FWF Free Write Friday; Image Prompt


http://kellieelmore.com/waving hand

Freedom, the feeling of no more people telling me what to do. No more parents butting in. I can make my own decisions from here on out.

I just graduated from high school. I was an adult ready to make my own way into the big world. Ready to discover what was forbidden for many years.

I had received a lot of money for graduation gifts. After counting it up I had a total of five hundred dollars. I was out of here. Out of this joint called home. Making plans with my bestie, we were on our way to have a great time.

She and I were taking two weeks and having the time of our lives. Meeting new guys was our number one goal. No more books,we were going to  stay up late, sleep  in late. What could possibly be better?

We didn’t have a destination. We were letting the spirit guide us. We would stop when we needed to and eat where we wanted. The money in my pocket would get us anywhere we wanted to go.

Driving down the open road, listening to the radio. Laughing our asses off. Neither she nor I heard the truck behind us blaring his horn. When we did, it was too late. Our trip was ended too short with five hundred bucks in my pocket.

Who Is This Man


Holding Hands shadow on sand

I heard one day a man conversing with another that when you are in a situation you feel you can’t get out of all you have to do is call upon his name. Who’s name? Who is this man you were speaking of?

I am sitting here on this park bench watching people walk by. Some are holding hands. Others I see are walking with minds far a way. Kids running and skipping. Bikes whizzing by.

No one stops near me. No one cares do they? Does this man care about me? I really doubt it. I have not been a good person. I fell off the way side years ago. I don’t think this person I heard them talk about would want to bother with me.

You see I laid my life aside to have what my body craved. I chose the bottle over my own wife and kids. I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t help myself. It called to me, the pull of pouring one more drink down my gullet was the driving factor for which I traded places with commitments for desires.

A man with such authority and power surely doesn’t touch the likes of me. My life is void. I was found in a gutter one day by a man in a uniform. I was taken in and placed behind metal bars. When I was finally released by my own empty promises that I would get help, I walked into an empty frame that was once my home.

The kids toys were no longer on the floor. The smell of my wife’s perfume had vanished. All I could inhale of memories reminding me that I once lived here was my two suitcases standing tall by the living room door.

They had left me. The woman I had fallen in love with during my college days had no more hope to cling to. She had taken my two precious babies and ran. I can still remember the days of yesterday. I bowed and kissed my wife’s brow. Resting in her arms were two precious lives that I had helped create. I felt more love in me at that moment than I had every experienced my entire life.

Now that I stood here hearing my children’s voices echoing in my mind I lay down and wept. I had screwed up. I had become what the town called the “town drunk.” Was this really me? Had I let that first drink turn into another? How could one person make such a mess of his own life with only the help of one lonely  bottle?

I stood and walked through the empty house, reaching out and touching where picture frames once hung. I could see where the Christmas Tree had sat so many times. Walking up the stairs, the same path as my children ran day after day, now holding only ghosts who stand back and wickedly laugh at me.

I stand in the door way of the room of my wife. I can see her walking towards me with tears in her eyes as I came home one more time too late. I always promised her I would never do it again and she would comfort me with kisses and I would wipe her tears with my lips.

Movie clips running through my mind of the times when we came together in this room. Promising to love no other, I had broken the golden rule and had become a slave to another. I walked back down the stairs running my hands on the rail. Trying to touch any remnants of my children that may still be lingering.

I opened the front door and picked up my two bags and I looked back once again hoping that I am only having a bad dream. But alas, no one answers. No one looks my way. I close the door behind me and I walk to the park.

Who is this man who you were speaking of? Can he talk to me too? For I am empty in heart and my mind is cracked. I need help. I bury my head in my hands and I try to cry only unto myself. The tears flow and my body is shaking. I can not stop it for it feels as though I am losing all control over my own thoughts and feelings.

A gentle hand is touching my shoulder. I look up and over my quivering fingers. My eyes covered with mist look into the eyes of the one man I heard speaking. He sits down beside me and I find myself being coddled by him.

I look up into his face and I ask, “Who is the man who I over heard you talking about to your friend? Do you think you could ask him to help me too? I have messed up my life so bad. I have lost my wife and my kids. I have nothing now but these two suitcases. Do you think he can help me? Can you take me to him?”

This kind stranger stands up and takes one suitcase in his hand. I pick up the other one. He takes a step forward asking me to follow. I do not ask questions but do as he requests. In but a few short minutes I find myself kneeling with this man beside a long bench.

I look at him with his kind eyes and he gazes up towards the colorful big window. I follow his gaze and there I find the most beautiful window I have ever seen. There is a man standing in the middle. He has a staff he is holding. He has a halo surrounding his hair. Dressed in a white garment and leather sandals I feel a hint of peace come over me.

The man looks back at me and with the most gentle voice speaks, “Here is the man who can help you. All you have to do is ask. His name is Jesus Christ. He wants to help you.” I bring my hands together and the man places his hands over mine. At this moment, at this precise second, I am about to change my entire life by only asking.

FWF Free Write Friday, Special Edition


Freedom Bell - Washington Memorial Chapel, Val...

http://kellieelmore.com

What Does Freedom mean to you?

When I was a child, freedom meant staying up later on the weekends when I didn’t have school. Being out with my friends riding bikes. Picking the routes we wanted to ride, instead of someone else. Going to my friend’s house and raiding their refrigerator that was  packed with more junk than mine.

In high school freedom meant choosing the classes I wanted to instead of having it the other way around. Bringing out of my own soul  my thoughts on  independence. Beginning to show other humans what I was designed for. Being able to pick and choose which boys I wanted to choose as a boyfriend. Making choices about friendships I wanted to have.

When I was given the keys to my own car, I had the freedom to make good choices and keep the privileges of driving or making bad choices and paying the price. I could choose to stay up past my bedtime and do bad in class or go to bed on time and give the classes all I had.

As a young adult, I had the choice to have children or not. To marry or stay single. For most of us, we could decide whether we wanted to make our first time having sex our choice.

Now that I am middle-aged, my choices seem to be taken a way from me. Or is it that I am more mature and see more of what the world is today. I still have the choice to speak my mind, but do I really? Could what I say end up on a public forum such as Facebook and be banned?

I still have the choice to vote equally as a man. Is my vote sacred and safe? I don’t know the answer to that. I hear so much in the media about tampering that I suspect the only truth I will ever know is buried deep in my heart.

I still have the choice to be healthy or unhealthy. Do I really? When is the last time you went to the grocery store and tried to buy all organic or healthy foods? Did you notice the hole in your pocket when you went to pay for them? Have you noticed that foods that are good for you are considered premium prices? It is much cheaper to eat junk food, but harder on the heart.

We still have the choice and freedom to pick our doctors, hospitals and insurances. But, do we really? Can you see it ending as others voices ring louder than our own? Will there come a time that we actually have to give up our insurance because of the premiums or pre-existing conditions?

I do still have freedoms that can not be taken away. They are my choices to make. I can breathe. I can pray. I can look at each day as a new day with the right attitude. I am free in this land. Free to be myself. It is only from our soul that the corners are being pried off little by little, like taking a band-aid off very slowly so it doesn’t hurt so bad.

We are guaranteed some rights to live on this earth. I only hope that all countries work together to keep our freedoms alive. That peace is among each of our neighbors. We are truly blessed when we look deep down into the ground. You see some dirt covering the seeds, but life is beneath it, growing and strong. Ready to unite together to help us to remain free.

Daily Prompt; Un/Faithful/ The Daily Post


English: A photograph of the skateboarding tri...

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/

Tell us about the role that faith plays in your life — or doesn’t.

Faith is a small word that carries huge weight. For some of us, there may  be little if any faith. For others, including myself, faith is something we can not live without. I was brought up in a church setting. I went to church and Sunday school each week. I was part of the junior choir, being the director, and then a part of the adult choir.

I used to have a pretty good voice until I picked up the nasty habit of smoking. It lowered my voice and I have not been able to quit as of yet, but could kick myself in the rear with my own dirty boot for starting.

I fell a way from the church on a surface level. Friends I had did not go to church, and I was not going to ruin that crappy friendship by showing my true colors. Talk about being a hypocrite. Not only was I lying to myself, I was being dishonest with God and the so-called friends I had as a teen.

I slid by my skin through several years. Rebelling God, and life. Wanting and needing something, but what I really needed was staring me in the face, but I broke every mirror so I would not have to see it.

After marrying, I became a military wife in a new country. Church was practiced once a month with a different denomination each time. Whatever I had done prior to this new life, had been laid by the way side. After all, how could I fit God in my life, or even have faith when I had everything I could possibly want in a new marriage. Right? Wrong.

I hate to admit it to myself, but it is even worse to admit it to all of you, but I thought I knew it all. Not so much about worldly things, but enough to carry myself through life. I could cook, clean house, and wipe runny noses and change diapers. What else was there?

Time ticked, hours flew, and I was still skating on thin ice. Then one day I got a rude awakening. Life was also moving quickly along with mine. My mother passed away. Talk about a mind-blowing wake-up call.

Although my faith and God were never under the Hypo-dermis of  skin, I didn’t work very hard to keep it on the Epidermis either. When mom passed away, I quickly came back. I rededicated my life. I promised to listen to God more. I made all kinds of promises.

Guess what? I fell on my butt. The ice was not very thick on the pond and down I went. I became cocky and bitter. Losing my mom brought a roughness around my heart. I became thick-skinned. Now that I look back I was protecting myself. I hurt bad, my heart had a void. No one was going to hurt me like that again.

Luckily for me, because we all know that we are the ones who turn our back on God. He doesn’t sway from us. I never got in any trouble with the law. I never took up drinking or drugs. I just walked around empty, letting love, faith and hope fall from my pockets. I would see them falling and then turn around and stomp on them making sure they were buried deep beneath the dirt.

God is amazing though. I stomped and he revived. He was always my shadow. He followed me everywhere I went. The only thing I needed to do was to acknowledge him. Is that all there is to it? Just let God know we are here? Can carrying faith in him be that darn easy? What do I have to give up in order to have this word called faith? Nothing. I could have had an easier path in life. I was the one who chose the bumpy path.

When my dad got ill, and I watched him slip from me for that year, I got on my knees and begged God to keep my daddy here. I prayed heavily, don’t take him, heal him. I cried, I threw temper tantrums. What I didn’t know was that without me realizing it, I was turning back to God. Sure I was calling out from  pain for my daddy’s sake, but God lifted me up and kept me safe as I walked the valley of death path with my father.

He died, and I let God lift me higher on his lap. I laid my head on his shoulder and I wept. I could feel him patting me on my back and I could feel his arms holding me tightly, comforting me.

I have never let go since. It has been six years. I have lost both of my parents, and lost all familiarity of the life I had always known. Grandparents, uncles and aunts passed on. I was left standing here. I was in the tiny circle looking out in all directions. The only familiar face I ever truly saw was God.

I love God. He is my best friend, my joy, my comforter. He guides me each moment of the day and he forgives me for all of my mistakes. I was standing down in the valley for so long. I would be as a skate boarder. Up and down gliding back and forth. Coming so close to the edge of living, and then back down I would go. I saw God stretching  his hand to me. I grabbed on and I have never let go Faith, God, life and love, and hope are what I will be carrying until I go home to heaven.

Daily Prompt; Hindsight/ The Daily Prompt 12/03/2012


Fetus at 18 weeks after fertilization 3D Pregn...

 

STILLNESSHe was young when he met her. Their eyes met, and it was love at first sight. They spent every moment available to them being together, holding, touching, kissing, going as far as they dare go. No one said a word to let them know they were treading dangerous grounds. No one warned them to keep a distance. All summer long they went swimming, picnicing, exploring what life had to offer and each other. At years end the enivetible thing happened. She became pregnant. The fear rose in her voice as she stuttered the news to him. What were they going to do? What would they say? Now the parents stepped up. Shaming them, telling them how bad they were. Both were kicked out of the comfort of their homes. Forced to try to figure out how to survive. He got a dime store job that paid little. She went on the system to help her eat. They lived in an ally apartment. He was scared. Sorry he had ever done this to himself, not thinking of her. One day while she was at the doctor, he packed his few belongings and snuck off leaving her with nothing, the same as he gave her when he entered her life. She came home to tell him the baby would arrive within the next 24 hours. She heard silence, saw nothing. She knew he was gone. During the night, the pain was horrific. She got her coat on and went out into the darkness. She tried to walk to the neighbors house to ask for help. Please help me with this pain……….She never made it. She gave birth right there on the grass under the huge oak tree. The cord was wrapped, the color was blue, there was no sound. Silence and chill stayed with her forever more…………terry shepherd

Now that you’ve got some blogging experience under your belt, re-write your very first post.

The above post is the very first one I placed on WordPress. Now, with a few months under my belt, here is my redo of it.

The two eyes locked on to each other. It was a sexual lust, needing to be acted upon. Each time their eyes met, the feelings would return. Donna and Ted  could hold out no longer and with agreement written all over their foreheads, they walked to his car.

They didn’t care that they were out in public. The windows became steamed as he tore at her clothes, lifting her dress. He explored her secret garden. He took her hand and placed it to where his own excitement was growing. Within minutes, the act had been performed and ended.

At every opportunity, this random act of desire was played out. Parents didn’t seem to care. No one asked what each of them did with their summertime hours. The two found themselves sharing the waters, having picnics on blankets, and being in each others arms.

The time did arrive that a change was noticed. Vomiting in the mornings, swollen breasts, and a visit to the family doctor, did prove that she was pregnant. The hardest thing to do now was to explain to their parents what they had been doing all summer.

Donna said to her parents,” Mom, dad, I am pregnant. I didn’t mean it to happen. I swear it was an accident”! Her parents ridiculed her with words being said,” How could you be so stupid? You knew better to let this happen. We aren’t going to have someone like you living here in our house. Now get your clothes and get out”!

When Ted went to his parents and told them, their reply was, ” Stupid, just plain stupid! You made your bed, now you lie in it. Don’t expect us to bail you out of this. You better get yourself a job and a place to live. Now get out of our faces”!

Donna had Ted drive her to the welfare department. She walked in with her head hanging low. She was embarrassed and ashamed. She had no choice, she had to go on the system, in order to survive.

Ted found himself a job. It was a low paying job that would give nothing more than basic needs. Through the help of friends, they were able to move into a small apartment. Not only was it tiny, the entry door was in the back of a dark alley.

They needed no furnishings but what they could carry with them. The box apartment was furnished with basic furniture. The two lived under the same roof, but the excitement of what they had shared the past two months had vanished. Ted went to work, Donna stayed home. She had no education and with being pregnant, the options were almost zero for her obtaining work.

They lived with the routine of work, home, eat and sleep for several months. Donna kept her appointments with her baby doctor, and then the time came for the baby to be born. She raced home to tell Ted that the baby could be born within the next day or two.

When she opened the door, she walked into silence. She called out his name, but only heard echos bouncing from the walls. She walked into his bedroom, seeing nothing. She began to cry. Her gut told her something was wrong. She stood there looking around.

Where was he? I can’t do this alone? Please don’t leave at a time like this. Suddenly, an idea sparked and she walked over to the closet, and found her proof. The clothes that had hung there were gone. His dresser drawers were empty.

She walked over to their bed and threw herself on it. Tears began to fall and soon sobbing could be heard. All of the emotions she was feeling, caused pains to begin in her stomach. She sat up and felt her tummy. It was hard and it hurt. She began to shiver from fear. She could not do this. She wished that she would have never met Ted. She wished that she would never have climbed into the back seat of his car.

The pains became severe quickly. What am I going to do? Who is going to help me? I am so scared. I want my mommy. These thoughts raced around inside of her head, until she had a very sharp pain. She stood up and her water broke. She was not familiar with this and she grabbed her coat and walked out into the darkness of the alley to find help.

She looked around and recognized no neighbors. She needed help, so she began to walk. Within moments the biggest pain she had felt, forced her to the ground. With no love or support, her baby was born.

She heard nothing. There were no cries coming from the newborn. She sat up and looked between her legs, and saw the blue face of the child. A cord was wrapped around the precious baby’s neck. The little girls eyes were closed. There was no movement in the lungs. She reached down and touched the baby.  All around her was silence. Quietness took over her mind and the baby’s tiny soul.

She laid back down and wept. She was weeping for the loss of her summer, Ted, and having no home, and now this, the death of her baby girl. Her life was over, there was nothing left for her. She laid there for what seemed hours, and then a soft blanket wrapped gently around her, and a warm hand comforted her. Soft words were spoken, and Donna saw a glimmer of light.

 

Chewing It Over


English: Memory Christmas tree Thickwoods Alon...

Can we control our feelings, or do our feelings control us? Can we stand in front of a man who we have proclaimed our hearts and body to, and listen to the words, that  he no longer loves me? Do we fall apart, cry in front of him, cause a scene, or do we show our wall, let him see that it doesn’t matter that he just ripped our heart out, turn around, and reaching for our purse, we walk out of the door holding our heads high?

When a loved one is dying, do we go visit, or do we stay away? Do we walk up to the bed and lean in and let the tears flow, showing them how much we care? Do we take a hold of the pale, limp hand and give it a light squeeze, whispering how much we have loved and admired them through out our time of knowing them here on earth. Or do we stand back, with our backs erected, a smile glued to our cheeks, letting the one that we love more than life itself, know that we are strong, that we can get through this, that we shall carry on with our lives just fine?

The excitement that most of us feel when we learn we are pregnant, explodes among family members, as the joy of a bundle of love, is coming into our lives. Is each of us ready for this? Is there any that wish other wise, that this would never have  happened? Do we pretend in front of familiar faces, nodding our heads, smiling at the future, agreeing with what is said, or are there others who wish they could speak up, to show the hidden fears of having a child, maybe with a father or without a father for the child. Not wanting to disappoint loved ones, but turning into our pillows in the darkness of the nights, letting tears comfort us into a restless sleep?

What is it that causes some of us to be stronger than others? Upbringing, fear of nothing, love for our own person, what makes each of us different? Do each of us deserve and also have the right to be happy with our own lives we have created? Have we followed our own paths? Have we followed our hearts? Have we listened to our inner spirit speaking, or do we do, as others wish us to do in order to keep others happy at the expense of our own souls being happy?

What are our choices in life? Who do we want to be? Who do we want to look up to us? I find own self questioning my own self in this late period of my life. Who have I really been being true to? Myself, my family, my friends? What were my goals, and how have they changed through the years? Am I the same person I was ten years ago? Am I happy with who I will be in ten years from now?

The greatest gift I could give myself, is freedom this year at Christmas. Freedom to be the person I was born to be, freedom to not run when faced with fear of rejection, free to love myself first, and to realize not everyone will love me back. I say now is the time, if there are changes to be made, let me make them now, this year, allow myself the privilege  to be happy, to be accepted for what I represent. What do I want to hear if I am lying on my death-bed dying from an incurable cancer, what is it that my ears wish to hear…………….

 

Advice Hour


Français : Une cannette de Coca-Cola italienne...

I can’t seem to lick this problem, so once again, I am coming to you for advice. You have Al

English: Vintage cars from Scottish Extravagan...

who is mentally 10 years old, and physically 57 years old. You also have a stubborn man who is angry when he can not do things for himself, like he used to due to the Parkinson’s Disease.

Now take one regular size bedroom and in this room is his bed, bedside table, recliner, commode, another end table, television shelf stand, and one dresser. On everything that is able to hold anything coca cola and vintage cars sit. Every nook and corner on the floor, closet clothes are being forced to move closer and closer due to his collectibles being stored.

Now that you have pictured this room, the icing on the cake is, the nurses thinks he needs a bigger path to walk in, because he has his walker in his room, and he is considered a high risk fall person. You have me who has used the cars as a bribe in order for me to get to run to Wal-Mart, plus I have a tendency to have spoiled him this year, because of his advanced stages of his illness.

We have a storage shed outside also, that I have packed some of his collectibles up in bags and taken them out there, but they are being squeezed in between shed stored items. He has been telling therapists that I won’t let him have any cars for a while, and he is agitated at me for not letting him get them.

How do I get out of this mess? How do I keep him happy, the nurse happy, and Al safe when walking? I have asked Al if he would consider selling any of his items, in order to make room for new cars,and his answers for years have always been no, these are his!!, and we already have placed shelves up to help too.

The problem is that Al’s mentality only sees that he likes these cars and he wants them, pretty black and white for him. Sometimes I get confused with his mentality, not being sure if this is a throwing fit game, in order to get his own way, or if his mentality is actually not letting  him feel the reasoning that I am explaining to him. I also get concerned, because Al throws fits like an adult and not like a ten year old. I do see this comprehension as a growing problem with Parkinson’s, but I still need to get this issue fixed. It is driving me crazy, him being upset and  crying and me overly explaining. Ideas for me?