How are you with changes? Do you freak out not knowing what your next move is going to be or do you just take things in stride? I know every one has experienced change in one of these catagories or even maybe in a different manner. But how did you make it through that particular moment when you knew your life was going to change forever?
My life has been through so many changes since the age of two. I can honestly say I remember the biggest majority of these changes. Some I wish I could forget but that's neither here nor there because God has been with me through every single one of them. Would you believe even before I knew Him by name? He had to have been carrying me through my first three years of life because they were rough. I've heard stories of children going through similiar experiences, maybe some more worse than mine and they never made it through it. I have tried to see change through God's eyes. Meaning my life wouldn't be changing for what ever reason if He wasn't okay with it. God's Will is going to happen whether I'm prepared for it or not and it's going to happen even if I'm not happy about the road He chooses for me. I discovered that once I choose to be content and except the life God has obviously chosen for me, things start falling into place and I mean the right things.
November 2010 my husband and I were all prepared to move to Oklahoma for employment reasons. When Christmas rolled around God showed us He had other plans in store for us. We were placed where we were needed at the right time. My brother in law needed my husband and I to care for his 11yr old daughter while he worked on the river. Needless to say Oklahoma would have to wait a while. I was heart broken but God showed me we were needed here more. God has blessed us by allowing us to finally move to Oklahoma. We are welcoming this change in our lives with open arms and God's guidence. My way of dealing with new changes whether good or bad is I let God lead me through them.
I hope every one has a wonder day.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
My First Real Barbie
Thirty minutes can seem like days to a four year old. In 1974 I sat with my knees planted like glue on a pukey looking olive green couch. It had three wide cushions that were covered with a swirly velvet material. I felt like I was kneeling on a green colored cloud. The back of the couch faced a large window that devoured the radiance of the morning sun.
I stared through the window at the curving gravel road that led to the main highway. I had no idea that this would be the last time I would sit on this pile of fluff. My little hazel eyes gazed at the dusty road with the excitement and anticipation that I was less than thirty minutes away from meeting the person that would change my small world forever.
Dust rolled from the tires like smoke coming from a raging fire. The 1975 Ford pick-up was the color of a fresh blinding snow, with one solid black stripe stretching front to back on both sides. The interior was the color of a newly found - garnet. I thought the truck was the most astonishing thing I had ever seen. Then this Barbie doll - like figure stepped out.
She wore her hair high on her head in a bouffant / beehive style. Every light auburn strand seemed to know its place. Her make-up covered her face lightly as if she had been kissed by the morning sun. The light shades of tans and browns accented her sapphire eyes. The copper lipstick enshrined every supple part and line of her lips.
I was in such a hurry to go outside, I hadn’t noticed I had put my coat on upside down. Once my coat was on correctly, I opened the tall towering door and stepped out onto the porch. The breezy air and the scent of what could have been a thousand roses exhilarated my tiny nasal cavities. For a moment they both left me breathless.
This cherubic figure wore a white polyester top with a tangerine jacket and skirt. The ensemble hugged every curve. Though the skirt was short it accented her long slender build. She looked as if she had jumped off the front page of a magazine.
She carried herself with such poise and dexterity, I swear the purpose of her high hair was to hold the halo I saw that day as she approached the porch where I stood in awe. She seemed to float across the yard as if she had wings. When she stopped in front of me she smiled the most radiant smile I had ever seen. It was like my body had captured the sun to warm my soul.
Looking at me with such adoration, she held out her hand and said in a soft voice, “Let’s go home.”
This astonishing lady changed my small world forever, when on this particular day she became the woman I now call “Mom.” To this day, I feel she is the most divine and devoted person I know. She still carries herself with extreme poise and dexterity. I will always be grateful for the day my adoption became final. I was finally home.
I stared through the window at the curving gravel road that led to the main highway. I had no idea that this would be the last time I would sit on this pile of fluff. My little hazel eyes gazed at the dusty road with the excitement and anticipation that I was less than thirty minutes away from meeting the person that would change my small world forever.
Dust rolled from the tires like smoke coming from a raging fire. The 1975 Ford pick-up was the color of a fresh blinding snow, with one solid black stripe stretching front to back on both sides. The interior was the color of a newly found - garnet. I thought the truck was the most astonishing thing I had ever seen. Then this Barbie doll - like figure stepped out.
She wore her hair high on her head in a bouffant / beehive style. Every light auburn strand seemed to know its place. Her make-up covered her face lightly as if she had been kissed by the morning sun. The light shades of tans and browns accented her sapphire eyes. The copper lipstick enshrined every supple part and line of her lips.
I was in such a hurry to go outside, I hadn’t noticed I had put my coat on upside down. Once my coat was on correctly, I opened the tall towering door and stepped out onto the porch. The breezy air and the scent of what could have been a thousand roses exhilarated my tiny nasal cavities. For a moment they both left me breathless.
This cherubic figure wore a white polyester top with a tangerine jacket and skirt. The ensemble hugged every curve. Though the skirt was short it accented her long slender build. She looked as if she had jumped off the front page of a magazine.
She carried herself with such poise and dexterity, I swear the purpose of her high hair was to hold the halo I saw that day as she approached the porch where I stood in awe. She seemed to float across the yard as if she had wings. When she stopped in front of me she smiled the most radiant smile I had ever seen. It was like my body had captured the sun to warm my soul.
Looking at me with such adoration, she held out her hand and said in a soft voice, “Let’s go home.”
This astonishing lady changed my small world forever, when on this particular day she became the woman I now call “Mom.” To this day, I feel she is the most divine and devoted person I know. She still carries herself with extreme poise and dexterity. I will always be grateful for the day my adoption became final. I was finally home.
A Language All His Own
Rufus had his way of speaking to me from the Free Puppy advertisement in the paper. My plans were, if I wanted the puppy, I would then go to the store and pick up all the necessary things and then return for the puppy. Rufus told me otherwise. I fell in love with this fat, caramel popcorn ball. He apparently took to me as well. He followed me to my car. I took him back up to where he was out of the way, but he followed me again as if to say, if you love me you are taking me now. So I did.
Rufus now has a cinnamon,caramel- colored coat. The three- inch, coarse, wavy strip that runs down the middle of his back looks as if he is toting a Mohawk. His mother had to have been kissed by the man in the moon before she gave birth, because his neck and shoulders are outlined with tan and white half moon markings. The white “Bentley” markings found on the tip of his tail, chest and a thin half inch strip that runs down his nose, are distinctive traits of his Australian cattle dog ancestors.
On this particular day, as I am washing dishes I can hear the jingle, jingle of the tag on his collar while he tosses his toy around. Then there is silence. Thinking he is chewing on something he isn’t supposed to, I peek in the living room only to find, him watching every move I make, with the slight cock of his curious head,. The diamond- shaped marking in the middle of his forehead has taken on wrinkles as if he is really trying to comprehend what is going on in the kitchen. With a low, gruff bark he let me know, I was caught staring. “What?” I said, as if he was really going to answer. To my surprise, he leaped up and gave me another bark.
I dry my soapy hands and walk into the living room. By this time he is sitting there with a Come play with me look. I walk over and lying in front of the fireplace is this dingy, gross, slimy to the touch, white and green rope that has two hard pretzel-shaped knots. (That hurt like hell when he tosses them into my shins) He sits in this ready, set, go, crouching as if he is stalking some massive prey, position. His eyes are glued to the toy, like a young boys eyes on the ball, he is about to send out of the ball park. His eyes never stray from the toy as I release it through the air. As if he were sliding into home plate on a sheet of ice, he crashes into the kitchen wall as he retrieves his prey.
Rufus brings the toy back and as I reach out to grab it, like lightening he takes off, as if to say Na, Na you can’t catch me. I chase after him, his head swinging and shaking the toy vigorously. I get too close and BAM he whacks me with the thing right in the shin. I sit down clenching my shin and with laughing eyes and a wagging tail he drops the toy, at my feet.
After letting him outside, to do his bathroom business, I stood at the kitchen window for what seemed to be hours watching him devour Taylor’s small three- wheeled riding toy. He chewed on each side of the pale pink seat until he removed it. The trike has to weigh about ten pounds. Rufus weighs about twenty. He continued to lead the trike around the yard as if it were on a leash. In the far corner of the yard sits two,“A” framed metal arms holding the old lonely swing off the ground. Rufus has somehow got his trike stuck between one arm of this swing. Thinking he would give up and leave his play toy in its prison, I looked on. I wasn’t expecting to see what came next. He sat back and looked at his predicament, as if he was actually trying to come up with a solution to his problem. Within minutes, he was up working the toy back and forth until finally his toy was released.
Once again, with a loud bark, I was being told, I was staring. At full speed, he barrels around to the door jumping up and down saying, “Let me in so I can tell you what I did!” Letting him in, I reach down and give him a rub and pat to let him know, I am just as proud as he is, of his recent accomplishment. His wet, slobbery, lick tells me he doesn’t really care what I think, he just wants some attention. Back into the living room he goes. This time, he has run into another problem, while tossing the rope all over the hardwood floors, he threw his pride and joy under the foot stool. The foot stool is a light muddy brown color with suede material (which he loves to lick for some reason) with rollers. I was in shock when he placed his speckled front paws on the top of the stool and moved it out of his way until the object of his affection was in his view.
Rufus doesn’t bark all the time when he wants something. When I am caught up in my school work, he will grab the most annoying squeaky toy he has, and chew it so loud I can hear it over my Ipod. I then have to stop and converse with him. When his pleas are ignored he finds ways to get back at me.
After hearing several Bangs and Crashes coming from my bedroom, I peered around the corner, only to find, a tornado had stripped the bed clothes clean off my bed. I reached down to pick up the pile of blankets and stuck my hands in a puddle of puppy potty. Needless to say, he quickly went to his own bed.
Rufus fulfills that loneliness I feel when my boyfriend is away. I had been around different types of animals all my life, and until I got Rufus, I never really paid attention to all the different ways they try to communicate.
Rufus, now six months old, has become a permanent fixture in my life. He’s my comedian, my workout partner, but most of all, my best friend. If I could speak his language for one day, the one thing I would say to him would be, “Thanks for opening my eyes and ears to your mind and language.”
Rufus was 1yr old when I had to give him up. I moved and I couldn't take him with me so this is Dedicated to him.
Rufus now has a cinnamon,caramel- colored coat. The three- inch, coarse, wavy strip that runs down the middle of his back looks as if he is toting a Mohawk. His mother had to have been kissed by the man in the moon before she gave birth, because his neck and shoulders are outlined with tan and white half moon markings. The white “Bentley” markings found on the tip of his tail, chest and a thin half inch strip that runs down his nose, are distinctive traits of his Australian cattle dog ancestors.
On this particular day, as I am washing dishes I can hear the jingle, jingle of the tag on his collar while he tosses his toy around. Then there is silence. Thinking he is chewing on something he isn’t supposed to, I peek in the living room only to find, him watching every move I make, with the slight cock of his curious head,. The diamond- shaped marking in the middle of his forehead has taken on wrinkles as if he is really trying to comprehend what is going on in the kitchen. With a low, gruff bark he let me know, I was caught staring. “What?” I said, as if he was really going to answer. To my surprise, he leaped up and gave me another bark.
I dry my soapy hands and walk into the living room. By this time he is sitting there with a Come play with me look. I walk over and lying in front of the fireplace is this dingy, gross, slimy to the touch, white and green rope that has two hard pretzel-shaped knots. (That hurt like hell when he tosses them into my shins) He sits in this ready, set, go, crouching as if he is stalking some massive prey, position. His eyes are glued to the toy, like a young boys eyes on the ball, he is about to send out of the ball park. His eyes never stray from the toy as I release it through the air. As if he were sliding into home plate on a sheet of ice, he crashes into the kitchen wall as he retrieves his prey.
Rufus brings the toy back and as I reach out to grab it, like lightening he takes off, as if to say Na, Na you can’t catch me. I chase after him, his head swinging and shaking the toy vigorously. I get too close and BAM he whacks me with the thing right in the shin. I sit down clenching my shin and with laughing eyes and a wagging tail he drops the toy, at my feet.
After letting him outside, to do his bathroom business, I stood at the kitchen window for what seemed to be hours watching him devour Taylor’s small three- wheeled riding toy. He chewed on each side of the pale pink seat until he removed it. The trike has to weigh about ten pounds. Rufus weighs about twenty. He continued to lead the trike around the yard as if it were on a leash. In the far corner of the yard sits two,“A” framed metal arms holding the old lonely swing off the ground. Rufus has somehow got his trike stuck between one arm of this swing. Thinking he would give up and leave his play toy in its prison, I looked on. I wasn’t expecting to see what came next. He sat back and looked at his predicament, as if he was actually trying to come up with a solution to his problem. Within minutes, he was up working the toy back and forth until finally his toy was released.
Once again, with a loud bark, I was being told, I was staring. At full speed, he barrels around to the door jumping up and down saying, “Let me in so I can tell you what I did!” Letting him in, I reach down and give him a rub and pat to let him know, I am just as proud as he is, of his recent accomplishment. His wet, slobbery, lick tells me he doesn’t really care what I think, he just wants some attention. Back into the living room he goes. This time, he has run into another problem, while tossing the rope all over the hardwood floors, he threw his pride and joy under the foot stool. The foot stool is a light muddy brown color with suede material (which he loves to lick for some reason) with rollers. I was in shock when he placed his speckled front paws on the top of the stool and moved it out of his way until the object of his affection was in his view.
Rufus doesn’t bark all the time when he wants something. When I am caught up in my school work, he will grab the most annoying squeaky toy he has, and chew it so loud I can hear it over my Ipod. I then have to stop and converse with him. When his pleas are ignored he finds ways to get back at me.
After hearing several Bangs and Crashes coming from my bedroom, I peered around the corner, only to find, a tornado had stripped the bed clothes clean off my bed. I reached down to pick up the pile of blankets and stuck my hands in a puddle of puppy potty. Needless to say, he quickly went to his own bed.
Rufus fulfills that loneliness I feel when my boyfriend is away. I had been around different types of animals all my life, and until I got Rufus, I never really paid attention to all the different ways they try to communicate.
Rufus, now six months old, has become a permanent fixture in my life. He’s my comedian, my workout partner, but most of all, my best friend. If I could speak his language for one day, the one thing I would say to him would be, “Thanks for opening my eyes and ears to your mind and language.”
Rufus was 1yr old when I had to give him up. I moved and I couldn't take him with me so this is Dedicated to him.
Nothing I Did Went Right
Has any one ever had a day like this????????
Beep, beep, beep. I rolled over to turn off the annoying black box. With a hard thud I found myself face down in a musky pile of clothes that hadn't been washed in a few weeks. I was removing myself from the nose watering stench when KaBoom! Back down on a pair of muddy musky socks I went. I lifted my head and tried to shake off the dizziness of the impact. I managed to wobble to my feet slamming shut the device that felt as if it had to jump start the headache I could have done without.
The long hall was playing pinball with my body when a shattering crash rung in my ears. My right foot seemed to be swimming in a warm, burning, trickling brook that I didn't recall being there seconds before."Ouch" and a few other choice words echoed through what seemed to be the Grand Canyon. Hopping on one foot, I finally made it to the bathroom for my morning routine. I turned on the shower and stepped inside to what seemed to be a sheet of ice. I proceeded to pour the soapy substance in my hair. "Okay warm water anytime would be nice." I thought. I opened my eyes for a second to adjust the faucet. Like lava flowing down the side of a volcano, the bubbly suds found their way into my eyes. It felt like 100 bees were at war trying to protect their sweet honey. Fumbling for something to wipe the sting away, I think I managed to clear every shelf. With closed eyes and all soap remaining I searched for the way out but my feet thought I would much rather look at the grimy drain filled with bloody soap scum and a few weeks worth of stringy blonde hair. With a wet soapy body and stinging eyes, I made my way back down the hall to my bedroom. I sifted through the pile of clothes I had met earlier, looking for a towel and something to wear. I inhaled the scent of each piece thinking, one will smell better than the next when in all reality they all smelled just the same. In the process of discovering all my clothes are in dire need of Mom's washing machine, it hit me, instead of letting myself be tortured by the rest of the day, I should instead crawl back into the place where my bad day had previously began.
Beep, beep, beep. I rolled over to turn off the annoying black box. With a hard thud I found myself face down in a musky pile of clothes that hadn't been washed in a few weeks. I was removing myself from the nose watering stench when KaBoom! Back down on a pair of muddy musky socks I went. I lifted my head and tried to shake off the dizziness of the impact. I managed to wobble to my feet slamming shut the device that felt as if it had to jump start the headache I could have done without.
The long hall was playing pinball with my body when a shattering crash rung in my ears. My right foot seemed to be swimming in a warm, burning, trickling brook that I didn't recall being there seconds before."Ouch" and a few other choice words echoed through what seemed to be the Grand Canyon. Hopping on one foot, I finally made it to the bathroom for my morning routine. I turned on the shower and stepped inside to what seemed to be a sheet of ice. I proceeded to pour the soapy substance in my hair. "Okay warm water anytime would be nice." I thought. I opened my eyes for a second to adjust the faucet. Like lava flowing down the side of a volcano, the bubbly suds found their way into my eyes. It felt like 100 bees were at war trying to protect their sweet honey. Fumbling for something to wipe the sting away, I think I managed to clear every shelf. With closed eyes and all soap remaining I searched for the way out but my feet thought I would much rather look at the grimy drain filled with bloody soap scum and a few weeks worth of stringy blonde hair. With a wet soapy body and stinging eyes, I made my way back down the hall to my bedroom. I sifted through the pile of clothes I had met earlier, looking for a towel and something to wear. I inhaled the scent of each piece thinking, one will smell better than the next when in all reality they all smelled just the same. In the process of discovering all my clothes are in dire need of Mom's washing machine, it hit me, instead of letting myself be tortured by the rest of the day, I should instead crawl back into the place where my bad day had previously began.
Our Journey To Eternity
For years I have searched in strangers faces for a sign she might still be out there. My life has been engulfed like a flaming infreno waiting for her to come douse the flames with her loving tears. I am just a few hours away but I feel as if it's going to take an eternity to reach her. We have been separated by an ocean of what once belonged to our ancestors. The ocean is finally receding, receding only to reveal the beauty of what had been lost so long ago. My mind has ran free like a high spirited mustang racing across the plains for way too long. The time has come to corral my ambiguous thoughts and dreams only to graze in a plush field of happiness. A field that holds the freedom of a new journey yet to be explored. A journey that will never be bound by a broken spirit. This journey will fill our hearts like the stars fill a clear moon-lit night as they stretch across the eternal sky. Eternity is all we have left of our journey as mother and daughter and it is going to be my honor to travel through it with her. Written October 9th 2010.
The Pain Inside
I'm too young for this!!!!!! My body is crying out from the top of it's lungs but no one seems to hear the cries. The pain can only be described for now. If I had a bone protruding from a limb or if I were already wheel chair bound or perhaps my fingers already in their deformed state only then would those around me be able to see my actual pain. Do they not realize the physical pain is nothing compared to the mental and emotional pain? All 3 of these monsters have placed me in a prison with no means of escape. I can squeeze my way through the physical bars because my physical pain can't be seen only described. I wear a mask most of the time to hide the other 2. Some days the mask turns to rain only to erupt into a severe thunder storm that leaves nothing but destruction. Other days the mask is so dry it could be blown away by the faintest whisper. On the days when it's just too much to try and squeeze through those bars and too much to wear any kind of mask at all, my spirit retreats to the place where one day it may never return. I am begging to be rescued but until that day arrives I will be confined to this prison I call The Pain Inside!!!!!!!!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Emotional Control
If I could have one wish it would be to have complete control over every emotion that could be destroyed by those who love me. I have had these misconcepting blinders on. They have blinded me to the fact that my parents aren't and were never who I thought they were. My father chopped at my love for him like some old tree that needed to be destroyed. When in all reality, it was hurting no one standing in his desolate field swaying in the wind. I have longed for the words "I am so proud you are my daughter and I love you." The hope for that day to come has withered away. My mother has now joined in with chopping at what love I had left for the only parent I thought had loved me. She has broken the last few family tree branches I had left. For what reason have I deserved these emotional stompings on my heart? I know I have done nothing to deserve these things so I am moving on with my life with a clear conscience. The longing to have my parents love me will always be in my heart but I know eventually that longing will subside with each passing day. I will continue to cling to those who do love me. Thank You Angel for standing by my side through all this emotional turmoil!!!!
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