Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Wordless Wednesday

Sunset heating things up at Waterfire, Sharon, PA August 22, 2015

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Team Teddy Tuesday

Three incidents lately remind me that child abuse aftermaths last a life time. One lady tells me of how her step father beat her, but not her siblings. He singled her out. She sighs, "It kept him off my mother." On the outside, she is coiffed, beautiful- she's beautiful inside as well, lives in luxury now. But fifty years later, even though she was homecoming queen and popular, the emotional scars remind her that somehow she is not worthy. We never knew her pain, then, or even later as an adult with her sparkly eyes and sweet composure. She confided in me only recently.
A comment on my sister's post about missing our dad's hugs from another woman stated her dad never hugged her. I don't know if it were abuse or just some men have problems showing affection. Still, the loss screams in her written word.
A friend today recalls how she was raised in an alcoholic family. The beatings, the screaming, and the abuse sound like too many stories. She affirmed since she met Jesus, she determined it would stop in her generation. Her grandchildren are taught love and acceptance. She doesn't bite the bait her sister throws out to fight anymore. Jesus makes the difference.
These abuses happened long ago. Like my resident, who will be ninety six in October, I wrote about before. The memories don't fade. They haunt in the quiet evening hours, as she sits with her thoughts. I see her head bowed, she's not reading, but she bringing back those hurts, wondering what she did to deserve the emotional neglect. I hug her when I see that hunched, lonely position, if I'm there. A hug brings the smile, but never erases her hurt. I tell her about Jesus. I feel she may slowly be getting it.
When an adult is mean to you, like a clerk in a store, remember she may be hurting, too. Show that little extra kindness. Offer a prayer. Tell her about how Jesus loves you and loves her as well. We may not change the world, but one person may be who we need to love.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

My Gut Instinct Validated
In my initial feeling stated in That Bastard Cancer, some ways of raising cancer awareness does nothing for the cause. October is one of those months. As it looms on the horizon, I will probably re-post this in that month.
We need to be aware of how we are manipulated. Relay for Life helps the victims of cancer- all cancer. I have a sneaking suspicion that the medical community does not want a cure because, Cancer makes money. Even when I worked home health, the hospice aspect of our company scoured the diagnosis of new home health admissions for a cancer one so they could be on the case. Why? Hospice is covered totally by Medicare and it makes money for the company. I'm not putting down Hospice, it is a wonderful service that is needed, but some days it felt like morbid obsession for a cancer diagnosis.
I hope I'm screaming in your ear- Show me the money. Show me the results. Don't be manipulated by pink or any color, ribbons or sexual innuendo on Facebook. I will put my money where my words are. And as always pray for a cure.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Come Again Soon

Come Again Soon
Mollie Lyon

I have this feeling I can't explain
A feeling I can put no name.
I think of summers past.
I see beauty that cannot last.
Playing and free.
My mother took care of me.
Dad, too, for the fun.
He loved the sun.
The beach, the yard, the lake
A picnic with Kentucky fried and cake.
Summer, summer, summer
Why do you have to end?
Visions of the shore
I want more.

 Names I could use.
The stories from this muse.
 Of summer change.
Of summer growth.

Mom loved September.
I do now, too,
But not as kid.
Putting on shoes.
Buying sweaters and jeans
The year I entered my teens.

Life changes fast.
Seasons mark the time
A childhood doesn't last.
And I repose on children mine
And their childhood is over, too.
Maybe the name should be Blue.

But I carry on
For summertime will soon come around.
The next year better
I plan for fun.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Wordless Wednesday

Blue Heron on the upper lake at Buhl Farm Park

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Team Teddy Tuesday- From last year

I don't know what to say. The news from Iraq chills me and leaves me helpless. Child abuse of any kind is horrific. One post I saw had fact check. I couldn't link to the fact check, if the pictures were real. One was a child surrounded by pointing rifles. My husband remarked that it was pretty chilling, even if they staged that one.
(2015 it is the picture of a lion, the videos of Planned Parenthood discussing baby parts and debates that fill our news feeds)
If this post could save one from the harm of a monster, I would be hopeful. Evil runs this world for now. But I do believe love will win out. We also need to keep our eyes opened. Maybe we can't help those kids in Iraq, but help the one next door. Do all you can to bring awareness.
I know the stories from Iraq keep my problems in perspective. As I said, I don't know what to write today. Keep praying. Keep fighting. Keep your eyes open. And listen and believe.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Wordless Wednesday

My first trip to the ocean, Jersey Shore, August, 1968

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Team Teddy Tuesday

My purpose is to raise awareness of child abuse. I pray we will diffuse abuse when we can. I pray for open eyes and ears, with boldness to report. I believe laws need to be in place to protect our children. At the bottom of it all, though, our nation needs a heart change. We can pass a million laws, but unless a heart is changed, abuse will happen in the dark, as do all unlawful things.
Let's make it harder for the abusers to have access to children in the dark. Teddy was pulled out of two school districts because the abuse was coming to light. Officials didn't dig deep enough to uncover the darkness in his home.
I'm for home schooling, if you are able to do so. It is a fine line sometimes between parent rights and safety of children. I don't want the government too involved. That is why I ask the readers of this blog and followers of Team Teddy to be alert. And as I have experienced myself, too often it is right under my nose.
I saw this link
It sickens me. I'm at a loss for words, as my gut churns and a heaviness fills my chest. Unfortunately, these kind of cases turn up more and more. Solomon wrote there is nothing new under the sun, but now they come to light more.
Pray for those in authority, tracking the predators.  Pray our eyes are open to this kind of activity to put a stop to it. Pray for these last days of summer, as moms panic about babysitting, summer programs done and camps over. Mostly pray for the safety of our children. Watch and pray.

Saturday, August 1, 2015

I Do Like What I Write

I'm almost finished with my first read through of Outside of Time. I had about fifteen pages left before time for work tore me away from it. I exclaimed, "Oh, this moves me." When David realized I was reading my own work, in his fashion, drily remarked, "Well, that's an unbiased opinion."
I agreed, "Sure it isn't."
Then I thought some of those early rules of writing. Write what you want to read. I also read once by a famous author, I can't remember who now, "no tears from the writer, no tears from the reader." So, yes, I like what I write. Am I always satisfied? No, improvement waits on the horizon. I can always improve.
What comes out of my gut I like most of the time. I see the 'movie' in my head, desiring to accurately place it on the page. Yet, I leave some detail out so the reader can make his own movie details.
After the first read through, I'll really tweak the piece. I desire themes to mesh and sound strong, but not over powering. I feel the place more in the second, third and fourth readings. The place, characters, and weather live in my dreams and waking hours.
I walked today to clear my mind. Harrison needs to move, too, and is a much better dog after a walk. That helps the concentration as well. I strolled by my picture of courage. I snapped more. I need a dose of courage as I endeavor to publish another book. I fear editing, formatting, cover for the book. Will my vision float on the page? Will I format correctly? How much would an editor cost and how much will he change my story? I know it would be for the better, but I'm putting my soul out there. And will anyone like what I write? Will anyone buy what I write?
I gaze at that lion of courage. I draw strength from what it symbolizes. I review and write on. I have so many stories scratching to get set to page. I need courage more than ever. And I believe in my ability, and I have to like what I write. I hope you do, too.