I was streaming through my Facebook page and my favorite sites. It is amazing how we are all made in the same form but yet we are different. We look at each other and recognize our own species. Except for changes in hair, eye, weight and height, the only thing that truly separates us is our language.
Many times in my own home town I stand in the check out line and listen to those around me speak who do not speak the English language. They look like me for the most part but I can’t understand them.
There are thousands of blogs out here in cyber space. I see topics about food, love, pain, abuse, children, adults. There are some on affairs, death, illness, laughter, tears. There are even educational blogs, and topics on how to build your own web sites. You can find blogs that sell online.
I see blogs full of photography, beautiful women, handsome men. Blogs from awesome waterfalls, vacation spots. It is just amazing. My personal favorites are inspirational blogs.
http://kattermonran.com Al has a day each week where he fills his page with great inspirations. When I am down, I run to his page to get uplifted reading.
http://utesmile.wordpress.com Ute is another friend I have on blog world. Her pages are always filled with wonderful sayings and inspiration.
Although we don’t meet in person there are some on my blogs that I would truly wish to meet. Ute is one. http://girlwiththepen1118.wordpress.com/ Debbie is another friend I feel very close to. We share so much in common.
There are several blogs I follow that I can find a way to boost my faith when I feel weak.
http://myownheart.me/ Len is one lady who is very strong in her faith. She has a way with words which help comfort me. You know words are so powerful. Hugs are nice, a warm handshake helps, but those kind words stick to our hearts and never let go.
There are also blogs that are about emotional strength that I love to read. Maybe because of Al I am drawn to these. I doubt if this lady realizes how much I depend on her blog, but I always watch for it to appear in my email box so I can read it. http://thedrsays.wordpress.com If you would care to pay her a visit, please do. She loves people.
Every morning when I hop on-line I visit Rob at http://settledinheaven.wordpress.com I get my morning java through reading his post. It is just like going to church but I get to stay in my jammies. Thank-you Rob for always teaching me about the Lord.
Marilyn,http://babyjill7.wordpress.com/ is a good woman. She and her husband actually came up last summer for a visit. Al and I both received the opportunity to meet her and her husband. Marilyn’s blog is upbeat, happy. I can learn about her awesome finds at goodwill stores. She lets me in on her secrets to staying happy. She loves helping others as she did lately, where she baked many cookies and gave them as gifts.
Then there is granny at http://digitalgranny.wordpress.com/ I love to chat with this blogger. I am always ensured I will feel better when I have my visits at this site.
I have a wonderful friend named Julie. http://jmgoyder.com/ She and I became instant friends when the time was that we thought Al had Parkinson’s. Julie’s husband has this illness too. I love to visit her site. I can see the beautiful birds she has living on her land. I can send well wishes to Ants and Ming and Julie and I have an understanding of what being a care giver is.
Bob has a large blog full of photographs he has taken. You can visit Bob over at http://pacificnorthwesttravelerdotcom.wordpress.com/ He takes many photos at his local zoo. I just love visiting his blog.
http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/ The last thing I do before going to bed is visit this blog. It makes me laugh with the numerous topics on jokes. Love this blog.
If I want to dream and be able to visit a different country, then I go visit Viveka at mygulitypleasures.wordpress.com She is awesome. A retired chef she lets me view recipes and photos of wonderful foods she makes. She takes a lot of photos and I get to see what her country is like. I just love this lady. We have been friends for a long time.
Well, there are so many more to mention, but it is time to go change Al and reposition him, so I have to stop for now. I hope you enjoyed your journey with me through blogs I enjoy.
In the end we are all the same. We may look a little different but we all speak of love. The love of our home town, love of photography, good jokes, food and life, and of course, writing.
I thought that when I left Al yesterday, he was in better spirits from our talk. Evidently not, as the facility just called to tell me they had an issue with him. He is thinking about ending it all. They said he has no plan, which makes them feel better. It is an unofficial watch for him as if they state in the files what he is thinking he would have to be sent to a psyche ward. Neither them or me wants him to have to go there. It would destroy him.
So I am pleading and begging for prayers. I called the man in charge of his waiver and said that Al is very sad and that he is afraid he is going to die there instead of here at home. He said he will try to rush it on his end but that once it was at the State again, it was out of his control.
I know that Al told me last week that he saw someone sitting in his recliner during the night. He said that God told him it was now time to go to heaven to see Mom.
I am not going to argue Al’s words because who am I to judge?
Please pray that this goes quickly to get him home and that all the angels surround Al while he is still there.
SOMETIMES WHEN YOU FEEL ALL ALONE THERE ARE MANY ANGELS WALKING BESIDE YOU
The rules are:
8. Do you know the Star Trek “odds and evens” rule? Nope sure don’t. I don’t watch things that can’t happen in my life time
9.What is your favourite memory? Each time I held my new babies
10. If you had the chance to help colonise another planet, would you? No, not until there are no more homeless or hungry people in our own country left. Afterwards I may consider it
11.What was your first job? I worked as a waitress at a Chinese Restaurant
My Questions for you
1. If you could choose another name for yourself, what would it be?
2.What was your favorite food to eat when you were a kid?
3. What prompted you to start a blog?
4. Are you left or right handed?
5. What is the third thing you do after rising from your bed in the mornings?
6. What is your middle name?
7. Where do you fall in line in siblings? Oldest, youngest, middle?
8. What do you think your nicest quality is about yourself?
9. What do you think your worst habit is?
10. How many miles do you live from me? I live in Indiana
11. What time do you go to bed at night? What time would you like to go to bed at night?
Do you want to be tagged next? I hope so, or my name isn’t Terry. My nominations are
I will not bore you with more answers. I will just go on to the nominations.
Mama Miyuki Easy Pantsy
Thank-you Sharla and Ruby!!!!
I dare you! Come on, floor it! Put the pedal to the metal! Come on you coward, what are you waiting for! Hit me, run over me!
These sickly thoughts were spinning round and round inside of her head. She wanted to die, and the driver was stalling. Testing her spirit, staying back, causing her legs to feel shaky, she stood her ground.
This was my life back in 2010. I had run away from home when I was 14, and had been living my life on the streets. Every part of my being had been used at the gain of others pleasures. I had been blindfolded and forced to endure the pains of needles and the relentless dreams and nightmares these illegal drugs had brought into my mind, until I had gotten to the point, I could no longer function as a person, without these administrations of drugs.
My father had been the talk of the town, a loser, an alcoholic, and my mother stayed hidden at home, behind closed drapes, hooked on drugs. Children learn from their parents, and I had learned from them that life was worthless. They didn’t ever notice if I was there or not, so I left.
I wanted someone to care, to love me, to hold me. I was a pretty girl, slender, tall. I had what others wanted. I spent the first night alone on the street, hidden away by the shadows of the trees behind the school-house.
The second night, I made it into the center of downtown, and was sitting on the steps of one of the businesses, when a group of young women came by me and sat down next to me. After talking for a while, I stood up with them and followed them into my stages of hell.
They took me under their wings and taught me how to dress and wear my make-up. They introduced me to their boss, who then introduced me to the life my mother knew so well. I slept all day and used drugs to stay up all night to endure the pain.
One night when I was out standing on my well-known corner, I was arrested for doing business with an under cover officer. He took me to jail, and as I had no one to call, I had to sit here and wait out my sentence.
While in there, I was able to talk to others, who had been arrested for the same things, and heard their tales and woes. I ended up in the corner of the cell vomiting, as the words I had been hearing, were the words of my life. I wanted to die, I wanted out, but had nowhere to turn. I ended up on the cot, with my eyes closed, but my ears were still honed into the conversations around me.
Two days later, I was released, and walked out into the brightness of day. I knew I didn’t want to go back to my temporary home, and I could not go home. I wandered the streets, stopping at a cafe for some food, and while there, trying to figure my way out of this. The more I thought, the more confused I became.
That night, I walked towards the interstate, and as a few cars passed by, I entered the highway and stood there, waiting to get hit, to kill me, to rid me of my pain. The car did come, but it stopped. I screamed at the car as it continued to keep its headlights centered on my person. Neither of us moved for what seemed like hours.
Another car pulled up and within seconds an officer was standing before me. He placed his arm around me, and I wanted to hit and kick him, but his words reached my aching soul. He spoke of caring, and confusion, and I heard words being spoken that I didn’t really want to take my life.
I was tired and confused and the pain was over bearing, and I found my body turning towards him, and placing my head in his shoulder. I could hear myself sobbing, and I could feel myself shivering.
The officer took me to a shelter, and after filling out the needed paper work, I was placed from there to a help-center, where I lived for the next year.
I don’t know who that officer was, but I wish I could thank him for saving my life. Soon, I would look him up and tell him thank-you in person.
Thank-you Ermilia for another chance to write for you.
Saturday night. All were out having fun, parties, shopping, dining out, visiting friends. She was home. Her and her thoughts. She went into the empty room and walked over to the bed and laid down, hugging the pillow around her. Smelling the all familiar scent. She stood up and walked over to the closet. Opening it up quietly, like someone would hear her,she stepped inside, and ran her fingers through each piece of clothing, feeling the softness, and remembering the last time she had seen it worn. She took a particular dress off the hanger and walked over and gently laid it on the bed. She strolled over to the dresser, and carefully picked up the box and carried it over to the bed and laid it beside the dress. She slipped off her shirt and jeans and let the dress roll over her body until it rolled no more. She ran her hands down the front, stopping to play with one of the rhinestone buttons. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror, turning more, so she could see the back of the dress. It fit her perfectly. Every place that should be filled out, was. She slipped the belt through the loops and buckled it. She twirled around and around, the bottom of the dress swaying away from her. Standing in front of the mirror, she decided that in order to make a perfect picture, she needed the box. She went over to it, and gently lifted the corners. Catches from the light brought hundreds of twinkles. She touched one by one, picking a piece up and holding it against her dress until she found it. She picked it up, holding it to her chest, a tear formed in her eye. She carefully pinned the brooch on her dress. She bent down reading the labels, taking off lids, smelling each scent. She picked her favorite one. Sweet timeless. She sprayed some behind her ears and on her wrist. She felt her cheeks get hot, and as she touched her face, she could feel wetness from the fresh tears that were falling. She stood for minutes, looking at her reflection in the mirror, it bounced an image back at her, of a memory fresh in her mind. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and was surprised at how long she had been in here. She carefully took the brooch off, put it back in the velvet box. Slipping the dress over head, she walked over to the empty hanger and placed it in its rightful spot. She slipped her own clothes back on, straightened the bed coverlets, and walked out as quietly as she had walked in with a quiet shadow following her. Good night mama. I miss you.