A HEART INSPIRED

Sweet Home Alabama

2023-06-03T22:20:00.008-04:00

The proverbial "They". They say home is where the heart is. This page here, is all about the heart. And where it resides. As I write, this fifty-two year old heart of mine is full - close to busting wide open. And it's never going to be the same. In the past eight months, I've found myself landing in an unknown, strange land. Alone. Trusting and only questioning for the briefest of moments, only to return comfortably to trusting. Too many of life's 'so-called' events have occurred - mostly unchartered territory. Sickness in the family, strife, insecurity, scarcity for some. Waywardness for others. And in the midst of all of it a steadfast faith. Countless hours of prayer logged. Too many tears to count. Then ~ Sweet Home Alabama. So, here I sit - on the other side of so much. So much accord, healing, and provision. The lost one has returned, rescued and renewed. Miracle after miracle. Answered prayer after answered prayer. And here I sit - in a resounding hallelujah. Recently, I chased the past, really hard, and shamefully so - for it's familiar embrace only to find myself back where I started. Nestled in my Saviours embrace. Nothing fits better. Such is life, that in one same day I experienced what seemed like insurmountable turmoil and uncertainty, only to land in the sweetest of places. A Home. A Sweet Home. In Alabama. With, what I can only express had to be the closest thing to heaven I've experienced in the longest time. Thank You Lord Jesus for your gift of friendship, family and love. Surrounded by the most beautiful country setting in the heart of a small town in South East Alabama, I sat at a dinner table this beautiful evening amongst numerous smiling, content faces and my heart and my mind were the stillest they've been since I can't remember when. The chatter and giggles. I literally had to hold back my tears. I ate every morsel of that southern meal, that only the most loving of hands created, slower than any meal I've ever eaten. I delighted in every bite. Like it was my first and last meal all at once. I just knew that if I made it last longer than naturally possible, I'd have that much more time to revel in this bliss. What can I say. I just kept thinking, 'I've got to get my kids an invite to this holy place.' Because I knew it always existed. My heart - always knew. 1 Corinthians 13:13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is LOVE

The Golden Ticket

2022-04-04T17:02:00.019-04:00

"Why do you judge other religions"? A question posed to me. It seems harsh to non-believers when a Christian takes the stand of dismissing other religions. It's more inclusive and tolerant to simply not be bothered by other's beliefs. 'To each his own'. Yes and no - (more on this later). The truth of it is - if I sit with it. Ponder it. Wrestle with it - I'm left in tears. My heart aches for God. I know He most absolutely does not need my pity nor my empathy - and still, the thought of Him, being rejected shatters me. When you take into account that there are those who don't believe that the Bible is The Word of God - Or even believe that there is a God, the argument simply stalls - comes to a halt - a complete full-stop. Where does a follower of Christ go with that? How do you walk away and not be affected by someone's strong disbelief? It comes at a cost. This unbelief. A deliberate denial that has the gravest of eternal consequences (believe it to be true or not). I'm rambling - I do this when I'm trying so very hard to not be offensive... I do better when I just say it... So I'm just going to say it. If you look around, (and I mean - really look around). What do you see? To keep it simple - the world/earth. And all she holds. Us humans. And all that we are, inside and out. It's complex to say the least. Utterly divine in nature and undeniably complex. The details. So intensely intricate - each one depending on the next for survival...how did it all come to be? It didn't just appear. We most certainly did not 'evolve from monkeys'. There had to be a Creator of the created. If we can, at the least agree that something/someone is responsible for all of it - then we can at the most conclude a Higher Power. A Creator. Then the question poses - Why? Why earth? Why us? I can surmise best by relating to my humanness (more specifically my nature of being mom). As noted by an admirable scholar (Dr. Michael S. Heiser) God loved so much that He made us. (To love and to be loved). I totally get this! At an elementary level ask me why I desired first and then had all of my babies? My answer. To love and to be loved!!! To adore and cherish. To bless. To guide. To have companionship. I could not see a life without children. Family. And so it is with God. Like God, we create a home and we want to fill it up. With love. Now- back to why it would shatter my spirit when the argument arises that God is not who He says He is and that the Bible is not what He says it is. And that neither heaven nor hell are our final destinations. If they exist at all (?) Hell was created for Satan. Okay? Let's think. Back to love. Is a forced love, love? If you have a group of friends, family members - and love, friendship, trust, loyalty, commitment, kindness, faithfulness are just the relational state of being - there would be a desired communion. If you sensed the opposite of all these things - the effect would be the opposite as well - the desire to not commune. We don't want feigned love. Disingenuous friendship. Lack of trust. Phoney loyalty. Disregard for commitment. Insincere kindess. Bleak faithfulness. We wouldn't accept forced relationship. That's not love. Love is a choice - a decision. We choose to love those that we commit to. Those whom we brought forth into this world. Those whom we choose to develop relationships with. Because there is great benefit to this. (Granted, we should be loving to everyone). I know this is long winded - hang in there with me, please. In comes free will. We have the right to choose. Back to the parent comparison - we are capable of loving our children, providing for them, guiding them and at the same time - disciplining them. Of course we expect their love- but cannot demand it. We hope that they would love us - but we cannot force them to. God too. He doesn't want/need our forced love. 'Cause forced love is not love. We were created to dwell with our Father in heaven for all of eternity, loving one another. Funny how my whole life's desire has looked similar to this with regard to my own children (likewise, we are His children). I've always hoped and envisioned a home (the main house) with a cluster of homes for each of my grown children and their families surrounding mine - where we would be on the same land, sharing life. God sees us all with Him, sharing life. But if my kids choose to not live on this property that I imagined - I would not be able to force them. They would need to choose. Here's the dinger. If God - so graciously allows us this same free will- to come to Him lovingly,(NOT by force) while here on earth, why would He THEN force our hand at the time of eternity? He wouldn't. If you're choosing life without Him - (He allows this - it's your choice) and He, being so gracious, loving and kind will NOT force you to then spend all of eternity with him. For arguement sake, lets say there are choices. Two destinations. If not one, then the other. Back to the very beginning. It had to start somewhere. Father. Son. Holy Spirit. God. Who made us. Died for us. Left us His Spirit. The ultimate sacrifice made. The only requirement - to truly, truly repent - turn from sin and choose Him through faith and - receive His grace. Now, I know a thing or two about disobedient children. I am one.(And not being able to force them). What a heart wrenching ache it is to know this. To live with this. The love most certainly remains a constant. (but there also has to be an acceptance of their choice) along with hope and fervent prayer. ***When one asks, "How can God allow the doors to heaven to be shut, if He is all love?" reference the above statement again... Now, if our own human hearts break at this, how much more so - God's? ***Bonus Note: No one - not a one, is so far gone that they are beyond redemption. It's through your faith in God, your belief in Him, and what was accomplished once and for all on the cross (grace) that we are redeemed. God's grace and mercies are new each and every morning. He. Is. Forever. Love.

Half ~Way~There

2020-10-23T16:13:00.013-04:00

It's a new day. A new decade. A new look. A new feel. A new attitude. A new truth. A new gratitude. A new excitement. A new longing. A new road. It is ~ a new lease.

Fifty. I'm being truthful when I say that I wasn't all too sure that I'd ever see it. Dramatic, I know. I mistakenly believed for a long time that fifty was the inevitable end. Even unatainable. If I were to be blessed to see it, that too much time would have passed to even consider looking towards the horizon. That it would be the kids turn to live and accomplish and dream. My turn to sit in the shadows. I had my chance. One and done.

Today, it feels like there's a whole nother life to live. Like I'm only, actually, half way there. Which in itself is promising. Be it fruitful or dismal - it's mine to determine, explore, relish.

Getting to the place where the kids are well on their way and doing great is a mother's ulitmate joy. Few things can put my heart at ease as knowing that my daily prayers are heard and answered.

Fifty is the new thirty - isn't that what some are claiming? Not sure that I'd want to be thirty again, but I'll try out this fifty thing, for whatever it may be and let you know how it goes. Cheers!

Shall We Get Reacquainted

2020-09-08T01:08:00.003-04:00

It has been a minute and a half since I've been on this blog. She has a new fresh look and feel, which I'm really excited to share. So welcome back to us both.

I've grown somewhat weary of the current events and wanted an engaging read to provide a bit of an escape - and well, I found myself here. I'm not planning on ducking out on reality just yet and may even bring some of it here to you.

Nothing too heavy, possibly some comedic relief along with a good dose of banter. This world certainly does not turn up short when it comes to discussion topics. Can we agree on that much? (wink-wink).

Firstly, I'm a little giddy to embrace the change of seasons coming. I'm already noting the changing of shadows falling across my yard each morning. A tell-tale sign that fall is nigh. Our evenings are cooler as well. You may be surprised to learn we are living in NC now - and missing FL, as it were. Three of my four kids are currently in FL, however - finishing university and being adults. Lots and lots of changes for us.

Not much is familiar to (going out on a limb here when I say) the entire world - as the season comes to an end. Primarily school children. I'm sincerely hoping and praying for God's merciful interferance. Like now. Now would be good, Lord.

I hope we can all just hang in there, continue in faith and perseverance - for I truly believe that it is in the great fires of steadfastness that will renew us - as a people.

Be blessed y'all.

Waiting On Fake Promises

2018-04-09T17:41:00.009-04:00

Every year for the past twelve years - I wait. I wait for November to come around. The 'wedding' anniversary. Then I wait again. I wait for March to come around. The 'it's over' telephone call anniversary. But between November and March I'm hit with December, January and February. It will occur to me out of the clear blue, 'hey, wait a minute - it's February, he's talking to her. January. 'Oh yeah, they're already together'. December. Ouch. How much longer before My November? I remember September, August, July. The empty house. Surely he brought her there. Twice I was leveled to my core being in there. My soul knew. Still, I hold onto November, because it's mine. Although, I'm pretty sure he squandered that day too. Then, I wait. For the memory to pass. For the air to come back to me. Usually it does. Sometimes, the recalling forces the realization that the deceit went way beyond that first November, twelve years back. Waiting. For what? For it to not be true. To stop hurting. To 'get over it'? The waiting is hell. Each month of the year has a distinct ache along with the remembering. Don't want to remember. Not sure I want to forget. Funny thing is, I don't even like him. Not even a little. It's not him that I'm remembering. It's the fake promise that I can't forget. You just don't mess with promises.

So here I sit. Waiting.
*Update: For the past two years, each of these months/dates have come and gone without my even noticing. Progress people! Progress. Can we have an Amen?! Yes, yes we can.

Where ~ Dreams ~ Collided

2016-10-11T13:07:00.002-04:00

it happened in a dream within a dream within yet, another dream.
the embrace of all embraces. all of the words of a single soul and an entire universe.
unspoken.
experienced an unrelenting embrace. that came after the stroking of my hair. i didn't have the heart to explain. i wanted to live in it. i wanted it to never end.
a world where dreams collided.

Photographs

2015-02-09T23:27:00.001-05:00

Thief. You took what was not yours to take.

Stolen. While I drown in the wake.

Taken. From me those images I can't escape.

Lost. Can't get them back it's too late.

Forever. They should have been mine.

Gone. Into the misty shadow of time.

Shattered. My heart forever broken.

Left. Without even a glimpse or token.

Tears. I shed upon remembering.

Hands. Shaking and trembling.

Story. Ends and pages are torn .

Life. Each precious one was born.

Can't. Even look back at times like those.

Pain. Aches from my head to my toes.

Never. Should have been can't wish it away.

Please. Don't make me long for another day.

If. We never met and never did.

They. Would be missed, who am I to kid.

So. Thank you for the memories I cannot keep.

Because. Looking back cuts too damn deep.

Keeping ~ Time

2014-11-22T19:37:00.018-05:00

When each one of my babies were just born - brand new. Tiny. Perfect. Helpless. I used to spend countless hours staring at them. At their uniqueness. Their perfection. Just sit and stare. Admire. Take them all in. I was in amazing awe.

It never did get old. No matter how much time ticked away, whether they were asleep, eating, playing, interacting - I just could not get enough. My heart eagerly seeking to behold them. It was simply captivating to be in their presence.

In a different way, well before the children came along, a re-done closet would call my attention. Or newly picked up room. Or even earlier on, an essay. Attentively orchestrated. The penmanship. The ornately stacked, crisp paper. Blue scrolling of script.

Recently, its my garage. We tore into it the other week. A place for everything. And everything in its place. I find myself yearning to take a peak. I'll even stop what I'm doing elsewhere in the house just to go and walk in the space. I'm literally enchanted by the order of it. And it calls to me. Longing to be beheld. There is this fresh calmness in the lack of chaos.

It's kind of like when you're in a new romance. You simply yearn to hear the other persons name. You cannot stop gazing at them. Everything about them is intriguing.

But then, there's time. And the passing of it. Kids grow up. Homes get lived in. And eventually, even the infatuation with the 'smitten one' fades.

The keeping of time, it evades us. It swallows us up and before we know it a decade has passed. Then two. And with its passing the need to treasure moments becomes more dear. If we are lucky we haven't forgotten how to look for and see the treasure that is our life. If we are vigilant, the monster hasn't crept in and stolen from us the innate knowing.

The knowing of a moment that is to be cherished.

The lapse of conscience is so swift to steal. So hell bent on taking what is not up for grabs. Blink and you may find yourself in a downward spiral. It's like... you look. But you don't see. And what you don't see is the perfection in every flaw. Because looking with love covers every imperfection. Seeing with your heart leaves no room for disappointment.

Because when you stop looking with love and cease to see with your heart, you think you are blind. And you begin to look outside of your life. Outside of yourself. You choose to look with your eyes. And that deceives the heart. Blemishes any truth.

Time. It will blur an authentic ideal. If you are not intentional. It will take and it will flee. It will burn into embers and leave behind a smoldering ash.

Time. And the keeping of it.

We can hold fast to its passage. Ride its waves. Be willing to stand the test of it. We can help be its keeper. Or, if we choose. We can forget and get lazy. Whimsical. Arrogant. And lose momentum. We can suffer through it. Only - to wish it back.

And~While~We~Were~Young

2014-11-08T12:52:00.002-05:00

The Mid-Life-Crisis. We all know someone who has been through it. Forcing others to go through it with them. We may, ourselves, be the ones who are going through it. This is not a bashing piece. It is, however the human condition.

We mock it. Society giggles. "There goes another one". We shake our heads. Because we know. It's a given. It will happen. And it never ends well.

Here's the way it unfolds. You wake up one morning. You can't breath. Where has all of the air gone? Panic ensues. You look next to you. You see the same person you have been nesting with your whole adult life. You decide you don't like them. You look in the mirror. See a stranger. You don't like him either. You drag yourself through your day. Barely present. On auto pilot. Dying. Just dying to see it differently.

You long to end this angst. You want a do-over. All day long. You just want a do-over. Because somewhere in the midst of all you have become. All you have created. You are empty. And you are scared. Because, how could you have accomplished so much? Been a part of so many. Have so much left to do. And still feel so alone?

Well. Because it has always been about you. And you alone. The house, your ego. The kids, your virility. The car, your arrogance. So much. Yet so little. You believe it was all you. You did it all. You earned it. You built it. You alone could knock it down. You alone could choose to be the pillar. How self absorbed we are.

Inevitably, the quiet sinks in. A silence. So deafening. Oh but you are vocal. For sure. Making certain that everyone knows your misery. Everyone, except the one that really matters.

Welcome to your own private hell. If only it weren't all about you.

There is a fun happening on social networks. (some are just in my head, but that's okay) MMM ~ My~Memories~Monday. TTT ~ Time~Travel~Tuesday. WBW ~ Way~Back~Wednesday.TBT ~ Throw~Back~Thursday. FBF ~ Flash~Back~Friday. There is a reason for all of this nostalgia seeking. It takes us out of our daily lives. Squelches the mundane. It takes us back to where we dared to dream. Where we thought we had the entire world in our hands. To where we were kings. To where we were queens. And nothing could touch us. Nothing or no one could take us down.

We fantasize and reminisce. We laugh. We cry. We long. We ache. And we believe no one could possibly understand. Some of us get there sooner than others. Studies show that those who settle down to raise families at an early age get there much sooner. Therefor the Mid~Life looks more like Just~Starting~Life to others. Making it difficult to actually see the behavior for what it actually is. A Crisis. Of the heart. Of the soul. Right in the middle of life.

I am more on target. About ten years later than my husband. (I was too busy and focused on taking care of my kids to have my Mid~Life back then). But, now that life has calmed down a bit, the kids are getting older, stronger. There is time for me to hit that plateau. Funny thing though. I am not yearning to escape. To have some half baked, whacked out experience with no remorse. To 'throw it all away'. No. I am simply feeling charmingly melancholy

Every 80's hit song haunts me in the sweetest ways. My heart skips a beat. My eyes fill up with tears. And I am 17 again. And that's okay. I actually think it's healthy. It shows me that life's circumstances did not kill me. I am alive. And, yes. There are moments that I say aloud, "I want a do-over!" And though there are plenty of things about my youthful choices that I would love to change. Really, I wouldn't change much.

What I am finding is that these moments fill me with an immeasurable gratitude. Yes, there are moments that I would give anything to relive. Good and bad. Then, the realization that we can't. We can't go back. There is only going forward. That is the truth. That is maturity. That is life.

And the gift in this knowledge is that the heart can rest in thankfulness. Thankfulness for a life lived. Memories rekindled. Laughter heard anew. Tears shed once again. A song that echoes eternally. A friendship revived. And a dance to an endless beat.

So while we yearn to be young, let us also rest in a spirit of joy. A humble reminder. That when the ache comes. To escape. To go back. At a chance to try again. We must look beyond our selves. And see the grace that was granted. For a life lived. And a life yet lived.

Chasing Paper Dolls

2014-10-04T22:42:00.003-04:00

Paper dolls dazzling as the sun
Walking down the aisle one by one

The span of 3 lifetimes a kiss and a song
Quick and swift as the day is long

Youth did shadow the mind and the heart
One foot out the door right from the start

Never really there just a shadow in the mist
A silent movie a snare and a fist

She needed a hero and a moment and someone to love
Sadly there was not one -not one to speak of

So in the end it's all he knows it's all he tries
As she quietly watches his wandering eyes

Years of denial and a life built on lies
The heart hardens as she cries and cries

A paper doll who crumbled shriveled and fell
The hands that held her the oceans did swell

Moving to yet another doll - as if he could
Love this one better - love this one good

{Valentina Silver©️}

S~O~S

2014-04-29T07:46:00.001-04:00

Can you hear it? Listen. Can you hear it? Maybe you've already heard it? Is the smoke choking you? Blinding you? Are you oblivious to it? Do you choose to ignore it? Is it simply that you hide from it? Cannot fathom or rationalize it? Are you in the thick of it? Have you become a part of it?

It is the cry of the nations. The echo of the lands.

S.O.S.

A lack of benevolence has gripped humanity beseeching a universal reckoning. The cry resounds. A roar. A hysterical calamity. Jaw shattering. Heart thumping. Fist pounding. Gut wrenching. Sorrow.

Children killing children. Men raping babies. Girls and boys being stolen, just to be sold. Rampant is the sex slave industry. Society dictating our worth. Governments perverting our ideals. Countries hijacking countries. Ego's blowing up borders. Lies presented as truth. Darkness swallowing light. Death beating out life. And we are all scared to death. Scared into silence.

But as a believer, I know that Justice is coming. Riding on a cloud, shining like the sun, at the trumpet call. I can hear the roaring thunder. He is on a white horse.------ And sometimes, for just a moment. I find it devastatingly difficult to hold on to faith in the midst of this. All of this.

S.O.S.

Every generation has had it's moment of claiming theirs to be the last. To be the most inhumane. Least likely to see the light. To have seen the greatest suffering. Hunger. Anger. Sure there is progress and development. Of course there is. But when you talk about what is going on today, it simply overshadows the good. And with good reason. However, when in general, people say it's never been this bad, others are quick to say, "oh, but we've never had so much media before, so it only seems that times are more horrid."

I disagree. And I am sending out an

S.O.S.

When the simple act of putting our kids on the bus has become a fearful act, it's time to ponder. It's time to pray. Our schools have become a war zone. Our malls a place of terror. Our courts a mockery of justice. Where God has become a non-existent entity. A slang and a curse not to be uttered. Where the mention of Jesus has tongues wagging and the critiques moaning. "I am so offended. I cannot hear this name. It sickens me." Where a mere Christian must accept being offended by the masses hating the One they love. The One that came in the name of love.

Can I hear a collective

S.O.S.

By looking back. Way back. We know that this is not the first time a nation has cried out. We've been flailing our fists at the heavens since the beginning. Eve ate of the forbidden fruit. Cain killed his brother Abel. David was an adulterer. Judas betrayed Jesus. Slavery. The Holocaust...just to mention a few. There has never been a time of peace. A time of a continual peace. We are such fallen creatures. With such selfish desires. And flesh that goes unsatisfied. And grieves for more. Always. More.

And again, my soul cries.

S.O.S.

Accountability. Is non-existent. Power. Gain. Greed. Lust. Loathing. Bitterness. Entitlement - Shame on us. And shame on us. Believe this to be true or don't, but there is rarely a better explanation: We were given free will. And like an insolent child. We took this free offering. And ran. Like hell. Straight into a brick wall.

S.O.S.

Now. The good part. In all of this. There was written, into the story. A gift. Of mercy. A gift. Of grace. So undeserved are we. And still. The ultimate gift. Was given to us. Love. And a command. To love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Psalm 31:16 ~ Psalm 63:3 ~ Proverbs 10:12 ~ Philippians 2:2 ~ John 15:12 ~ John 34-35 ~ John 3:16 ~ 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 ~ Romans 5:8 ~ Romans 8:37-39 ~ Romans 13:8 ~ Galations 2:20 ~ 1 John 3:1 ~ Ephesians 4:2 ~ 1 John 4:7 ~ Matthew 5:43-48 ~ 1 Peter 1:22 ~ Exodus 20:6 ~ Leviticus 19:34 ~ Leviticus 19:18 ~ Deuteronomy 5:10 ~ Deuteronomy 6:5 ~ Micah 6:8

A ~ Story ~ With ~ A ~ Happy ~ Ending

2013-11-24T17:15:00.002-05:00

I've fallen for this before. Being put in a place of make believe battle. For the purpose of enabling the villain and his blame game. But it was necessary then. I played a role. Too weak to bow out. Although my role was not really necessary then, it is most definitely not necessary this time around. That I am certain of.

I feel blessed to have had the revelation necessary to free me of the bondage and evil that so desires to ensnare me. Allow me to express myself.

I am oftentimes somewhat cryptic in my writing. At times, maybe not so much. I am at a little bit of a crossroads with this piece because I try so hard to not be so pointed. If you are a reader of my stuff, and you know me, you may know what I'm talking about. If you just stumble upon my writing, you'd have to guess.

Let's proceed in the fashion of a minuscule Novelette. Or more of a Narrative. The characters: Leading Man ~ Cale. Leading Lady ~ Priscilla. Lady in the shadows ~ Gertrude. Second Lady in the shadows ~ Nanette.

Eluded happiness. The desire for contentedness. Self destruction. Self loathing. And the gift. These are the main ideas of this tale.

Preface: It would appear that the saboteur is back at it, in full force. Fists flying, k-9's exposed, foaming. Blazing and lashing out. At the fog. The smoke. Of his own making. The battle he is engaged in (in the physical realm is non-existent). It's all smoke and mirrors. Designed for the sole purpose of feigned turmoil. This happiness that constantly eludes my static character is self derived. With his constant need to boast and proclaim 'happiness' in its infancy, just to intentionally squelch it. The only way to possibly grasp this may be to presume it is on a subconscious level.

Because, who in their right mind would be crazy enough to repeatedly grasp this gift, just to squander it?

Let me be less cryptic. Cale is trying desperately to engage Priscilla in a Cyber War. She almost takes the bate. Well, actually, she does. Just a nibble though. She wouldn't have if the purported depictions were not lies and propaganda. She felt the need to be the truth teller.

Then, she decided to back off. And let God do what He does best. By this, Priscilla doesn't believe this to mean punish...but to sincerely, Let God DO what HE does best. Whatever that may be.

Priscilla is not a psychology scholar, but she does get the human condition. She gets it. For some reason, beyond what she can dig into, Cale is continually searching for what he calls Happiness. He has destroyed every semblance of family, normalcy, commitment, devotion, respect, gratitude, humbleness known to man. Yet, feels he deserves this gift. And he does. He really does. He has attained it repeatedly, this spoken out of his own mouth. This proclamation, shoved down every one's throat until they are forced to believe it.

Priscilla truly feels Cale deserves it. She truly believes he should have it. This happiness. And have a lot of it. The problem lies in the fact that for some reason he does not believe in his own deservedness. How does she know this. Because. Because of this war that Cale is trying to engage her in. He did it when Gertrude was in the picture. By constantly putting them up against each other. For his own entertainment. And he is doing it now with Nanette.

He creates these imaginary battles, enticing a reaction, which Priscilla may or may not concede to. Deliberately creating a dungeon of darkness and bitterness. Sitting back, so as to allow Nanette to fight his "imaginary, delusional battles" for him. So that in the end, this chaos envelopes him and he can cry "Where is my happiness?" "Why must it always be this way?" Now, this may be out boredom. Because the excitement may have dissipated. Or because he just cannot put forth the exhausting effort, beyond the initial newness. Because relationships take a lot of work. An awful lot of work.

Thus, Priscilla believes this is where the voice of self-sabotage enters the story. Cale is discontent. Once again. He draws his sword. Shows his teeth. Clenches his fists. And starts flailing. Blindly. Aimlessly. Slaying.

And then.

"I have a gift. For you. A blessing. I am happy for your happiness. I do not want to steal it from you. It's yours for the taking. Please do not squander it. Take it for the gift that it is. Happiness can be so very fleeting. But it doesn't have to be. I am not the enemy. I have no war to battle with you," says Priscilla to Cale. "Take Nanette and ride off into the sunset. Stop waisting your genius on an imaginary war. This is your story with a happy ending. There is no room for lies, no place for misguided turbulence. Let the roaring lion sleep. Lest you lie in despair."

Now this tale could go on. Indefinitely. Delivering one to the brink of insanity. But with the leading lady graciously taking her cue. Exiting stage left. The final curtain draws closed. And the crowd erupts. The final page is turned. This leaving our Leading Man to do his part. And embrace his victory. There is no sequel. Just a story with a happy ending.

The ~ Me ~ That ~ Never ~ Was

2013-11-16T12:08:00.001-05:00

I just met her. The "Me" I always thought I wished I was. She was fabulous. Fabulously young and confident. Smart and savvy. You could tell she was a hard worker. Did I mention confident? This girl was definitely going places. But only if she doesn't let herself get in the way.

Initially, one would think she was unapproachable. Tall, blonde, polished. She's got it all together.

Now, the funny thing is....at that age, I never would have been able to start the conversation. So even though at first glance, I found myself wishing I was more like her, it's the me I am today that allowed two complete strangers to have such a connection.

She is my oldest child's age. I remind her of her best friend. She and my daughter are living parallel lives. School. Work. More school and more work. So...we talked about school and we talked about work, while we sat waiting for our oil changes.

"So, you're in school? And you're working. Awesome. So is my daughter." / "She is? What is she studying?" / "She's not sure yet, what she really wants to do is travel the world." / "Oh my goodness! So do I! " / "Oh honey, you really should do it...just do it!" / I wish I could, I have so many responsibilities, with work and school...I have the money...it's just..." / "I totally get that, and those things are very important, and your dedication is admirable, but your eyes just lit up when I mentioned traveling! You have to do it! I wish I had when I was young. Really, really, you have to."

And the conversation went on and on. And her eyes just beamed with excitement. She shared the difficult upbringing she had; her sister and she being raised by a single mom and how she learned to persevere through tough times. She works a lot and studies hard and hardly plays at all. Like never. But she wants to go places. Just like my kid. Just like me.

So, we talked and talked. And got really excited. I don't have many regrets. I wanted to be a wife and a mom. I did those things. The traveling bug is new to me. And I will have my time. But I want my daughter to have her time and I think the time is now. I want this girl to have her time too.

I don't know her name. I almost stopped her to get it. It may not matter. I'll always remember her. The slightest hesitation in her eyes. That confidence, that really isn't there. Oh, she almost had me convinced. But there she sat, this little girl that I could see, who wasn't nearly put together as she portrayed. I had to look really hard, beyond what she wanted me to see. But it was there. The unsurety. The longing. Similarly, we're all still little girls. That just need love and direction. To know, more than anything that we are special. And wanted.

The more we spoke, the more I realized I am and was a lot like her. This toughness. That doesn't really exist. It's bravado. Because we silently believe that no one can or will help. That no one could possibly, really care. So we say it doesn't matter. We say, we can do it all. But we can't.

So, I find myself praying for this woman/child. For the me, that never was. That God would bless her with an all encompassing love. That she would know the love of a father. (She never knew her dad, either). Because that is how we were designed. With the desire to be cherished. In particular by our fathers. And sometimes our earthly versions fail. And fail miserably. Sometimes they do ok. And sometimes, they rock it.

Either way, that ache is present. Because we feeble humans are just that. Human.

I'm so glad I met this girl. We hugged and told each other how happy we were to have met. I wished her a blessed life full of travels and joy. She wished me a wonderful life. And we parted ways. Watching and waving, laughing at what the other's must have thought and joking that they must think we're the oldest of friends!

This has more than anything, given me a glimpse of how precious this life is. How we have only one~go~at~it. And how we can't, though we try, turn back time. There is no going back. It's renewed in me a desire for my daughter's dreams to come to pass. I will allow her dreams to mingle with mine and see her through on this mission. To see the world.

I can't be 18 again. But she is. Just this once. And I have goals I need to accomplish and there are 3 other kids to raise. But honestly, this little angel I met today has set on course my daughters next big adventure. We've got plans to make.

I may not know her name, but my heart does.

The ~ Disposable ~ Life

2013-10-25T23:37:00.001-04:00

This is a funny time in our culture. Well, not funny haha funny...just blah funny. Never before in civilized history, that I can recall, has the "Family" been so disposable. There seems to be no stopping it. Not even the desire to stop it seems to exist. Families were not meant to be disposable. Razors, yes. Cash, maybe. Disposable connotates temporary. Some things were just meant to last.

So. We adapt. We accept. And we hope to God that it doesn't kill us.

Eventually your kids see you go through one wife, then another and then, possibly another. And its all good. All acceptable. It's such a funny notion to me.

Yet so many of us are living it. Not only have we come to accept it. It actually is more okay than its not. Its a funny notion, I say.

Today I got to meet the "new" one. The one that made the cut. For now. Don't get me wrong. She seems quite lovely. I knew she would be. And quite frankly, we deserve a good one after the hell we've been through.

So. Where does that leave the next generation? The generation that has watched a bunch of quitters walk out of their lives. Their hearts. Their legacies.

I don't have the answer to that. It seems to me, to go hand in hand with the state of our nation. The family...the country. All just falling apart.

Where does it all stem from. First the rise. Then the fall. The inevitable fall. From on-high. From grace.

Is it really just as simple as blaming it on greed. Does this innate desire to have it all really get all of the acclaim?

I don't know. There has to be more to it than that.

So, if its not greed. Could it be as simple as dissatisfaction? But that can't be it. Because being satisfied is a state of mind. You decide whether you are content or not. And since when did it become a crime to not be wholly content? Why does everything have to be so satisfactory? Why is it that when something takes a little more work and a little more effort than you feel like exerting, its okay to just throw in the towel?

Or, it could be that the whole darned world has gone stark raving mad. Self absorbed. The sense that each one is a deity, deserving of all things grand. Open your arms and receive all that is yours. You deserve it and so much more. Just because. If the first one is a flop, by all means, take another.

Our country wants what it wants when it wants it and so do our men. We owe trillions. Beyond anything our human brains can comprehend. Yet that doesn't stop the spending. Our men have wives at home, yet that doesn't stop the hunt.

Its a funny notion to me. We get rid of perfectly good cars. Upgrade phones that work perfectly fine. Trade in perfectly lovely homes for bigger versions. We walk out on perfectly good jobs, claiming independence. And we leave perfectly sweet families for the grass that turned out to be manufactured turf, and nothing more.

Disposable.

My ~ Poem ~ My ~ Crime

2013-09-30T01:14:00.003-04:00

What will we do at the end of time. When words and pages are no longer yours, no longer mine?
Hair is of midnight, eyes are of sea-glass. Greener than any depth, most dazzling, you've ever seen.
She writes and she reads the pages and every word in between.

Heart worn on the outside of her chest.

The words are like morsels of nourishment to our souls. Without them our very breath would be lost.

So bring us each letter all flaxen in gold, sprinkled and brazen, there's so much more to behold.

Mysterious and driven, by the hearts yearning to say. All that is in us all that wants to escape.
Fear has no boundaries and damn the beguiled. For the pages beneath the pen each one is compiled.

Is but a vessel for the ship that has sailed. The journey, it may be long and ragged. But the bleeding of pages is the cure for the heart turned to ash. Release my dying sweet splendor of rhyme. Love me dearly, my poem my crime.

For my sweet Meggy

{Valentina Silver©️}

The ~ Man ~ I ~ Never ~ Knew

2013-09-30T01:09:00.002-04:00

Forty years have passed. The ache is new. Yet Familiar. Its tugging a strange comfort. Happiness has never made its nest, never quite settled in. You know why. Yet you choose oblivion. Its safer you know. Than the reality. You wait for the phone to ring. For an invitation. You sit alone. And wonder how your life turned out this way. Such a fool. An arrogant sod.

The generations filling in. Impressive in numbers. You don't know them. You couldn't possibly. Why oh why, you ask again and again. The ego. A false friend. A bitter enemy. You cling to it. Its all you've got. In the bitter end. You quarrel with yourself. Blame yourself. Despise yourself. Forty years have passed.

Forty years ago. The pain you caused. Devastation and turmoil. Such a hollow aching. Bitterness you bore. And selfishness you knew. The lonely won out. And you bailed. A lost child. Hurt. So hurt. Could not see past the longing. Could not see all the pain you were causing. For the mere chance at this happiness. The legacy you left behind. Into the future. It seeps like a black mist.

Ugly and spiteful. Cankerous and blind. Seething with lust. Damn everyone. It didn't last. And the happiness never did come. The sorrow was swallowed up. Buried deep inside. Moving on. Because that's what needs to be done. You never did learn. Nothing ever changed. Calculating and scornful. Forty years ago.

Forty years and counting. The gray and the wrinkles. Do little to disguise. Squinting to forget. In the wake of destruction. And the memory of such lies. Lies you told yourself. Lies you told anyone who would listen. But in the end there is no peace. No peace at all. Just a man whose barely a memory. Blink and he's gone. A vapor. Gone. Forty years and counting.

{Valentina Silver©️}

An ~ Age ~ Old ~ Thing

2013-09-01T22:47:00.003-04:00

She has forgotten and can't seem to recall.
It was but a dream. After all.

She awoke but didn't rise. To seize the day before her.
So it shall lay in wait. For the evidence one must consider.

The heat was flush and misty dawn raw.
Sensing the thrill but not the fall.

Lest the bliss cease and the joy escape.
Memories are dust beneath her faith.

Secrets be damned and the truth be told.
For who should stand and be so bold.

The artist creates illusions and plants the seed.
But the heart is cold and driven by greed.

Bring to me all that is mine.
Declares the one who draws the line.

Yet the truth is simpler and much sweeter than this.
But forgoing the remedy leaves a fool remiss.

It's not in the desire and its not in the want.
See the mortals who so easily flaunt.

Its in the tender heart and its in the truth.
Test it and see. Its there and its proof.

Its always been and always will be.
Alive and well. An age old thing.

For all of eternity and all who believe.
Its in the giving that you receive.

{Valentina Silver©️}

Oh My ~ No She Didn't

2013-08-29T21:51:00.006-04:00

Unfortunately...she did. Ok, I wasn't going to go there...because, honestly, I didn't think I really cared. I have been of the mind set lately that 'people are going to do what they are going to do and to hell with everyone else.' I mean, really, I have way too much going on in my own life to worry about what little 'Hannah" is up to. Who cares!?!

It hasn't gotten the press that you would think it would. We all know what I am referring to without me actually saying it. I just didn't want to give it any more attention that it doesn't deserve. But...I do have children I am raising in this world. And I do have an 18 year old young woman for a daughter. Who I think is beautiful and dare I say, she's got the whole sexy thing going on. But I will be damned if she were to come even close to this behavior, even for one moment.

As much as I tried to ignore what the whole world witnessed the other night on television, I guess I just can't.

What in all of God's creation, possessed that girl, on that stage, that night? Of course my first response was 'The devil's got her, no two ways about it. She is possessed." So, I am thinking, how do you control a person who is no longer a minor, has all the money in the world and clearly, has no one to answer to? But, maybe control is a poor choice of words...maybe it looks more like, how do you reign all of that 'yucky' in?

She wasn't alway like this. I've watched her shows, and her movies. I've sung along to her songs. She's made me laugh. Even made me cry some.

Gosh, if I really allow myself to think about it, my heart starts to ache. I am so disappointed. I am more than disgusted. What has this woman-child seen in her short little life that leads her to believe that this behavior is okay? Acceptable? Sexy? Enticing? I don't even know what it is that she was trying to portray? I'm guessing she doesn't either.

As the days have come to pass, I am reading that her father has 'Tweeted' his unconditional love. Yeah, okay. That's great. I get that. We all love our kids, 'unconditionally'. But....really. There are conditions. Not conditions meaning we won't love them 'unles's...but conditions meaning, there is an expectation. The expectation being that you will not diminish who you are as a human being, who you are as the child of my heart. That you will not loath yourself, or me, so much as to express yourself in a vulgar fashion. That you will not punish, hurt, embarrass, despise, ridicule, abandon, jeopardise, slay or hinder all of who you are. That you will not spit in the wind and sit there, without the sense to even turn away.

I get the whole prodigal son, coming back to his father's open arms, after squandering his inheritance only to come crawling back home. I can't think of any parent who would not be overjoyed at a wayward child's timely return. What I don't get is turning a blind eye to the devastation that is your heart ...with legs...walking off a cliff. I know there are parents out there who have watched their children struggle with substance abuse, or alcohol...sex, gambling and just plain old dumb choices that reek havoc on everyone who cares a lick about them.

I know that sometimes, you just have to let them hit the wall. And sometimes...maybe you don't.

I'm not her parents, I can't even begin to consider what they have done or not done to derail this behavior. I just know that if one of my kids was hanging on that cliff they threw themselves off of...with one finger, I'd grab onto that finger so hard and pull so tight. I might even break the darned thing. And when I got them back on solid ground, I'd head butt them. Hard. So not kidding.

I know as parents of young adults, we are strongly encouraged to allow them their mistakes. We all have learned from mistakes. But not this. Not this. I would have to take action. Physical force if must be.

In biblical times, the people would rip their sack-cloths to pieces and grovel in the rock and dirt, as an expression of devastating sorrow. This is such a time. This girl needs prayer. She needs parents who aren't afraid to be parents. We are gifted our children and we are to be good stewards of their lives. This kind of good is not just mediocre...it is in the strongest possible sense of the word. Good. Sacrificial. All encompassing. Good Stewards.

In ~ The ~ Shadow ~ Of ~ The ~ Lark

2013-04-06T19:48:00.004-04:00

Stretched before him, the hushed whisper of a lark

Distancing itself, pulling him towards the dark

Fighting for a disclaimer, a renewed sense of self

Forgetting all the while, how he squandered his wealth

A new body and lips that sting, never a thought of his own device

Searching for that stardom that eludes him, but at what price

Words are mere words, that's it and nothing more

Without the heart to back it up, empty at its core

In its depths of stupidity, mire and lust

Leave a man watching, as his dreams turn to dust

Try as he may, he spews only wrath

No one is to blame, he's created his own path

He speaks of rules, disclaimers and boundaries on words that sting
And yet he knows of no such honor, knows of no such thing

Happiness deceives him, its just out of reach

Trapped inside out, twisted and breach

He wouldn't stop wouldn't listen, put up those fists, fought and fought

The result of a life tossed aside, a life learned a life taught

Not a moments reflection nor a moments pause

Forever and ever suffering the cause

{Valentina Silver©️}

Reflections

2013-03-22T00:00:00.004-04:00

Mirror, mirror on the wall, whom is it that you see, after all?

Who do you see? Who is reflecting back at you? There are so many images of ourselves that we portray, which one do we believe in? Which one is true? Which one is it that the world around us can trust?

We are all so unique, yet so much alike. Put us in familiar surroundings and we lose all inhibitions. We're 17 again and life has no boundaries. Put us in a corner and you may have the fight of your life on your hands. Put us on a pedestal and you'll forever have a treasure in your hands. Complex and adaptive as we are, we are all the same. Deep down, beyond the surface. Underneath the facade. Our hearts beat with the same expectation. Our arms ache for the warmth of an embrace. Our minds race with thoughts of adventure. Our spirits thrive for freedom, yet at the same time for a sense of belonging.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, whom is it that you see, after all?

We are reflections of one another. You, looking back at me. Me looking back at you. Knowing this should make it easier to accept one another. To feel a kinship. A brotherhood. A sisterhood.

Yet, we tear each other down. I've heard it said that we loath in other's that which is in us. I believe that to be true. That thing, which we mostly criticize in someone, is the one ugly thing we are constantly working on in ourselves.

Be the reflection you want to see looking back at you. Be the friend, the cheerleader and companion. The supporter and encourager. Be the one who lifts up. Be the first to offer a hand and a smile. Be the reflection you want to see looking back at you.

1 Corinthians 13:12~13 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 13. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Sure ~ Cupid's Cute...But

2013-02-14T01:14:00.003-05:00

Valentine's Day. That oh so special day. It comes but once a year. You'd have to be an idiot to not see it coming. The jewelry commercials, the love songs, candy everywhere. Balloons. Flowers. Red. Red. Red.

Chocolate.

Measuring in the tons.

It is a sweet holiday, kids love it. Moms adore it. Guys sorta like it, if it means a little extra affection. We shower our kids with heart shaped boxes and bears holding treats. Sweethearts spend days planning special dates. It really does bring out the best in people.

Wish everyday could be Valentine's Day. Could you imagine, having that kind of excitement and anticipation to look forward to. The funny things is, it comes and it goes. Just like every other longed for event. How can we keep the thrill and excitement for longer than one day? How do we make it last?

Feelings are so fleeting and iffy. We, as a race are so fickle and I can surely empathize with the masses. It's like everything in life. We strive and struggle, set goals and achieve them, just to set some more. Where is the contentment? When can we finally say, "This is it. I'm good."

Not going to lie, I have moments of clarity, every so often. A certain feeling will come over me and I'll think;

'this is the moment...right now. this is it. life could not get any better.'

Seriously, have had those. On many occasions. Darned thing is though, can't seem to make it last. Why is that? We all know about positive out equals positive in, but there has to be more to it than that. Than a simple belief that if I think good, only good will come to me. That is an Eastern Philosophy mindset, that has been extremely popular for ages and ages. In fact it's older that great grandma's pickled herring.

On the surface it holds quite an attractive appeal. It loves nature and the human race as a whole. It sees only beauty and spreads sweet smelling liquid warmth. It yearns for and emanates peace. It also cares very much about the 'self'. Oneness with the universe...and again the 'self' is a major priority. To be more specific, the happiness and contentment of ones own self it the key proponent to successfully mastering this belief system.

Therein lies the problem. I'm not saying you shouldn't love yourself. You should. God created us all in His image. We ARE in essence love, if we are nothing else. It's the pursuit of self fulfillment, i.e., happiness at any cost that is the curse of this mind set. It is this path and endless search for the ultimate happiness that leads to such emptiness. If it were that simple, don't you think the pharmaceutical companies would be out of business. Why is it that in this great land of ours, with such resources and opportunity...freedoms other nations only dream of...are we suffering so deeply from a lack. A lack that we can hardly fathom let alone contain.

We search for this 'filling' in numerous ways. The cars, the houses the jewelry the trips the relationships the drugs the food the drink the sex. It's all obtainable and easily accessible. Yet, this lacking persists.

I know for me, this lacking was big. Huge. Quite frankly, it was epic in my life. If I was blessed with little, I wanted more. One in each color. Two, if I really had my way. And guess what? The 'happiness' was fleeting. Go figure.

I grew up poor. Like seriously, we were not in a shelter and somehow we managed to eat. But let me tell you, there was not much. In the monetary sense. I married young, and after a few short years my husband earned a really good living. I grew accustomed to a nice life style. It got comfortable. Yet....

Still, the lacking. What the heck was missing? Because we had plenty of everything. Except possibly, the knowledge of where it all really came from. The blessing of a good job and healthy kids. That's what it was. A blessing, indeed. And so not deserved and unfortunately not recognized.

Trust me, when it's gone, you quickly realize where it came from to begin with. And when it's all gone and your empty...that's when the fulfillment comes. If you let it. Because God cannot come into your dirty, littered, overflowing to the top, little self, when there is no room for Him. It's in the emptying, that we make room for that immeasurable joy that only comes from knowing your God.

I know for certain and beyond any shadow of a doubt, that no car, no house, no piece of jewelry and no man on this earth could ever equate to happiness the way God intended. He is the only source. You were designed with this knowing. Each and everyone.

So, by all means. Enjoy the chocolate and the kisses. The movie and dinner. The flowers and the cards. Just know that tomorrow will come and you may wonder why you're so down. It's not anything you did or didn't do. It may just be that your overflowing...with desires and needs and wants. And maybe it's okay to possibly consider mama's old adage that....well. Less is more.

~ Your emptiness is but the preparation for your being filled; and your casting down is but the making ready for your lifting up ~ Charles H. Spurgeon

Me...Saying Yes. A Lot

2013-01-15T18:19:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking of a "word" to live-out through all of 2013...It would have to be positive and inspirational. Uplifting and honoring. One that would remind me to be good to myself and others. Daily.

It would need to possibly challenge me, although not too much. It should, as a result, improve my outlook on life and benefit everyone I know.

The first word I pondered was...grace. Give it, receive it, be abundantly generous with it. That was quickly rejected two days later when life kicked me in the teeth. Okay. So next choice...decadent. I would simply find something that I would label decadent each and everyday. Be it an experience or a treat. A sunrise or a sunset. A breezy, balmy tropical storm. An emotion or a memory. This one seemed simple, after experiencing some lovely moments two days in a row. Wonderful, we're on a role. Except, yeah...not so quick. The kids went wild, work got nuts and let's just say the cash wasn't flowin' and it got pretty uptight on my side of the interstate.

Still, if I can't commit to one simple word, what can I commit to? So...today, while I was figuring out how to explain to some critics why we are getting a new puppy...I decided that my word for this new year is and should be "Yes"...That's it! Yes.

I said yes, I experienced yes and I want more 'yes' in my life. We've seen plenty of puppies and I always, always, always say 'no'. Well, this time. I didn't even hesitate. His name is Beau. Our second dog, was always going to be named Beau. He was sweet and mild-mannered. He was perfect for us. And. I. Said. Yes.

Frankly, to be honest. I am just flat-out tired of saying, no.

I never seem to have difficulty saying yes to favors, or friends or my boss. But when it comes to myself and the kids...no, is quicker. No, seems to be the only solution. The only way out. The best way to stop the disappointment...because, it has had to be 'no' for so long.

But, imagine if it were more, yes. More, 'why not'? I mean...why not?

It felt really, really good to say, yes to the kids. I mean, really good. Yes, to the puppy. Yes, to one more show on a school night. Yes, to that bowl of ice-cream. Yes, to that dream and this wish. Yes, yes, yes. I've had it with dashing hopes and smothering desires. I can't even begin to imagine what this year is going to look like. I can just see it now...the smiles, the joy.

Now, don't get me wrong. (There are four of them and one of me, I may be awesome, but I'm not dumb). So...no, is still an important tool and will most certainly still be entertained, when necessary. Albeit, very sparingly. I think we've earned it. I believe we deserve it. And I know I want it. I guess it's all simply perspective. Saying, yes more often will open doors and avenues that may otherwise not have been accessible. It rings freedom and adventure and possibility. It screams, blessings.

So, 'YES' it is. It's my 2013 motto. Can't wait to see where it leads...

Happy New Year Everyone!

Alabaster Haze Amongst A Midnight's Cry

2012-10-01T12:46:00.003-04:00

The dawn of a new morning is shining bright. The alabaster haze breaks through the night.

The pulsing beat of a heart surrendered. Revealing the mask of a great pretender.

The drift of sleep and a midnight's cry. The difference between a truth and a lie.

Confusion and wonder lead the way. As the dreamer yearns for one more day.

The scope of reality is nothing more. Than the embers of illusion nearing the shore.

Adrift and alone in the mighty depths. Reaching the light searching for strength.

And all the while the light shines through. The darkness recedes, releasing you.

And once again, an alabaster haze will come a'beckoning. Whilst your midnight's cry is left reckoning.

The dream world. It fascinates me. It thrills me. It can, on occasion, frighten me. I have always had movie-like dreams, in that they play-out like a prime-time mini-series. At times, I have full command of their direction and ending. Other times, I am a mere observer, with no say whatsoever, the outcome. Those are the dreams that hold me hostage, the ones that have me running to God for answers.

Truth-be-told, I usually run to a family member, first. Eastern Europeans have a tremendous infatuation with dreams, as do the children of God. Biblically speaking, God address dreams in many books of scripture, old and new; Genesis, Numbers, Job, Daniel, Joel, Matthew, Acts and Revelation.

If you are one who has in depth dreams and the fortitude to recall their details, take heed. God is speaking to you. I have found that in seeking their meaning, I have not been able to change the coming of a circumstance, nor its direction in reality. Instead, I have learned that it is a gift, a blessing from above to prepare me for a time of turbulence. The ones [dreams] that come to prepare me can and have been terrifying and earth shaking. I dread those.

I remember the first time I realized and became privy to the knowledge of a foretelling was just a day after a particular dream. My brother was in a bad situation, I dreamt of it while it was happening and learned about it later. The second time that I can recall, I had all but forgotten about the dream until the day it came to pass. I recall sitting there in utter shock and awesome wonder. That this very thing had been revealed to me, but still for what purpose I did not know. It's quite possible that it was sent as a precursor for the sake of comfort in knowing that this result was on its path, and nothing I did could have changed it. That it was meant to happen. Believe me, there is some comfort in that.

But, if I take them for what they are...a foretelling, I am grateful. It's just proof to me of Who is in control of everything. God is not surprised by anything, that is to come. This tells me that He knows my beginning, my future and my ending. If I trust Who He says He is, then my trust is in Him.

Of course the dreams or visions, may have a hidden meaning, but the underlying message is clearly understood. Sometimes they unravel mysteriously and others, they're completely spelled out. This is not to say that some of my dreams don't reflect my hopes or fantasies. They do. And sometimes I seek their meaning as well. Sometimes I cling to those particular dreams for days, praying that God would bless them and make them my reality. But I am wise enough to know that what I want for my life, may not be what He has already directed my life to be. So then, I pray for Him to takes those away and grant me peace while I wait for Him and His dreams for my life to take shape.

So, I eagerly await each night's promise of another page revealed; of another chapter in the story that lay before me. Some nights, I am the author, but most nights my Lord is. After doing all I need to do as mom, I longingly climb into bed. Between my crisp cool sheets and downy cover, soft glow of my bedside lamp, a few good books to peruse...unwittingly, I stall and hesitate, prolonging the inevitable. As, I sink down and begin my nightly conversation with my creator, thanking him for all things...I drift off. He meets me there. Among the familiar faces of my life. Background music and all.

Held ~ By A Love Like No Other

2012-08-11T14:06:00.002-04:00

I often, cannot seem to find the words, when in conversation with a non-believer, to express the true majesty of God. The creator of everything. I feel like a bumbling idiot more than half the time and more recently have found myself, surprisingly, quieted.

That should be proof enough right there that there is a God...me quiet. That's funny! Anyway, I just wanted to talk about what I know to be true and the One great thing that truly inspires my heart. It's the love of God. Plain and simple.

My daughters wrote a song...and it goes a little like this...."It's a love like no other...it's a love I can't describe" {It is just beautiful. BEAUTIFUL. I hope you get to hear it someday.}

And that is true to some extent. The, 'I can't describe part.' But really, I can. I know I can.

My aunt gave me a New Testament Bible when I was just five years old. I have moved more than 30 times in my life and this little Bible...is on my desk as I write this. I have prayed to God as a little girl, asking all kinds of questions and seeking every kind of guidance. Jesus appeared to me one night in a beautiful image on my ceiling. I was in the first grade. I don't know why, I just know that I wasn't praying at the moment and I wasn't thinking of Him. Yet, there He was. I know I was lonely and thinking about a father I didn't know, but wanted very much to come see me. I tucked that living image in my heart and as the years passed, I felt a certain covering. A divine protection. A love like no other. There have been plenty of times where I'm certain I should not be here on this earth, be it a place that was dangerous or a circumstance that just wasn't right...I escaped unscathed each time. I married outside of my faith, because I was young and we agreed that 'religion is teaching your children to be good people.' That's what we decided. Obviously, that all changed for me when the kids did actually come along. Probably because I had ceaselessly prayed for them and He answered my prayers. There were five miscarried precious babes and four perfectly healthy ones. My prayers reached God's ears. He literally honored me and blessed me with these children. I didn't deserve them. Yet, He loved me so. I am so small, and the universe is so big, but he heard my hearts plea.

I know there is a God because when we were abandoned as a whole, I wanted to die. He held me. And when my kids tears and their shaking little bodies crumbled in my arms each night, He held us. There is not another person on this earth that could comfort our aching souls. It was only when we called on Him and spoke His name, either silently, whispered or screamed, that we experienced immeasurable comfort. An immediate ceasing of pain.

My son took it really hard. I found him in the closet one day...crying. He would not be coaxed out. His world would never be the same and he was scared. I lay on the floor on the other side of the door and shared with him something I had only recently learned myself. That The Lord, holds each of our tears in His palm. And that His heart breaks for each tear we shed. That He holds our very heart in His hands and He puts every broken piece back together until its whole again. And that He would do that for my son, if he would let Him.

I'll never forget that day. My son stopped crying, just like that. Crawled out and sat on my lap. We hugged and kissed. Dried our eyes...took a deep breath and went on with living. We ended up in the kitchen cooking soup together. Our hearts warmed and less heavy. Because we whispered the Lord's name. Again, we are so small and the universe is so big, but he heard our hearts plea.

This is how I know.., Because. I. Myself. Did not have the words. Or the wisdom. Or the knowledge. Or any tricks, to get my kid out of that deep, dark hole. I didn't have magic and I didn't have promises. But what I did have was the Truth.

On this earth we have certain expectations. We expect our wrongs to be overlooked. We assume that our mess-ups are no one else's business. And we certainly are not accountable to anyone. Let alone to a God we can't see. Somewhere, up there in the sky. We call authority figures stupid because they can't right our wrongs. And scoff at the injustice when we don't get the results we want, from mistakes we made by following the rules we made up ourselves.

But, put people in a tough, seemingly hopeless situation and they call on the Living God. The One who calls Himself the Great "I Am". We can do whatever we want. And satisfy every loathsome urge in the absence of Truth. Simply, because we can.

But, there is a God. There is a rightness and an order to things. His love is enormous. His ways are just. His mercies are everlasting. His arms are always open. His longing for you is real. Deny Him all you want. But your heart knows. In the quiet of your spirit. And the stillness of your being. Your heart knows.

The Great Escape

2012-07-29T20:12:00.001-04:00

I love books.... I just LOVE books. I love to read. To escape. To go on an adventure. To experience a wide range of emotions. To be somewhere else, altogether. Even if its for a few moments each day.

I've always been a reader. {This passion has not wained in the slightest in all my years}. So much so that I have lugged around books from my childhood through umpteen moves. Two huge duffel bags to be exact. Now, one of my girls is reading some of my favorite teen novels. She's gone ahead and scribbled her name in her 6th grade swirly scrawl, right under mine. The little heart with the arrow through it, too. I actually still get giddy when I touch these books.

I have spent an absolute small fortune on books for the kids and myself. We packed and moved roughly thirty five boxes this past year. Twenty or more, of which contained books. Oh good gracious!

We've since sold or donated a majority of them, because, well darn it all....my kids are just not readers. I cannot fathom it. Oh, okay, my son may be an exception. He can and has flown through books in a matter of days. And that makes me smile. A lot. I love that when I do manage to get him interested in a book, he will not readily put it down. I even bought a "manly" book for myself, in the hopes of better understanding the opposite gender and with the intention of passing it along to my boy. It was a great read, and my son did thoroughly enjoy it. "Where Men Win Glory" by John Krakauer. Actually, an awesome read and I would say we both highly recommend it.

I have read so many incredible books. Fiction and non- fiction. Romance and mystery. Christian and secular. Historical and fantasy. I can't get enough. I could list them all for you , but that would be tedious and boring.

I try so hard to encourage the kids to read, God knows they've seen my nose buried in a book every day of their lives. I usually have four or so going at once; The Bible, a novel, a devotional, and some sort of teaching literature.., be it on finances, health, marriage, etc.., Sometimes even two novels at once.

Nothing makes me happier. Literally. I can and have spent 7 hours in a book store. Goofy, I know, but we all have that one thing that just does it for us. I don't believe the kids will ever be there. Not that their hopeless, and I don't think its today's world either, if you want to take into account the technology. My kids don't have even 1/4 of the gadgets. No video games in the house, the teenagers just got phones this past year. No iPads. So its not like their time is being sucked up by these things. They've all been read to in the womb and the rocking chair. There has been a lifetime of example and books aplenty, in every basket and on every shelf. So there goes that theory. There just does not seem to be the desire. So I guess it may be safe to say we're either born lovers of literature or we're not. I won't be forcing them to read, because they are all excellent readers and students. But that doesn't mean I'll stop wishing they'll someday fall in love with the art of reading. Maybe they find their lives all together satisfying and adventurous. Who knows?

As for me, my books are my dearest friends. I cherish them beyond words. I have even learned to let some of them go. Just like friendships, some you keep forever; close by, within arms reach, on that not so hard to reach shelf. Others, you set free, to bless others.

Sometimes, out of nowhere, I'll see a particularly familiar scene in my minds eye and I have to wonder, is this a real memory or from a novel I've read? I actually have a very vivid memory, of a house in a field, and a certain second story window and a set of sheer curtains. There's a garage in my view with cabled wires running from the window where I'm standing to the other roof. The dust and the wind are blowing up in swirls. The sun is blaring in my eyes. there's a car speeding off. I can smell the dirt and feel the sun, hot, on the sill. There's an intrepid feeling of loss and sadness. An unimaginable emptiness and sorrow. But, I can't recall when or where this happened to me. So I'm trying desperately to remember which book it was. I love when that happens. I've experienced a whole slew of emotions because someone else put words on a piece of paper. I've been to other lands, exotic and thrilling. And all across this beautiful country of ours. I've been loved and abandoned. I've been the abused and the abuser. The chased and the forgotten. I've been the beautiful heroin and the savaged beast. I've been the father and the mother, the daughter and the son. A princess and a diplomat. I've lived in a brownstone in early 1900's New York city and even a castle in Austria. Eaten out of trash cans and feasted on caviar and champagne. The adventures never end!

Then there's the other spectrum, where your actual life dare intrude on your precious escape. When for countless moments, I'm not in the writer's creation..., I'm in my world. My life. I'm actually lost in my own story; be it something in my past or a conversation... a certain situation. My eyes keep skimming across the lines, my hands keep turning the pages. But I'm not there. I'm in another story, the one God created for me. My story. I find that fascinating.

The only difference is that I can simply turn back the pages of a novel, to where I was last coherent and pick up where I left off. If only life could be so simple. If only we could, just as easily, with the wisp of a wrist, turn back the pages of our lives and maybe, not necessarily re-write our stories as much as possibly, let's say, interpret them differently.