Christmas inspired Thoughts

Thinking...that I will continue to search...for peace...for understanding...and for acceptance. Acceptance of the here and now...of the past...acceptance of who and where I am...Guess, one might say, "that's an awesome Christmas wish."


Cause..."Life just happens, can't be explained or figured out." Why fight it?


You know Mary and Joseph were searching for a place to rest...the wise men were searching for the majestic...Herod was searching for his rival...we're all searching...maybe we don't give ourselves whole heartedly to the search, maybe it lays dormant at times...but we're searching.

I believe we each are searching for meaning... for peace within...and we focus differently but the trek is the same. And some "wander" while others "wonder." ...and that's what Christmas brings...a gift of peace ... A babe innocent ...that with time (time being what most see as an enemy) with time becomes the substitute for worry...for weakness...for shear strength...the answer to the mystery.


Because the mystery is impossible for our human minds to solve...God provided a focus point...Jesus...who can BE the ultimate gift if we let Him...providing everything we need so that we don't have to figure out the mystery...taking the "whys" and giving us meaning. Providing peace if we rest in what He offers.


I guess that's why wise men still seek Him.

Happy Mind = Happy Body?

She felt raggedy and puny. The days wore on and she visited her physician. The tests were run and symptoms diagnosed, antibiotics to be taken, calls to be returned upon results. The world literally spun around her and she fought back the only way she knew how. Sharp stabbing pains in her side would cause her fight to seem of minor effort.

Four nights straight she went to sleep at insanely early hours. She napped during the day. And still she felt dizzy, raggedy and puny…the dishes piled up in the sink, the dog hair floated around the floor in tumbleweed style, and toys littered the floors in every room. Had she showered? She knew she hadn’t but took pride in the accomplishment of having brushed her teeth.

He said, “Happy mind=Happy body”…and she felt as if she were slapped. Now, her mind started playing tricks on her. “Are you so crazy, girl that you have conjured this up?” “Have you made your body sick?” Only the day before, another had said, “Antibiotic? And they don’t even know what is going on?” And the reminder of “stay in the driver’s seat” rang clear in her mind. As the room spun and the symptoms created distraction, she was keenly aware…

Aware of what had to happen. Aware that therapy was essential to her survival efforts. So she commenced to clean…the three days worth of dishes, removing the dust cover from articles all through the house, sucking up the tumbleweeds, wiping, cleaning, moping, renewing. Renewing faith in her, proving she can conquer the lingering darkness her mind had placed on her body. And she cleaned from early evening past her recent early turn in hours and into the midnight hours.

As she showered she felt she washed off the negative dust that was clinging to her, the shadows of doubt flowing down the drain along with the bubbly wash. Drying off was more of a finish she placed on her happy body. The lotion simply created a barrier for future invaders.

She had completed her “therapy” and was ready to sleep. Her mind so busy with thought. The once exhausted mind was revived and ready to think…think…think…but as in any situations she had choices…choices to calm her spirit and sleep…of stay awake pondering until duty called early the next morn.

The dark room was quite except for the gentle sound of the piano music…and she smiled as her head lay on the pillow…cause she knew…she knew sleep is always sweeter if she smiles as she drifts off.

Fresh Christmas Trees

So, meet my Christmas tree...a little on the under dressed side but she'll clean up good...

I got her at the Christmas Tree lot my super duper friends own...

Located on the side of Meijer's on West Reynold's...

Their trees were freshly cut unlike those of the chain competitors that had their's cut in October.

Great prices...the lowest in town....and discounts for LEO's

There is a suprise character you will never meet unless you go check out their site...

Cut and wrapped

Daisy recommends their trees...and wants to work on the lot with The Willis'

Go check out their trees...and their deals.

Daisy says come on out ya'll...(being female, none of the trees were defiled)

Project Coffee Cup

It was suggested by an important person in my life to make a collage...cause I like doing that kind of project...and sometime after she suggested it, I saw a travel coffee cup at Starbucks (my BFF) that was made to allow you to collage things and preserve it...carry them around with you and your brew...

I FINALLY got around to applying the photos I cut out of magazines and all to it...I like it...Pikachu supervised...I think she approves, too. In a catty sort of way, which by the way, carries a lot of authority!

It's probably going to make me drink more coffee...and smile more...and well, ain't nothin wrong with that.

They say coffee makes your mind sharper...this might just assist with that in several ways.

Triggers

The other night at work, I was on a call to assist Hospice. Apparently the narcotics prescribed to the dying mother were being used by a family member. She was out of medicine again, experiencing great pain. Hospice didn’t feel safe entering the house alone. I went there twice that night with them. The house was dirty and cluttered, too small for the five that were living there. Not a home I would want my mother in to slowly watch her life pass away.

The patient probably weighed 85 lbs. Her eyes protruding as her flesh was shrinking. She was frail as frail could be. And I thought of Moma. I live with what could I have done better. What if I had taken her to a specialist out of state. I am sure I am not the only child of a cancer victim that feels that way.

Moma had more fight in her in the last days than I had seen in her the entire time I knew her. I think she was able to have this fight because she leaned on people she loved instead of pulling away.

I believe it is easier for me to pull away, as I don’t want anyone to see or know my weaknesses. But I’ve yet to master that “not thinking” trick and so it stays with me and keeps life’s trauma’s in my face.

Who Wears The Collar

Daisy stands on her back legs beside my bed, raking my face with her sandpaper paws. The sun is up, she tells me as she licks my hand and refuses to let me sleep.

Who Wears The Collar?

Dragging myself out of bed, the air is chilly outside; I haven’t even had time to get coffee in a cup. She somehow gets me out into the yard to play ball.

Who Wears The Collar?

I know she just went out as I get busy around the house, but this is the fifth time she stands at the back door whining. She is NOT in need of relieving herself.

Who Wears The Collar?

I can gather my stuff, to work on something, placing everything on the cocktail table. It become inevitable, I must choose a different seat as Daisy now occupies the area she decided I was prepping for her.

Who Wears The Collar?

Workout on the floor means I am in her territory. Pushups and such become an act of play…try to move with a 75 lb dog sitting on your stomach.

Who Wears The Collar?

Leaving to run errands can be tricky. If the truck door is open and I turn my back, Daisy loads herself in. I come back to the truck to find her proud and ready for travel. And the struggle begans.

Who Wears The Collar?


She drops the ball at my feet as I get dressed for work reminding me we’ve only played ball 10 times today. She sees her chances slimming for more. The uniform means Moma is leaving. She rests her head and her ball on the window sill and the pout goes on.

Yeah, Just Who Wears The Collar?

Who Wears The Collar?


Daisy stands on her back legs beside my bed, raking my face with her sandpaper paws. The sun is up, she tells me as she licks my hand and refuses to let me sleep.

Who Wears The Collar?

Dragging myself out of bed, the air is chilly outside; I haven’t even had time to get coffee in a cup. She somehow gets me out into the yard to play ball.

Who Wears The Collar?

I know she just went out as I get busy around the house, but this is the fifth time she stands at the back door whining. She is NOT in need of relieving herself.

Who Wears The Collar?

I can gather my stuff, to work on something, placing everything on the cocktail table. It become inevitable, I must choose a different seat as Daisy now occupies the area she decided I was prepping for her.

Who Wears The Collar?

Workout on the floor means I am in her territory. Pushups and such become an act of play…try to move with a 75 lb dog sitting on your stomach.

Who Wears The Collar?

Leaving to run errands can be tricky. If the truck door is open and I turn my back, Daisy loads herself in and
She drops the ball at my feet as I get dressed for work reminding me we’ve only played ball 10 times today. She sees her chances slimming for more. The uniform means Moma is leaving. She rests her head and her ball on the window sill and the pout goes on.

Yesh, Who Wears The Collar?

Daisy Days

The other morning I let Daisy out and didn’t notice Pickacu had left a little field mouse lying on the patio. The little grey thing lying there on its back, legs in the air, white belly showing. I did noticed though as Daisy flipped to her back putting her legs and the air and looking to her side where the little mouse lay in the same position. How could I miss it…

This morning she found a dead mole. She flipped it up in the air, rolled on it, and desperately attempted to entice it to play. She has carted her friend all over the yard. When she brought it to the back door to gain entrance to my home, sweet, home…I said, “at-at, Daisy, you aren’t bringing that in here.” She gently laid it down and came in without it…I think she said, “ah, Mooooom,” under her dog breath…which by the way I probably don’t need to mention is tainted by rodent germs.

She stood by the door a bit later, barking and growling at a blue heron in the field, sparked and wanted to ensue attack on this long legged creature who dare approach her domain. Honestly, after the groundhog incident I don’t want to under estimate her ability so I opened the door in such a way to alert the heron that “something wicked, it’s way comes.” Daisy lit out offer it! Its five to six foot wing span was incredible and did not seem to intimidate my furry child. She pranced all about attempting to establish her authority over the terrain…and “blue” flew away.

She loves cooler temps…I love her.

Because I'm a Giver....

There's only a few stars

And it's a little eerie out here.

I can't see daisy but I can hear her collar.

She's blitzing through the field.

Even though darkness covers the view, it's really awesome out here.

The feathery clouds over the dark sky with patches of clear and starry sky behind the layers.

the glow from a far away house.

And the trees with their limbs reaching out in the darkness.

The hum of the world going on around me.

The air is nice.

Crisp against my face…

The fields are alive…come walk with me.

A Daisy Filled Morning

So, Daisy lost her ball...and this morning as soon as the day began, after the routine morning wake up, she brings this rope to me, (as depicted in the first photo) and says, "You know, Moma, me having to settle for this rope instead of waking up to my ball is like you having to settle for a glass of tea instead of your treasured coffee."

I have to say, I felt her pain.

So, we went on a hunt for her beloved ball and found it under the bed. She eagerly followed me to the laundry room to retrieve the broom, saying, "Now, we're talking, Now we're talking!" (You know when dogs get real excited, they repeat themselves).

Ball from under the bed, I bounced it a few times for her to jump up and catch and then posted in the bed with MY morning treasure and began to sip.

Daisy jumps in the bed...and of course, gets in my face and has a total different expression from 10 minutes before (as depicted in the second photo). I was vaguely reminded of the importance balls play in life (click on the link later and read). I remind her it's Moma's "me time" and so as the last photo captures, she posts waiting again for "her time."

*Click on the photo to get a larger version...her expressions are pretty freaking adorable.

Keeping my Head Above the Clouds.

I was able to tread water yesterday…barely keeping my head above the waves, looking for any passing object that I could grab a hold of to steady my struggle…

And eventually the day ended. I went to bed with a smile. (You should always smile when you lay down for the night…it makes your sleep sweeter).

This morning, as I prepare for an extremely busy day, Daisy told me it was safe for me to toss ball with her so we ventured outside with “the ball” and “the coffee.”
She’s right you know I am able to throw ball without it hurting. Daisy is so doggone smart! Of course, as she runs through the field on her retrieve and return mission, I am left to sip my coffee and absorb the morning.

Big grey clouds were blowing across the skies, presenting a chance of rain, but blowing by so quickly the chances were slim. Huge grey clouds tossed by the wind, hovering; threatening to make for a gloomy day.

But if I shifted my gaze…cause it was like a 3D picture…and looked beyond the threat of gloom, I could see the baby blue sky with virgin white summer clouds, that look like puffy cotton. One sky, two views. Today I think I’ll focus on the promise that hangs in view behind the grey.

Living...breathing...

For the past week, Pikachu and Daisy has experienced great difficulty in relaxing outdoors. The heat hasn’t been a problem, mind you, it’s Heckle and Jeckle. Two mockingbirds with major territorial issues. Suddenly this land belongs to them and they are willing to “flight” to the death to establish the fact with my precious pooch and my goddess kitty.

I continue to watch their behaviors and think to myself that I am gonna grab my camera and I never do. I just watch. I watch the sorry bird brains chase my cat in doors with her ears laid back, looking like she’s trying to get away from a fire where the flames are about to lick her furry pajamas. I watch Daisy try to protect her kitty, despite the realities of the relationship and how it is so similar to Odie and Garfield. She chases the mouthy mockingbirds away from Pika and watches them intently from the ground as they sit in the tree or on the wires and mock, yes, that’s why they are called mockingbirds, and mock they do. I watch and I listen to their constant thug like dribble. I listen to Pika chatter back at them…and they just mock back. I never get to my camera. I never catch her lying on the back patio rolling onto her back teasing them to try and come peck her so she can with one swipe of an out stretched claw remind them of the furry pajama goddess and her reign. I never catch them swooping down and pecking her behind as they chatter something about cats are not wanted here. I guess it’s just something you’d have to see for yourself.

This morning…I sat on the front porch as Pika and Daisy were on the back patio with Heckle and Jeckle. The constant chatter takes away from the morning coffee experience. So while they discussed things I sipped my liquid life in semi quiet on the front porch. Then Heckle showed up…I told him if he kept bothering me I’d send his feathers flying through the air in an unattached way. I ain’t playing this crazy game. He got quiet and I watched as he flew to the big pine in the front circle. He landed on the ground and assessed, yes, a baby. He flew to it and flew away. I think he was sizing up the situation. Poor bird brain…there is no situation to size up. Once they have fallen…it’s a no win situation. Well, it would be win for Pikachu if I shared the finding. I thought, “Ha! Serves you right!”

Then I went out and looked at it. Innocent…brought into this world by nature without asking. Lying exposed and vulnerable on the ground making itself flat as it could to be less noticeable to prey.

…and my heart…doesn’t feel the hate anymore…it feels compassion…

I located the nest in the tree…geez, so high and I am so short. I know I can’t touch it or the parents will peck it to death. So I gather my equipment, latex gloves, my camera (just in case I get a chance to shoot it), a small pail and my truck keys. I size up how far back I can back up. I line my truck up under the nest. Oh, I haven’t mentioned how Heckle and Jeckle are as angry as wet birds…

I rub my latex gloves on the ground and on the tree limbs to eliminate as much human odor that I can. And I get little baby in the pail. She jumps and runs. I chase her and put her back in the pail. Heckle and Jeckle are out of their minds. I climb the truck and stand on the bed cover. When I go to dump the lost soul into the nest, its siblings think I’m there to feed them and all lean up with their mouths open…lost Nikon moment there, by the way. I dump her in…Heckle and Jeckle start dive bombing at me. I turn to fight them, and the lost soul jumps out of the nest!!! What the freaking heck!!!

So the whole thing happens again…but this time I bring Daisy out to fight Ma and Pa while I perform my firewoman like service. And all goes well…I shove baby into the nest and smash her down so she stays this time…well, it didn’t quite happen like that, but I do like to tell a good story.

I secretly know this will probably not work. She’ll be rejected by her parents, probably won’t get food from them and if she makes it, will suffer through her life with serious emotional issues. But my conscience is satisfied. And that’s what I have to live with, right?

I just wish my instructor would accept this writing for the two page essay on how poverty affects the crime level. I mean I can see it in this, can’t you? That and poor housing…why would the bird brains build a slanted nest anyway!

We Said Goodbye, a Year Ago

It's been a year since we said goodbye, Moma...

So thankful for the time I had with you during your last days. So thankful for all the memories...so thankful you have a new body now and are dancing with the angels...no more pain...no more worry...You are greatly missed.

Today,I'm getting stuck in my blog...I ran a search on Moma in it and found quite a bit I wrote...Moma's last day is always hard for me to read but I'm thankful I took the time to write it late that night when I couldn't sleep. I wish I had more of the conversations written down. Like the one sitting around the kitchen talble in Sharpsburg discussing what would happen in our adult years...I see butterflies everyday. Molly and Emily have a love for them...Daisy has, shame on her, been trying to catch them...I was taking a report the other day on a missing juvenile whose birthday was 05/26 and had to stop and breath...Moma speaks to me sometimes and it takes me a second to maintain my composure. and with every butterfly I see...it's as if she lives in flight...reminding me she's dancing with the angels. Free.

So much has changed since you left us, Moma. Time does not go backwards

And Ain't I a Woman?

Came up on her speech today as I was doing my class work...always worth reading...

Ah, but Sojourner speaks the truth in her speech…short and “sweet.” It’s the kind of speech that get’s your attention whether you agree or not. I can see her throwing her arm up as she says, “Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted and gathered into barns, and no man could head me!” She describes the situation in her opening. She establishes an authority and connection as she starts out, “Well, children…

Posted it here for you to refresh your memory. I'm sure you've read it before.

”AIN'T I A WOMAN?

by Sojourner Truth


Delivered 1851 at the Women's Convention in Akron, Ohio


Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?
That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

A Timely Poem

Received an email from George this morning...I can't read it without crying...A few days before Mother's Day when my sister's and I are struggling...thinking about Moma...I think she spoke to us...





He wrote:




Found this clipping in one of your mother's books this morning:

Thank you, Moma...what a lovely poem to pass on. I am so thankful you are free from pain.

Windy days...

Baby Grace is not here this morning…She’s with her Daddy…so Mimi is left with her thoughts and no distractions…tossed to and fro…unable to connect…and I remember how my friend talks to me about grounding techniques…breath, Donna…5 counts in/5 counts out for 15 minutes…think about what you DO have control over…even simple things such as the temperature of your shower water…what clothes you wear…Notice touch, using your bodies senses to experience exactly where I am in the moment. Why do I permit my thoughts to take me to dark places? Letting them blow me here and there…

The wind is strong today…both inside these walls and out. Everything is moved by it…I sat in my bed watching the trees and the grass moved by the invisible force. Grounded. Rooted…so moved but standing firm.

And then a robin came bobbing up towards my window…walking up the driveway…It’s feathery cap blowing in the wind…it’s tail feathers blowing to the side…the dull orange on her chest blowing revealing gray…but she stood…with one leg cocked out to the side, a bird with a “tude. She stood firm in the wind…little stick legs planting her firm.
And a verse comes to mind…that reminds me that He cares for the birds and I am more valuable than them.

Do I feel all better? No. But I’m learning…and I’m trying to see myself through God’s eyes…

Why would I post this?

Cause as I watch the grass, the trees, the birds, Daisy’s fur blowing in the wind…I know I’m not the only one…struggling to stand firm. Someone else might need to know they aren’t either.

I think…I’ll stop working on my college essay for a while, get outside and mow some of this grass…let the wind blow me around and think about how I am planted firm in God’s care…like an ole bird with a ‘tude.

Donna's View 2011

I am supposed to be completing a paper of 2000 words, due today...but Daisy had to go out again. As I'm standing by the back door I am overcome with emotion. It's not an emotion I can label...and since I can't label it I asked myself..."What's going through your mind, Donna." Cause I want to be in control of my emotions. "Just look at it," I answered softly and this is what I saw:


Looking out the back door of my new place, the snow is covering the view in front of me. The big round bales of hay and the long stretch of field. The sky is slowly slipping into morning, with the light peaking through the lite blue. Daisy is like a polar bear when it snows. She walks into the snow and falls to her side, sliding through the cold white and eventually rolling to her back, making snow angels. The view silently whispers quiet and rest.


But in the back ground of it all, even though George Winston's Forrest is playing, I can hear the hum of traffic. So, I walk to the front of the house. From there I can see my rural road, I-75 north and south, I-64 east and west. It's Saturday, but there is plenty of movement on the highway. Steady flow of travelers passing by going about their business. This view doesn't whisper, it speaks loudly, that things must be done, that time doesn't stop.



And I know, I am simply watching from both views; Life. And the emotion I am feeling that I couldn't label; Peace. Peace in knowing I am where I am suppose to be...


...That I will grow in this place. That I will become a better person.


Peace is something I will get used to. I will embrace it. I will pass it on.

Classes starting back...

So, winter break is over...and I am back in class...speech and psychology are the classes for this semester. I am not sure if I am wide awake at 3:30 this morning because I am anxious about classes or just because my mind is so full of "life thought." After 3 1/2 hours of thinking...who cares...I just want to sleep! :) (Ariel, Gracelyn could sleep over night here and we'd let you sleep!! Course, I'd be lacking in the feeding department...)
Anyway...starting Speech, reminds me of my first oral interview with the police department. I knew exactly what I was going to say but got in there and sounded like Elmer Fudd...seriously...I did. Although I had taught Sunday School, children's church, lead small groups, sung in front of big congregations .... When i had to sit at the end of a table with so many uniforms and rank...i sorta kinda folded. I spoke to Debbie Wagner about the situation and she suggested ToastMasters. Ever heard of it? It's a club that simply allows people to work on their public speaking. I grew to love going...if it wasn't your week to speak in front of everyone, there were still exercises that caused you to have to speak spontaneously. I never became a pro but I did benefit greatly. Starting up speech this semester just reminded me of steps I've taken in the past to be where I am today. I remember what I told, the now, Commander Blanton, during one of my earlier interviews..."I want to continue to learn, to grow, so I can be of service to those I meet.
Growing is good...painful sometimes, but very good...and well worth it.
Looks like 2011 is going to have growing pains...I'm ready...and God knows, behind a bit. May He always find me faithful...and during this semester, may I not be "speechless."