watching my mom go through a heart attack, the cath lab, and triple bypass surgery… watching them wake her and remove intubation, seeing them orchestrate a symphony of IV machines, watching them rush to aid dropping oxygen levels and work tirelessly to bring a collapsing lung back… to now hanging blood donated by complete strangers to help save my mom once again as she faces this intestinal bleed — it has been one of the most humbling experiences of my life.

To witness servant hearts at work has changed me.

I am humbled by the people who have surrounded us during this incredibly difficult time of living in and out of hospitals since April. The kindness we have witnessed firsthand makes me want to strive to be better — to continue showing compassion to animals, children, and the people around me.

I pray you never have to witness the things I have seen over the last months and years of my life, but I also know the reality that many of us eventually will.

So take a breath. Observe the kindness around you. Let it sink into the pores of your soul, and let it shine outward for others to see. Because kindness, compassion, and the patience of love truly do make a difference in this world.

Be kind. Love deeply. Give people grace.

You never truly know how much your compassion may impact someone on the hardest day of their life.