I am just bored and uninspired this evening. It has rained the entire day and we have had so many rainy days and evenings that I have lost count of the actual number. I just know that in this area there is very little to do and when you can't even go out in your backyard and putter around...one can get very bored, very quickly. (I know, Tor, I'm whining).

I have spent the entire day waiting for the promised call concerning the decision which was to be made today about the job position for which I interviewed the other day. It's after 7 P.M. and still no call. I decided that I would just sit down at my desk and try to write. The problem with that is that I am uninspired and bored, as I already said, and unfocused. I can't seem to come up with anything interesting or even a rhyme. I am helping my hubby with a crossword puzzle as I type...but that's the most I've used my brain all day. *yawn*

Well...I guess I will head back over to my recliner...maybe take in the ball game that is about to start after (what else?) a rain delay. I will try to be more interesting tomorrow. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
 

I can be very patient. I can wait for quite a long time (if I must) for something which I consider worthwhile. I don't mind if things are not immediately supplied to me when I ask for them. I can wait with the best of them. But when it comes to waiting for answers to life-questions, well...that's a different story.

There have been occasions when I have waited without complaint for the answers to prayers...or replies from friends whom I have called or emailed. I have often waited for a child to respond to my instructions and I have certainly waited for members of my family to aid me in completing a task around the house. I am not opposed to being patient but I don't enjoy being 'put on hold', either.

It feels like I am on hold every time I apply for a job. You know how it is. You prepare yourself for the personal interview. You put yourself at the mercy of the one conducting the interview...and then, many times, you are sent away without knowing the outcome for days. You don't know how to think about the future. You try to see yourself in the position. You try to see yourself accepting the rejection. You don't know whether to make plans for shopping or vacation or ... whatever. You are on hold!

I don't like feeling as though I am a hostage. As though someone has me in a little cage. Almost as if they determine my future. I really don't care much for that feeling.

The good news for me is that this time I am able to say that it won't kill me if I am rejected for the position I desire. I guess I have come a long way in my journey through this life because I am OK with whatever the results may be. I am just not OK with not knowing. I am just a little impatient.
 

The interview for the job I spoke of here on May 27th was today. I don't know much more than I did on May 27th, though.

It was not an unpleasant experience. It is only four minutes from my home (five if the traffic lights are not in my favor) so I did not have enough time to become too wilted from the heat or too nervous. I still had trembling hands during the interview and could sometimes feel my smile becoming a little shaky, but all in all I think I presented myself well. I am not an unlikable person, after all.

Because of the heat and humidity I dressed a bit casual. I just could not bear to wear anything too fussy and really, I did not have anything very dressy to choose from. I was relieved that the manager said that she was glad to see me dressed casually and that I looked fresh and very nice - but it did take me back a little to have her notice and comment. She was very easy to talk to. I was just disappointed when she mentioned the possibility of a part-time position when I thought that I was specifically interviewing for a managerial post.

The events which have led up to this interview have convinced me that I am not in control of the outcome...so, I did my part and will now have to be patient to see what may be the results.

To never try, to never reach for that which is beyond average or routine in my life is just not exciting enough to me. Living is about tasting new things and trying new things. Impossible is only impossible when the possibilities are ignored or denied!

P.S. If you were praying - thank you!
 

It is so hot here today, supposed to hit 90 degrees and was already about 75 at 8:00 a.m. **Sigh**

I know that we have all awaited the summer season and I know that warmer weather is part of that anticipation. But, though the weather may be hot, the sad truth is that I am NOT! Oh, I am sweaty and miserable alright, but I am also not a proper display form for summer clothing...especially bathing suits! In fact, I am almost positive that there is a law on the books somewhere prohibiting my body type from donning anything that reveals more than 12 square inches of flesh below the chin.

I have been working on the problem. I have been spending time on my treadmill and working out in the yard. Thankfully, in high heat and humidity I don't have much of an appetite. But, the truth is when it takes years to get your body into such disrepair - it also takes much time to salvage what one can. Alas, summer is here and I am not 'repaired' yet...not even close!

I am not sure that it would really matter if I was able to wear well the clothing of summertime and beachwear. In this heat and humidity I would probably be hot and sweaty, regardless. There is a limit to what any body type should parade around with OUT wearing, after all. Still, if I were to put on a bathing suit it would be nice to not have to suffer the embarrassment of seeing the pool empty or the beach close as I approached the water's cooling relief.

Ahhh...thank the Lord that He put it in some one to invent air conditioners! When you don't look HOT...they are really COOL!





 

Well...I got the call in response to my application for the job mentioned here a couple of days back. I am not at all certain if I will be offered the job or if I will want to accept the job - I am just being offered the opportunity to interview with the owners/managers of the store. As I have nothing to lose, I have decided to go.

I have not been in the workforce now for nearly three years. I have not worked in the field for which I have the interview for about ten years! YIKES, I didn't realize that until I just typed it! That is a long time to be out of the loop. I will need some 'brushing up' on the techniques and tools of the trade...but I think I could still do the work...(Sorry, but I just can't bring myself to say what the work is until AFTER I see what transpires).

I'm not nervous but I'm not comfortable about interviewing, either. I just don't know how much to say or not say whenever it comes to job interviews. On one hand, I know that I should appear confident...on the other hand, I never truly am.

So...for those of you who pray, please pray for me on the afternoon of Wednesday, May 31st. If it's to be - then so be it!
 

One of my pet-peeves is the use of the words, "I don't care..." by parents when addressing their children. I have heard a child explain themselves or their situation only to have their father or mother respond with those three words. It causes me such frustration.

On one hand, I know that many parents may use those words without literally meaning what they are saying. But a child, especially one under the age of ten, hears what the adult is saying and can not interpret that Mommy is actually saying, "That's not the point...", or that Daddy really means, "Your excuses are not valid." What children hear is simply, "I don't care!" and it may be one of the most harmful sentences which can be uttered.

To say, "I don't care," is like telling a child, "You don't matter...I'm not interested in you...there are other things that I do care about - but you are not one of them."

This is probably a revelation to many parents and adults in authority. Many would say, "but that's not at all what I meant..." and they would not be lying. However, the truth is that words are powerful. Words can be edifying or they can be destructive. Words can cheer or depress. Words can reward or punish. Words have the power to be constructive to a person's viewpoint of themselves or be destructive to their self-esteem.

Even among peers, whether an adult or a child, how someone responds to us is important. We all look to others from time to time for approval. When we feel that someone truly cares about our work, we seek their input. When we feel cared for by another, we seek a relationship. When someone cares for another it can bring hope, healing and faith to both of their lives. Knowing that another cares has caused many a person to survive what would have otherwise been certain death.

Imagine, if you will, that you have been thinking about what you would like to have for dinner. You have been hungry for stuffed pork-chops and mashed potatoes all week. With great anticipation you say to the person who is in charge of your meals, "You know what I would love for dinner today? Stuffed pork-chops and mashed potatoes!" The reply comes swiftly, "I don't care!"
Or picture that you really love the person with whom you spend most of your time. You think they 'hung the moon'. You turn to them one afternoon and say, "I love you and I'm so glad you are a part of my life." You are told, "I don't care!"

Children love their parents, no matter the level of their parenting skills, intellect, or even their physical appearance. That's a very strong type of love. It is one that is unconditional. The dependency on this love to be returned by their parents runs deep for most children. There is a need that only a mommy or daddy can fulfill in these little ones.

One day, years ago, at a local McDonald's a mother stood at the service counter with her young son at her side. She was studying the menu above when the little guy began to tug at her shirt tail.
"Mommy? Mommy. Mommy!" he said, eager to place his order for lunch.
Turning swiftly toward him with a loud voice, Mommy shrieked, "Shut up!" and followed up with, "Now, what do you want to eat?"
You could see the confusion on the young tyke's face. Should he keep quiet as she'd just said to do...or was it safe to tell her what he'd like for lunch?

When a parent is having a bad day or feeling frustration, it is not the child's fault. Even if the child is the one who is causing the frustration...it is not the child's fault if the parent becomes frustrated or, even worse, out of control emotionally. Adults govern their own emotions. It is the art of self-control. Sadly, it is not practiced enough by those who are in authority, but it is necessary to society's well-being and should be a mandatory skill one possesses before being permitted any sort of interaction with children.

Most of us do actually care about children (as well as others) in this world. It is imperative that we let those around us know that we care. We should show and tell each other that each one matters. We must choose our words well and practice the art of self-control, as well as the art of conversation. When we talk to one another, especially our children - instead of just throwing words at one another - it makes such a difference in our relationships. It changes lives.

Remember, if you care...say so! If you too often say, "I don't care," you can expect to one day find yourself the recipient of those words or that attitude.


 

I'm almost convinced that I need to go back out into the workforce. I'm not sure why (other than the pleasure I usually get from having a little extra money).

I already work for about three hours an evening one to two nights per week, cleaning area businesses, which is very physical work. I do that more for my daughter than for myself...she needs the help with her business. Lately, I have thought that maybe I would like to do something more interesting.

The problem with taking a job, any job, outside the home is that my time will no longer be my own. Actually, only a small percentage of my time is my own, anyway...so I figure I may as well give away a little more and get paid to do it. Every job I have ever had demanded hours that I was not always happy about. I seemed to take jobs that required evening hours, holidays and weekends. Most jobs available today are this way, I realize, it's just that when my husband would be off work I wouldn't be and that would really bother me.

A very interesting chain of events occurred today, though, which has made me feel almost convinced that there is a job I should apply for. You see, the other evening I was in a store and overheard one of the employees complaining and sounding as though she were either in need of help in her department, or was quitting - I wasn't quite sure which. I got the idea (since I have done the sort of work she was involved with) that maybe I would go in on another morning and just casually ask if they were hiring in that department. Well, today was that morning. The woman I had overheard two days before looked at me with a look I couldn't quite read and said, "Uhhh...that would be Customer Service...you would need to ask at the Customer Service Desk." I thought, "Yeah, right. You would know if you were in need of help or hiring for this department." But, I dutifully went to the Customer Service Desk where the girl said, "I don't know," when I posed the same question to her. "Well...is there anyone here who would know that?" I asked. "She's not here today," she replied, adding, "You will just have to fill out an application and if she is hiring for that, she'll call you."

I decided that I would accept an application but not fill it out as I thought that I had been lied to by both females with whom I'd just spoken.

A few hours later, my mother called me and said that she had seen a Want-Ad in the local paper which might be of interest to me. It was an ad stating that the store I'd visited was looking to hire someone for the exact position about which I had inquired.

I am intrigued and think I will follow through after all. I don't really believe in coincidence...so, I think I should follow up on the job, despite the deception that I'm sure I was shown this morning. The application has been filled out...I'll let you know what happens!






 

Well...after the two hour work-out of putting the machine together, I just completed my first fifteen minutes of exercise on my newly purchased treadmill! YIPPEE!!!

It was fun! I watched part of a decorating show while walking. That is so much better than worrying about other people watching ME while I walk. I don't have to worry about how I look which allows me to put my all into the effort. My mind is distracted by the T.V. so I am not aware of all of the little discomforts I may be experiencing. But, the best part of the treadmill experience is that once set, I am kept at the speed I choose. Maintaining a pace was always a little difficult for me when walking outside and slower was usually the winning pace.

In fifteen minutes the treadmill reading was 14.5 carbs and 105 calories burned. Not bad! I increased the incline from time to time and increased the speed up to three miles per hour for a while. Two and a half miles an hour was comfortable and was the speed I did most of the time, slowing down to one and a half for the last minute or two. I LOVE the fan feature...it kept me feeling refreshed. I sweat so easily that I really appreciated the air moving across my face and chest.

The machine is a little large for our home. Even though it does fold up for better storage, when it is in use it takes up a little more space than I had hoped it would. In the spaciousness of the store it seemed a little smaller, of course, but I'll move a few things and see what I can do to make it a better fit.

Well...gotta go! Hubby says dinner is almost ready!

What a wonderful time I enjoyed today with three very good friends who know how to have a great time!

I don't get out much. No, seriously! I have been very involved recently with my husband's illness, surgery and recovery and it has limited my social outings. Thankfully, he is doing so well that we are now both able to get out of the house for longer periods of time and today, I made the most of it!

My friends made the day a treat. We shopped, laughed, told stories, shared our hearts and ate wonderful food. It was an all girl's day out and it was more fun than we could handle some times...(laughing too hard for too long can have an undesirable affect on "women of age").

We have decided that "drive-by shopping is NOT a crime!" and to save on time and weary legs we did a little of this. By slowly driving by the windows of a Pier 1 store, we were able to assess that indeed there were items of interest enough to merit searching out a parking space and going inside. We know how to shop!

My friends and I acted like school-girls. Our adult children would have been embarrassed, our husbands would have dis-owned us and the Lord will just have to forgive us, because we were out of control.

It was a wonderful day spent with wonderful friends with whom I am free to be myself. Who could ask for anything more? I didn't want the time to end and I can't wait until we are able to do it again.

Thanks, girls!
 

I can not say just why it means so much to me to have received the notification, today, that I am now among those members known as Preferred Authors here on WDC. Perhaps it is because I just plain do not feel worthy. Maybe it has to do with the fact that no matter how much I have poured myself into any venture, I have always felt that I only "almost" make it to the goal. Someone else always seems to do it quicker, better or bigger...if you know what I mean.

Today's news gives me even more hope that a new page is possible in my life. I guess when once we reach a certain age, we are also in danger of reaching a less than exciting plateau, or even worse a deadly rut!

Friday evening, we purchased a pretty impressive treadmill. I plan to work hard on this old body for the next few months...hopefully, making it a healthy habit to daily stroll on this exercise toy. As I strive to re-make my well-worn body, I am inspired (by today's surprise email from WDC) to keep my writing habit healthy, as well.

Though I often doubt my own abilities to use words well ~ I have nothing to lose by continuing to work at it...until I get it right!

I am my own worst critic. I can not give a harsh critique to others, but I can be scathing when reviewing my own work. It's just that I am not willing to be average. Maybe that is all I am at present, but there is a renewed hope within me that it is not all that I can ever be. I can continue to try to be a very good writer, a preferred writer, one that others will want to read when they see my name.

You may think me a dreamer...and you would be correct in your assumption. But no one ever achieved, without first dreaming it could be so. And so, I dream!


 

This morning was a first. For the first time in over 30 years, I shared breakfast with my two brothers. For the first time in over 30 years I shared breakfast with my two brothers AND my mother, at the same table.

With my brother's and their wives, a couple of their children, my mother, her brother and his wife and my husband, there were eleven us. We had great conversation, and lots of laughter! The waitress joined in our fun from time to time and seemed to enjoy our enjoyment of breakfast with the relations.

You find out a lot about people while sharing a meal. Though all of us were related either by blood or through marriage, there were still untold stories and jokes which had not been shared between us until this morning. The relationship of those gathered around the table this morning was cemented through the insights and the glimpses of the true hearts of one another.

I discovered that my sister-in-law's fourteen year old daughter is an avid reader and writer. She had just won a two-hundred dollar prize for a piece that she had written and we passed around the newspaper article which featured her accomplishment. As we discussed the bear my one brother and his wife had recently spotted in their driveway, their daughter (who just last week graduated with a degree in Animal Biosciences) was able to share some additional interesting facts about the critter which led to all sorts of dialogue...some not the best for meal-time discussion .

In spite of gloomy skies and cold temperatures outside, there was warm conversation and cheerful faces inside the local restaurant where relations gathered for breakfast for the first time in thirty years...and hopefully, not the last.
 

How often we misinterpret another's actions or words. How easily we ourselves are misinterpreted.

To err in understanding can cause good friends to become enemies. It is the reason that many family members become estranged from one another. Misunderstanding through the misinterpretation of others actions or words can be the reason that we miss out on opportunities - never again to come our way - and why others may refuse to even give us a chance.

When writing (or creating any form of art for that matter) we take the risk of being misinterpreted. I may be writing about a 'thing' and a reader may interpret my words to be about a 'person'. You may paint a picture of 'a crowded street in Paris' and someone may see 'a mob at a zoo'. The sculpture created to represent the emotion of 'joy' may bring tears to the eyes of the viewer. We can not control what our creations may or may not stir-up in the hearts and minds of those who see or hear them. The creator expresses...but the interpretation of that expression may be quite varied.

It pleases me whenever a reader gets what I am trying to say. I feel that I have done my best when it is understood by another without any further explanation. When my work can cause another to see what I have tried to say it is as though that effort has been confirmed as a legitimate piece, somehow. When it is misinterpreted and the reader sees something completely foreign to what I thought I had written, I am not as satisfied. I feel as though I possibly could have said it better, or perhaps I didn't say enough. It's usually disappointing for me.

While it's not as important to me as it once was, being misinterpreted can still be frustrating. It can also be a great stimulus for improvement of my craft.

If others are not 'getting' me...then it's time for me to look for better ways to write. I frequently search for other words, other ways to structure sentences and more creative ways to share thoughts, ideas and feelings. Just because I know what I'm talking about when I write a piece, does not automatically mean that others will. I want to be read. Whether or not the reader understands me is not important, rather that he or she understands what I have written.
 

Our young grandson spent the evening with us today. He is such a joy. Watching him take in the world around him is a delight and playing with him makes me feel young. Together, he and I can be quite creative!

At 2 1/2 years of age, my grandson has not yet learned to be negative, spiteful or prejudiced. He is purely happy to have a cookie and genuinely interested in any type of wheel. If there was nothing else in this world but wheels, he would be thoroughly content.

The moment I hear his determined little knock on my front door, I look forward to spending time with him. His face is lit up like a Christmas tree as he enters our home and he acts as though he is entering the gates of Disney World. Each time he comes he seems to be a little taller. Each time he comes he knows another new word. Each time he comes he brings me pleasure and each time he goes he leaves me with the great satisfaction and extreme happiness of being a grandparent.

Who else looks at me with such love? Who else has such enthusiasm for sitting with me, listening to me read? Who else enjoys being rocked in the rocking chair, as classical music plays softly? Who else makes me feel quite so needed?

Grandchildren are the gift - the reward - that we finally get for all of the years we spent sacrificially giving of ourselves, our time and our money as parents. It may take a long time for our own children to appreciate us...but their children seem to recognize how awesome we are right from the start!

Not long ago, I thought I would hate being referred to as "Grandma". I was wrong! My little one said it for the first time this evening...and though it sounded a little more like "mingma" than Grandma...it was music to my ears!
 

It is a rainy day. The rain is gentle and soaking and much needed in the area where I live. It is a welcomed event.

The river which runs to the east of town has been lower than I can remember for quite some time. There has been a ban on burning in the county. Pollen has been covering everything outdoors with a yellow-green film. But the area is being replenished and cleansed, all at once today.

I love the lazy feeling that the soothing rain brings with it. It's as though all of the chores which should be done can wait, as though the rain gives it's permission to us to be relaxed and un-hurried. It is a great day to read. The rain eliminates any guilt for napping in the afternoon. The rain is comforting.

It is a rainy, comfortable day for lazy souls to enjoy as the music of the raindrops plays in the background. The earth will drink it in and give back to us in the form of lush grasses and brightly colored flowers. The air will carry the refreshing, clean scent. We will be reminded of the life-giving attributes of water and how important it is to our existence.

We have a small pond in our backyard which is located too closely to several trees which shed leaves, seed-pods and other undesirable clutter into the water. It is difficult to keep the pond clean. There are a couple of things we could have done differently when we created the pond which may have made it easier to maintain but, because of the proximity of the trees and the limited space, the tree offerings are just unavoidable.

I wanted to give up on it and fill it in. Due to the fact that the maintenance responsibilities will be all mine this summer, I didn't relish the idea and suggested terminating the pond. My husband didn't agree. He felt that we had worked too hard to create it several years back and just wasn't ready to see it eliminated. So, several days ago I began the distasteful job of mucking out the neglected mosquito habitat.

Because we had lived elsewhere for a couple of years and the tenants who rented our house while we were away did not tend to the pond - it was in very bad condition! The sludge which had accumulated smelled very much like cow manure. I had to drain the polluted water and then scoop out the sludge and the process took several days. After that I had to move around and restack many of the large rocks which line the pond both inside and around the outer perimeter. My back and shoulders are still reminding me of how out of shape I really am.

Finally, yesterday evening I could plug in the waterfall and let the sound of the water soothe my tired bones while I sat in the lawn chair admiring the results of my hard work.

After only a few minutes, our three young neighbor children were peering over the fence asking me questions about the pond. It had been a long time since they had seen it look good or heard the sound of the waterfall. Another few minutes and they were crouching alongside the pond trying to catch a lone water-skipper. Before I knew it they were taking turns using the long-handled net to clear leaves and seed-pods which had continued to land on the water's surface. While one would be skimming tree offerings, the other two would be pulling weeds from the pond's edge and the adjoining flower garden. Watching them from my chair, I had never enjoyed the pond quite as much as I did in that hour.

As the sun began to set and the air took on a bit of a chill, my husband sneaked off to the grocery store to return with ice cream and cones. The children's parents joined us and we sat in the cool of the evening eating ice cream while sharing stories and laughter.

I'm glad that my husband persuaded me to not give up on the pond. Because of the wonder of water spilling down over rocks, and tree offerings swirling across it's mirrored surface...I was able to enjoy the wonder of the pond through the eyes of my neighbor children. The after-glow of shared ice cream cones and conversation was the perfect ending to a lovely evening. I'm looking forward to many more!

 

I had a melt-down this morning. I did! I sobbed, blubbered, wailed and mourned. My eyes were red and swollen afterward and I used up wads of Kleenex. But, somehow it was a GREAT cleansing!

You see, I am a firm believer that no matter how much strength of character, whether male or female, everyone should have a good cry every once in a while.

A good cry just seems to cleanse the soul. The flood of tears streaming down one's face and dripping off one's chin can carry a lot of garbage and pent-up emotions along with them, ridding the body of toxins. The poisons of anger and frustration can be flushed out of the heart and mind during a good cry. The outward appearance may be worse for the experience but, generally speaking, the inside is better off for it.

I don't cry very often. It takes a great amount of sorrow, hurt or built-up self-pity before I let go and bawl like a baby. I consider myself a rather strong person, but I do not consider tears a sign of weakness. Instead, I am concerned for the person who can say that they have never cried, or it has been many years since they have shed tears. I do not think it healthy to sit around for hours or days on end, sobbing. But, just as we cleanse the outer man...I think it good to occasionally cleanse the inner man.

After my crying time today...I was able to just relax. I can't explain it. I only know that I felt a measure of relief and calm and it didn't matter to me whether or not I had solved anything...it just felt better. I felt clean of all the things, real or imagined, that had been building up inside my mind. I felt free of frustration. It was as though I had opened the gates of an internal dam of polluted waters and now the reservoir was empty of contamination, free to be refilled with fresh contents.

Big girls do cry! Big boys probably should! And no one should feel the need to apologize. Tears are good for whatever ails you.
 

The days of Yard Sales and Garage Sales are upon us, once again. The days when some of us jump into our vehicles and traverse the local countryside for BARGAINS! The days of black and orange or cardboard with black magic-marker signage declaring the sought after sale to be -->

For a crisp one dollar bill you can get a whole plastic grocery bag full of...somebody else's junk! The sales boast well-worn clothing, well-used tools, much-played-with toys, glass vases of various sizes and other miscellaneous odds and ends which will be put out on the curb for garbage pickup after the sale is over.

Many of us are suckers for a good deal. It doesn't matter if we have our own junk sitting around at home - we still think someone else's junk is more interesting. We debate over whether an item is worth five dollars or should go for four dollars and fifty cents instead...because we are all about the best deal. We haul the stuff home and proudly display it for all visitors. We can not wait to tell our friends and family, "Look what I got...and it was only seventy-five cents!" We enjoy the look of surprise (actually, it's usually concern - we just misinterpret) on their faces.

The Yard Sale/Garage Sale phenomenon probably has it's roots in the primal days of man...when seeking out, hunting down and bagging the kill was necessary for survival. I see it in the eyes of men and women at these sales. They often slowly and carefully approach the tables laden with the various items adorned with colorful price stickers as though they must not appear overly interested. They may circle an item for some time before picking it up to examine it. If deemed worthy of purchase, the ritual of negotiating for a lower price is often the next step before the final exchange of monies and the ultimate 'bagging' of the prize.

Whatever the actual reasons for the success of such sales in our culture, they have become the symbols of the onset of the warm weather season, as well as the end. We see these celebrations begin about May and come to a close again around the end of September. They are a great way to recycle...as many who are this week the buyers will in the following weeks become the sellers of their own junk. The treasures of today will possibly be discarded for a buck tomorrow.

And now you know how eBay got it's start. Now, that's taking one man's junk and making a buck!
 

If you happen to hear a rendition of "The Hallelujah Chorus" just now, it is because I am over 'my mood'. I know several people who reside in the same house with me are plenty glad that I am acting a little more normal...whatever that is (heehee!).

Moods are often a mystery to me. You see, there are mornings that I awake and nothing, nothing can stand in my way for the day. I am able to face just about anything, accomplish a boat-load of chores and laugh easily. I don't mind anyone dropping in to visit un-announced and my overall viewpoint on life is so positive that I am able to believe that all things really are possible with Christ!

Then there are the days and nights spent in the valley of the unknown, the sad and the barely able to make it through. These moods just sneak up on me and nearly crush my spirit for a few hours or even a day or two. These are the times when I lose my focus and begin to doubt. These are the days of The Enemy of my soul.

Sometimes, The Enemy keeps me in a strong-hold a little longer than others. Usually, it's because I am more vulnerable due to present circumstances which surround me, but often it is because I just don't fight. I simply give in and let him mess with my mind. I should never do that, and I know it. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, I do.

When I neglect to fight the valley days I get angry at myself, beat myself up and hang myself out to dry. You see, The Enemy even convinces me to be my own enemy! What a creep! It's not enough that he throws junk at me and makes my life miserable...but then he turns me on myself.

As a believer in God, I also believe that everyone has worth. Some may choose to act out in worthless ways or deny their worth, but God doesn't make mistakes. He creates us the way He chooses and for the purposes He chooses...and no one is garbage. Therefore, when we begin to feel like trash, I believe that the idea is straight from the pits of Hell. It is meant to cause us defeat and it often does just that.

Defeated individuals are less productive individuals. Creativity is often diminished or killed and self-esteem annihilated. There are far too many of us wandering around in this state of mind from day to day. It is a most effective weapon. It destroys too many wonderful, creative, useful, necessary members of the human race. That is why each of us must fight against the mood that would attempt to convince us that we are worthless and matter little to the rest of the world. When we do not fight, when we drop out and no longer contribute, then we lose and so do all of those around us whose lives we touch.

Thank God another day dawned, today. I was given another opportunity to be me; to spit in the face of defeat and negativity. I was blessed with another moment in time to make a difference, if only in the lives of my immediate family members. I was allowed another day to accomplish goals and determine to succeed, find my purpose and fulfill it. Today, I could begin anew, try again and make it count.

Thankfully, moods are temporary...they come and go...and they do not have to rule us. If we choose to recognize the true enemy ... we will see that it is not really ourselves...and that by remaining creative and productive, we win!

I don't often disclose my age. I may be vain or I may just put too much stock in the power of words...but somehow I feel a little less old when not confirming my age by saying it out loud. I am not old as far as I am concerned. Therefore, I must not be old, right?

Older is better for things such as antiques. But I am not sure that "the older you get the better you get" is really true for humans. I am finding that the older I get the less likely I am to remember things. The older I get the more changes I see in my physical body. I can't do everything I used to be able to do. I can't see as well, taste as well, wear what I used to wear or move as fast as I once could. Every year that I live I see my energy level dropping and more of my skin sagging.

I have been reminded that getting older is a good thing...when you consider the alternative. I agree, in that I love being alive and I do find many things about being alive to be enjoyable. It's not living long that I have a problem with, it's living old. I want to live and enjoy a long life and never get any older!

People fall apart as they age. Just like a building, the foundation begins to crumble, then the roof may begin to leak, the windows fall out or the doors fall off their hinges...maybe the ceiling caves in. If no one tends to the maintenance of a building, eventually it will come tumbling down, either on it's own or through the help of demolition.

Perhaps that is really what has happened to me. I have neglected "this old house". I spend far too many hours sitting as I write. I spend more hours sitting in front of the T.V. Another couple of hours are spent sitting behind the wheel of my car and of course I spend at least eight hours totally horizontal, asleep in my bed. Yes, from time to time I work in my yard, chase after my little grandson, go for a short walk or help my daughter with her cleaning business. But, for the most part, I don't do enough to keep myself from deteriorating.

If you catch an older building before it has reached a certain degree of disrepair, you can slap some paint on it and it will do wonders for the appearance. That used to be how I saw myself. Lately, I feel that the paint just isn't covering enough and it's time for a major remodeling.

It would be great if I could hire a contractor to just complete the process for me. Unfortunately, I can not afford the extensive makeover talents of a qualified plastic surgeon, personal trainer, dietitian, and wardrobe artist. Therefore, I am on my own!

That is the problem. Left on my own, I am sure that I will not be successful in completing the overhaul. I am just too lazy. It is too much work and I have too many other things on my plate. I always seem to come last. It's not that I have more freedom and more time to do for me, now that the kids are grown. Oh, no. I have more freedom and time to do for the grown kids and the husband.

Still, I am not complaining...really, I'm not. I am glad that I am physically able to do for others and to enjoy my life (what there is of it!). And I truly am going to begin the attempt to do more maintenance on this body before the wrecking crew is called in. But, every so often there seems to be this voice which I think I can hear calling, "Are there any other bids, then? Do I hear any other bids? Going once, going twice..."
 

My husband has been ill of late. He has been recovering from colon resection, a surgical procedure whereby a portion of diseased colon is removed - then the remaining healthy colon is reattached to the rectum.

It has been three weeks since the surgery which required an eight day hospital stay in a city about two hours south of our home. The stress of the procedure and the time spent in the hospital was physically, spiritually and emotionally taxing, to say the least. I have never seen my husband in so much pain. In our thirty-one years of marriage he has always been strong and positive. But, in these past few weeks, he has been discouraged and worn-out.

Immediately following the surgery, he developed a wound infection. As a result, he had to have the incision re-opened right there on his hospital bed. He was so ill from this infection that he could not eat. Since he could not eat, he could not...well, you get the idea. To be discharged from the hospital he had to move his bowels. That was the rule and there was no getting around it.

After about seven days, he was successful in the endeavor mentioned. We were sent home and though optimistic, realized that it would take that open wound some time to heal. I would be the one to change his dressing and aid in his recovery, with the help of a visiting nurse who would weekly record his progress.

Today was the first post-operative check-up with the surgeon. The wound is healing very well. Unfortunately, my beloved developed another malady yesterday which made the two hour drive and two hour waiting room experience almost unbearable for him. Sitting on a blow-up 'donut' only provided a small measure of relief. He laid in the back seat of the car for the entire trip to and from the doctor's office. If you have never experienced a hemorrhoid, count yourself blessed! The kind he has involves a blood clot, as well.

Because of all of the medication my poor hubby has been on, we have decided to refer to him as..."Fully loaded with a Hemi!" At least that brings a slight smile to his distressed countenance.