KEEP YOUR FACE TO THE SUNSHINE AND YOU CANNOT SEE THE SHADOW

peaceful happy smiling thoughts to keep the

destructive dark obtrusive ones away

Every Day Is a New Beginning

Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work; you don't give up.----- --Anne Lamott

Putting On Hope

It's rather blurry. But this is what it says. "Tell us about hope" they asked. She said "Every morning hope is waiting on a hanger in my closet. Some days hope fits me just right. Some days it's a tight fit. Some days I don't get dressed until the afternoon. And some days I need to fasten all the buttons, and pull the collar up around my chin." I don't know if the author wants her name published. ( I don't take any credit for it - except the way it applies to my life.) She goes on to say that, "The idea that hope is something I can choose to put on is a comforting one to me. Some days putting on hope is effortless. On the darkest days, I cannot see hope as a choice. Those are the days I need to reach out in the darkness until I feel hope. And if I cannot find it, cannot feel it, I have chosen to believe hope is still there.

Some artistic endeavors

Heart and Soul

First of all, I would like to admit that I am not a deeply religious person for several reasons. But I believe in God or in something greater than ourselves. I am still striving to arrive at some meaning in my life.There is something my sister said to me yesterday. I can't remember exactly how she said it, but I am going to try to put it into some kind of context. To anyone reading this please feel free to help me out on this.She was talking about how two entities can work thru people: one is God and the other is the devil. The devil will do anything to make you unhappy. And, of course, God works thru love and understanding.

One can make you do hurtful things to others and to yourself, i.e., depression, guilt, etc.

I have done a little reading in Buddhism. It really makes a lot of sense to me. Our greatest problem is the ego (the "I"). The ego is selfish, it is meant to look after and protect ourselves, but it goes overboard. (I wish I could find my notes on this, it would make it so much easier.) We need to get rid of the ego. Everything on earth is made of the same substance - God or whatever higher power we believe in. It could be Mother Earth. ( I am having trouble putting this together.)

We are all made of the same substance, no one is better than anyone else. We are all made from "God" and the good that comes from that. The devil works through the ego. What we don't like in each other or in the world means we have to look inside ourselves. Other people and the world are a mirror to our own souls.

And there are different roles in the world to be played by different players for a reason: One role may be that of the abuser, the other of the abused, etc. etc. I need to stop right now. Can't remember what I wanted to say. I will get this all together and post on it real soon. Thanks for your patience.

Take My Hand

Where I am weak, give me strength
to understand.
To forgive others their weakness.
A light that cannot be extinguished
by the hands and words of cruelty.
Add beauty unto the depraved
of mind.
Give innocence a chance to be
innocent and learn the truths of life
through innocent eyes.

Take my hand, not my life!

Heart and Soul

Have you ever met a new friend and you couldn't wait to talk to each other again. You spend a great part of the day thinking about her(or him). Well, that's how I am feeling about my sister. Finally got to talki to her again yesterday for about an hour. And we're planning on talking to each other today. I can't wait. There is so much to share, so much to get to know, so much to laugh about.

Too much time has passed, Too much water under the bridge. Too many times we hurt each other. I don't understand that. Need to take it slow. Feel like wiping out most of my journal again. She will know too much about me, my weaknesses. Please don't use them against me like our fam. has been so clever at doing. I don't even know her anymore. We can never go back to the kind of relationship we had growing up. I guess we both ruined that in many ways. And, I take a lot of responsibility for that. I shouldn't have gotten married when I was 17. I shouldn't have left her. And yet our identities were already starting to separate, widen their gap. Take it slow. At least I know she is safe. That her family is safe.

I have had natureal visitors before but not one so grotesque looking. What the h is it? Two and a half inches long, four legs, 2 antennas, looks part reptile, part - I don't know --weird. Sitting on by banister glaring at me. Thought of getting a closer look but some insightful feeling told me no. It will only jump onto your face and start shredding it to pieces.

That's about how my day feels today, how my life feels.

Oh shit, it's coming towards me; hurry close the door. It's two back legs angle up in the air when he walks, kinda like a grasshopper I think. But those reptilian eyes glaring out at me from the side of his head. What does it want?

I welcome almost any creature to come and share the steps to my adobe but I don't know what this one is. Huge turtles have come to hide partially under my steps. Lizards visit us bobbing their heads in consent. Hordes of butterflies flutter around. Bountiful dragonflies playfully chase each other and hover trying to land on Shadow's waggy tale. Pairs of cardinals visiting our feeder and sitting on our deck looking at me through the window. And a lone bird singing of heart's content, night after night, outside whatever window I happen to be near at night.

I feel so disoriented today, so unfocused.How can someone feel so happy, sad, hopeful, scattered -that's how I am feeling, scattered. It's like someone spun me around and pointed me in a new direction but I don't know which way to go. I spent a small amount of time painting, but I am not an artist; I just love colors. Tried what usually distracts me and keeps me occupied - reading and learning. Great escape. But I couldn't concentrate. Maybe I'll do some yoga exercises, try to bring myself back to self but don't feel I can relax enough to do them. The poisons in the nicotene keep me at a somewhat even keel yet causes guilt and adds a feeling of hopelessness.

The phone call from my niece last night keeps reverberating in my mind. Is that you? Is that really you? About six times she asked me if I was who I was. So much excitement and disbelief that she found me. And sis getting on the phone and asking me if I was who she had longed for it to be. You don't sound like sis, is that really you. I'm changing phones, hold on. Now it sounds like you. Wow.

Ten long years of catching up to do. I know part of me is waiting to hear from her again. Heard about one of my brother's head-on-collisions and leaving him more disabled. My niece getting out of another abusive relationship. My nephew is doing okay - but it seems just okay. And same with sis. Both of us each have two grandchildren the same age. The boys are ten and the girls are eight.

I care so deeply about these people -they are my family. Yet I am not a caretaker. I have nothing to give. I am just surviving, one day at a time, and trying to keep depression at bay. Barely getting by financially. And what else do I have to offer. I don't have any answer to anything, although I should have some insight into some things by now. I don't even look after myself enough. What direction is this going to go? Who do I trust with my heart?

Just take it slow. Only time will tell. At least my prayer was answered. I needed to know they were okay and they are. That should be enough. I should feel happy about that and thankful, and I truely am. But maybe that's not quite enough. A big piece of my heart was put back together again. Part of my identity was given back to me. I love my twin sister.

I need to cast all doubts aside, doubts I have about myself and about relationships. I want her in my life.

I Love You Sis with all my Heart and Soul

Too much time has passed by. I have thought about my sister a lot these past ten years. About how much I love her and care about her. Yet thinking that she only hates me. How do I find her? Will we ever be together again or at least talk? How she can be such a big part of my life and not be in it. Why we can only get along when talking on the phone but not in person. Does she ever think about me and miss me? Does she ever think about finding a way to find me since I can't find her?.........All the bad dreams I have about going to her house and being in the same room with her but I am invisible. She doesn't see me. We stuck together for so long. Both starving for our own identities. And then the time when our family consisted only of us twins and our children. If I could only find out that she is okay . And have thought about talking to her on the internet if she had a computer - some kind of contact. I have been putting off journaling about "us twins" for a long time because it just hurts too much. Yester day I was going to start dealing with it, but again put it off. Last night I had another bad dream about her. This morning, when we were going to town I heard the song on the radio that her and I used to sing to: " We are fam i ly , I got all my sisters and me." That was our song. One sister but we were one big happy family, sticking together. Thought about her practically all day, missing the times together. Missing my niece and nephew so much. And knowing they have their own families. Are they happy? And then tonight I get "the phone call." I still can't quite believe it. SHE FOUND ME! We have so much to talk about. So much catching up to do. And Sis, when you read this you will understand that the sadness you were feeling today was not your sadness - it was my sadness. How many of each others feeling have we felt the last ten years? I wonder. Often, I was feeling so depressed and having no idea why. We'll, feel this today. Feel happy. I feel so happy you found me. Can you feel it to?

Forgiveness

Living Fully Through Forgiveness
Forgiveness is the greatest healer of all.
-Gerald Jampolsky & Diane V. Cirincione
From "Loving Each Other" by Leo Buscalglia:Of course, forgiving is not an easy process. Our rational mind is not sufficient to instantaneously break through the intricate web of feelings which overcome us when we are wronged. It seems more simple to look for ways to escape our pain. Rather than deal with it, we blame, we accuse, we condemn, we exclude, we damn. Forgiveness can never be realized in an atmosphere of accusation, condemnation, anger and fault finding.
We will only begin to forgive when we can look upon the wrongdoers as ourselves, neither better nor worse. We need to remember that we coexist as mortals in the world, together, the wronged and the wrongdoer, and that, in our common humanity, the situation could readily be reversed... Emotional and psychological pain are at least as debilitating as physical pain. Few of us will escape these pains in our lifetime. It cannot be avoided. It can only be dealt with. Forgiveness is often the major, if only, out. As David Augberger puts it, "Forgiveness is letting what was, be gone; what will be, come; what is now, be." It is a freeing of self from the past and facing the future wiser, with renewed hope and faith. Forgiveness is often called an unconditional gift of love. This implies not that, "I will forgive you if or when," but, "I will forgive you because I must, if I ever hope to continue to live fully."

My poem "Heart and Soul"

Perhaps I am a mountain dreamer
in thinking life should be fair. What I see
from my mountaintop the moon, the stars
the love in life is not really there.

Is it all an illusion of dreams and hopes
that shatter all around me
when reaching out to embrace with love
the people that simply don't care.

They were put on my path in life
not chosen by me..
But in my attempt to be loving and faithful
to try to give them hope and not be hateful.

What really hurts the most in life to realize you
are alone in strife. No one really cares.
Pretention is all that matters. To care only how the
"I" is treated. To turn your back on real love
When it is no longer needed.

Not caring about the hurt and anguish
you inflict along the way.
Are hearts and souls that replaceable
that one can simply toss them away.

They only teach me not to care. trying to convince myself,
living in despair, that I am not like them. If they would take the time to see
the real me, to love the real me, then they would know what is in my heart is real.

Shattered Dreams

Sometimes when you zero in on certain things that has happened in the past and you think you have a handle on it. Somehow you don't. I took out little pieces of my heart, turned them over, examined them and tucked them back inside. But why can they not stay there? So many bits of info. that I haven't thought of for so long is seeping thru my awareness. The nights of loneliness and fear. The confusion and chaos. All the times I had to hide in my room and in myself. An army of one becoming an army of three and steadily multiplying. Seeing the alcoholic haze of being cast aside, ridiculed and shamed. A license meant to ensnare and trap. Gold turned to sand as promises turn into nothing. Dreams and illusions scatter like stardust. I do not live in that life anymore. No one will ever treat me like no-thing again. I am strong yet feel so weak. Life is so different for me. I did not stand still remaining dust and dirt at someones feet. No longer a doormat for another persons inadequacies. I kept a tiny piece of myself intact.And what are these fucking voices telling me I am a big fucking crybaby. Who told me that over and over and over again so it is imprinted on my brain. Where did that come from? Who used to say that to me over and over? I don't know. Did I start where others left off. Did I have the need to take over the abuse from others and now inflict it on myself. And the worse of it all," Don't listen to your mother, shes a fuckin woman and doesn't know a damn thing." And now a hour ago I find out that my son's rocky marriage is finally coming to an end. Can't she see the anguish she has caused him for so long. Is her freedom more important than those two children's lives? Alcoholism and self-destructive behavior kept at bay because he finally found something real to grasp onto. Can he hold himself together, when he's hanging by a thread, and be strong enough to take care of those babies? Her timing is just perfect. Telling him she is leaving the day before his birthday! All the time spent talking with him, consoling him and just being there for him. And trying to be there for her but she would not let me in because I was never important enough, and not intelligent enough. The thoughtful caring meant nothing. Not even woman to woman. It's time for me to step aside. Let men talk to men. They know how to be strong. Perhaps its what he needs right now. The need to be tough.

The first time I remember his beating me was shortly after our baby was born. At least he had the decency to not infllict damage on my son while he was in the womb. We were sitting around having a couple drinks and he starts in about how worthless I am, about how worthless my whole family was and even started to denigrate my country. Why did they take so long to get into WWII. On and on and on. I dropped my drink on the floor in frustration. The only way I felt safe in rebelling against what he was saying. After all it was an accident, right. He jumped up off his chair, screaming at me, calling me every fucking word he knew. He chased me towards the bathroom, banging on the locked door, tellling me to open it or he was going to beat the living hell out of me. Eventually he broke it down. I had a black eye and several large bruises. He finally left me and went out drinking until early morn. The Honey Moon phrase did not consist of roses, apologies or any promises. The most it did was give me a chance to regroup and walk on all those eggshells of attempts to make it better, for me to be better because it was all my fault. I was ugly, stupid, selfish and no man would ever want me since I had a kid. Worrying about where he was, night after night, if he was okay and then hoping he was not okay, that he got into a car wreck or something. Where would I go? Cops wouldn't listen. Told my mother one time to try to make it right, to make it end. She said "you made your bed, lie in it." A turmoil of thoughts of confusion, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. Finally, talked to my family doctor and he suggested marriage coun. X would not have anything to do with that. If we can't solve our own problems, no one can. So I went to marriage couns. on my own. I overdosed on sleeping pills I had been taking, but woke up anyways. Leave me the fuck alone. I want out. The last time he beat me I was sitting at the kitchen table. He asked if I had any money. I said no. But he found a dollar I had hidden in my purse so I could have a cup of coffee to replace lunch and also visit with co-workers. He threw the kitchen table up at me. I darted into the bedroom. He came after me punching my fuckin face and kicking the shit out of me and banging my head reapeadly against the wall. The first time I ever fought him back. I was helpless, no one to help me out of the situation, no where to turn and I had ran out of any solutions. That was the worst beating I had ever had. but I gave him a big gash on the bastard's face and you know what it felt damn good!

stardust

How do I feel right now? I feel like I am a fucking ashtray.

I am ugly, I am stupid, I am worthless, I am selfish. I am weak.

I am strong. Let me hide behind my defenses. They may not be working but it is all I've got.You are a nothing but a crybaby. I am not a crybaby. Oh no, you went to take a shower and cried a zillion tears. Well at least I ended up crying where My sobbing could not be heard. You are still a fucking crybaby. No, I am not. I have a young woman inside of me that weeps all the time. How would you feel? She just wants to be happy and contented and allowed to come out and play.You are still a cry baby.

stardust

I can't do this. I am meeting with too much resistance. Abuse is so insidious - it eats at your very core of existence. I live in my mind - that is what works for me. Searching for answers outside has been my only way to exist. But I know that the answers are really inside my heart.

I know about the Stockholm Syndrome. But reluctant to refer to it. Because comparing this type of rel. to prisoners of war and saying things like " Everyone has their own Vietnam seems so contrite, somehow. I do not understand VN. People have looked at me cross eyed when I talked about the SS and abusisve rel's in the same sentence.

Can they not sense the shame? Go ahead change the subject. I can be in yours and everyone elses pain - why can't you stand in the fire with me? Why do you have to wait until there's a complete breakdown to occur before you will listen. Listen to my heart cry. "Vincent" trying to be understood, crying out in silence. Does it take a suicide before someone will listen?

I am trapped in the prison of my own mind. I can't force the steel apart to let me out. The prison has shut off all direction in my life. I have no purpose. I am helpless. I am hopeless.
.... I hate ...You do not hate. You do not even know what the word means. You feel sadness, confusion. You do not hate other people, you hate only yourself for how you feel.
Somedays anger is my only recourse. But how can you vent the anger when no one is there to listen. Some are dead, some didn't and don't care to know how you feel about it. They only turn the blame back to you.

Insidious - working or spreading harmfully in a subtle or stealthy manner. Beguiling but harmful, seductive.

To live in the mind and not the heart. The pain is not something I am living rt now. Not in----only in my mind. It's not important. What I went thru is not important.

No one to direct it at - the pain turns inward - into depr. Depr. into such a dark hole that can't be climbed out of. I need protection from that. I need my prison but the prison is so confining.

No one will listen, no one cares. The pain is only mine to bear. I'm trapped here.

I can't be suicidal no more. I don't want to be. I want to live. I want to be happy. I couldn't do that to these people I care so deeply about.

No No No. I do not live in a glass house. I do not throw stones. I feel too much and try to hide from the pain. I live in a castle with protection and love, but it is my self created island. My island sheltered amongst itself. Yes. there are people who are around me that 'care' in the only way they know how to. But I nned to be silent, not rock the boat. Not disrupt the calm waters we have created here.

To be nonexistent. No one hears the pain when you reach out. You become invisible. You don't want to be a disappointment so you hide. You try to drown it out with trying to keep busy, so it will go away. Go Away!

You write the letters you will not send. You start to feel better about it. You rationalize and say they only did the best they could. They had low self esteem. They were paranoid schizo. - yes labels help.

I feel so much shame in writing all this. I am strong. Can't trust. CAN only trust myself to thrive.

Living under these self-protective walls of a loving rel. has its consequences, it is not really living, but it is safe. Safe from all the predators out there.

I need to see the beauty in life, to really feel it. To know somehow I matter.. That life matters.

I can't feel the pain. I need to keep everyone else happy. I can't disrupt their lives again. I cant rock the boat.

First Grade School Play

Wow. Look at my mask. Even back then I was learning how to play hide and seek. When my extreme shyness would not work, I could pull down my mask, or just find me a hidey spot. I was the little girl in the brown shirt. I remember going to the movies during the time this picture was taken and the usher telling my older brother that I could not sit on his lap. The first day of kindergarden, a boy a little older than I was, was walking home from school with me. We lived in the projects and when I was almost to my house he told me to take off my coat and lay it on the ground. I was so scared and knew exactly what he was going to do. My parents drove up just in time and I ran to the car.

"Us Twins"

A few years before my mother died I asked her a couple questions. Why did you let my older brothers sexually abuse us. ( This is not just a case of little boys and girls, living in a family, experimenting with sex. Two of my brothers were eleven and twelve years older.) She said that T. told her that we used to stay home and have orgies together. I said "WHAT." For heavens sake we were just little girls. She exclaimed, "Well that is what he said." (Whoever said anything first to her is what she always believed. Why did I always keep my mouth shut trying to protect everybody?) I showed her a picture of when "Us Twins" just woke up from a nap, we were 5 years old. "Does this look like someone who would be home having orgies?" " Well, that is what he said." Why did you let it continue? " I didn't know anything about it." I asked, "What about the time, when we were six, you took us to a social worker because you found white stuff on our panties?" Well, I kept them away from you after that." No, you did not, MOTHER, we were continually left alone for years after. They babysat us a lot of times when you and dad went out drinking and square-dancing.

Sunshine On My Shoulders Makes Me Happy...

Hope Reigns

stardust

Land of the free, home of the brave..
where from every tragedy springs unity,
and from every kindness...hope.
Where every tear reveals a blessing,
and every misfortune...a lesson.
Where every loss summons truth,
and every thought...a manifestation.
Only when faced with darkness..
Can we begin to see the light.

(Don't know who to attribute this to. I found it in my notes.)

Our House if Our Home

In January we finally moved into our house, the first one we ever bought. Sometimes the excitement waned into sadness. Thoughts of everything we had lost. Furniture from Europe, rugs from the Middle East, dolls from all over the world, a Persian comforter so soft and colorful, Greek statues, and so many more beautiful possessions. Some lost because of other people thinking they needed them more than we did, some destroyed, some weeded out because of having no room to keep them, others given away, many of them sold to support our rambling gypsy days. I finally convinced myself that what we had left will be more than enough. At least we have some things, many things, lots of wonderful things. Who needs possessions anyways. Sometimes they just get in the way. Everyday I say how I love our beautiful home. When my granddaughter was visiting this summer we went shopping. When we started to pull into the driveway I commented on what a beautifl house. She said but grandma its your house. Yes, its our house the most beautiful house in the world. My husband, dog and I all preside there together. And there is so much room left over when family comes to visit and room to play outside in our yard. I look around at the dif. contours, the color of the walls, the myriad of possibilities of what I can do to make it even more into a home.

I am an aries, scatter-brain, ever-changing, re-arranging, know a little of everything, and a lot of nothing. Welcome To MY World.

Anniversary '1991' in Vegas

click on picture to enlarge. I would like to
introduce you to my favorite dog in the whole,
big world. This is Shadow(my shadow).

Hello, everyone, hope you are having the most
enjoyable evening in your human lives. This
was taken shortly after I found my favorite
humans. Mommy and Daddy brag all the time
about the day they found me and all.
But, please don't let in on my secret, that I
really found them.

I heard Buffalo's dog just got his picture
taken. She is just too cute. Maybe he can teach me
a trick or two. I'd really like to convince them
that I need a more recent one made. They act like
they want to keep me young forever.

Well, I need to let you go. I'm just so tired and
I wanna go to bed. I'm thinking that maybe I
might just curl up in my hidey spot, if it's not
hot. Please visit me again tomorrow. I have so
much to share with you. Good-night. ruf, ruf.

The above picture was taken during the Gulf War. He finally returned home from there because of the many pleas for his safety. Money was not as important as his life. The diamond ring he was having made for me with dophins never made it. The jewelry shop, located a few blocks from where he worked was blown up, along with the rest of the block when a missile hit it.

beautiful

Happy Birthday, Dad

I wonder if they have internet service in heaven or at least a phone number.
If so, please Dad, contact me. Can you log on and see what's in my life, my heart? Can you feel the love I feel for those that I care so deeply about. The one's you never had a chance to meet? I wish with all my heart that they could have had a chance to know you. You were my inspiration.

I never meant to add to the hurt and anguish you had, already, in your life. I guess that to my young, teenage, identity searching self - I didn't understand. But, oh the truth I see through my adult eyes. Did I really have to wait until I was 53 years old, the same age that you died so long ago, to really and truely understand?

Do you remember when I held your hand and told you I love you. You instantaneouly squeezed my hand to let me know, in your comatosed way that could not see with eyes unopened, with lips sewn tight, while closing down to this world and getting ready to move on. Did you not feel the love enough to stick around?

I was never mad at you, not really. I did not mean to rebel against you. Oh, my heart longs to somehow find a way to let you know that I always cared and loved you and always looked up to you with respect and adoration. You were my heroe dad.

I know I was upset at the times when I got punished for the wrongs someone else in the family did. I did not mind being the scapegoat because I was the youngest in the family. I know now that you were doing the best you could. Never having had children of your own and marrying a woman with seven kids. I had always admired you for that.

When I married,the second time around.and starting my new life with four kids all of a sudden, instead of one. The things I tried, tough love, trying to unite the family into one. Trying to put the puzzle pieces together that were too different, discordant and seeing that they would not fit. I know now how hard you tried to make the family work. The family became your family.

Looking through different people's eyes, throughout the years, I have seen the quiet desperation that was in your eyes. I have felt your heart's discontent. I have shared a thread of happiness when it would appear. And the only picture I could get a hold of, through out the years is the one of angry desperation and discontent. I really resent that.

So, the undeserved spankings are all forgiven and anything else. But the one thing I cannot forgive is when you knew you were sick, for a long time, pacing upstairs in your bedroom. The fear of not letting a soul know. Perhaps in wanting to avoid the hardship in others and not wanting to hurt them in any way. Or, was it also, because you really felt that no one really cared.

I read that angels can communicate through the beautiful array of colors of a rainbow. They can slide down the rays and visit people on this plane of existence. And you are my 'special angel.' I have felt this communication, at times throughout the years. Your only way of reaching me. But how can I reach you? Do you have a phone number, an internet address? A blog where you've recorded what you feel, describing where you now reside, telling me you miss me, the regrets in your life, the joys you always found in a baby's face and all the children in the world were yours.

I was never jealous of that; I always thought it was so cute and special. You know, I guess I got that part of me from you. I have never thought of it until now. The embarassment I feel sometimes because I can't help but run up to these babies, to talk to kids. Oh, you know the other day, a baby was showing off her new teeth. So full and proud of herself. I wish I could have called you and told you about that one. So Special! I see these encounters as gifts in my life. Visits of joy to brighten up my day.

And some mothers and grandmothers practically snatch up their babies when a stranger approaches; so different from when you were here on earth. Oh, dad, if you could only see the mess people have made of this place; you could never comprehend it. Babies disappearing, little girls snatched from their bedrooms, ....................

You know, if you had stuck around, you could have somehow prevented a lot of that. The magic you could have made, the love you could have shared from a heart too large to contain in your own body. One heart 'so strong',' one person at a time,' so powerful that evil could not negate it. Could not take over the fierce love. Too powerful for the devil to take hold of.

Do you know that when I was thirteen I wanted to die but somehow did not succeed. I guess a bottle of aspirins and four bottles of nail polish would not do. Experiencing the hurts in life, from the outside world and within our family. And no one was there to listen. I know you would have but you were sleeping from exhaustion, working the night shift and running mother around all day shopping and such. I could not not wake you.

I remember how you treated me when I ran away. When I got back you ignored me, gave me the silent treatment for a week. That really hurt when I needed you most. But now I realize I hurt you by running away when you gave everything you had, in every way to our family.

That last Christmas I spent with you was so special and yet so heart-rending. I wanted you to have the perfect gift, because you were so sick. The bathrobe I made for you would make you so happy. One that you could and would want to wear 'forever.' I couldn't wait til Christmas when you would open it and put it on. The very special gift from your 'favorite' little girl. I really grew up that year. After 14 years of Christmas' wonder-filled gazing at special adorned.pine-aroma trees, midnight feasts when you arrived home from work,hundreds of beautifully wrapped presents under the tree to be passed out by my own special Santa. That year was so different. None of the other things meant anything to me anymore, just wanting you to get well.

Do you know, when you squeezed my hand, something inside told me you would not be around for long. I ran from the room and was found sobbing hysterically under the sink in the bathroom. The nurse made me leave the hospital because it was too much for me to handle. The three of us that left drove around, stopped in a church. When we walked in there was an angel hovering above the altar. A beautiful angel telling us it would be okay somehow. The next day, we were sent to school. I was in a classroom, on the second floor, sis on the main floor, at opposite ends of the building. The exact time that you took your last breath, sis and I met at the nurses office. A short time later, Gary arrived to tell us you were gone.

The blur of events that followed: helping choose the most beautiful box that would hold the most precious person I had ever known. Velvet-lined interlaced with satin and ribbon. Hundreds of people pouring in to say their last good-byes. People I had never met coming out of the woodwork. Tears pouring from my saddened heart, a loss so enormous, not understanding, not comprehending why you were taken from us. I promise I'll do better; I'll be the most perfect person in the world. Please, God, if you will only let my father stay. Please don't take him away.

The darkened sky filled with gloom, tears falling down from heaven. The earthened shroud of shovelled dirt, adorned casket laid forever resting.

Events of years that followed; a family that could no longer be strong enough to keep it together. The hate, the jealousies, the favortetisms, the you-are-not-good-enoughs to be in my world. The clinging, desperation, pleading, beautiful smiles to hide the pain, silent mourning, quiet grieving.

Someday, I will meet you again, in your home so far away. I long for this and yet I have so much yet to do here. I have so much more to learn, too much beauty to create in my paintings, to share and bring some light into the darkness of people's world-weary souls. I have too much love to give but Dad, I don't know how to do it. Please help me Dad! We need to talk. I feel so desperate at times. Please show me the way, I need to know. Oh, God, it's just to much. Where is that number? If you know it, please put it on the internet for me to see, for the whole world to see. I'll even put up postures and travel from sea to sea.

Dance With My Father

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heartandsoul

In ordinary life we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give,
and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.
It is very easy to overestimate the importance of our own achievements
in comparison with what we owe others.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

* * * * *

Whatever we are waiting for--peace of mind, contentment, grace, the inner awareness of simple abundance--it will surely come to us,
but only when we are ready to receive it with an open and grateful heart.

Sarah Ban Breathnach

* * * * *

Thank You: Grace and Gratitude in the Everyday
Susie Michelle Cortwright

“Thank you.”

For many of us, it is an autonomic response. Like breathing, or blinking, or crying during re-runs of Little House on the Prairie.

“Thank you” is a reflex action--a phrase we spurt out at the end of a conversation, mostly to signal its end.

I thank people for calling, for writing, for bagging my groceries, for stopping me on the street to pet my dog. If you are like me, you catch yourself uttering the phrase at least a dozen times each day, but have you ever really stopped to think about what it means?

In Mexico, it is “Gracias, Amigo.” During a recent month-long trip to Mazatlan, that autonomic response thing of mine was going strong. In fact, “Gracias, Amigo” is the single Spanish phrase I mastered during my month-long visit. This was more because of my limited bilingual abilities than because I really meant to thank anyone. But, when you discover what the phrase really means, “thank you” becomes a wonderfully appropriate response when you find yourself speechless.

During that spring month of sunsets and sailboats, I would say “Gracias, Amigo” to the green parrots who peered from the resort’s lush greenery and mimicked whatever I said; “Gracias, Amiga” to the round-faced girl who dodged heavy-footed tourists to sell me spearmint chewing gum; and “Gracias, Amigo” to the Pulmonia driver,
though he careened around strolling pedestrians and through clogged intersections at a breakneck, maniacal speed, finally forcing me to nearly choke on that chewing gum.

I soon learned that a “Gracias, Amigo” and a genuine smile can get you anything--or get you help with anything--in this foreign land. It became my favorite expression, mostly because the origin, the true meaning of the “thank you,” is more obvious in its Spanish translation.

Gracias. It’s all about grace. It means: I don’t deserve this, but you did it for me anyway. I don’t deserve your help finding my way around in a foreign country, but you helped me anyway. I don’t deserve the time you spend bagging my groceries--I’ve done nothing for you--but you bagged my groceries anyway.

And the “Amigo” part is important, too. I smile on a culture in which everyone from uniformed schoolgirls to straw hat vendors calls you (who is, of course, really a stranger rattling about in their country) a friend. This is their autonomic response, it seems. I couldn’t always tell what they were asking me, but I always picked up the “Amiga” at the end. What a terrific etymological partner for “Gracias.” After all, sometimes we don’t deserve our friends, but a good many of them stick around anyway.

My husband and I say “thank you” a lot, and I don’t ever want to let that go. Because “thank you” means I don’t deserve you, but you’re here anyway. I don’t deserve your willingness to deal with my smelly socks, my chocolate cravings, or my coffee pot paranoia (did I unplug that thing or not?) but you’re willing to deal with them anyway.

The urge to say gracias...thank you...is a natural outgrowth of what that syrupy sentimental part of me calls true love. The kind of love in which each partner encourages the other to do and to be everything they want to do and to be.

This kind of love has nothing to do with levying expectations for this partner to do something they wouldn’t choose to do on their own. It is reserved for the mature, the wise, and the secure because it involves no demands, no obligations, no expectations, no ultimatums.

The idea is not new, but it wields enormous power. Try it and see. Say thank you to someone. Not because they took out the garbage or cleaned the litter box or fixed your carburetor. But because they didn’t have to.

~ ~ ~

Susie Michelle Cortright is the author of More Energy Now! How to Beat Mommy Burnout and Live with Vitality, Passion, and Joy and the founder and publisher of Momscape.com - a website devoted to helping moms enjoy motherhood. Visit today for empowering articles, inspiring essays, self-care tips, and giveaways all designed to nourish and invigorate a mother’s spirit.
Click here: http://www.momscape.com

* * * * *

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.
It turns what we have into enough, and
more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos
to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn
a meal into a feast, a house into a home,
a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes
sense of our past, brings peace for today,
and creates a vision for tomorrow.

Melody Beattie

* * * * *

A bag of apples, a pot of homemade jam, a scribbled note, a bunch of golden flowers, a coloured pebble, a box of seedlings,
an empty scent bottle for the children. . . . Who needs diamonds and van-delivered bouquets?

Pam Brown

* * * * *

We can be thankful to a friend for a few acres or a little money; and yet for the freedom and command of the whole earth, and for the great benefits of our being, our life, health, and reason, we look upon ourselves as under no obligation.

Marcus Annaeus Seneca

* * * * *

Happy Birthday Mom

heartandsoul

I went to the store and spent twenty minutes trying to find the perfect card. IT wasn't there - so I went to another store. No luck, so I made up my own, especially for you.


Words could never express the love I have
for you.
You were always there, in good times and
in bad.
When I was lost, you were here to help and
see me through.
I only wish that I could have been there more
for you too.

God could not have created a better mom:
your soft eyes, your loving heart, your arms
to show you care. Your smile so sweet and
hands so strong to catch me when I fall.

Giving up so many parts of yourself to see
that I succeed. To guide me with your
wisdom, knowledge and your integrity.

To show me a path in life, so that I could
learn from you how to be strong.
The way you always listened to what I
had to say.
The way you forgave me in all my adolescent
ways.
__________________________________________________


Wait a minute. I think I got the wrong card, it must have been meant for some other mom! This was not my mother at all.

Remember the letter I wrote to you, when I was in Germany. My heart had a question to ask you: Why you don't love me. Why do you only love K.(one of my brothers).?

Remember the 12 page letter you wrote back to me. You said: "You kids were always jealous of one another. And besides..." you came back for a week to stay with me when you left you x and didn't help me at all. You didn't even buy any food.(No, only 20 dollars worth that I had to go and beg the welfare system for.) You didn't change the storm windows for me, like I asked you and they needed to be done for a long time.(No, I didn't. I remember dad falling off that big ladder, trying to change the windows on the second story of our house. And, besides, why couldn't all the brothers that were living around here all these years do it for you, esp. K., your favorite. Mom, I had somehow developed a fear of heights, just after my baby boy was born. No more ferris wheels for me.)

Remember my birthday, a month later, you didn't even buy me a present. Well maybe 'just' a card. (You don't remember the 'Fiddler On The Roof' album you really wanted. No, you thought K and C(your new daughter) bought that for you, along with the watch that had lots of diamonds on. You were so happy and made such a fuss over it. Do you know how bad I wanted to give you the perfect gift? Buying that album, for you when I didn't even have enough money for rent for my new apartment or barely enough food for my son and myself. I even had to have K&C go pick it up for me because I didn't have any other way to get it.)

Besides, your son left cracker crumbs on my carpet, while you were staying here, and you didn't even vacuum it up. (I know MOM, I am sorry. But, I had just escaped from a really bad relationship. I was trying to work from a confused mind and a broken heart. Trying to figure out how I was going to find an apartment, with no car. How I was going to support my son, get used to living alone, and to make sure he had everything he needed.)

Remember how you filled up the rest of those pages of every little thing you could think of" every little thing I had ever done wrong and a whole lot of things I had never even heard of(but, then I was always the scapegoat, for our family, growing up.)

But, thanks for writing back to me. I didn't really think you would respond, and never expected l2 whole pages, to just one little question from my heart.
________________________________________________________



_______________________________________________________

heartandsoul

Posted: earlier than the first one today, because it needs to be read after that one as prologue.

Mom, did you ever wonder what I would be like when I grew up. Did you want to know what I yearned for. Did you know that from the age of 14 that I wanted to help out families in trouble? I couldn't stand the way men whip up on them and use females, from the time they were babies(changing their diapers) and use them for their own pleasures, to see families split apart because of divorce. I always hated arguments and it hurt me to see when people couldn't get along, especially family members. Do you know that I practiced the most important aspect of what a therapist needs, active listening, from the time I was (can't really remember what age.) I even practiced marriage counseling when I was l5.

Did you know that I almost made straight A's , all through school, and on into college and graduate school. I had to study damn hard for those grades because I couldn't do it on my brains alone, only with determination. And because I always had a lot more responsibilities and other things that were more important. But, I also managed to get elected to student council, be in Y-Teens, and the swimming team. And I always had some kind of job since the age I could. Helped you with your chores everyday and spent all day Saturdays cleaning every square inch of our two story house and never rebelled. Meanwhile, brothers were allowed to be out having fun, because boys don't do housework. And, how I had to work enough hours, since dad passed away when I was 15, in order to buy my own food and clothes and anything I needed, because you threw everything up in my face. Do you know that I was the only one in the family to get a college education, except for sis, who got her A.A. degree?

Did you ever see all the crying I did ,when I lost my dad, and how it bothered me for a long time after and even to this very day, because no one had an idea that kids needed consolation too.

Did you know I tried to kill myself when I was 14 because everyone hated me and I was such a disappointment to every one.
Remember, one time you came to visit me when I lived in Canada and I tried to talk to you about how X was very abusive, wanting some advice of how I could make it stop. And, all you could say was, "You made your bed, lie in it."

I won't go on, mother, it's not really necessary. I thought a lot about what you good qualities were. The only real thing that stands out is that you found 'My Daddy' for me and how he was there to save our family.

I was going to get all the rest of brothers birthdays out of the way too, but you know I think I just did. What are birthdays anyways if they only bring out heartaches.

So, that's it with birthdays, until next month. I have a very special one to celebrate, My Father's.

So, I am going to take a sabatical from my mind until then.

See you in August.

LIFE

heartandsoul

All WEDDINGS are similar, but every MARRIAGE is different.
DEATH comes to everyone, but one mourns alone.
-John Berger

WHY DOESN'T ANYBODY STAY IN ONE PLACE ANYMORE?

heartandsoul

I just received the weirdest phone call. Some girl called and asked for (my husband's name.) I asked who it was, a tad bit of anger portraying in my voice, because we receive so many tele-marketer calls. She kinda went oh, ah , hm and told me her name. She spoke so quietly, I could hardly hear her, and thought she said some name of a bank. I was ready to give her a ear-full and rudely hang up on her.

So, I asked her what this was all about. She said she was looking for her dad. I still wasn't about to give out any info. about my husband's age, occupation, etc. I asked her what state she lived in, thinking it might be Alaska or Oklahoma. She said Northern GA., and she thinks her dad might be in S. GA. My brain started turning round and round, trying to figure out who in our family might be a long-lost father. Thinking maybe one of my sons, out of wedlock or another in his escapation away from his wife. So I told her there were 3 people, in this family, that I knew of and one in his late 50's, the other two in their late 30's. Her voice raised a pitch and ecststatically, proclaimed, "My dad is in his late 30's."

Thinking of my two sons, I asked her if he was in the army and she said, no, I don't think so. Are you sure he lives in GA? And she said, not really. I told her about one of my son's living in FL. and that there were a lot of ( ) down there, because I was curious and looked it up on the internet last year. And doing some geneology on myself and hubby, told her, "You know their are a lot of ( ) around. "Do you know anyone you could get some more info. from to help you track him." And she said no. "You, know with a last name like that - its not going to be easy. Not like my German, original family name. If you run across one of the D.s you will definitely know they are related. Do you have access to the internet? And she said yes.

So, after calling her "Sweetie" a few times, I told her if I can think of any way that she could be related, I would definitely get back with her.

After hanging up, hubby asked who that was and what it was all about. I told him and were trying to figure it out. Of course, my mind filling in the blanks to the questions he asked. Probably, born out of wedlock or another dead-beat father. Boy, talking about a wide range of emotions coming out. in such a brief time frame between two people, who don't even know each other - ranging from anger to hope, to a let down and back again.

I told hubby how this poor thing was feeling. Last year, I got on the internet, found out every phone number and variations of name changes of my twin sister. I let down my guard one night and called a no. in WA., just knowing and feeling in my heart that this was going to be her. I even sounded defeated and hopeful at the same time. Wanting, not to talk to my sister, yet needing to know that she's okay and has some kind of family around her like I still do. Only, to have a man answer and say " She is not here and hasn't been for a long time and who the hell are you?" I told him sorry, I am just looking for my twin, who has that exact name and lived in WA.last I knew, and told him her age. He said" she is only l6 and she hasn't been home in a long time." He probably thought I was some drug dealer or something. OMG.

I couldn't help but think of this poor soul , on the phone, and how I could help her. (always picking up strays when I can.) Hubby asked what her first name is. I said I don't know. I wanted to get some more info. in order to try and help her. But, I was worried, at the same time, about getting her in trouble, or something. Probably, her mother and step-father went shopping and will be back real soon and left her alone in her thoughts of finding her real 'dad.' Hubby says, "Call her back and ask her." I did and got some more info. out of her, where was she when she was born and where, when she last saw her dad. She told me she saw him last, when she was 3 and talked to him when she was 7. If I can find out anything or help her out I will definitely be calling her back.


So! What is it with families these days. "Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore. I would be so glad to see your face at my door. But, your so far away," Poor sweetie, I wish I didn't feel your hopelessness and helplessness!