He was 12, a small framed little boy with dark skin and a beaming wide heart, and a bright smile. His short life started in turmoil. His dad in prison and a mom who left him at a very early age. However the love of his life was his grandmother. A grandmother who cherished him and tried to teach him right from wrong. A grandmother who sent him to school each day thinking, assuming he was safe. His name Tre Juan Figures (Trey) a relatively happy child who rode a bike, played basketball like many other young kids in his community. That happiness faded each day as he went to school. Each day as he left home and knew that he would be embarrassed, bullied, and made to feel worthless. Day after day this continued and a little boy who wanted to be happy began a downhill spiral. A spiral which ended in a bedroom decorated with little boy things, Harry Potter Books, baseball cards, basketballs and such. A room in bitter silence as a little boy hung there lifeless no longer able to endure the pain of this world. His family had notified the school repeatedly of the abuse. of the bullying of the sadness endured at the hands of classmates. Tre Juan did have troubles yet he did not deserve this. What can be done? I guess only time will tell. The investigation continues. ( Sad but true. The info I obtained from the local paper and gossip of course. No matter , it sickens me to my gut. How many children endure abuse at the hands of their peers. I myself was not popular as a child and I am sure things in my life were very much affected by this. My youngest child just this week after hearing of this sad tragedy told me that she endured harassment in the 5th grade. Why? How can we make this stop? Let's do something, anything. Let's make a difference. Please comment.)
A few weeks ago I decided it was time for me to visit a gynecologist for a routine PAP. I had not had a check up in maybe I don't know 10 years or so. Is that smart? Probley not. Anyway I went and after filling out mounds of paperwork and answering questions which I may not have been totally honest about I was taken to a room and told to undress. Oh Yeah!. You can just hang your clothes there I was told. I looked over to a small rack behind the door. Then I hoist my oversize body up to this table to sit. I am given a flimsy sheet of paper maybe 14x24" to cover my breast. another a little larger meant to cover from waist to knees. And I sit. I look at my watch and the minutes drag by. I look around the dingy little room. Clean yet not like the ones portrayed in popular magazines. I wonder if this is how it has felt for many women who find themselves in a little back office awaiting an abortion they would rather the world not know about. I am alone. Naked, on a little table waiting for someone I have never met before. Naked for a total of 35 minutes. Alone. I thought about getting dressed and just walking out. I feel ok. I don't really need this. But I stay and then he enters. A man with salt and pepper hair. A crooked yet pleasant smile. Mid 60's I would say as he peers over the top rim of his glasses. And then as he talked gently and calmly and I realized that he is actually just as wonderful as the women who had been to him before have told me that he is. The women I work with , nurses ,women who have also visited this office and who have also sat here naked on this same little table. And wanted to leave yet stayed and then invited someone like me to endure the same. Then just as quickly I am dressed and walk out into the world with a cloudy sky and the brisk cool air of November and I wonder to myself will I come back next year or will it be ten. Oh well, time will tell.
He is in his 40's. The prime of his life assured. Invincible , on top of the world, that was a few months ago. A few months ago when he first noticed that nagging cough which would not quit. That increased shortness of breath. Finally, reluctantly he sought medical attention. Test were done and a short time later he learned that the the little nagging cough which irritated him was a giant. A giant called Cancer. Lung cancer which has now spread to multiple places throughout his body. Cancer which he will probably battle for the rest of his life. He has no hair. His bald head glimmers in the glow of the bright exam light. Angrily he yells out. Yells at his family, the nurses and anyone else within close proximity. Every touch brings pain as his skin is sensitive to the slightest touch. His pain level increased and unrelieved by even the strongest medications. He is mad. He comes across as a mean bully. Some of the nurses say that they don't want to go into his room. He is so verbally abusive. He screams out at everything. He demands water, He demands food, He demands attention. He is what the medical field would call non compliant. I step back briefly from the obvious and realize I would be mad to. It is one of the only things left which he can control. It is now that I realize I am saying a small faint prayer. Lord help me to see through his anger and be sensitive to his loss. Help me to listen and to be what he needs at this time. Help me be able to see through the anger, the anger within.
Giving Love away is what I think of when I think of giving my precious dog Sebastian away. Sebastian is an 8 year old Shih-tzu. He is white and brown and has the softest fur. He is a dog of his own. He thinks that he owns the world and everything in it. He sits around the house like majesty. When he barks for food or whatever he wants at the time he looks up at you like ,are you crazy? Can't you understand dog. We included a miniture schnauzer in our home when he was about two years old and he was depressed or sad for about a year and yes he made us pay. He would not talk to or sit with us. He became a loner. Then one day he was happy again. Playing with the new puppy and of course teaching him who was boss. Well the title I gave this is
Giving Love Away. Giving Love Away because I have been considering a new home for Sebastian. As he has gotten older he has also become lazy. He does not want to go outside. He just finds the floor a great place to pee. He don' t mind I guess it smells good to him. I however, am not the least bit impressed. He also barks at a lot of things that are important to him but meaningless to me.
I even listed him with a small dog rescue which I have not heard back from. Then as I think about it, he looks up at me with those large all knowing brown eyes and I think to myself once again, How can I just Give Love Away. And then as I clean the carpet and furniture once again I think maybe ,just maybe I will give him one more chance.
When smiles won't come. I don't like writing about this but maybe it will help someone and who knows ,maybe that someone will even be me. My life is different recently. I have been engulfed by such a deep sadness. Tears flow at the drop of a hat. I sit and stare for hours at nothing. I am not able to join into normal conversation without extreme concentration and force. Society labels it depression but I think it should simply be called sadness of the soul because that is all I can feel. My Benny has been sick a lot this last year and while we were floating along with a wonderful life. Suddenly bills started rolling in. One after another without end and now I find myself getting letters from them wanting money which I don't have. I work as a nurse and Benny is disabled. People tell me don't worry about it. How I ask? I pay my bills and to be behind is stressful. I don't have a lot of credit card bills and stuff. I only have life expenses. That was until recently. And so I worry and I cry and I fell lonely and numb. Even when I do manage a smile it is with my lips only. It doesn't originate from deep within. If you have never been in a sadness like this I can tell you it feels like death. My spirit is numb and void of any happiness. I just would like to curl up in the fetal position and cry until no more tears will come. But then that is untrue also because when wet tears touch my face at least I feel something. People around me don't understand. They think I should just be able to snap out of it. Well I wish it were that simple because I didn't just snap myself into it. I cant seem to figure out any solution no matter how hard I try. I can't even think logically. Anyway as I rattle on let me write that which I started out to share with you. Last week I went on vacation. Our family camping trip. I wanted to just stay home but my sister Sandy insisted I come along. She paid for everything. She furnished the groceries and drinks. She cooked and tried diligently to make me feel better. I know it is hard to be around someone lost within themselves. She talked and sat silent. She hugged me and tried to include me in the jovial talk and banter of family. As I sat there in deep silence trying to force conversation while at times slipping into void she continued. Most people would have been uncomfortable and probly just wanted me to go home. She persisted trying to make me feel better. Trying to make me feel human. No matter how much I would have liked to just snap out of it. I couldn't. I am thankful to her for allowing me to be me but not playing into my sadness. Nothing she could have done or said would have changed anything however it did feel good for her to try to carry on normally even tho I wasn't able to just be my usual self and fit in. That is what real family is for to love you anyway. In good times and bad. To just be there. That is what she was for me. A rock, familiarity,home,comfort. A glimmer of sunshine in a gulf of sadness. She can not know how much her company meant to me. How much it helped me to heal. How glad I was to be with her. When I left I know she wasn't happy to see me to go. I know she must worry about me because she loves me. All I can say is that for one week, she made my sadness more bearable. And now if you are reading this and you know someone like me. Someone who has lost that sparkle which you know you have seen before. Be there for them. Don't pay any attention to the fact that they are hidden in a blanket of sadness. Include them in daily things. Talk to them. Don't ignore that they are there because believe me they want to smile. They would rather fit in. They want to be happy. The sun will shine again and they will remember every kind soul who would not be shunned by their quiet, uncomfortable sadness. Thank you Sandy. I know that you know how I feel. You have been there. I know how you felt when your wonderful husband Thomas Lee died. I know how deeply sad you were that day I came to your house and found you sitting in the floor beside the bed crying.With your hair disheveled and your eyes swollen from tears. The day I insisted you get up and start your life over. I just wait for that to happen to me. The light at the end of a tunnel. I know sunny days will come. I wait until smiles will come again. Until laughter is easy.Until life is normal again. I wait.
As the shimmer of the cross fell across our paths and brought us together, so shall we ever walk as one. Your faults are hidden from me and all I see is a woman about whom I have dreamed all my life. A companion and friend, a soul mate and a lover who can never be separated from me. For if you were ever taken from me it would be as though my very soul would be ripped out. I would be as a useless pile of rubble. A heap of sadness. As I look at you my heart melts and I still feel the warmness flush over me which I felt when my eyes first found yours. From that very moment I felt it, a deep stirring within. Like burning embers my love for you grew into a raging fire. I am consumed with you. I knew that from that instant my life would never be the same. My wholeness as a man can never be complete without you by my side. I am the luckiest man alive to have captured your love, the most blessed to have felt the gentleness of your kiss and the pleasure that I feel when your hand slips into mine can in no way be described with simple words. I always dreamed of having a family but what I had imagined is nothing at all as precious as seeing you hold our baby girl and hearing her silly laugh. I am overcome with awe as you rest beside me and I hear the gentle breath come evenly as you sleep. As my hand traces the soft outline of your face I smile just knowing that you are mine and my life is even more than ever I could have hoped for. You my dear lady, are my everything. Let’s grow old together and walk down moonlit beaches with our toes in the sand as we lean our heads close together and I whisper those familiar words above the gentle crashing of the waves and you respond with I love you too.
Dinner yum, yum. I have only eaten a sandwich today so I am pretty hungry as I smell the aroma of fresh greens and fresh baked ham being prepared nearby. Home made rolls bake in the oven and the smell drifts by my nostrils making me much more aware of my hunger. My mouth becomes moist as I apprehend the fact that soon I will be eating at a table filled with delights fit for a king. A warm apple pie is sliced and waiting for me to sample its filling which has been prepared with just the right amount of spices to make my mouth water even more. All of this brings to mind something my sister Sandy told me today. She was sitting out on her deck when she heard the soft meow of a kitten nearby. Oh no! not another stray. She has owned cats before or rather been owned by them. They remain outside and assume the name Deck Cat. Well seeing the ravished little kitty she was filled with compassion and went inside to find something delightful for the little thing to eat. Her husband came out and they discussed the fate of the little feline. They would feed her tonight and if she remained till the morning she could possibly become the new Deck Cat. As my sister arose the next morning while waiting for her first cup of Joe to brew she inched the door open a crack and to her hidden joy there she was, looking sheepishly at her through the crack. Meow, meow soft, faint and innocent came the low sound from the poor little kitty. Plundering through the fridge Sandy found some left overs and knowing the kitten would surely starve she went out to feed her even before she had enjoyed her own cup of coffee. It could wait, her new found pet had needs. Soon the little kitten was basking in the sun purring softly. While stopping for a minute to feed her goldfish in a pond placed on her deck a smile came across Sandy's face just knowing that this will be a good one. She went back inside to finish her morning ritual when her husband came in with a sheepish grin he said have you seen the kitty. Yes she answered, I fed her already. Are you sure he said ? I think there is something you need to see. They walked together out the pane glass door to the deck to see what the deck cat was up to. Nothing caught her eye. The cat sat there perfectly still. What a good cat. Her husband Jimmy said I think you need to take a closer look. Then she saw it, her fish pond empty except for green lily pads and grass. No fish could be found. Ahh! No wonder the cat was so happy she had ate all the gold fish, yes, every single one. So thinking back as my sister fed the helpless little creatures she had actually baited them for the cat from the bad place. Dinner or Dinner.
A web starts as a thought from a little 8 legged creature called a spider. Maybe not even a thought but just something he does. Something that he is compelled to do. He lives out his whole life making his web. Each night and day he spins and builds and drops just hoping that some unsuspecting fly will venture nearby. He waits in the dark corners with unquinched anticipation for his catch. Then the wind blows and a hole is created in his web rendering it useless. Useless for today that is because tonight he will spin again and tomorrow and the next day for the rest of his life. It doesn't matter that it is destroyed repeatedly he just rebuilds. What about me. I try to live right , a pure and holy life and day in and day out I meet obstacles and I become discouraged. Oft times I want to give up , to quit , to throw in the towel, but I cant I must keep working , keep building on what I know, on what I learn each day and I must find the strength that when what I build or do is torn down, I must get up and build again. I must continue the fight day in and day out until I die. Then will be my reward. At the end of the day that I may rest.
Humming bird Wars came to mind as I sat out on my deck this afternoon watching the hummingbirds dance, the bees buzz quickly by and inhaling the faint sent of flowers as my neighbor cut grass next door. I could hear the gentle tinkle of the wind chimes behind me. And then there he was, the bully. Bold and beautiful though very small he viciously fought for his food, the red sweet nectar I had prepared earlier and placed in the store bought feeders. I don't know why they cant share but it soon became apparent that sharing is not possible. No not at all The little feather light bird was determined and as other birds approached he would quickly swoop down and try to stab them with his black beak which came to a sharp point. I watched and he never gave up. Some birds did slip by him to drink but he did not like it , no sir, not one bit. Hummingbird wars continue. I am inside now but looking out my kitchen window I can see that the fight is still on. Vicious and fast. Neverending.
Hamburgers. I was just sitting here thinking about the hamburger Benny is about to go and get for me from O'Charleys. The soft warm bun. The crisp lettuce and tomato sitting cool against the warm burger. The cheese melted just right over the mushrooms. The tangy taste of the mustard and the smooth mayo. That's about it. Just wanted to see if I could make your mouth water like mine is right now. Oh yea, don't forget about the french fries, but that is after all another story.
Friendship is often experienced by many. We all like to say we have friends and more importantly are a friend. Well this is a little clip of a story told to me once again by a friend of mine Sistern Jabang. This is a story of an event that happened on just an ordinary day. Sistern had moved here from Africa. He lived in an apartment complex equipped with a beautiful swimming pool. However there was a slight problem, Sistern couldn't swim. One day his roommate and he was playing around the pool when his roommate decided to take a dip in the pool. He jumped in and managed to swim to the middle before he started to sink. Sistern standing on the side looked in amazement as his friend sank to the bottom and did not come up. Selflessly Sistern jumped in. Remember now , He couldn't swim a lick. He sank to the bottom and crawled over to his friend who was not moving at all by this time. While holding his breath he crawled along the bottom of the pool and pushed his friend over to the side and lifted him up to people waiting at the side then he, unable still to breathe, turned around and crawled to the shallow end of the pool. When he got to his friend he started CPR and remained with him till the ambulance crew arrived. He could have drowned. He could have lost his own life but instead he saved one, just because he did not think of his own self, just because he cared enough to risk it all. What a guy.
Just a short post. Last night I called in sick to work because...I was sick. As I sat watching TV with my Benny he looked at me and said "I really like for you to be home." What a compliment I thought. Married 27 years and he still likes to be in my presence. WOW! Guess what! I like being with him to. Just sitting , doing nothing, hanging out. I really do want to grow old with him. It is not so far off now, we are both getting older. The rocking chairs are on the front porch just waiting. We already sit in them, holding hands, hearing the birds chirp, feeling the coolness of a gentle breeze, just enjoying our time together.
The colors of my life. Bold or plain. Brilliant or Monochromatic. Changing daily as my moods swing, as my life changes and shifts with each twist and turn. Colors are beautiful things. Reds, Greens, Yellows, Blues in all shades and values. I think now of one of those greeting cards you see that is all black and white except for one colored item. That colored item is me in a world of change. I love my life. Even on a bad day I love who I am and am happy with who I will become. I am not rich and never will be but that is ok. I am happy with who I am. I don't need a mansion or fancy car. All I need is what I have. a home, a job, a family who loves me, children who I am proud of and a husband who has always treated me like royalty. Today I think I will choose to be bright pink , or maybe even a brilliant lime green. I will leave the greys and blacks for another day. Tomorrow we will just see what color will pop up in my carnival of life. What color will describe this carousal in which I am a part.
My sisters don't know it all. Of course they always think they do. They are pretty smart and often give advise whether I need it or not. This past week my sweet husband Benny had a major abdominal surgery and experienced some complications and it was during this time that I learned exactly what my sisters don't know. Both of them. There really is quite a lot that they don't know. First of all they don't know just how much I love them and that would be with all my heart. They don't know that even though I might not have been as jolly as I should have been I was comforted by their presence. They don't know how awesome it is when I say "but you don't have to come" for them to say hush We will be there. They don't know how beautiful their faces at a time of sadness and tense calm. And then they went home, a four hour drive yet when I called and told them he had a heart attack they turned right around and came back. Did I say how much that meant. Did I mention how much my heart leaped at the sight of them. Oh yea and let me mention my sister Sandy who cooked the best Lima Beans and Cornbread and Pork that I have ever tasted and my sister Jeannie who stayed home and kept the children and cleaned my house so we could be at the hospital. I can never thank them enough, I can never repay their kindness, but then I don't have to cause they are my sisters, my friends, my family. Oh yea and I know I will think of them each and every time I see those little hummingbirds getting fat while drinking from the feeder which my sisters gave me. I say again thank God for them, Dumb siblings, Sisters.
Thoughts, they invade our being from daylight to dark. From the beginning of life until the very end. They are always there circling, flitting in and out. Whether good or bad they hang around. Sometimes thoughts take us to a happy comfortable place but also are the sad ones that bring tears or melancholy. They can be triggered by a smell or a laugh or even a gentle breeze that blows or at Christmas time the aroma of fresh baked cookies can take us back to a far away place. I read my daughters blog which mentioned the smell of coffee.(www.juliesjournies.blogspot.com) and I began to think. Well! there you go again. I think right now of my life. It has been good and bittersweet. I have been for the most part happy and can I even say comfortable. Comfortable is a good place to be. In comfort there is peace and calm , a place where your heart beats a little slower and your whole body begins to relax even if only for a little while. I believe that wrinkles and gray hair does fade when you are comfortable.Thoughts, they make us real and span every mood. They distort our face into smiles and frowns. They make us who we are.
The love of a life time. 67 years of tears and joy, happiness and pain. Laughter and sadness, and yet today all that I see is my mother who is 85 years old and has the jitters of a first love. As she walks slowly down the isle with my brother by her side gently steadying her, she is happy. You can see it in the glow of her now pale face. Her laugh lines are deepened now with age and she is absolutely beautiful. I ask her before the service if she wanted to walk down the long isle or enter from a side door which is a shorter distance. With firm determination she said to me "I will walk down the isle". So as I stand here proudly I watch. Tears fill my eyes. She has stood by my dads side through thick and thin, in good times and in bad. She has felt anger and happiness. She is a virtuous woman. Out of this marriage is 4 beautiful children who she nurtured and cared for. She worked hard to create for us a happy home. Of course we did not see it in younger years, but as I look at her today I am again filled with an awesome love and respect for her. Through all the years of my life I have never heard one negative word about her. She is a christian and tried to instill in all of us a love for Jesus. Of course we have all gone our separate ways and have beliefs of our own but we will never forget what mama taught us. She carries a pink bouquet the color of her choice. Her sister Naomi stands by her side just like the day she first said I do before a justice of the peace. After standing for a few minutes she sits quietly at the front watching as something beautiful takes place she is getting up in years herself. Mamas great grandaughter Olivia is right there beside her smiling her cheesy grin. I realize that she will never know the woman she stands beside in all her riches. She will only know her from stories that she is told. I hope one day she will be aware that she once stood by a great lady on one of the happiest days of her life. I sang a song "Through the Years", how approiate. Only it doesn't say enough. As my mom and dad sit next to each other in white rockers as the words are said and they each say I Do once more. I see a sparkle in mamas eyes that is not always there day in and day out. She broke her back a few years ago and has endured much pain because of it. She walks a little more stooped these days but she is still feisty. She will still tell you what she really thinks. She is happy when her children visit. And she still waits on my dad hand and foot only now it takes her a little longer to fix dinner or sweep the floor. Even now she is so special and I love her with all of my heart. Thanks mom, for being who you are, for standing up for what you believe in. I hope to be even half the woman my mother is. She is a wonderful person and all who know her is truly blessed from heaven above.
Sitting here I think about life once again. How blessed I have been. My life seems to go slowly yet rush by. I just wonder what meaningful thing will I do today? I think about that in just a few hours it will be over, gone forever. How sobering. What will I accomplish. Who's life will I touch and will it be positive or negative. Will it pass by without shocking events or will it drift slowly by. Aah! It doesn't really matter, what does matter is that I make the most of every moment. That I do my best today. I am painting again. I am never happy with what I paint especially after my wonderful husband Benny points out the faults in each and every one. I show them to him so proud and he says something like this "yes it is good but the mouth is wrong or that is not the right color". He of course, is always right. Sometimes I wish I could trick him and for once he will say that is great and I will say but what about the mouth "just right" what about the color "prefect". I am just daydreaming that will never happen. Not in this lifetime. Not today at least. But as I am reminded by Julie my oldest daughter. Practicing for the next one, that is what I am doing. Who knows what tomorrow holds. Let it be good.
This entry was written by my oldest sister LuJean.
As I sit here on this Mothers day I think of my mother who seems so far away. Even though I can't be with her in person because we live 100 miles apart. My heart is always with her, not only on Mother's but everyday. My memories wonder back to when I was a little girl and mama was always there for me. She has always been loving and kind even when she had to discipline me she always did it with love. Mama was there to give me hugs and kisses, to wipe away my tears and sing to me. One of the songs I remember most was Prayer Bells of Heaven. She would sing gospel songs as she went about her household chores. She taught me to go to church and love the Lord. I am 65 years old, the oldest of four children. We are very blessed to still have both of our parents with us. Tears come to my eyes as I remember the good times and the bad times we have faced throughout the years. With me being the oldest, I probably remember the bad times more than my brother and my two sisters. When times were hard mama sacrificed her own needs for us, but she never let it interfere with the love she showed us. We seldom saw her tears even though I know there were many. I know now that she trusted in the Lord to bring her through. Mama and Daddy just celebrated their 67th anniversary and renewed their marriage vows. She was still a beautiful bride as she walked down the aisle on my brothers arm. My mother is a precious lady and I hope I can be half the mother to my children as mama is to me.
Wonderful Watercolor. What a change from when I started. As stated before I am going to a three day class. Today is the last day. I feel much better about it than I did the first day I started. My painting does somewhat resemble the subject. One thing I learned is that most of the other people in the class have the same feeling I do. Yesterday it was with a sigh of relief that it all started making sense. Hooray, Hooray, Hooray.
Wow what a day. I went to a watercolor class today at Raleigh,NC. I have to say I was glad, sad, frustrated and who knows what else. When ask by another artist if I felt good about my painting I just looked at her and said "I am just practicing for the next one." I hope this is a positive attitude. I learned it from my daughter. Oh well, we will see. I know one thing for sure I could be a clown artist.
Procrastination is one thing in life you really should not do. For years I have put off things for later that I really should have done today. It seems like I would have learned a lesson. Not. I still do it. I remember making my daughters wedding dress and cake and still sewing and working on them the day of the wedding. Also at my mom and dad's 50th wedding anniversary. What is it with me. Some say I work better under pressure. I don't believe it. What I do is work frantically under pressure. As I sit here today I am panicking because I ordered art supplies for an art class I have at 10 am tomorrow and my supplies are not here yet. I didn't spend the extra $5.oo for express delivery. Oh no I decided to risk it. Now I am about to cry with my daughter and son-in-law and husband all but teasing me. Well I am in no teasing mood. When will I learn but more importantly what will I do now. Waah-Waah-Waah
Sitting here in my art studio with my youngest daughter Lacy. We sat we laughed, and laughed, and laughed, especially when we were listening to music and I glanced around and with mouth wide open and head bobbing she blurted out the song. I don't even know which song. It didn't matter only the total abandon and spontaneity of the moment. I am still laughing. Moments to treasure. How funny the funny things that make us laugh at ourselves and others.
"Life is a few days of trouble a wise man once said. But I'm not complaining for I'm sheltered I'm clothed and I'm fed." How true is that. I may not ever have all or be all I hope to be but I have enjoyed a lot. I have been on the top and down to the dregs of the bottom. In the end nothing matters except that wherever or whatever I am doing , I am doing my best. To do no harm. That is part of the physicians oath. What a statement. How difficult to go through life and do no harm. Not just physically but mentally. Words can hurt or lift up, they can tear down and destroy or make a bad situation worse or a whole lot better. Now let me be about my fathers business helping others, lifting up, encouraging. Help me oh Lord when I falter to steady myself and continue. Continue in the most Holy faith. To keep up the good fight even in bad times, even when I don't feel like it, even in the midst of a storm. Continually encouraging others may I make a significant difference in the lives I touch. To do no harm. How awesome.
My Benny. My Benny has been with me for 27 years. I would like to think that he chose me but in reality I must confess that I chose him. I will never forget the first day I saw him. He was a little skinny man with jet black hair. I don't know if I would have picked him out in a crowd but there he was at my mom and dad's store. He had come to meet me. I had just got off from work and was tired but when I saw his smile I suddenly felt rested. We talked for a few minutes and agreed to meet the next Friday and go the movies. We went to see a Richard Pryor film and it was so offensive we left halfway through it. He took me home and I would never have guessed that the rest of my life would be wrapped up in his arms. He swept me off my feet by his kindness and gentle ways. I loved him at first sight. We married after a 6 months. I had two children and he accepted them and treated them like his own. I certainly wont tell you that we never had our ups and downs because we have but our commitment has weathered it all. I am glad that now 27 years later I can still say he is my best friend. I love him and defend him even when he is wrong (which is a lot of times). He has had a lot of medical problems and I can't imagine my life without him. In 2001 we left our home in Alabama and went to Montana. I took a contract as a travel nurse and we loved it. We camped out west with the bears and wildlife. We fished and didn't catch much but all the while our love for each other grew stronger. He has loved me when I was skinny and now that I am fat. He has loved me when I didn't deserve it. I am convinced that no where on this earth is there a man as magnificent as My Benny. There is no man as great or as kind. There is no man so perfect as him. Therefore I will never love another. He is my everything.
Flowers of the heart are flowers that bloom inside of you. They are there and pop up when you least expect them. When you are having a really bad day and someone special calls that is , flowers of the heart. The other day I was sitting home just minding my own business when the doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone. I wasn't waiting for any deliveries. I looked out the door and no one was there but at closer inspection I found a long slender box sitting in the old rocker on my front porch. I carried it in with a puzzled look on my face and to my surprise as I opened it, inside I found this beautiful bouquet of sunflowers. A card tucked neatly inside told me that they were from my oldest daughter. The one thousands of miles from home. I smiled. Flowers of the Heart sent from thousands of miles away from my daughter who was thinking of me. How blessed I am. How wonderful to be called her mom.
What if you woke up tomorrow and never heard another bird chirp. What if the bees stop buzzing. What if you could never smell rain again. What if you can't see the trees when the wind gently sways there branches.What if everyone you love is gone and you never see them again. What if they never see you again. What if you never feel the wet kisses of your dogs tongue on your face again. What if you can never say the words I love you again. What if you never hear the words I love you again. What if you can't feel love. What If.
Things that make me smile. Just a thought. These days I seem to get bogged down in the everyday mundane things of life and at times have to stop myself and say "self things aren't as bad as they seem". As I go to work day in day out I should be more thankful for what I have and my ability to do things. I am not just a stay at home, cook three meals a day, watch TV and read kinda lady. Not that these things are bad after all some people do have a special knack for those things. But I am more. The things I absolutely love are as follows, family first always, my precious Benny, my mom and dad , children, siblings and others that have reached out and grasp at my heart strings. I love painting even tho really I am not that good.View them at http://www.angelasacrylics.blogspot.com/ I can sit in my new studio and paint for hours on end, days, weeks,months and probly years. Too bad I have other fish to fry tho and life continues, Thank God. I smile right now as I hear the gentle voices playing in the next room. I have had the pleasure of keeping my grandchildren this last week and it has been quite the experience. I have learned a lot like if you go out and buy them airplanes to fly and one breaks they both get thrown in the trash while I sleep because one is no good without the other. I have learned how delicious mac and cheese is and that koolaid will come out of the carpet if you are persistent and also permanent marker. I do wish I could keep Logan also who is living with his aunt Becky while his mom is deployed in Qatar. I smile when I am brought yellow weed flowers by the hundreds and I show joy with each and every one right before they find their home in the white grave of a trash can. I have kissed boo boo's and cleaned yucky butts. I have wiped tears and listened to endless laughter. I have been a referee and a teacher. I have felt love. I still have most of my hair but I noticed this past week that it is a lot more gray. I don't care for that is trivial. I have helped paint cars and butterflies and bunnies that you have to look very close to pick them out. I have lived and smiled today as with many other days. I have loved and have felt love and really when you think about it what more could I ask for. So now in answer to my question "What makes me smile" Well I sit here with a big grin on my face and tell you , Life does.
Honestly I am honest. I realize that only a few things in life are important. Family, friends, and last but not least "Days Off". I dream of having an art gallery ( will never achieve) but yet still I dream. I hope to achieve peace. I want to live an unhurried life. Promoting a calm environment, I never like controversy. I will go out of my way to bring harmony. I never thrive on chaos. Don't get me wrong I am not a pushover but I strive for the title peacemaker. When I have to point out the faults of others I always try to do it diplomatically. I never want to embarrass or hurt the feelings of others. I am a bit shy in a crowd at least to begin with. I feel that I do warm up fast. I hope to earn the title of being a good mother, daughter, sister, wife, friend. I don't need roses pinned on me but do hope that I am the topic of quiet conversation in a good sense of course. But on the chance it is not so good I don't want to know about it. I like helping others and listening to their needs. What am I? I am a person who loves both God and Country. And so I will continue. I will write, I will paint and just carry on. Stay tuned for the next episode of MY LIFE.
Lima beans was a food frequently served at our house. Simple yet good. Who knew at that time that starchy with foods were not so good for you. Mama was working again and it was Sandy's turn to cook. Oh yea! it was always Sandy's turn to cook. She set about preparing the Lima beans which she had seen mama cook at least a million times before. Everyone knows they have to be soaked prior to cooking. I did notice that it was taking her a little longer than usual but what did I care I was about my daily business of playing. When we sat down to eat that night set before us was a delicious pot of lima bean soup. As I discovered what took her so long was the added step of peeling each and every bean prior to cooking. I vagely remember my brother David making fun of her which ended with her running to her room crying and David having his first experience at dish washing. He learned to love anything she cooked from then on especially lima bean soup.
A few years ago I worked on a reservation in Montana. While I was there the chief medicine man died. Ceremonies were held. Colorful clothes were blessed by the other medicine man and tied to a pole which they had erected in the mans pasture. It was one of the most awesome things I have ever seen. Each day I drove by this monument and noticed that the horse remained. Through the wind and rain, snow and sleet, sun and moon, everyday he was still there making me wonder if he ever left. Whether he ate or drank I don't know but I know by his display of affection and dedication to his late owner, his friend and companion that horses know. Horses know when someone they love has gone to another world. A better place. They wait without falter for them to return. They remain faithful because they know.
Entrapment is when you set someone up to fail, get caught or punished. My brother David and I were best buddies. That is unless he decided to be buddies with my sister Sandy that day. You see we could not all three be friends or even civil to each other on the same day. This day in particular was like any other except David and I had a plan. We would trap Sandy in the bathroom and keep her there for as long as we wanted. So we sat and waited. Finally she went into the bathroom and we sprang into action. The bathroom had two doors and while he held one door tightly shut I held the other. There was only one problem which we really hadn't considered. She had just received a brand new pair of go-go boots for Christmas, white ones complete with pom-poms which jiggled when she walked. They were her prized possessions. As we held the doors shut tight she became wild like a caged animal, kicking, and screaming, clawing and mauling the doors. We were strong and did not give in one little bit. Then to our utter disbelief we heard kicking and then something that sounded like the breaking of wood. Finally we let her out and she was mad as a wet setting hen. It was then that we found out what the noise had been. With those brand new go-go boots our darling sister had kicked a big gaping hole in the door. Boy was she gonna be in trouble. I don't remember what mama and daddy did but I know that the hole remained in the door for years as a reminder of what happens when you lock your sister in the bathroom and she turns into a raging beast.
The Hideout was a secret place. A little niche cut out of dense hedge. It was close to civilization yet a million miles away. It was another favorite childhood place, close in proximity to the Mimosa. I don't think my mom and dad knew that it existed. We would run and play day after day and find solace in the hideout. When our friends would come over only the most trusted ones were allowed in for a peek. I smoked my first cigarette there. One puff was enough for a lifetime. One of the other important memories of the hideout was the time my brother and sister combined our spending money. Now days referred to as an allowance and bought a newspaper so my brother could teach me to read. I must have been in the second grade. I don't think the venture was successful at that time. I didn't learn to read overnight but I did learn what it means to stick together. To combine efforts for a common goal. It was then that I learned about love. What grater love can there be than giving up your break money to help your baby sister learn to read. As I recall we hid the paper there overnight. A night that it happened to come a big gully washing rain storm. My paper got ruined but nothing could destroy the love shown between siblings during the joyful days of summer spent in the hideout.
Tinkerbell. a name I chose for my childhood cat. In fact it was a name I chose for every cat which I had during my childhood which totaled about 4. One good thing was that I didn't ever have to worry over what to name them. It just kinda came naturally. Tinkerbell was a good sound cat name. All the cats liked it. At least I guess they did, they all came when I called them. They would rub against my legs and purr nonstop while digging their sharp little claws into my soft skin. I didn't care cause I loved them, I loved them everyone. If you ever get a cat and can't decide on a name for it, please feel free to use this tried and true name. It is a good sound name and believe me. Cats just love it.
In the midst of our front lawn stood The Mimosa, with its airy leaves and those blooms of pink. Fragrant wisp carried along on the gentle breeze. A hideout just perfect for someone like me. The libs were strong and amply supported me as I climbed up, up as high as I dared. It's blossoms provided beautiful decoration for my curly blond hair. How bold it stood with branches low to the ground. Branches which welcomed me to come and play there among the greenery. I could see everything while secluded from the view of others. I felt safe as I inhaled the natural perfume which tickled my nose. I find a smile just creeping across my face some 45 years later at just the thought of that old tree.
Tadpoles. Little black things that are squishy and have short wiggly tails. They are found in still waters of swimming places and fishing holes. they have new contraptions these days to catch them in but really they prefer to be caught in old timey mason jars. Of course you must poke holes in the lids so they can get fresh air to breath. How do they breath? Well! I don't know but I am sure they must breath somehow. I had tadpoles as a child. Black ones that are oh so fun to watch, but I also had some, one in particular that was a giant. He started out black and squishy like the others and then he turned see through green. You could even see his guts. He grew larger, and larger, and larger then the funniest thing happened.He grew back legs. He still swam and swam. He lived in my fish aquarium. One day my mom decided we needed to put him in a shallow bowl with a rock just in case. I don't remember his name but it was probably Tinkerbell. Anyway, one day when I got home from school the frog had lept, jumped ship. He was gone. I learned on e thing that day. That things never stay the same and above all you can never trust a tadpole.
Fishing. The handling of slimy icky creatures from the depths of the waters. Worms and crickets are their food of choice. Catching them is quite the challenge. That is unless your father has taught you to be sly and avid at this sport ever since you were in diapers. And so it was with me, my dad would often take me out to catch the big one. I baited my own hook, with worm guts under my fingernails, crickets squirming and kicking but in the end I would come back home with a prize catch. I can recall once when he took me to a location in south Alabama which the locals called Dead River. I was quite young I don't remember how old. We took a small aluminium boat and paddled it to a secluded cove. There in the water was a menagerie of felled Cyprus logs and drift wood. I could just imagine the snakes which lurked underneath. As I cautiously scanned the area I could see blackish green turtles with their long necks sticking out while basking in the early morning sun. They were agile and would slide effortlessly into the water at the least movement perceived as a threat. What my dad forgot to tell me was that this day would be different. This day we would be fly fishing. Fly fishing is an art in itself. You take an artificial fly or a popping bug which is what we used and with one fluid motion you flip the fly to the back then to the front making it land in the exact position where the fish are. Horrified I sat as that little boat lurched and rocked back and forth with each flick of the rod. I knew that any moment we would surely capsize. I screamed and cried and I am sure my dad was ready to tie me up by the end of our trip which ended long before he wanted it to. I don't think he ever took me fly fishing again. To this day I am a little leary of the water and I attribute it to my day spent in a small aluminum boat at a place called Dead River in the back woods of southern Alabama.
She was there even before I was born. She was only two years old as she waited for me, her competition to arrive. And so it began. The rival, as children I can remember when we fought like any other children. We played imaginary games, she took my toys. She bossed me around and was really quite the bully. But that was then. She was strong spirited and free as the wind while I was always the timid one. She always said that I was mama and daddy's favorite. Mama gave me kitchen utensils to play with which she promptly took and sometimes even hit me over the head with them. I had a beautiful Thumblina doll which I loved very much but somehow I kept finding her with her arm ripped off. Mama would always get needle and thread and with the precision of a surgeon sew it back on. Our mama worked full time and we were home a lot to tend the house, cook, and clean. I will admit that it was She who ended up doing the most. I would get a whooping any time she thought it was necessary, then somehow she always talked me into being her best friend before mama got home. Of course no one tells on their best friend. And so was our life as children. I remember the day she married and left me. I was crushed. I was happy for her but I missed her terribly. It was then that I realized how much I loved her. I loved her for who she was. It was then that I really noticed that she was not only my sister but she was my best friend. Through the years we both have changed. She is still strong and beautiful, while I am still the timid one. Not quite as timid as I was as a child because age does things to people. It makes you different, it softens you rough edges yet makes you bold. I grew up and had children of my own. I can remember how very much she loved my firstborn. She bought clothes for her and treated her like her own. She was still strong any time I needed a shoulder to cry on. She was there when my life had difficult twist and turns. She gave me advise and helped me along the way as I became an adult. Yes she was only two years older than me but her wisdom far exceeded that. I depended on her. When my husband had a heart attack at age 45, She was there. Holding my hand, wiping my tears, and helping me go on with my life. When I decided to go to nursing school during my thirties it was She who stood by my side and said you can do it. When I wanted to leave the town I grew up in and work as a travel nurse in Montana she said go ahead. I didn't realize that as I drove away tears were in her eyes. She was there when I was ready to return home, she and her wonderful husband came and helped us move back. Through the years, when life dealt me hard times on one thing I could depend, She was there. And now as I sit here thinking of all my happy memories there is one common thread in all of them, She was there. Not to long ago I received a gift from her. As I opened it to my surprise there swaddled in the tissue paper was something of great value to me. A Thumblina doll with arm intact. As I write this today one thing in my life is still sure, one rock still stands, someone still loves me. She is still here. And so is my bond with my sister, my friend, and her name is Sandy.
What I want. What I want is to get up one day to a peaceful world. What I want is to turn on the television and hear how someone helped someone. Headlines, not pushed to the bottom somewhere hidden among the trash. What I want is a smile from a stranger, and for me to give a smile in return. What I want is to help someone without wanting something in return. I want to do this without even needing the acknowledgement of a thank you. What I want is to see children run and play freely without a thought having to be given that a pedophile might be lurking somewhere close by. What I want is to be neighbourly to my neighbors. What I want is to be the friend someone needs, to be the hand that helps, to be the ear that listens. What I want is to consciously be better at giving the people I meet each day something they want. What I want is to do my part to make this world a better place to live. What I want is to be a peace maker. What I want is to be like Jesus.
Where is Gambia, Africa? I don't know but I know that it if far far away. I had never heard of that place until I met someone who over the last 2 years has become my friend. His name is Sistern Jabang and he is from Gambia. He is in his 20's but has wisdom far beyond that. I have truly been blessed by getting to work with him. He is an excellent co-worker but an even better friend. When did he become my friend? Well! I don't really know. It just happened. We work together and are some what similar. We are calm. If you know anything about ICU nurses that is not the norm. We work 12 hour night shifts. During the long hours when we are not so busy we have become friends. I have learned a lot from him like when you sit down to eat, you really should eat from the same bowl. You also should not talk while eating but we always break this rule. It is his culture so I eat with him. People passing through do give us a funny look but I am oblivious to that. He talks of his village where he grew up. He tells me of his mom and dad. The mom who still worries about him being so far away, the son who according to her has become nothing but skin and bones. But her son will be rich when he returns, and he will return. He will be rich because they are so poor. Poor according to our standards but rich in life, rich in happiness, rich in family. He tells me of when he was a boy and walked or rather ran 12 miles to school. He went to school not because he had to because most of the people in his village never finish high school. He went to school to become better. He talks of running through the forest and hunting monkeys for food. He tells me how they did not have guns but were agile with sticks and stones. They were held by an honor system and respected the other members of his tribe. He shares stories with me of how he played in areas where the orangutan play freely and how they will whip you on the bottom like a child if you get to close to them. I hear of how to trap food, of how it is to watch a village execution of a man for stealing some else's cow. Of how he watched as a large spike was driven through the mans head. I said to him "Sistern, you don't steal do you?" He looks at me and assures me that he doesn't steal. Not that he would anyway cause he is just a good guy. He tells me how to get snakes out of a tunnel and how to outsmart the wildlife that will soon be lunch. From him I have learned so much, but most of all I have learned what it is like to have a friend. A friend that crosses age, and gender, and race. A friend to be valued forever. He has invited me to kill the cow at his wedding. Kill the cow when the only thing I have ever killed is a mosquito. Oh course I will travel to Gambia to kill the cow. After all, shouldn't we do anything for a friend, my friend, the one from far far away, the one from Gambia, Africa.
This is about my daughter Lacy. My baby, even though she is 26 now. She is such a gentle soul. She is kind and sweet. It was she who gave me my first grandchild. I always said I didn't want grandchildren but she showed me differently. All her life she has been a peaceful being. She never caused us much grief even in her teenage years, and now when she is all grown up those qualities still remain. I watch as she allows others to go first in the grocery line. When I am riding in the car with her behind the wheel it never ceases to amaze me that no matter how big of a hurry we are in she will stop and allow the cars needing to merge to go ahead of us. I am not so kind. I tell her sometimes "Lacy you don't have to let them all in." She just smiles and says "I know I don't have to, but I want to." I never hear her complain even in hard times. She is steady like a rock. I am proud of her. When needed she takes my elderly mother and father to the doctor or shopping for groceries. She never complains. I often wonder where did she get such a gentle spirit, when I am so impatient, when oft times I may not be so kind. Then I just look sitting across the table from me an see my husband Benny, who is also gentle and kind. Who also allows other to go first at the grocery store, and allows cars to merge even when we are in a hurry. Then I realize where she gets it, and why I love them both.
A man of valour resides somewhere in Iraq. Resides there until he is needed elsewhere. His name, well I don't know that. He is a brave man but one of modesty. He doesn't brag about his conquest or accomplishments. He isn't boastful. He is sober and strong. He is a Green Beret. If you were to meet him on the street you would never know that he has a Bronze Metal, and a V for valour. You would not be told that he was awarded the Silver Star in recent wars. He would not mention that even as a young man he has seen death. He is a survivor. I do know this, that sometime in his career to defend our country there was a battle. A battle in which there were 15 Marines with the enemy count of 600. The fighting was fierce and this same Marine received a shot to the face and arm. Of course that would be enough to make most men run, most men lay down and give up but bravely he stood with his troop, facing death for you and me. Honoring his fellow men and helping to keep our country free. In the end 15 were left standing while 400 of the enemy perished. 200 more surrendered. Thank you sir. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. It is because of people like you that I can own a home. That I can walk safely down the streets of America. It is people like you who are there on the front line when I sleep safely at home. I salute you and feel humbled by your gift. The gift of life. The gift of freedom. Thank you for making our world a better place to live. This story was told to me by my daughter who now is somewhere in Iraq.
Back during the Vietnam war there was a song and it went something like this. "War, War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing." Whoever wrote that song didn't understand a few things, like that sometimes we must fight for what is right. That sometimes freedom isn't easy. They obviously did not know my Julie. Julie is and always has been a beautiful girl. She has always been strong willed and fought for what she wanted. Like the time when she was about 2 and wanted to pick up a large jug of clorox and move it. It was way to heavy so she stood there red faced and screaming until we moved the object. No sir, she did not give up, she did not back down, she did not relent. And so it has been most of her life, always reaching for the things she wanted, but not only reaching, she has been obtaining. From the time that she still lived at home where we did not have much even though others around her had plenty , she had the necessities but not much more. She went to work and then to college, striving for a goal that would be unreachable to many. I will never forget the day she came home and told me she had joined the Marines. That she would be serving our country. Of course like many mothers who have daughters my thoughts were, let someone else go, let men be in danger, not my little girl. Then I looked and realized that she wasn't a little girl but standing there where my little girl had been stood a full grown woman. A woman with hopes and dreams, a woman with sure ambition. A woman with a purpose. And so she left , Paris Island, SC was her first destination. I was never so proud the day we went for the ceremony of her becoming a United States Marine. The raising of the Colors made me cry and made my heart swell with pride. My daughter was a honorable woman. She did many things in the next few years in the Marines. She ended up in San Diego,Ca. She graduated with a bachelors degree from the University of California ,San Marcos. Nothing can compare to the day we went to see her sworn in as a officer. I can't even describe that feeling. Such an honor. I knew that one day she would make a difference in our world. And she is, serving our country, putting others first, risking her own life, and for who. For you and for me, for your children and mine. For people in foreign lands who she will never know. All of this seemed good as long as she was serving in the states. Julie has two little boys Paul age 2 and Logan 1. She found out in October that she would be going to Qatar and made arrangements for them to stay with relatives while she would be gone. We kept in touch via email and infrequent phone calls. Then today an email. Mom, I am going to Iraq. Not much more, just those somber words. My heart dropped, tears welled in my eyes but I can't cry. I must be strong. And again I am proud. How many millions of mothers have felt what I feel? Proud yet with pain, strength yet weakness. Many I would guess. Well if I could talk to her (which I can't) I would say remain strong, the prize will be worth the pain. The goal is honorable. The risk worth taking. I realize now why the saying The Few, The Proud, The Marines. And so I say be safe and return home to me unharmed. Fight for the weak, the homeless, the shamed, the millions who have been murdered by dictators. Fight for those who can not fight for themselves. Fight for your brother, your sister, your children, And fight for me, the one who has loved you even before birth. I love you , come home safely.
Today is Sunday a beautiful day. It is raining, sleeting, cold. The wind is whipping through the trees. A winter chill is in the air. I of course being curious when I got out of bed at 6am just had to open the door. Quickly I shut it. Chilled to the bone I retreated back into the comfort and warmth of my home. The warmth that I can depend on. The comfort of knowing that I have a husband still in bed lost in slumber. With my two dogs also asleep, I find time for myself. Time to think and enjoy the quiet of an early Sunday morning. My thoughts go back again to the fact that really, I do love the rain. I lived in Wyoming for a while and one of the things I missed the most about living in the deep south was the scent of rain. Isn't it funny how you can remember a scent? The smell of fresh baked apple pie or grandma's cookies, but neither of these can compare with the smell of rain or fresh cut grass. My thoughts return now to a day not so long ago. I was at work and went again to start and IV on the medical floor. It was a elderly man no one had been successful at getting an IV on. As I entered the room I was unprepared for there in front of me was a gentleman with no nose. Only two holes remained where his nose had been. I wanted to cry. Just so you know I don't just go around crying all the time but I am touched by many things that I encounter. Many different people from many different walks of life do touch my life. On my way home that day I said a prayer for something that each day I take for granted. I prayed and thanked God for my nose. I want to live each day to the fullest. I want to pray daily and tell God how thankful I am for all he has given me. For the home I abide in, the clothes I wear, the food I eat and especially for letting me enjoy the scent of rain.
Uncle T . When I first met him I wasn't so impressed. Mostly because he wanted to marry my sister. No one was good enough for her, at least that is what I thought. He was a short cocky man with silver wavy hair, not a hair out of place. His clothes were impeccable, sporting pointed toe cowboy boots and crisp freshly ironed jeans. He walked with his head held high and a sense of confidence to match a king. I think some referred to him as the silver fox. A fox alright I thought, a snake in the grass. I didn't like him one bit. As fate had it, I had no choice but to be in his presence. I had to see my sister who I loved deeply so I was around him even if not by choice. Each day he would give me a smile and greet me with kindness. But I would not accept that from him so I ignored him as much as possible. Then wouldn't you know a baby was coming. A bright eyed little boy with silver blond hair, Dallas. T loved him, held him, was the best dad in the world. Day by day little by little he began to win my heart. I found myself even enjoying to be around him. Laughing at his jokes, hanging on his every word. I started nursing school which he financed. Each day I would go by and drink coffee. Sometimes my sister would still be asleep. I would say to him wake her up. He would laugh and say I'm not gonna wake her up you do it. Then we would set drinking coffee sharing thoughts about life and foolishness. Before long he became my best friend. They had two other children Jarrad and Austin. He was crazy about both of them. He always wanted all of them to be their best. When they had a hair out of place as they would dart past him he would grab them and hold their face, then came the comb. All of them learned to walk wide circles around him to escape The Comb. Uncle T started feeling bad, short of breath all the time. He was diagnosed with lung disease. He went into the hospital for a few days that ended up to be weeks. The doctors said he wouldn't make it. He received a trach and continuous oxygen supplement. Finally he came home. Home so we could love him and take care of him. Home to die. He had some good days when he would go shopping with my sister and I to the mall, but he had a lot of bad days too. It was a cool crisp November day that came his time to go. I had got out of school and went by to see him. I hugged him and kissed him and told him how much I loved him then I went home. Shortly after I left his condition worsened. My sister knew it was time so she called their children to his side and while holding him, telling him of their love, he slipped away. What still remains are the wonderful memories he gave us. I can still see that beautiful hair. I can still hear him calling me mop head. I can still feel his love around me. I still miss him. He touched our hearts and made us laugh.
The Lord is my shepard, I shall not WANT. What this means to me is that because I have a God I will have my needs met. When things are hard I can find comfort in knowing that there is hope at the end of the day. I will never be alone. Jesus hears my voice and attends unto my plea. When I cry he is affected by my tears. And when I fall he lifts me up and holds me until my tears subside. When I am hungry he will always provide. He has to. His word says so. When I am lonely he is there by my side. When I am thirsty he gives me to drink. When I am sick he is my healer. When I am homeless he gives me shelter. I have the greatest comfort in knowing that I do not run this race alone. Though I may face hardships and pain I have a friend and his name is Jesus. Because of him I shall not WANT. Psalms: 23:1 look it up.