Though I can honestly say I rarely run out of a topics to write about, I was not sure what to write about today. I looked at my list and this story stood out.
As I have mentioned before, my life has bounced from one tragedy to another since childhood, to the point at times all I had left to hang on to has been my faith in the living God. And that, by the skin of my teeth.
What I am about to share is an odd story, perhaps some will even doubt my sanity, but as God is my witness, it is as real as I am sitting before my keyboard today.
After all, isn’t our God the God of the impossible, the unexplainable?
These are such wonderfully simple ways of letting others know they are important. A little encouragement goes a long way in life. I remember a point in my life when I was at my lowest. My feelings of alianation were greatly intensified by lack of personal connection and by the fact that days went by without a call or a kind word.
One of my personal struggles is loneliness.
I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t loved—not everyone can say this (believe me I know this very clearly as a Social Worker). I can’t recall ever truly being alone or on my own. But there have been sweeping moments and drowning days where I have felt incredibly lonely.
We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread, but there are many more dying for a little love. (Mother Teresa)
I can’t remember when, but years ago I started saving little notes, cards, sticky notes, messages, scraps of paper—basically anything someone took the time to write or send me. Here is one of those caches.
I am not one who displays these notes or even really…
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Shootin' the Breeze
The advantage of being a victim of life’s circumstances is that you are not at fault and thus can blame others, including God, for your problems and failures.
I am not talking about fault as in causation; obviously, crime victims or accident victims harmed by the negligence of another did not cause what happened to them, but neither do victims of disease or abuse. I am talking about choices in how to react to what happened.
I am talking about making excuses rather than making efforts to overcome even things that are not your fault.
I am talking about the dangers of self pity.
For example, if only Archie Manning was my father, I would be an NFL quarterback like Peyton and Eli, but as it is, I did not have a chance. All of us whose fathers are not Archie Manning have a great excuse. Let us blame our…
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I decided to do something fun and dedicate this song I wrote to the tune of “On The Road Again” by Willie Nelson, to my husband.
Deran is a good guy, and though he really hates yard work, he gets out there and does it. He and I, both being firstborns and mighty stubborn-to-boot, butt-heads periodically, but I am thankful God placed him in my life. We have had a rocky road to hoe, but after almost nine years, I am blessed to say that Deran is now the husband I thought he would be when I married him.
I also thank God for His grace and mercy on our marriage.
Well, here is the song. Enjoy Deran! Continue reading
Chronic pain is the pits! I say this because for over thirty years I have lived with it.
I have back pain from an on the job injury, and neck pain from too many rear-ender whiplashes. The neck injury causes my neck to sometimes feel like I have a vice-grip on it for hours on end or like I have an icepick stuck into my skull near the atlas. I get frequent headaches and at times debilitating migraines that not only rob my days, but take me at least one day to recover from afterwards.
Eight years ago, due to unfortunate circumstances, the back pain became much worse. Since then, my life has been measured, as chronic pain dictates my days.
For example: I can only stand for a very short period of time. Just the act of prolonged standing causes my back to throb. Though walking actually soothes my back.
TWINKLE, TWINKLE LITTLE STAR*
Give me the eyes of a child, Oh Lord
Fill my inner being with wonder and amazement
Restore this wounded and broken spirit
Replenish my soul to the time of my birth Continue reading
Do you remember those brutal days in school when the team captains took turns picking players for their teams?
If you were a team captain, or one of the first four kids to be picked, then never mind. On second thought, you may want to read on to understand the rejection the rest of us felt.
But if you were one of the kids picked last, you know, the ones the team captains really don’t want to be stuck with; then my condolences.
Read on. Continue reading
It was February of 2013, when I stepped out as a novice blogger. I was nervous to put my “stuff” out there as much of it is delicate and painful. I feared somehow it would come back to bite me in the rear. I took a risk and became a blogger and to date have never been sorry. I have “met,” laughed with, shed tears with, resonated with, and admired wonderful friends I continue to cherish. Many of them share from vulnerable places of their hearts making them even more dear to me.
This was my original post back in February. I don’t think it got much notice with it being my first. I am sharing it again today as I believe it has an important message at the end. There are countless, desperately hurting people, deeply needing and desiring help who fall under our radars. Continue reading
The cashier scanned my groceries. We talked about the importance of eating healthy and the extraordinary cost of the organic and natural food I was buying. She shot me a sideways glance when she scanned my extra-tall aluminum can of Coors beer.
“I plan on getting some slugs drunk!” I said.
“Oh,” she said nodding her head, as if that was an ordinary response.
I told her about my slug problem. She also was plagued by slugs, but never heard of the beer trick.
“I got the idea online. It’s supposed to really work. They drink the beer and die!” I said. Continue reading
When I was a little girl, there was no money for toys. The freedoms and wealth from pre-communist days had been stripped from Cuba. Everyone became equal. Equally living in poverty, with food being rationed; and under the control of Fidel Castro. My family immediately planned on moving to the U.S.
Non-communists or gusanos (worms), were looked down on. My mom kept me from the neighborhood kids for protection, and so I wouldn’t pick up a communist attitude.
You would think an only child receives a lot of attention from family, but attention and affection were scarce in my home. I was often very lonely. I didn’t understand it then, but I longed for healthy interaction and relationships.