Do You Know Me?

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If you saw me would you speak to me? If you didn’t read my words on my blogs, would you turn around and say hello?

We all have visions of people dancing in our heads. Some of us were programmed from our parents or families, explaining what type of friends to have. Others have made their own judgements as adults.

Would it make a difference to you, if I was thin or fat? Would you speak or laugh? Am I tall enough, to short. Is my house not huge, and my car too old? Do you prefer me to live on the right side of town?

My mother judged my friends by their last names and I find myself slipping into the same pattern. I catch myself, and try to stop it, and sometimes I win.

What about my clothes I wear, would you accept or sneer, or come close or back away?

Is it important to you that you have a title with your job? Must you feel that you need to fit in? What if the only job you could land was a janitor job, would you be content with this? Could you sit with me and carry on a conversation, knowing I clean toilets?

I have learned from the experiences of writing, that I do not know any of you. Neither do I know anyone who reads my stories on my Facebook, or Twitter, Stumble Upon, LinkedIn, or any other sites that are out there to share with your life, but I have learned that age, what color you are, where you live, or work, doesn’t matter.

Jesus walked the earth, and talked to many. He never once thought that he should only pick nice areas, or people who dressed rich. Brand names on clothing was not an issue. He sat with many, and healed who asked. He didn’t stop to ask where do you work, what brand of car do you drive. He was accepting of all.

I have learned through the thousands of comments I read, that the people I feel connected to, the ones that draw me into their hearts, are people who love God, who don’t judge, condemn. Others have passed me by, and this is alright. God places people in my path of life  for reasons and its perfect timing.

Some I have come to love without knowing the face, or very little information. Some of you I would ache from within, if anything was to happen to you, and yet I do not know you.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the people we knew in person, that live near or far away, could react towards each other, and accept us for who we are, and not try to change us?

I want to be like Jesus. I want to be a follower of him. He is the only way, the only direction, that makes any sense living here on earth.

I thank you my friends here at blogging world. I thank you for taking the time to read my words, to understand with your heart, and to accept me for all that I represent, without knowing who I am.

Faith is believing in something you can not see, and I thank you God for letting me still carry my faith, in this world that we live in today.

There Is Life, And Then There Is Life


I turn around to see the tears

And ask why are they there

He tells me he is ready to go

That he no longer fears.

He speaks of mom and all his pain

And says he wants it gone

He says his life is of no use here

And has nothing here to gain.

My heart has cracked

As I see his tears fall

And hear the sadness in his voice

I must let him go, and not look back.

Some do not understand the ways

Of a human who wishes to die

We stand away and look from afar

And hope for him better days.

For those who know their time is near

There are no better days here

They have recognized life as gloom and pain

And want to be with the ones they hold so dear.

I wish for him with all of my heart

For his smiles to reappear

And I know without a second thought

That his smiles will return, when he does part.

I love my brother with all that I can be

I would not have missed a thing

The memories that I have buried with in

Are in the box, and only I hold the key.

I don’t know if you are right

About your time to go

But I will accept that in dreams or not

You are ready to see the light.

Terry Shepherd

July 07,2012


it touched my heart and soul


When life holds its breath

And the rubbish bin hasn’t been emptied yet

And the dishes haven’t been done again

And you hope for the unthinkable

That you will only be able to breathe again when he can’t

When your friends either overwhelm or discard you

When your family pities you and can do nothing to help, no matter how hard they try

You can always smash the lung balloon of life and make it breathe again

Or not

You can remember every single moment of your life with the person who is dying

Loud, boisterous parties in the kitchen with the stereo blasting

Discovering little bits of each others’ stories like drops of sweat or dew

A single perfect camellia

A cheeky half moon

A baby, now grown as upright as a karri tree

A child who doesn’t remember, but knows his father was not always as ill as now

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