This picture was taken on our FIRST Thanksgiving together (1982), this year will be Thanksgiving number FORTY!
On that first Thanksgiving in Denver Chrissie got up from the table and fixed plates for my little dogs Lucy and British.
He can be fun that way and as I have expressed before he can be all business. He is smart, I am often amazed how he can hold all that information in his brain. He works hard. He is not afraid to take risks and often it is the secret to his success.
Beyond that he is generous to many without pursing any acknowledgment or gratitude. He shows mercy to those who have hit bottom and have made poor decisions and offers support. He is passionate about his dreams. He brings breakfast in bed and then cleans the kitchen. He chokes up over sentimental movies (more than I do). He can be mischievous. He loves his sons. He loves God.
He is a blessing (a favor or gift bestowed by God) and I am blessed to have shared so many Thanksgivings with him.
I once wrote about whether serendipitous events were by coincidence or divine appointment and whether God can use any means to send specific messages. I believe an experience that touched my heart today is more than a coincidence and one of those times that God’s message was for me.
It started this morning when I posted this picture because today is six months since my mother passed. I woke up thinking of her and she has been on my heart all day and this evening.
In 2012, Chris and I took my mom to Israel with us; to say it was a challenge was an understatement. During that trip I realized how badly her dementia had become. Chris was a saint, because some days I lost my patience.
During the entire journey my mother sat behind me in the car and she hummed or sang the hymn “Love Lifted Me”. Over, and over again, for 10 days. I was convinced it was a power struggle and she was doing it just to spite me. Several times I tried to change the tune. I tried playing music on my iPhone (even gospel music which she loved) but “Love Lifted Me” continued. At some point and I don’t think I was very nice about it, I asked her to please stop.
This November I have been making a daily post about thankfulness and things in my life I am thankful for. I often start with a quote from wise people that have passed their wisdom down to us.
This day’s quote was, by Samuel Butler: “Let us be grateful to the mirror for revealing to us our appearance only. ”
Oh how true is that! I wrote about my heart that could be ugly and less than what God wants it to be. Reflecting back now I know, sadly some of days on that trip my heart was not where God wanted it to be.
So tonight I posted “Reflection of My Heart,”to my blog and logged onto Facebook to share it there. In my news feed were ‘suggested’ videos as usual and the first one up was Randy Travis singing “Love Lifted Me.”
Coincidence, I think not. I do not even own a Randy Travis CD, album or song. I picked a quote to write my “thankful” story without any particular situation in mind and my mother was on my heart because of the time since her passing. Three things came together today and combined they sent a message that struck deep in my soul.
Yes, I played the video of “Love Lifted Me” all the way through and my heart could hear my mom’s voice humming along in the backseat as we traveled through the Holy Land.
Thankful for family… those connected by blood and those connected by heart. You’ve heard the saying that blood is thicker than water but I say that when God joins two hearts, the bond is stronger than blood.
Without getting too deep into the crazy mix of my family, I want to say I am so thankful for the family God has added to my life.
One of these family members is Karen. Karen is actually married to my ex who is also my step-brother. In the past introductions were a little awkward (once we looked at each other like…what do I call you?) but now it is truer and easier to say she is my sister-in-law but really better yet a sister. A sister that came into my family when I needed it most.
Karen joined my family circle in a crisis. We first met when my oldest son was in the hospital after a near-fatal motorcycle accident 30 years ago. She was a supportive then and has stayed a source of strength and comfort through many highs and lows over the years.
Over the years, we went to graduations, we saw a son go to war, we attended weddings and funerals and welcome grandchildren. In 2018, she put in three long days in Texas helping us clean out our parent’s house. A task above and beyond any obligation or call of duty. We had many moments of laughter and it surely took a saint to work through more than 40 years of clutter and dust.
Throughout this difficult year Karen stood by us all as we said goodbye to mother. Not just my mother but her mother-in-law and the mother who loved her, her husband and his sister more than any mother could love a son or daughter.
My mom told me one once that Karen told her we were “buds.” Yes, we were, but we are more than buddies and friends, we became family and we will remain family to the end.
Today is Karen’s birthday. Happy birthday Karen. We met just before your 34th birthday and you have proven to be an amazing gift and blessing in my life.
Remembering my Uncle William today on the 91st anniversary of the day of his birth. He was affectionately know as UW to me and my family and he was one wild and crazy guy. If you had the pleasure of meeting him, you’d never forget him. He was a Texan’s Texan; one of a kind, a big heart, a loud voice, a swimmer, and athlete with drive and determination to live life to the fullest.
So many memories of him in my heart, here are just a few.
He was an adventurer. In the late 50’s and early 60’s, he lived and hunted and worked as a guide in Alaska. He had many trophies on his wall from those days and at Christmas he hung lights on the big moose-head in his house.
He had a heart as big as Texas: When I was very little (under three) my mother was a single mom trying to support three young children on the money she earned working as a waitress at Walgreens. She told me he would come to dinner once a week and leave a $20 bill under his plate.
He was a loving brother: As many tales as I have about him, my mother has repeated dozens more. Several years ago I recorded many of her stories on tape. He was the complete opposite of her and he extended his love to her in many ways. When I was clearing my mother’s house, I found a Valentines card he had sent her. Inside he had written over and over again until it filled every space inside the card… “I Love You!” I framed that card for her and it is with her at the nursing home.
He could be stern: When I was little I would go and stay with him and my aunt for a week in the summer. One summer I remember, I had been riding one of his bikes and when I came in, I just just let it drop to the ground and ran inside. I got a very stern (and loud) lecture on the value of things and caring for them properly. I know it made me cry but I have always remembered that and I remember it every time I am feeling lazy and am tempted to not put something away properly.
He was fun (and sometimes inappropriate): For most of my childhood we would have Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner with Uncle William, alternating houses each year. Every single year, at the dinner table, my Uncle William would tell a joke. It often revolved around the grace or a holiday theme. I can often remember asking what they meant and my mother would always say, “It is for adults.”
One I do remember, as I must have pondered it’s meaning for years. He was buttering a dinner roll and he asked, “Did you hear about the lady in the mini-skirt who went to buy butter? When she bent over the refrigerator case instead of getting butter she got bred.”
He was a teacher: For many years he taught swimming at his home in the outskirts of Houston. After he died one of his students wrote these memories on his obituary. “Bill Van Houten had more influence on my life than anyone outside my family. He took me under his wing when I was only 8 years old – I loved him immediately… he asked me to work with him – I didn’t know you could make money doing something so fun… he wanted to scuba dive again – he’s the one that got me started on that – scrubbing the algae off the bottom of his pool!…. I loved the way he gave me bear-hugs. My eyes are tearing just thinking about it. I loved him so, so much and I will be forever grateful for the knowledge, experiences and love that he gave me.”
Last but not least, he was a lady’s man: After his death we found envelopes with pictures of some of his lady friends. One envelope was labeled, “naughty but nice ladies.”
Later in life, I stayed close to my UW. I volunteered and worked at the Sr. Olympics in Houston when he competed and won many events; we traveled to California to cheer him on when he did the Alcatraz swim. He shivered for 2 hours after he got out of the water that day and he told us he never would have made if that one female swimmer in front of him had not jumped in nude. He said, “I just kept trying to catch up with her!”
In the 90’s he joined us several times in Campbell River, BC salmon fishing. UW was an avid sportsman and my young son, Josh, was a a budding environmentalist. UW and Josh had a special relationship but on this trip it was challenged. UW had caught a big salmon and I guess procedure is to whack them on the head to kill them and put them in the cooler. Josh was mortified by what was happening and he told UW, “If you bonk that fish again I’m gonna bonk you!”
Dec 2010 – One Last Hug
My Uncle William was athletic and he was physically fit into his 80’s, however his mind did not keep up. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in his late 70’s. The last time I saw him was in December 2010. He was at a memory care facility in California. He was overjoyed to see me and Chris. We brought him some pumpkin bread from Starbucks and he kept asking me if I had made it. Our visit ended quickly when it was lunchtime and a little lady knocked at his door. I guess she was his standing lunch date and you can’t keep the ladies waiting.
He was a man of his time, he had opinions and you knew what they were but he had a charisma that drew people to him; he was bigger than life. He was my Uncle William, a mentor, a father-figure, and a friend and not only my ‘Uncle William’ but he was an uncle to my sons, my ex and to Chrissie. We will never forget him and I am thankful for his impact on my life.
Last week my dear husband tells me he is going to come into work late because he has a delivery coming. Imagine my sobering surprise when he informs me that he purchased a 75” Q800T QLED TV. Chris’s choices and decisions have always followed the motto – Go-Big or Go-Home. Why should he change now?
Now mind you we have no TV in our living room, a medium size TV on my dresser and hubby already has a big 65” TV in his man cave. I ask why? Why? Why do we need this big thing?
My sobering surprise quickly turned to complete shock when he informed me he was going to put it in the bedroom, on top of my 6 ft wide dresser. It will be awesome he insists and it’s a smart TV we can hook our computers up to it.
When I arrived home, it was here, in the hallway; the box was as large as a twin bed. It is even more massive than I envisioned, what one might call Texas-sized. I grew up in Texas and they are proud of the slogan “Everything is Bigger in Texas.”
This TV is against everything I am comfortable with — being subtle, understated, quiet and doing everything you can to not stand out or be noticed. Even so, I do not protest. I’ll tell you why, because Chris works hard, and if this big TV makes him happy then I am happy for him to have it. Chris will be 70 soon and over the past few years advancing age makes one realize life is short – a reminder to not sweat the small stuff. Although, this TV is big, very big, its presence in my bedroom is insignificant… not worth a battle, small stuff.
This morning we installed this behemoth. I’ll spare you the details of two senior citizens pushing and pulling it up a flight of stairs with a 45° turn near the top, or the details of me lifting it shoulder high to get it on top of my dresser with my frozen shoulder or after 1.5 hours spent setting up and being unable to sync to Comcast. It finally connects… then we learn the cable system was down. What timing.
So my Texas-sized 75” Q800T QLED is firmly on it’s 40” pedestal (my dresser) and it is awesome. Watching from my adjustable bed which is only 4’ away is like be front and center at a Texas drive-in theater. All we need are the swing sets and monkey bars out front for the kids and the popcorn. Don’t forget the popcorn.
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.
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
Today is day number 183 of the year with 183 days left; half way through this year 2020. I want to believe that everyday for the rest of the year will not be tragedy among tragedy but I do not have any real hope we will make it through the coming weekend without the world falling into an abyss.
It is as if we are in an altered universe. For the past few years there has been a pot of continuously simmering hot water. With Covid19, the noodles (us) were thrown in the pot and now the foam is bubbling over the top. The noodles in the pot are done but the heat will not turn down until we break apart.
Independence Day weekend is upon us, I will be praying for the first responders more fervently than ever as I fear many people will use the holiday to create further mayhem and destruction.
We are standing on the dividing line. It’s time for the rest of us to stop being noodles, remove the pot from the fire before it is too late, stand up and show our brotherhood and outshine the hate.
“ America, America God shed his grace on thee; And crown thy good with brotherhood, From sea to shining sea”
Tomorrow: My youngest son’s 30th birthday. For over 10 years he has battled with several auto-immune diseases. Sometimes referred to as invisible diseases, as many suffer without externalsigns that are obvious to those around them, but for them they are more than apparent. His decline over the past year and a half has been heartbreaking to witness.
Prompted by a video made by friends regarding healing, where they visited the pools of Siloam and Bethesda and prayed, Chris and I made the decision to use our upcoming Israel trip to visit these places and pray for our son and pray for healing.
As time drew near I worried that my planned journey may have some element of superstition attached to it. That going there gave the appearance that those places held some sort of power that bordered on the mystical where I was expecting a miracle that God could only deliver from there.I did not want that.
We talked about it and decided we would go as planned and pray; to go and be open to any message God had for us.
We started our day early and had reservations to stay overnight at the American Colony Hotel in Jerusalem. We made it to the American Colony about 12:30, as our room wasn’t ready, we hired a taxi and made our way to the Pool of Siloam.
The driver drove through the Arab neighborhood in East Jerusalem to find the entrance where our friends, who had made the video about healing, had gone. The man at the entrance sign near the street told us we had to go through the City of David to reach the pool. So the taxi took his back up the hill and dropped us off at the entrance.
When we got inside we paid the entrance fee and were told we’d have to walk through the Canaanite tunnel, a narrow tunnel from an earlier period of more than 1000 years older than Hezekiah‘s Tunnel, to reach the Pool of Siloam.
Oh my, what a walk, we ventured for 30 or 40 minutes through this long and narrow passageway — down old stone stairways, modern steel wire stairways, down and down more and more stairs — finally to reach a tunnel that looked more like a crack in the earth of less than a foot and a half wide in many places. It was dimly lit and had a stone floor less than a foot wide in places.However, even though it widened higher up, I still had to turn sideways in many places to squeeze through. When we finally reached the end and exited the tunnel,we were in the Arab neighborhood where the taxi had originally taken us.
We continued to follow the signs as they lead us through the residential streets and at last we arrived at a worn, rusted gate painted green with paint that looked like it had begun to peel years before.I was so hot and tired and somewhat frustrated over the detour but it set me thinking.
That path through the Canaanite tunnel with ups and downs on a rocky floor, its twists and turns squeezing through narrow spots, reminded me of the journey we take in life when we have trials. We cannot see the end and we do not know what lies around the next corner,or what it’s gonna take to squeeze through the next difficulty, however, we must keep pressing forward.
We walked through the gate that lead to the pool and down a steep stone stairway.No one else was there; it was a rectangular space enclosed with rock walks and the quiet sound of water trickling through the shallow pool.
Chris and I said a prayer.We prayed, “Lord we’ve made this journey to this pool not that it’s a mystical place where we would get special attention to our prayers but we came here as an act of faith, a reminder that you are a God that heals, a blind man was healed here and that you are still a God that heals.”
On my home after another Texas trip. Two days with my Mom and all day Friday with Paulette for her birthday. Not afun night out dancing with with the girls but a day together reminiscingabout the past, talking about the future and appreciating each other and the blessings in our lives.I found the lyrics to this song from the musical “Gypsy”. I think it should be our theme song.
“Wherever we go, whatever we do
We’re gonna go through it together
We may not go far, but sure as a star
Wherever we are, it’s together…
Wherever I go, I know she goes
No fits, no fights, no feuds and no egos
Amigos, together!
Through thick and through thin, all out or all in
And whether it’s win, place or show
With you for me and me for you
We’ll muddle through whatever we do
Together, wherever we go”
We started with breakfast at Denny’s, then massages in Athens ( the blackeye pea capital of the World) , detoured at pecan factory ( bought some jalapeño pecan brittle), steakhouse dinner, and a tour of the old Corsicana Opera House built in 1905. The highlight there, just so you know you are in Texas, was the disco saddle. Texas version of the disco ball.The tour was suppose to continue around the old buildings in Corsicana with anecdotes, tales of the unexplained and history of the past. However Paulette’s shoe broke and after the underwhelming performance of the ghost in the basement of the opera house, we left.
It was beautiful out with a full moon and we went for a drink before calling it a night. I wanted to take her picture with moon in the background and every picture I took showed a cross through the moon. I was using my phone and have photographed the moon before but no matter how I tried to refocus it was there.
A good end to a Friday the 13th under a full Texas Moon.
I have just left Texas where I had to tell my mom that she could no longer live on her own. It has been a long time coming. For years she has refused to leave her home…she wanted to die there. After falls, midnight drives to nowhere, days of confusion, not a taking her medicine and finally falling and fracturing her pelvis, I have accepted that it is not safe and borders on neglect to let her stay there. I live 2200 miles away and have made 4 trips a year to help and try and manage from a distance.
A small Texas town she has lived for 45 years. She has a compassionate and caring doctor, friends and church family around her and the doctor told me it was best for her to stay in Texas.
A friend sent the link to this beautiful video last week, I just opened it. I am here alone at the office and tears are flowing down my face. A beautiful portrayal of the love between parent and child. I don’t know how well I’ve done, but I know I have tried to be the safe place my mom could fall.
It is an odd feeling. I am dismantling my mother’s life, her possessions, her accounts and her home while she is still living. We talked on Sunday and she told me she feels at peace, I hope and pray that is true. I have walked through every emotion, anger, frustration, sadness, confusion and resignation.
Last week when I was there, the local florist who we know very well, lost his mom. He told me that when he came to sit with his mom at night he would find my mom sitting outside her door at 1 AM praying and reading her bible.
I told my mom that God still has a mission for her.
With all the negative press regarding law enforcement officers, I’d like to give shout of praise to one special officer my life.
All the police officers I know have huge hearts. They don’t always wear them so they are visible to all… Mostly they have tough exteriors but soft and sweet interiors.
This special officer is my son a LEO in Colorado. He is a detective and part of his job is handling elder abuse cases. Recently he was sent some information on an elderly lady who officers met due to call at her residence. When the officers were there they noticed the lady had a rotten floor in front of her doorway and wondered if Aaron knew someone that could help her get it fixed.
He made some calls and got a donation from Home Depot and he went over on his own time and repaired 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.
He found someone 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 the repair.
Her roof leaked, he found someone to fix her roof.
Relatives that were taking advantage of her over the years, had left junk all over 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 past month, he worked on his days off to help her.
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. 😍
Valentines Day: Another one of those holidays people have intense emotions about, both good and bad; I do not feel strongly either way but observe with purpose.
My ‘Valentine’ is away again this year as it quite often happens. No big deal, I’m not heart broken, distraught or tearing my hair out because I didn’t get a hallmark card, roses and a big-hunk-of-love bear!
I don’t want any of those things. I get plenty of things I do want many times throughout the year because my valentine is a person who works very hard and he shares the fruits of his labor with those I love. My family, friends, and people in need. He took a trip to Israel with my Mother, 79, in tow and looked after her with saintly patience; he’s gives generously to help others make a house payments, pay for surgery, legal representation, needed transportation, provide firewood or buy groceries. He doesn’t just give funds he gives of himself. What precious free time he has, he’ll do consulting pro-bono, fix garage doors, help people move, make car repairs, drive little ladies to the doctor or across the pass to comfort someone with a sick family member, and together we are pros at hospital visits.
I didn’t get big red paper heart; I have Valentine with a real heart filled with compassion and love.
When he is in town, we spend valentine’s day sharing love with others; dinner with old friends, widows or those alone. It seems natural to spend this day sharing love with those around us maybe those who are feeling unloved and need to know someone cares.
One of the sweetest Valentines days I can remember was three years ago. Mine was gone and I went across the street for dinner. I quietly read my messages and watched a little girl at the table next to me happily drawing the pink wild roses that were in the vase on the table. Her parents were in deep conversation about their day and I would occasionally glance over as she would finish one drawing and start another attempting to perfect her art. My dinner came, they finished theirs and left. As she walked past me I looked up and we exchanged smiles. I continued with my dinner and a minute later there was a tap on my shoulder and this beautiful little blond was beside me with one of her drawings in hand. She said, ‘Here this is for you,” and with that she skipped off out the door to where here parents were waiting by the car.
My heart melted and I was filled with joy! Yes, she had it! Spreading joy and love to others. Nice on February 14th but beautiful throughout the year.
Celebrate your Fathers today,
Know that you are blessed
To have had a loving guiding protector,
That allowed your soul to rest.
To a girl without a Father,
Life lessons were hard learned.
Looking to fill that empty space
In a heart that always yearned.
Substitutes stepped in at times
With promises to love and protect,
But they always went their own way
and left a heart with reject.
I envied and I longed
For a Father to hold in times of need,
Offering comfort With his strong arms ~
In every word and deed.
Now I know, I always had a Father dear.
Present at every trial and turn, sending down his love;
Each time life’s journey overwhelmed,
He was watching from above.
Fathers Day, yet I have none on earth to call my own,
But in heaven I have a wondrous One.
And I will see my Abba’s face,
When my days on earth are done.
You know those thoughts that linger around your mind, ones that speak truths to you that you do not want to acknowledge, not even to your closest friends or spouse?
They capture a fear within. A fear that if they materialize into words you will forever regret giving them voice.
You rebuke them in your prayers, turning them over to God but they still whisper.
Then it happens. A quiet moment with your partner, your soul mate, the conversation opens to a crossroad with those thoughts. One of you brushes the edge and the other realizes those thoughts are not only troubling you.
For the briefest second you look at each other as if you have each bared your soul and realize the reality those thoughts could become. You look at the stark truth together and take a deep breath.
It is done. They are acknowledged to one another, you are not alone with them. You realize you share something very deep. A message to your soul.
It is a relief. A moment that you realize how closely bonded you really are. You wonder if those thoughts are preparing you for some future time.
The thoughts still linger. However, you won’t speak of it again. Only once.
Once was enough to see into each others heart and know your deepest hidden unspoken thoughts are journeying together.
Some time back I saw this message and wrote it down. I was trying to reconcile a relationship and work out the steps of moving forward because I wanted so badly for it to continue. Sadly, I am slowly learning a deeper lesson from it.
“Sometimes you choose to forgive people simply because you still want them in your life” … and sometimes doing so is futile because when you are dealing with mental illness or shear toxic self-absorbed behaviors there is no reconciliation, no peace, no harmony.
If that someone cannot address you with a civil tone, show some compassion and remain silent when there is no benefit in what is said; then your spirit and soul are better off removed from them.
Lies, manipulation, controlling, abusive, narcissistic, self-absorbed, playing the victim role, refusing to see their own faults and failures…these things lead to a heartache and destruction.
There comes a time to heal. Move beyond, and live a life free of the discontentment and destructive behaviors. Not everyone will grow and mature at the same pace but in their time, through life’s experiences, they will.
There comes a time to be set free from the crazy, the drama, the abuse. At those times, you are better off without certain people in your life. Hard lesson but true… and sadly I am removing people from my life in the hope they can no longer hurt me and the ones I love.
So… “Sometimes you choose to forgive people even though you know they cannot remain in your life.”
Stop dancing with ghosts. Yesterday is dead: bury it and be done with it. ~ Me
The truth is not always welcome ~ I have generally operated on the premise, I would rather keep quiet than to continue to fuel the flame.
Recently, I spoke out against an unwarranted attack, and was met with a vicious and vile response; so better now to just walk away.
Sad but when you’ve extended your heart and it has been stomped on, why go back and let it be cut up into little pieces.
People come into ones life for a reason, season or a lifetime. I have just ended a season ~ that existed for a reason ~ it appears it was not meant for a lifetime.
It doesn’t make it feel any better but it’s time to move on. It’s just sad…
“Sometimes you choose to forgive people simply because you still want them in your life” … and sometimes doing so is futile because when you are dealing with mental illness or shear toxic self-absorbed behaviors there is no reconciliation, no peace, no harmony.
Emyloom ~ Words Woven Within My Heart 