I am, right or wrong, always looking for hidden meanings in occurrences of simple things I see everyday.
I have an American flag that is mounted to my garage. I can see it from my kitchen window and I often admire its red, white and navy blue colors against the sky blue of my house.
This particular flag has been waving there since 2017. I retired its predecessor by folding it and placing it in the flag box at the local American Legion Post. There it will be part of an annual disposal ceremony where unserviceable flags are respectfully and honorably retired from life.
This flag, being an all weather flag, is on display all year and as it is illuminated by the light beside it; it stays up night and day.
As well as being able to view it from my kitchen window, I also see it via my security cameras from work. Some blustery days I get many notifications as my flag waves wildly in the the wind. It will spread out to full display and flip overhead to spread out again.
Yesterday, I received a notification from the camera but when I looked my flag was not there. How could that be? It was in a flag mount, mounted to the wall in a slot that holds the pole at a downward angle. Was it stolen?
I arrived home late last night with high wind and heavy rain still pounding around me and I wasn’t able to look for my flag. This morning before dawn, I go downstairs to make coffee and look out the window to see my flag lying on the ground. Somehow yesterday’s wind unseated it from its mount and threw it to the ground.
I looked at my flag laying there in the dark and that’s when my mind started exploring the symbolism of this scene. Was this sign of current events, was it a sign of defeat or even death of the values and freedoms for which it stands?
More than the particulars of stars, stripes, the red, the white and the blue but the values, freedoms, unity, and justice.
“I pledge (promise) allegiance (loyalty and commitment) to the flag (the symbol) of the United (joined together for a common purpose) States of America , and to the republic (state where sovereignty rests with the people) for which it stands (represents), one nation under God (a country formed under a creator and ruler of the universe and source of all moral authority), indivisible (unable to divide or be separated) with liberty (freedom) and justice (fairness) for all (each and every citizen).”
My hope and prayer is that we have not fallen so far that there is no more loyalty to the republic that the flag represents, that we are not becoming so divided that we can no longer reach common ground, that our flag indeed stands for freedom and fairness for each and every citizen… those born here and those who have chosen to make this great country their home. Brave men and women have fought and died for the ideals and principals this flag represents. It honors them.
As for my flag, I will loving retrieve it, clean it and proudly display it once again. May the nation and principals for which it stands endure forever.
While we are lamenting about this year 2020 and the horrors of how awful it has been, I am reminded of a Christmastime in a year not so far in the distant past when I was in distress over the events of the year past.
It was 2014, there was unrest around the world. Evil people were plotting their evil schemes and committing unspeakable crimes on the innocent. However, we tend to forget; these were my sorrows then.
I’m having a really hard time finding the holiday spirit. Where are the 300 young girls that were kidnapped? A few days of news and we moved on. How many people have been beheaded? Horror at the first one then successively our shock and outrage has waned. Planes shot down, planes never found; not even a scrap of metal. Worshippers brutally stabbed inside their synagogue. Children slaughtered. Anger, hate, anger, hate everywhere — I cannot be consoled by holiday lights and trimmings. The sorrow is burning deep in my heart.
We feed off the sensationalization of it all, but move on like it was yesterday’s a bad weather. Real evil exists in people and groups and they are actively plotting their next move. Real evil!
I long for peace.
In 2014, I was longing for peace. I think every year that is my prayer. Covid 19 has taken many lives, it has isolated us from our loved ones, our spiritual support and destroyed the financial stability of many families. However in this storm we have also come to realize many things we had taken for granted. The one most important thing we take for granted, our freedoms.
I don’t know what 2021 will hold. Will it be worse than 2020 or 2014? Will we come together? Will we see each others smiles again? Will we go back to our churches and congregations and sing praises again? We will have peace?
I don’t know.
I have no insight to the future. I just know that whatever it holds, God will see me through or he’ll call me home.
For a Child will be born to us, a Son will be given to us; And the government will rest on His shoulders; And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace. ~ Isaiah 9:6 NAS
My friend Jesse was called to his heavenly home on Thanksgiving. Over the years Jesse and I had many, not heated, but terse discussions regarding our beliefs, our politics, social issues, etc. Sometimes I would get very frustrated over the fact I could post the most innocent thing and Jesse would find a way to make a controversy out of it. He was passionate about his beliefs and there were times he challenged me to think about things differently. I imagine him today in Heaven debating the greatest theological minds and loving every minute.
I first met Jesse through mutual friends, Mel and Elaine, who no doubt have greeted him in Heaven. Mel, like Jesse, was a proponent of the unorganized church and they would meet with a group of men at the local Shari’s restaurant once a week.
When we moved to a piece of property near Jesse on Union Hill, we hired him to help us clear the land so we could build a house. He was a wild man in the trees. He’d climb to the very top and snap the limbs off on his way up. I have a video of him riding high in the treetops.
One Saturday morning after we had cleared the land and were living in a travel trailer on the property, Jesse came down the drive and gave us a little kitten that his dog Sarge had drug out from underneath his truck. We named him Fang because according to Jesse he put up a good defense against Sarge’s advances. Fang became part of our household along with our two little dogs and adult cat PC.
A few weeks after Fang became part of our family, PC got lost in the woods away from the clearing. I could hear him howling in the forest so I trekked out calling for him in a pair of shorts and flip flops. As I was looking I stepped up on an old rotten stump to get a better view. As soon as I stepped on the stump an army of yellow jackets came swarming out from underneath my feet, stinging and attacking me violently. In an effort to escape, I lost my shoe and I was frantic – jumping and trying to get away through the dense underbrush. It was then I began to think this forest life was not for me.
Jesse stopped by that evening to say hello and talk about life and God as he often did. When he heard my tale of woe, he immediately got up, left and came back a few minutes later armed with a can of hornet spray.
Now imagine this, it was dusk, Jesse was wearing only a yellow tank top, a cap, shorts and sneakers. With no other protection, he marched into the forest with this can of hornet spray and a big stick. He squatted in front of the rotten stump and began to dig into the nest with the stick and spray at the same time. He was like the avenger! Shockingly he did not get one sting but hundreds of hornets were massacred that night.
That’s the way Jesse did things, straight forward – without fear. No fear, only boldness about his faith as well. He was always ready for a great discussion or debate.
The last time I saw Jesse and Janna they stayed a few nights with us before venturing out to the east coast to be nearer his son and his family. Jesse spent a few days working on and repairing their motor-home for the journey. This motor-home was older and packed to the gills, I was more than skeptical of its ability to make it across country. Nonetheless, venture off they did, no fear, only faith in God to take care of them on the journey.
As we watched them drive away, I told Chris I feel like I am watching one of my kids drive off into the big wide world and I need to intervene or protect them. However, I know now what Jesse knew then, he relied on his God for protection and guidance. His faith was great and it saw him through many tough times.
For in the gospel the righteousness of God is revealed—a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: “The righteous will live by faith.” Romans 1:17 NIV
One week until Thanksgiving and I thought I would share my sentiments and memories from last year about Thanksgivings past.
There so much controversary over the family gatherings this year it saddens my heart that these issues may overshadow the spirit and intent of the holiday.
I won’t be at the American Legion this year and my mom won’t be able to have a celebration with anyone of us. It will be just Chris and I, or possibly with a few friends, but one thing for certain, we will sit around the table and say thank you for the many, many, blessings we have in this country.
We are not infallible, but we are a great nation; we are caring and generous people; we are a people who recognize with gratitude the freedoms we share. America is the dream of many people around the world. We will get through this and we will come back stronger. This is our holiday and next Thursday, whatever the circumstances, we will bow our heads and give thanks.
It was a drizzly grey day outside today. Rogelio showed up at 7 AM to do a fall clean up of my yard.
We met Rogelio 18 years ago. He had a house in the next town over that was built near abandoned coal mines and he needed an analysis done which our company did for him. Through the process he let us know he did side jobs landscaping, so as we had 3.5 acres of yard to care for, we hired him to help us.
Rogelio has so many amazing qualities the at the top of the list is his skill to turn the mess of my yard into a woodland paradise. He cleared the beds, he created rock gardens, trimmed the shrubbery, edged the lawn and he with his sons would more in 8 hours than I could accomplish in months.
I have always told people that Rogelio got all the credit for the beauty in my garden.
Rogelio has shared many other talents with us. He has helped build fences, helped haul away junk, polished concrete floors, updated and installed lighting, laid patio bricks and the list could go on and on. He has always been willing to help in any way. He would see something that needed attention, set a proposal for getting it done and get it done he would.
He is a man with a natural God-given wisdom. He believes hard work is the key to happy life.
Rogelio would say that the struggles of life makes you strong and gives you a will to live. “Man has to fight for life.”
Yep, this is a just out-of-bed uncombed hair photo. Not everyone gets to see me like this!
Through the years we have gotten to know each others families. We have shared our common concerns for our aging parents, his father and mother in Mexico, and my mother in Texas.
A few months ago he showed up at the house on a Saturday morning with a bottle of Tequila he brought back from Mexico. As you can see below it was no regular bottle of the Tequila. It was a massive big bottle. He told Chris he had been in Mexico helping people, he had brought money and supplies to family and friends. He said that helping others was something he learned from Chris. Always be generous and you will always have more to share. Humbling.
As the years have gone by we all have aged. Rogelio’s hair has a tinge of gray now but he still works as hard as he did in his 30’s. He showed up at 7AM this morning and worked until 3. A long day in the drizzling rain and in the end the yard was beautiful and ready for winter. I asked if it was getting to be too much for him, he says not. He loves the serenity of this place and being outdoors. Before he left, we visited a while. We talked about our families, the virus and the measures we are all taking to stay safe. We thanked him, he thanked us.
This is Rogelio my friend. He makes my garden beautiful and I am thankful for him.
“If you concentrate on finding whatever is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.” ~ Rabbi Harold Kushner
Looking back through the history of just my life, I am wondering if I can find good in every situation? This is a tall order. It cannot be done with my own power but only by endeavoring to see it through the lens of God’s eyes.
Yes, there were hardships and obstacles that dominated my youth but I can recognize how they helped form who I am today. In many ways I think those experiences help me look at others who struggle with a compassionate heart and less of a judging mindset.
More recent trials I find harder to envision the blessings with my inadequate mortal eyes. However, for every injustice I can find mercy, for every harsh word a kind one and for every heartache a joy.
In the bigger picture of things… I. Am. So. Blessed!
I really have nothing to complain about, yet I do complain. Praying my gratitude overshadows my grumbles today and that my heart will be continually grateful.
“He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11 NKJV
Veterans, today I honor and thank you for serving in defense of our freedoms and the freedom of people all around the world.
I did some research and found that those currently serving in the US Military, all branches, comprises (.4%) less than HALF of ONE PERCENT of the population of the United States. In 1970 during the Vietnam War it was only 1.4%
Today there are 18.2 million veterans living in the US going back to WWII. So total the percent of US citizen still living is just 5.5% of the population.
They truly are, and were, the select, the brave and the few who sacrificed much for the protection and security of the 99% of the rest of us.
They have given of their heart, their soul and shed their blood; they did so for love of their country, with a sense of honor and pride. Their devotion does not fade. They are a noble group, a very small percentage of our population who answered the call to serve.
My promise is to honor and remember everyday and keep them always on my heart and in my prayers.
May God bless you and keep you and protect your heart and mind.
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. Hab 3:17-19
Election night, 2000, I was with Chris sitting at SeaTac airport with a group from our congregation headed to Israel to meet our pastors and begin a tour of the Holy Land.
People had their eyes on the TV’s throughout the airport waiting for election results. Just before we boarded the plane around midnight, all the news outlets announced that Al Gore had won the presidency. Fast forward eighteen hours later when we landed in Israel and everything had changed. Nothing was certain, Florida was undecided, hanging chad problems prompted microscopic evaluations of ballots and recounts began. Each morning when we boarded the tour bus there was an update, no final decision on US Presidential election.
We were sheltered from the daily bombardment of the drama going on at home. We spent our time in Israel praying for the people in the land and praying for God’s will to be done.
We returned twelve days later on November 20 and still no decision. Not until December 12, did the Supreme Court end the Florida recount and George W Bush was declared the winner.
I am taking a lesson from that period in time; listening to no news, no talking heads, no analyst and putting my faith in God and knowing He is the ultimate decision maker.
I often found myself cringing at Trump’s comments and brashness. However, I was somewhat reassured that at least I knew how he truly felt about an issue as opposed to a typical politician (any party) who speak out of both sides of their mouth. I had friends in 2016 that warned me Trump would destroy the country, that he would start WW3, that the LGBTQ community would be in fear for their lives. None of that came to pass. All the horrifying things people on the opposing side are saying about the current administration are likely to not be as tragic either.
God often uses our flaws for His good. Today, I have been thinking about the other half of the country and how we have such polar opposite views on so many things. I have been praying for wisdom to see more of what I have in common with the other side and to love and not hate.
I keeping singing the hymn “Known Only to Him” over in my head and this verse: “I know not what the future holds but I know who holds the future.”
I keep coming across snippets of things I wrote many years ago. Here is one from March 2009.
Eleven years ago and I was seeing the negative impact of the main stream media; the constant bombardment of bad news and the attempts to control us by fear.
Since then, the rhetoric has ramped up, the hate has increased, the fringe radical groups are given more and more attention with less and less accountability.
In this month of Thanksgiving be thankful for the blessings we have. Turn your back on those who wish to divide us. Help those less fortunate, share your talents, share your blessings and share some love. ❤️
GOOD NEWS & BLESSINGS
Mar 14 2009
Good News
Today I live in America and it is still the place where people from all over the world want to come to fulfill their dreams.
Good News Today I live in America and it is still the place where people from all over the world want to come to fulfill their dreams.
Are we always right? No Have we been Blessed? Yes Even today, do we have more food, shelter, jobs,opportunities, & wealth than most of the world? Yes
Stop complaining, Start Living…
Stop listening to the news… it seems they are now thriving on “FEAR MONGERING”
Find “your” belief in the American Dream that others risk their life to come here for.
The sky is not falling and Americans aren’t a nation of Chicken Littles. We are people that face challenges straight on, keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep going.
And again …turn off the TV and the News…. it is depressing, it is brainwashing, it kills your motivation, it makes you want to give up.
I came across this photo I took on this day three years ago. It is a picture of a tiny fern growing underneath a concrete ledge.
The amazing thing about this fern is that the ledge where it is growing is on the 47th floor of the Westin Hotel in downtown Seattle, 449 ft above the city.
At the time I took this photo, I was struck by the ability of such a small plant to take root and grow in a thin crack of concrete. How far and how high did the spores need to travel to reach this lofty height and settle in? No fertilizer, no special care or tending just sun and rain. I know rain seems to be in abundance in Seattle but this fern had most likely rooted during the warm summer. Did it sustain itself from the fog and warm moist ocean air that came in from the Puget Sound? How exactly did it find that “one spot” to lodge itself, take root and hold on in the winds that blow in off the water that are aided and strengthened by the effects of the Olympic Mountains? The answer, only my conclusion and insight here; Life and the will to survive is strong and even a fern finds a way to carry on.
It is a promising sign that even in the harshest circumstances life will find a way to thrive. Living in this time of lockdowns and corona virus where many are afraid for the future. Take heart because just like this little fern, growing under the ledge on the 47th floor of the Westin Hotel in downtown Seattle, we will find a way to adapt and persevere even though it’s not always easy.
With all the negative press regarding law enforcement officers, I’d like to share a note from 5 years ago when I gave shout of praise to one special officer my life.
The police officers I know have huge hearts, although those big hearts aren’t always visible to all. Mostly we see their tough exteriors not the soft and sweet interiors.
This special officer is my son who is a LEO in Colorado. At the time of this event he was a detective and part of his job is handling elder abuse cases. He had been sent some information on an elderly lady who officers met due to an arrest they made at her residence. When the officers were there they noticed the lady had a rotten floor in front of her doorway and passed this information to him wondering if someone could help her get it repaired.
He made some calls and got a donation from Home Depot and he went on his own time and made the needed repairs her stairs and her floor.
As he got to know the lady, he realized she had been living in this home in Colorado for 44 years and for the past four years without a furnace.
So he made some calls and located a company to donate a furnace. Because she had no furnace, her pipes had frozen and she also had no water. He also located a company to donate that repair.
Her roof leaked, he found someone to fix her roof.
There were relatives (ne’er-do-wells) that had been taking advantage of her over the years and had left junk all over her house; he organize teams of volunteers to help clean it up.
Then he organized donations for new carpet and new appliances.
All this was done over a month’s time – he worked on his free time and his days off to help her.
We hear all to often about the “bad cops” (the less than one half of one percent). That means for every 5 bad cops there are 995 good ones, generous ones, caring ones… ones that go above and beyond to help the helpless, give a strength to the weak and elderly, and put their lives in the line of fire to protect strangers and members of their communities.
Law enforcement is a tough job. Everyone should walk their walk a few miles to fully understand the challenges and rewards.
PS: I did not get approval to tell his story. He’d never seek accolades on his own. I’m claiming Mother’s privilege.
This post came up in my Facebook memories from 10 years ago.
“Abba Father, thank You for walking with me in every season of life. Today, I cast all of my cares on You.”
Today I am still casting my cares on Him.
Last Tuesday I got a call that my mother was at the hospital. She had a blockage in her left peripheral artery and there was no blood flow to her leg. There was some discussion about her age, 87, and whether we should move ahead with surgery or say goodbye. The decision to do surgery would depend on the vascular surgeons assessment.
The surgeon called me at midnight Tuesday and told me he thought he could help her, but there were many risks and pitfalls along the way. She might not survive the procedure, they may not be able to restore blood flow below her knee which would bring a new set of problems and a host of other issues.
The decision was not hard for me, although she has dementia, she had still been moving around the nursing home being a wisecracker and spreading joy. I wanted to give her a fighting chance.
I arrived on Wednesday and she was in the ICU – it appeared that the blood flow was completely restored all the way to her toes but the first couple of days it waivered a few times and her heart was in Afib.
Today, they are moving her back to rehab. She cannot move her leg or toes and she has no sensation but pain and cold even though her foot is warm.
The doctor who saw her Tuesday night said he is amazed at how well her leg is doing. Best outcome for blood flow return he has ever seen. As far as no feeling in that leg (except for the pain) and inability to move it that will take time and physical therapy for that to return.
My sister and I are going to follow the ambulance back to the nursing and rehab facility and give her lots of love and kisses before she goes back inside. She will be in quarantine for 14 days.
I know the day will come when I will say my last goodbye, but it wasn’t this time and it’s not today.
This picture was the day after surgery and she had let me braid her hair. I took a picture today and she stuck her tongue out so you know that sass is back!
❤️ A multitude of thanks to the vascular surgeon Dr Helmer and his kindness. As well as all the staff at Ascension Providence Hospital in Waco.
Birthdays and the accompanying wishes are designed to boost us into the new year recharging us with an overwhelming amount of love and encouragement. ~ trish
Another birthday gone by and as with many before I am bolstered with a happy heart full of love from all the love that has been poured into my life.
This year, I am especially grateful for a birthday that falls at the end of the year because, you know, what a crazy year it has been. Just when my spirit was feeling faint, I was sent showers of blessings by way of phone calls, texts, FB posts, cards and balloons. These were all sent with their own special message from friends and family.
I have spoken before about September and how it has always seemed a new beginning to me. It was beginning of the school year, my age ticked over another year and later in life I learned it is beginning of God’s timetable for the New Year (Rosh Hashanah) which often begins in September.
This year my birthday fell within the Ten Days of Awe (or Repentance) which are the the first ten days of the month of Tishri. It begins on Rosh Hashanah and ends on the holiest day in the Jewish calendar Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. These days are days for reevaluating how one lives day to day, repenting for misdeeds and a time of self introspection to weed out the sin and behaviors that fall short of God’s plan for life. Today, I am determined to make changes, to reassess my life and purpose.
This year more than ever there is a need to forgive ourselves, forgive others, turn our backs on sin and hate, and look forward to the new life and year ahead.
This year, once again, I am loved and encouraged. I am also thankful, always thankful because life is a gift.
No regaining what was lost Is there not a cure? Is there not an answer To ease this pain?
How long Lord, how long?
It is seven years of suffering, Seven years of fighting, Seven years of youth gone Seven years too long.
How long Lord, how long?
When can there be freedom? Freedom from agony… Freedom from medication… Freedom from heartbreak ?
How long Lord, how long?
What was the crime for this? What is the gain? How can this be turned for good? Don’t understand, I can’t see how.
How long Lord, how long?
Have the prayers fallen on deaf ears? Was it my sin? Will I ever see the joy Will happiness and health return?
Lord, I wait. Lord I cry out to you… Lord please hear my plea, Lord my prayers are exhausted.
How long Lord, how long?
Psalm 61:1-2 Hear my cry, O God; Attend to my prayer. From the end of the earth I will cry to You, When my heart is overwhelmed; Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
Photo: The Encounter painting by Daniel Cariola, located in Magdala, Israel
I am a child sexual abuse survivor. I was a teen mom. My mother was a teen mom and I found out later also sexually abused. Now my granddaughter is pregnant. She also abused by her mother’s boyfriend. Is this a pattern or a curse? Is there cause and effect in play?
My mom’s story goes a like this. She was raised in an upper middle class family in south Texas. She had a stern strong father figure who dominated the home and a subservient mother the traditional 1930’s and 40’s.
The family did many recreational things together. Her father owned a boat and they spent many weekends out on the coast of Galveston enjoying the sun and sea.
When my mother was 14 her life was uprooted and turned around. Her father met another woman and divorced her mother after 23 years of marriage. This sent her mother into a state of mental decline. She took my mother and went back to her family in Virginia but long before my mother left for VA there were family secrets. She had been sexually abused by her oldest brother.
In VA she was as lost as her mother, no friends, insecure, in a new place, no emotional support. It was then she met a handsome young man just out of the Navy, seven years her senior. She was looking to be loved, looking to belong, looking to escape. They eloped when she was only 16. She became a mother shortly after her 17th birthday.
Me: Raised in a poor southern home with no memory of that tall veteran my mother married. After years of battery and abuse she left him and returned to Texas. Her father, now wealthy, helped out meagerly by doling out dribs and drabs of support. There she met and married a “good old country boy. “
Raised in East Texas he had no education but left home and hit the road as a bull rider. He was a hard worker. He did odd jobs and dug ditches and gave all he earned in support to my mother and her 3 children. He also was a strict southern raised disciplinarian… spare the rod spoil the child. Do not answer back, do not speak up, do not question or you will be beat into submission. I was a shy compliant child that made straight A’s in school, even so, I was “whooped” regularly with a belt.
Just like my mother I had two older brothers. However, unfortunately, both mine sexually abused me along with other family “friends” starting when I was young, very young; it began long before I started school. I have always had an old soul and at the time, I felt a huge responsibility to keep this abuse to myself. Along with the fact I was told to keep silent. My mother was also emotionally fragile and I knew it would destroy her. After all, how could she know or imagine what was going on? Imagine my anger and disappointment at her failure to protect me when I found out, many years later, that she should have known.
At 14, the “good old country boy” left my mother for another woman. Really the only father I had known was now gone. My mother, like her own, went through an emotionally tail spin and remarried very quickly (6 months) to the first man that paid attention to her. Problem was he paid also paid attention to me. Grabbing, kissing, inappropriate speech and once again, I was silent and protecting my mother.
Around that time a tall young man, 18, appeared on the scene. The son of a local restaurant owner who was a friend of the grabber. He offered an escape, perhaps he was looking to escape too or in search of an unspoken need. Many of us had wounded souls. I don’t know for certain but at 14, I was pregnant; we quickly married and left Texas in the rear-view mirror.
When I look back the driving force behind my actions, I see I was just getting away. Getting away from the creeper and the emotional suffocation; longing to just be free, protected and to breathe.
I was a mother at 15.
As much as I longed for one, thankfully I never had a daughter, but three sons. Possible this curse of abuse, looking for love and escape was broken.
At 48, I became a grandmother to a beautiful blue-eyed blonde. Her parents unmarried, were raising her jointly. I prayed for her divine protection. Her mother emotionally unbalanced on bipolar medication did some very strange things. Her father, my son, a military veteran and police officer offered a strict but loving solid foundation. She was shifted uncontrollably through the whirlwind of these two very divergent worlds.
My heart was once again broken when I learned last year that my beautiful granddaughter had been abused by her mother’s boyfriend. This abuse going back several years was revealed when she was 16. When her mother was confronted with evil, she defended her lover. She called her daughter a liar and many other things as she denied this evil. Now because of legal issues there is no contact between them. My granddaughter mourns for her mother, she still loves her (hard for a child to forget the good memories) but she is heartbroken over the betrayal that her mother has chosen her abuser over her.
Abuse, pain and loss. It repeats, and now a one year later my 17-year-old granddaughter is pregnant.
Was she looking for love and acceptance? Was she looking to escape? My heart breaks for the difficulties and trials that lie ahead for her.
What is this? I often wonder is there a family or generational curse? Women abused, taken advantage of by men who walk away and leave their victims to pick up the pieces. Searching to fix our brokenness. As adults we try to put the pieces of what we lost, the innocence, our childhood, our sexuality back together into a life that can bring happiness and success. Some of us succeed better than others.
Look around, listen to the news it is prevalent. A shame and stain on society that many turn their back on and refuse to see. It is a societal curse rooted in the most vile evil. How can we break this cycle?
The anniversary of my birth is fast approaching and I got an early birthday card from Uncle Sam. A Medicare card with my name on it. Le sigh
This revelation that I am getting older has me sorting and purging through things I have kept for years; things kept for good reason and no good reason at all.
Through this sort I took a second and third look at a very old friend. He has been a permanent fixture in my sewing room the past couple of decades although I cannot remember a time he wasn’t with me.
I’ve long forgotten his childhood name, but he’s traveled with me as I moved around the US… Texas, Florida, Alaska, Colorado and with me still in the PNW.
He has been a silent witness through my childhood, love, marriage, motherhood, all of it the good and bad.
At most times I have taken him for granted and never give him a serious look. He is showing his age, he’s been through the wringer a few times. He lost an ear that I was going to sew back on one day but by time I got around to getting it done, the ear couldn’t be found. He’s been restuffed, stitched up, his fur can’t quite lose it’s dirty shadow and his seams are coming apart. All these things are beautiful to me.
So as I approach this milestone birthday and I take a good look at this old friend. I decide he’s staying until the end and after all we’ve been through together, just like me, he’s still smiling.
Life is trying these days. So much adjusting. Adjusting to a virus that has us second guessing each move. A virus that takes its greatest toll on the elderly — in loss of life and in loss of emotional support.
As I have written before my mother is in a nursing home facility in Texas. A facility that’s 2000 miles from me. I was visiting once every couple of months but once this virus hit I have been unable to visit. The facility was locked down on March 12.
Since that time I noticed a decline in my mother’s health, her mental health and physical. Every phone call she ask when I’m coming to see her. Every phone call I tell her no one can visit because of the virus. Every phone call I tell her the virus is everywhere.
She began asking about different family members and saying she was worried about them. She would say things like, “I wonder if they’re dead. Are they dead?”
One person she asked about often was her cousin Gladys, they were as close as sisters. A few months ago I was talking to my mother on an early Sunday morning and she asked those questions about Gladys.
Gladys lives in North Carolina. Only six months younger than my mother she has no dementia and lives a full life. So that morning I called Gladys then called my mom back and set up a three-way call. They talked for 45 minutes laughed and giggled just like schoolgirls. It was so sweet and Gladys was so patient with my mother as she repeated the same questions over again. The questions were mostly about the present because the past my mother remembered fully.
Sadly yesterday, I learned that Gladys had passed away, a casualty of the COVID-19 virus. Such a great loss to her family. She full of energy, so loving and giving to all around her. I loved to hear her speak, her southern accent so much like my grandmother’s in the way she called me darling drawn out into a melodic – “Daah-lynn’.”
Now I am faced with a choice as to whether I should tell my mother. One side of me leans toward not telling her. Her mental decline has been so noticeably great since this lock down. The other side of me faces the same old question can I/should I lie when she ask about her?
After am e-mail exchange with the social worker, Christy, (she is an angel on earth) I decide I will not tell her. Christy tells me my mother has days when she will have a moment of clarity and remember the loss of her step-son earlier this year. She mourns all over again and it takes days for her to recover. Just deflect the question or tell her Gladys is fine. I have decided on the latter.
After all, Gladys is fine, she is more than fine. She is in the Heavenly realms with her maker and the lover of her soul. They will meet again one day.
Something I have been thinking a lot about lately and that is my reluctance to voice my opinion on political or controversial topics openly. I remain silent often and it causes me to wonder, am I a coward, or is it wisdom or something else?
I learned silence at a young age, it was taught in our home. I can still hear my mother say, “What happens in our house is our business.” Meaning. Don’t tell anyone about how you are beat with a belt, the fights, and the abuse. Remain silent, keep secrets.
Others said, “This is our secret.” Meaning: Don’t tell anyone that I am molesting you (I didn’t even know that word) but I knew it was not right.
Also. “If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all.” This one I think was the most useful. It is most likely the reason I keep a lot of thoughts to myself except for on this blog. Sometimes ranting about things says more about oneself than the person which is the topic of the rant.
I am content with my beliefs; beliefs about God, about politics, about people. I don’t find a need to have anyone believe the same as I do. I won’t force my beliefs on them and I don’t need them to force theirs on me.
Lately however, there are many who become unhinged at people who voice views and opinions which differ from theirs. If you disagree you are a ______ (fill in the blank) racist, bigot, religious radical, pacifist… degenerate of some form.
Those who prefer not to remain silent seem to be everywhere and in my face. They want others to hear what they believe and they want them to embrace it. They repeat their views over and over again and shout them louder and louder. Neither of these tactics are effective nor do they make it true for me and many others.
So I remain silent.
I understand the “Silent Majority” and I believe I am one of the members of this group. It is often fear that prevents me from speaking; I do not want to engage in any argument with people who disagree or have rabid views. I don’t want to be ridiculed, villainized, disciplined or enlightened.
The numbers of the silent majority may be known very soon and when the time comes, I will privately make my voice heard.
The verse inside the graphic has always been one of my favorites. There are several versions and one that was used during WWII was used to remind the soldiers their silence saves lives.
Emyloom ~ Words Woven Within My Heart 