A New Sketch With A Little Color

I sort of like this. It isn’t what I planned on drawing but it is what came out in the end.

View Post

A New Sketch With A Little Color

I sort of like this. It isn’t what I planned on drawing but it is what came out in the end.

Picture and Write It, August 19,2012

Come to mama, she whispers in the winds, that roll of the bare branches, into his heart and soul. He was fighting it. She was evil, and he didn’t want any part of this life.

She had tricked him before, breaking his heart, and stealing his virginity, only to leave him standing alone in the dark.

He had fought depression over a figure of his imagination, drawing the wildness out of him and pouring it into hidden desires. He had started out reading the books, and looking at magazines, and ventured farther into dreams of wild ecstasy. He had crossed paths between dreams and reality and let it take over his waking and sleeping hours.

He hadn’t realized it had gone too far, until the doctor announced that he was in a deep depression and he had to seek help to figure out why he had this obsession with bad girls. He realized something was wrong, when he had started to lose weight, and wanted to sleep more than his usual night-time hours. It had begun to affect his work performance and had been verbally reprimanded by his boss, to get his shit in order. This was no place to goof off, he was not going to pay him for no work.

He made an appointment with a doctor who would help him sort out his evil desires and to figure out why he felt this way and how to get help to lay it to rest. It took several months of meeting twice weekly to come to the realization that this was his imagination being worked, and none of this was real.

He went to his best friend, who he had confided as much as he knew to, and the friend asked him if he would like to go to church with him one Sunday. He didn’t jump up and say yes, but because it was his best friend, he did consent to go the following Sunday.

At church the sermon was on the devil’s work, and how Satan could wiggle his way into a human’s conscience and have his way with him. Convincing him that the only way to live in the world was through Satan himself.

He sat and listened, and after church was over, he and his best friend, talked to the minister about the problems he was having. The minister asked him if he had ever accepted Jesus Christ to be his savior, and the boy said no. The minister went on to explain how Christ was the only answer to fighting off the devil.

After much talk, the two boys thanked the minister and went out the doors of the church.The two didn’t speak much about what had been said inside the church doors and went on to talk about the following weeks activities.

That night, as the boy slept, she came to him once again, inviting him to be with her. She would feel his wildest fantasies, please come to her, follow her. He could hear her whispers in his ear, even as he was sleeping.

He woke up startled at the reality, and felt his clothes that were soaked with sweat. He was afraid and he wanted this to stop. He didn’t want to live like this anymore. He got out of bed and kneeled on his knees at the bed side, and asked the Lord to come live in his heart.

He poured out his fears and his need to be free of this evil over taking him. He cried as he called out to God to heal him, and stay with him and never let this evil speak to him again in any form.

He felt a quietness come over him, and his sweat was dried with God’s hands. He was picked up by the arms of Jesus, and cleansed with the blood of Christ. A heaviness was lifted, and he felt a peace flow through his veins. God gently laid him back down on  his bed, and covered him with his blessings and love. God took his fingers and closed the boy’s eye lids and sleep was brought upon him. After this night, the evil dreams never appeared again, and God had even made sure there were no memories left to arise ever again.

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com

What Did I Do To This Old Lady!!!!

I had to do something. Too much stress going on, which I don’t seem to be able to rid myself of. So went to the beauty salon. Minus make-up, this is my new look. Gave myself a boost of pink for a change

The Box

A dear friend of mine here in WordPress has a son who wanted to share some of his very own collection with my brother, Al. Nothing brings a smile to my brother quicker than coca-cola.

I was informed that this package was going to be mailed out, and I was so excited for Al to receive it, and it was very hard for me to keep my big mouth shut, and not give it away, that he was going to receive a box in the mail for his very own.

Today it arrived. It had been a bad day, as we are starting to have problems with yet a new situation. I won’t go into details, because I don’t want anyone to get squeamish or end up having to run to their bathroom, but it does have to deal with bathroom duties, so we are now trying to figure out better ways to make life easier for him and for me.

So after supper is over, and he is sitting in the living room on the couch, he tunes in on THE BOX. I am noticing but saying nothing, giggling inside, as I can see his brain ticking, wondering who’s it is.

I am the worst at holding back smiles for others, so I had to say, IT’S FOR YOU! I never saw it coming. He started crying. I asked him why the tears bud? He says he is scared to open it because it could be bad, as it wasn’t his birthday. I said, I think people can be nice and do things for you without reason. I explained how I have come to know this very nice lady, and her son wanted you to have something to add to your collection. He still cried. I placed the box over by me, and told him when he was ready, he could open it.

I waited about ten minutes then looked around to him, and he was lying down to watch TV. I must admit, I don’t understand the brain, nor do I understand the intimate details of this wicked Parkinson’s, but he just didn’t get the connection of any of it.

This past week or two, Al has shown much confusion in comprehension. I understand this is a big part of the Parkinson’s. He stares instead of speaking, and when he looks at me, I can see by the blank eyes, there is no one there for a few minutes.

I couldn’t take it. I cursed the disease, and plastered a smile on my face, grabbed a knife, and cut all the tape so he could open it easily. I placed the box in front of him, and said please open it bud, you are going to love it!

It took him forty-five minutes to take the items out of the box, not because he didn’t want to, but I could actually see the slow-timing in his body. The arm reaches for the paper packaging, used to protect the items, and he grabs one by one, with his hand. He lays the empty bag beside him on the couch. I counted by seconds, and it took his hand twenty seconds to release the paper from  his fingers. My heart broke, as I knew he was trying so hard to keep moving, but the brain was not co-operating.

There is one thing my brother knows, and that is each piece of his collection. He knows when he got it, where he got it, how much he paid for it, and how many he has. As he was taking the goodies out of the box, I would ask him if he liked it, or had one like it or anything generally I could think of in order to get some look of excitement from him. To my despair, he told me he didn’t know if he had this collection piece or not. There were no smiles ever from this, but I do know that he liked it by his signals at the end. He took each piece and went to his room, and I can bet right now he is in there comparing them to his pieces, looking at every detail, and using his book to look at the originals.

Thank goodness he did this. If he would have let the gifts set, I would have known he truly wasn’t here with me tonight. I probably won’t see him again until snack time. This will keep him pretty busy, and help him to not think upon himself.

I want to thank-you dear friend for allowing Al to have an evening to enjoy himself. He may not have actually shown it like we do with awes and wow’s and smiles, but I know that he at least still has the ability to feel from within, and connect in his own ways to his coca cola.