Saying Goodbye to 20014
I listened to this song a lot last year and now I am sending this song to my brother-in-law
Stu B. and his cousin who are in my thoughts.
Please send some white light to and healing thoughts to his family.
Thank you.
English: Purple Flower of the Field (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Through aching, cold, gray
sprouts just one bud, purple hue
Spring will return. Faith.
Dear Lexi
I admit, you were a very bad puppy when you were young but I’m sorry I called you Lucifer and the “Puppy From Hell.” You really acted like the devil incarnate but I should have kept those feelings to myself. I thought you would never change from that biting, horrific puppy you were, EVER. My friends told me you would grow up but I honestly didn’t believe them; you were nasty and mean and had that defiant puppy look in your eyes, that “dare me” look. I remember screaming out loud in agony when your dagger like teeth would bite and hold on to my flesh. I had red, swollen welts and scratches all over my arms and legs. We all did.
My mother would be on the phone and I would shriek in pain and would have to hang up and call her back because I had to physically detach your teeth from my wrist. I swear you were out to kill me. My mother, protective as always, was completely direct and told me to “give you back.” “Return her, right now” she said, “before you get more attached.”
I couldn’t do it. I just did not have the heart to return you to the shelter, it’s not who I am. But honestly, you were a living hell. We had trainers come, one after the other, some of the best in the United States, all of them shook their heads and said “she’s a willful thing, isn’t she?” We already knew that. You had dragged me into a dirty pond when you were six months old, I hadn’t realized your strength. I didn’t give up the leash because I had no idea where you would go, so you pulled me in after you. I have a photo of you and me, me and my white, muddy pants coming home with you, puppy, looking quite pleased.
You went into our garbage cans, and ate used tissues and ballpoint pens, leaving ink stains everywhere. You were always wild, once you got yourself stuck in a fence and I thought for sure your head would be decapitated but your “sister” figured out a way to dig you out. Thank her, I was useless. You always ran away, we could never find you, though you always loved food and would return for a nice, big, juicy treat. “Breaking Bad” was the name of a popular television show, “Being Bad” was your personal motto.
Then, from one day to another, I couldn’t even pin point the time, you changed. All of a sudden, you calmed down and were always near me. If I was sick, you would jump on the bed and lie with me, part of you always touching me. With a chronic pain illness, Fibromyalgia, I’m in bed a lot and you are at my side, always. In the living room you would always climb on the couch and settle down right next to the person sitting there. After that you settled down and gave sweet kisses and charmed everyone. You love people. You even offered your paw, like Lassie.
But when a stranger passes or someone knocks on the door, BEWARE! You growl, bark, show your teeth, protect us. A car door can slam and you are on the job. But, now, you are one big love, one sweet endearing, mush and I appreciate you every minute. I guess we both needed to learn to be more patient.
Now, you are in my lap and I’m giving you pieces of chicken, it’s just you and me. I love you, Lexi but you know that and I know you love me too.
SIN EDITAR (Photo credit: angel almanzo grupo 52)
People should think about how they behave, in general, especially if there are disagreements and disharmony. To some people saying “I’m sorry” comes naturally, to others it’s a huge, stubborn struggle. Around the world there are different techniques, prayers, rituals to atone for your sins. In the Jewish tradition, the day of Atonement falls on Yom Kippur where practicing Jews fast all day to atone for their sins. They fast from sundown, the night before until after sundown of Yom Kippur. Catholics have confession when they go to church and can confess their sins where they are given a penance, some real duty to do and their sins will be forgiven.
I am more a spiritual person than a religious one. I don’t need a special day to atone for my sins, I try to do that every day I can, I often fail. I am a faulty individual who has to think back and concentrate on what I have done wrong and how I can make it better. It’s really as simple as that. Acknowledging that you are not perfect is the first step.Acknowledging other people are not perfect is the step after that.
I have never minded apologizing to my kids when I was wrong. I find it easier to apologize to my children than to my husband, I’m working on that…I have family members both in my family and in my extended family who would rather eat dirt than apologize. They will dance around an apology by changing the subject a hundred time and still will never say “I’m sorry.” It’s really not so difficult if you can swallow your foolish pride and admit that you are wrong. By not doing so you are only making things more difficult and complicated, creating more of a drama for everyone. It may infuriate me but there is nothing I can do to change it. Here, I need to start breathing slowly and accept them for who they are. I never said it was easy.
In my opinion only, I don’t think you need to be in a Temple or Church or Mosque or any other organized religion to believe in a spiritual and greater power. That’s my message, you don’t NEEED to do anything special if you want to atone for your sins, you can sit on a park bench and watch the stream go by, adopt a dog, do a good deed, help an elderly person weed her garden. Anyone or thing that you love and cherish as a holy being is wonderful if YOU believe in it. You can think about things you want to improve upon in the future. We all should do the best we know how to do and then try just a little harder.
Dedicated: to The Three Sisters
Photographs copyright of photographers.
Written copyright of author.
Apologize (Photo credit: WolfS♡ul)
Tonight my daughter shined with the satisfaction of accomplishment and goodness but she couldn’t outshine me, her mom, who looked at her with the greatest of love and pride. She’s a leader though I am not sure she knew that until recently. She was always, ever since she was a baby, doing her own thing, to the beat of a different drummer; she followed her own drumbeat and didn’t care what others thought. When it was time to graduate nursery school with all her little classmates, Jillian insisted on wearing her blue Cinderella gown to the ceremony, there was no talking her out of it and in the end, I’m glad she knew what she wanted so strongly. She hasn’t changed.
When I saw my daughter tonight at the Relay For Life, Cancer Foundation Event, with her arms outstretched to hug me I wanted to hold her tight and never let her go. “I’m so proud of you” I murmured into her soft blonde hair. And I am. She collected over 1100 dollars to donate for cancer research but it’s so much more than just that. She has developed into a beautiful, strong, young woman with conviction and strong emotions, strong principles and an incredibly large heart.
If you’ve never been to a Relay for Life activity you are missing out. Everyone seems to know someone living with cancer or has lost friends or family because of it. This event is to honor and remember all friends, family, loved ones. It is a such a moving ceremony and the kids in high school organize it. My daughter being one of those organizers.
There is a Survivors dinner and a Survivors walk around the track; it begins with Melissa Etheredge’s beautiful song, blaring over the speakers “I Run For Life.” Last year I bawled seeing my friends walk around the track. This year I was smarter. I clapped and shouted to cheer them on, I didn’t cry or let them see me cry this year. This was their night to shine, not mine to distract. I am honoring them in their fight, I am mourning the people I have lost to cancer.
At 9:30pm when it is very dark out, the luminarias are lit. Luminarias are white paper bags that you pay ten dollars for in order to honor or remember a loved one who has or had cancer. They are filled with sand and placed around the track with a candle glowing in each one. You can write an inscription on them or decorate them. I didn’t see the one I bought for my friend I lost to cancer this year, but it didn’t matter, I’m sure she knew, it was there. There were many bags for a friend of mine who is has been living with cancer for a number of years now. Her daughter, and now her son, lead the event. To see their whole family, arms around each other, walking together during the survivor’s lap was both heartbreaking and beautiful. I think of this friend all the time; I made her family dinner quite often when she was sick so she didn’t have to think about food. I tried to nourish in whatever way I could; in whatever way she let me in and allowed me to help.
Another vision in my head this year, that will stay with me forever, was a mom or a friend of the mom who take a picture of one of the luminaria bags that had been written by their children in memory of their dad. That image will stay with me forever. She kneeled down on the track and used her cell phone to take a picture of the luminaria, that was written with “I miss you Daddy” and covered with red hearts and yellow flowers.
I feel thankful and blessed that I can go to the event and when we leave, we leave with an emotionally packed heart and never with a dry eye. The girls on my daughter’s team and all the other teams sleep over in tents though sleep is a questionable word. My daughter swears she will pull an all-nighter and when my sweet, strong and amazing daughter says she will do something; it happens; no question about it.
I am in awe of my daughter and I admire her, for the person she is, the person she has become. A lovely and beautiful young lady with compassion and tenderness and yes, great individuality and strength; a star, whose life makes mine shine brighter.
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