Okay, so this is getting ridiculous!!

Yet, I did actually take note that the earth did NOT implode upon itself, the mountains have not moved, the Sun still rose in the East, and I have yet to win the Lottery. Status normal. I love you Dad. Thank you for the blessings You bestow upon me, Your Kid. I love You, too.

Until next we meet, I remain faithfully,

In His Care.

Budroe
 

I'm serious about this "every day" thing. So, while I will have a post later, I just wanted to get this second day painted Blue! Sometimes, that's all it takes!

Dracula, and two opening movies this weekend are on the horizon for me. I personally do not care for them that much. But that's okay, really. I get lots of screams and hugs along the way. I don't know what Sara thinks of that, but she seems to bear up well! LOL

The blood sugar is whacky. Yet another modification or several on the prescriptions, and a doubling (Plus!) of Insulin are the deal of the day! That means about 72 hours of close monitoring, more sticks, and a generally unhappy patient. Patience, Dad? Please?

Until next we meet, I remain faithfully,

In His Care.

Budroe
 

Umm, not so much.

Today, I renewed my membership for another year. Okay, this is going beyond reasonable, into the land of the unimaginable. I'm so going to get into trouble for this! So, today begins the renewal campaign for 2011. It cannot fail, as I am committing to myself that I will not use my funds again for this membership.

In order to do that, I am going to have to commit to this site, and my writing success in the next year. There are some pretty important (to me) activities that bear my name on here. One of them is this very blog. We'll see. But for now, the year is perfect. 100% blogging.

We shall see what we shall see, shall we? Indeed we shall!

Until next we meet, I remain faithfully,

In His Care.

Budroe
 

I feel relatively sure this is going to be a series of articles. There's a lot to say about what I have learned. Sad to say, most of it is not good. Some of it, however, is very good.

If there is any comfort in this report, it is no more than saying I am neither the first, nor (sadly) the last person to arrive at this point, especially after years of learning, spending, and trying.

There are some truly despicable individuals purporting to be successful Internet marketers. You might well have seen some of their work. I believe I've seen it all. Of course, I know that is not true, but I really do believe I have seen every "usual" technique used by those of less than sterling character in the IM game.

Several years, several companies, and several thousands of dollars later, I have learned a few things.

          "Special Deals" aren't.

          There is no such thing as a "Free Offer" on the internet. This is marketing, folks. The purpose of such offers is to separate you from your money without knowing it. Sad to say, it is entirely TOO effective.

          There are approximately 1.5 million Internet Marketers online today. I am one of them. Most of those I have met are upstanding, credible, and integrity-driven marketers. They have told me what people and deals to pay attention to, and more specifically which ones to stay away from. There are some real scumbags in this business! I am NOT one of them. That makes it tougher on those of us who aren't in that club, but that's alright. We have our own club. Some of the names on that club's roster would surprise you--but not so much as those whose names are NOT on that list.

I've discovered some really superb opportunities on the internet. Some of them, I have presented to you over the last four years, but not all of them. Some have been brought to my door by members of this very community. There is a large Internet Marketing presence in WDC, which only makes perfect sense. Marketing in this industry requires a huge commitment to effective business writing.

I'm one of the good guys. That's not the "quick way" to internet riches. I'm alright with that. Internet exclusivity is one of the foundational benchmarks of all my future business. I'll do it ethically, with integrity, or not at all. Marketing is one piece of that business, and I've had to swim through some gutters to get my education. That's okay. At least my education is well-rounded. I have also found some amazing teachers, and even a few (3) mentors who are giving me some excellent counsel. Not so bad.

If only the benefits administrators, and a few docs could choose to do things that way--live would be so much better. But, again: some do, while most do not. I can live with that, as long as I am one who does.


Until next we meet, I remain faithfully,

In His Care.

Budroe
 

According to my calendar (as verified by my mailbox today), one week from today will be my fourth anniversary, or birth day at writing.com. (Thanks for the gift, SM and SMs!) That just can't be!

The very first person to acknowledge my existence on this site, debsey was my first believer. She became a very dear friend to me. Closely behind her was a man who would become her husband.

The third is still a major force on WDC, and a very, very dear friend. Her politics don't suit me. Her faith suits me to a Tee! On most things, Kenzie and I usually agree, because they are things of substance--of life, and the living of it. She has been my friend, my very vocal supporter, and my mentor for these four years.

My goodness, the list would go on and on. Check out my page above of Thanks and Thanksgiving for just a taste of the folks who have loved me here. From SM and SMs, Grandma Jane, to the latest follower of this very blog, WDC was a haven of rest, and creativity for me. Lest you get fearful, it still is and will, I hope, continue to be for a very long time to come.

There have been some terribly difficult moments, as well. The community sometimes forgets its place in the real lives of the very real people who populate this site. I forgive, yet will never forget how very dangerous "friends" can be. Apologies have been made. Life moves inevitably forward.

This weekend, I will complete what will be my last move of my life.

If my records are still trustworthy, this will be my 75th move in my lifetime. There are several important reasons for this particular move that deal with real life issues. They all did. My Aunt Jena used to tell me that one of my gifts was the gift of gab. But, she understood something about me that very few others really ever did. It was, she said, my wandering spirit that was my greatest gift. It comes along very rarely in its purest and best form. To her, this was the true wandering spirit. in my life. She lived vicariously through many of those travels, because they took me to places she and her family knew very well. She found it to be a very powerful gift, and made me promise to always use it well. I believe I did.

I love you, Aunt Jena, so very much. Thank you for YOUR gift to me.

This is, you see, a post about first believers. I have had many in my life. Have you? Can you bring to mind those who unfailingly believed in you? Were yo a first believer for someone else? That's a very dangerous business, you know. Real life teaches you to be cautious and doubtful, skeptical of others and their words--especially when their actions do not support them. I found a first believer within moments of joining this site. I was a first believer OF this site, and have struggled sometimes to remain a citizen in good standing here. It's really not easy, as those of you who have been here a while will surely attest. Yet, it was always worth it in the end.

So much of my life, and surely most of the recent "stuff of substance" has occurred with this Blog as a looking glass. The good and the not-so-good have lived out here. Hundreds of fellow travelers, and thousands of comments that have struck the soul of so many here have flowed along this journey. Because of Debbie, this Blog began. It was a challenge, a dare. It remains a challenge today, yet the community of friends along the journey continues to grow. I am grateful for that, as well.

There has been a great bit of writing created during these four years. Even just today, I learned that one of my works won 2nd place in a month-long short story contest. I can't wait to read the winning work, and the other entries. The group is FMS  . As many can tell you, this group is a true blessing to our community. That my story was selected to secure second place is a wonderful acknowledgment of the story. That this group did so blesses my soul. There will be more contests. I might even enter some of them with new words.

This community has taught me so many things! One thing I've learned is that life in the real, and writing.com are NOT necessarily mutually exclusive. In fact, integrating one into the other is a requirement for those of us who call ourselves writers. It requires care, selection, and balance. Right now, virtually everything in my life is out of balance. I am aware of this, and am working to level things off--with the unending support, care and love of Sara, her family, and her friends who have gathered themselves to me in a community of love and support. (That's really just an excuse for them to love up on Sara, who just HATES acknowledgment for her selfless acts of care-giving to me! It is conspiracy that I love to be a part of!)

WDC was the nexus which brought us back together after a 35 year hiatus. I'm here, with her care, because of WDC! Tell me who my first believer has been these four years? Writing.com has been my first believer. This community has affirmed my existence, and made my contributions worthy of note. This community has shared its collective wisdom, skill, and craftsmanship with me at a mere request. I've not met either SM or SMs, yet I count them among my first believers--my friends. It has not been an easy journey for them, either. Unknowingly, and unwillingly, my membership here brought sadness to THEIR doorstep. Thank you for being here for me. I would not be here if not for your loving kindness, patience, and direction. You have brought two new lives into this world who know that, no matter what, they are completely and totally loved. That is not just ALL a parent can do in the life of a child. But, it certainly is the first and only thing ANY child needs to know: everything else (believe it or don't) is just small stuff.

To my friends, and faithful fellow travelers along the journey, we have come upon a milestone. Four years. Is this true? Yes, and I am grateful for it. It is well past the 18 months I was given to live in November, 2006. No, Dr. N. I am NOT done! Not yet. To those whom I have seemingly harmed by my existence, I do humbly apologize and seek your forgiveness. I have forgiven myself, even when innocent. What you choose to do as to forgiving me is none of my business, yet there it is.

Can this possibly be?

Probably not if you confine your belief to the natural laws of the physical world, no. Yet, for the whole of my life, I have been the exception to the rule. I just would NOT have it any other way. I am by no means an innocent, believe me. I've laid my share of sadness, shame, and frustration along the path of my life. I have a belly button, too. As you already well know, I am the belly button kid!

It's been one hell of a ride for four years, hasn't it?

Here's to four more!

Until next we meet, I remain faithfully,

In His Care.

Budroe
 

I haven't gotten many reviews on it, but the ones I've gotten so far were fair, and constructive. I was hoping that if you weren't doing anything for the next five minutes (no, REALLY! It IS a little piece!), you might give it a looksee and tell me what you think about it. It's for the monthly FMS Writing contest.

ID: 1700878   (Rated: E) Wisps of Childhood  Sometimes, things come to you at the strangest moments. Do they help, or hurt? by Budroe is Blessed!

Throughout our lives (if we are very lucky) we cross paths with people who become terribly important to us. The circumstances matter, but not much. We somehow discover that our paths have joined, and the footsteps taken leave footprints of a different color, hue and texture. We don't mind.

Shortly after moving into public housing, I began to "hear" things about the residents of my building. I didn't know them, and felt pretty bad about what their "friends" were saying about them when (of course) they were out of sight. One of the things those who really know me best would say about me is that I do truly despise very few things in this world, and gossip is in the top three of my list.

In public housing, however, gossip is the currency of trade. Status is determined by, if not volume, certainly at least in quality. What an oxymoron: "better" gossip.

There were two distinct "cliques" in my building, and I was in neither. I preferred it that way. I am solitary in nature, and private of person. I need not the approval of strangers. I need left to myself. I'll come to you when I'm ready. I don't much care for "pushy" people.

One of the pushiest people I had consistently heard about was a grizzly yet frail lady named "Mildred". (Yes, that is her name.) She liked nobody, gossiped about everybody, and pretty much "ruled the roost" of our public housing building. The way she spoke of, and to anyone would make you believe her mouth and brain had never met. She couldn't complete a thought, it seemed, before it was very definitely flying out her mouth. What you thought of her words were of absolutely no interest to her. I as warned to steer clear of Mildred. She would, they said, chew me up and spit me out without so much as a second thought.

I saw an elderly, lonely lady (all 90 pounds of her-80 of it mouth!) who seemed to just want to be left alone. She did Bingo on Monday nights with some other ladies in our building. She was known as a "cook's cook". She grumbled a lot-out loud. For more than two years, we never spoke a word. Somehow in that time, we forged an agreement. Mutual silence, with no acknowledgment save our eyes as we passed. It worked. Sara had learned of the "Mildred" alerts and, not understanding them, went along for my peace.

"You know what is wrong with Mildred?" Sara asked me one day.

"Sure!" I responded knowingly. "Mildred's hurt, and lonely. Mildred needs a real friend."

"Why won't she be one, then?"

"Because you have to pass Mildred's test. No one has."

"Test? What test?" Sare queried me.

"The friendship test, Sara. Mildred needs desperately for someone to get into her personal space, to move beyond all the gossip, and give her a big hug, and not regret the act. The friendship test."

"Bud, you're crazy!"

"Perhaps, but I AM correct. You want to test my theory?"

That's usually good for a 20 minute lecture on how it is never wise to "dare" a hillbilly. See? It's not just me!

"Sure! It's a stupid theory!"

So, we did. One at a time, because two would be a herd, and Mildred would freak out. So, the following evening, I went downstairs to our lobby where both "cliques" (while separated, of course) were socializing. True to form, Mildred sat alone in a space between the two groups. I went over and sat down beside her. She did not approve. I did NOT care.

"What do YOU want??"


"Nothing."

"Well why don't you go somewhere else and sit. This is MY place!"

I laughed, genuinely. "Your place? Are you serious, Mildred?"

Suspicion loomed within her eyes, and some sense of shock and insecurity came over her.

"How do you know my name"

I couldn't help it. I laughed--again. "Mildred, everyone in this town knows your name. I just thought I would meet the person behind the name."

"Well, if you're selling it, I don't want any. If you're giving it away, I don't have need of it. I don't know what your story is, young man, but I am NOT interested. Go away."

The lobby was quiet. Both cliques were silently, knowingly watching. Yes, here was another snack to be sacrificed at the altar of Mildred's acidic viterperation. It should be at least a few moments entertainment.

"But, Mildred. I'm ill, and all alone here. I really need a friend. I was hoping you would be my friend, It looks like you are the only honorable person here. I'd just be ever so sad if you wouldn't be my friend, Mildred." Honesty and humility, in a Bud "dose" can be lethal.

"What makes you think I want to be your friend? I don't even know you!"

"Yes, but Mildred, I know you! I need a true and loyal friend, and you are just the person to be that friend. You may have all these biddies fooled, but you don't fool me. I don't have a lot of time to argue about it, so I have decided you are my friend. Alright?"

She did the one thing nobody had ever witnessed. Mildred laughed. Her entire frail frame shook. Her eyes sparkled. She clapped her hands in glee.

"Go on, get back upstairs to your apartment. You are a crazy man!"

I hugged her, in public, with jaw-fracturing results. She smiled and hugged me back. I may have made two separate camps of enemies, but I knew I had just made a friend. A real friend. An honorable, loyal and true friend.

Our friendship grew, and Sara became Mildred's "special girl". (That basically means, of course, that I was newly equated with three-day-old trash) "Why don't you GO somewhere and leave us girls alone for a while, Bud?!" *sigh*

Mildred loved Sara because Sara is completely lovable. But, Mildred LOVED Sara because Sara cared for me. Sara had lost her very best friend on the same day I got sick. Her mother had been within range of touch for almost every moment of Sara's life. Boy, were they friends! Rightfully so, too. Her Mom was one of "those" Moms, who neither knew or acted her age--usually.

It had been a difficult and terrible leaving for Sara, and her grief was just too strong to overcome at times. Then came Mildred. Mildred of the lost children, the lost husband, and lost identity. Sara and I (but especially Sara) would sit for hours and listen to what came pouring out of this wonderful spirit. She came to my door once to deliver "a little something I cooked up" (Homemade Apple Dumplings, mind you!) at 6:30 one evening. She left after midnight!

Sara and Mildred did much healing together. Mildred had taken Sara on as a friend, and as a "project".

"That girl is entirely too good to have that much pain, Bud."

"I know."

"We'll just have to fix her up, that's all there is to it."

"Yes, Mildred."

With a shake of a determined head, the healing hands went to work. What work they did. Mildred also healed much of my pain, too. I want to think we all healed a bit from our friendship together. Of course, Mildred's was a most remarkable story that kept us entranced for many hours. She knew our story, and believed it good. She was absolutely no saint, Mildred. But she was a vibrant, living lady of class, style, and elan who gave much more than she ever asked of anyone else.

We spent her birthday with her in the hospital last December. Mildred was also, you see, a very sick lady. We had a party (her 81st) they are STILL discussing on the ward! She was in the hospital a long, long time. Her daughter stayed with her. We spelled her daughter. They talked. We played cards. I do believe to this day Mildred would have relished a cigar and a visor. That's Mildred, okay.

Mildred passed away last evening, at home.

I feel so grateful for having known her. She was my true friend. She was a guide and a mentor. She healed parts of me that nobody can touch. Now, I must tell Sara. God help me.

Until next we meet, I remain faithfully,

In His Care.

Budroe
 

I followed this link today  , as I always do. I doubt I should have. It is rich with content, and some extremely accurate reporting. Unfortunately, it all seems to be bad news today. That's pretty rare for this volume. My prayers are with my east coast brothers and sisters as they work very hard to dodge a Hurricane.

The calendar looked so pretty, all black. *Sigh* Well, at least the trend continues. I have STILL not made a solid blue month. For those of you who are visiting from the Christian's Blog Ring, I hope you will leave a comment--even a footprint. ( is good enough to count!)

I am busy setting up a company, editing three courses of online learning content, and editing two different book projects. Online marketing is just so very cool, but it is so darned labor intensive. I spend many hours day getting that all set up. I'm looking forward to seeing your name on my Blog--soon.

Stay well, safe and happy. Welcome to September. Happy birthday Vickie B (1), Kenneth C.(2), amy beloved friend Amber (5), and my neice Tracye (10). I remain, as always,

In His Care,

Budroe
 

I got a note from my friend Jen Dillon this morning. Jen happens to be the sitting Executive Director of the National Democratic Party. She wanted me to know that Vice President Joe Biden will be speaking to the National Democratic Party Convention in Saint Louis, MO this morning at 10AM EST. (Approx. 20 minutes from now.)

For those who are like-minded, there will be some important points made. For those of the party opposite, it's JOE BIDEN!

Regardless of how you line up politically, you KNOW it's going to be worth watching! :)

Budroe
 

Strange Fact: My first name, in Chinese, is 莫林 pronounced mò lín. Let it bless your heart!

That's Mandarin, btw.

In yesterday's post, I spoke of the journey through the valley from October, 2006 through June 21, 2008. It was an honest appraisal of my emotional and mental, not to mention physical state, tempered with my awareness that these are my opinions only. Others may have other, or different opinions. They are welcome here in comments. If you wish to argue them, get your own blog!

June 22, 2008 was a difficult day for me. All the garbage, still new and very much alive in my world, was past the point of my caring. I got an email that evening from someone claiming to be Sara, my friend and girlfriend from 1974. It was a shocking email. We had not communicated since then. As I said before, my mental state was not much in the mood for having to explain other people's ignorance or evil intentions. I was talked out on the subject, but had never written about it. (I later would, once. It cost me some dear WDC friends. But, I felt like I had the right to present my side of things--they disagreed. "Dredging up the past...", etc.

I just wasn't in the mood at the time. I had spent over 35 years protecting a friendship that necessarily went into hibernation, and I sure didn't want it revisited in this compost heap! I responded with a statement only one person on earth would know. I would learn later that when she read that statement, she nearly beat a friend with her into the local emergency room with excitement!

It would be several months, with many attempts on her part, but Sara and I finally met almost one year later. It took me that long to allow her to see me, where I lived, and how I had "developed" over the nearly four decades since our last meeting. She and her husband came to visit me in West Frankfort. We spent a weekend together, getting caught up. She came prepared. It seems she had "researched" me, once she had used the right information in her Goggle search. She had found the ugliness here. She had spoken and emailed some of the principle players. She knew my medical situation, having read every word of this Blog. She told me that she was most afraid that, when she got to the last entry, I would be dead. While many were mad that I wasn't, she seemed rather happy about the reality. Over the next months, she visited regularly. She helped me with paperwork, medical appointments, homecare workers (Hi!@Jerri, my homecare worker in West "Hotdog"), and ran interference on many difficult issues. It was Sara who heard me stop breathing from a room away, and got me into sleep studies that resulted in a hospitalization and a BiPap machine. Because of damaged lungs, they had to get a special machine just for me because the pressure required to do the job was so much higher than normal. I have it today, and will forever.

Sara brought solutions, and an indomitable spirit to the task of being my friend. Suddenly, things that I took for granted, things that I was thankful for (Do dented cans really hurt you to eat?) were under her gunsights. She relentlessly removed danger, and started replacing things with better things. She visited doctors, made exam and lab appointments, then drove five hours to my house to ride me to them. In the process, a friendship dormant became alive again. It was in a different form, and it did not have some of the parts of the past. But, there were some pretty amazing new things, too. Sara's heart, just as gentle and fragile as ever, had been severely bruised and broken. It turns out, her mother (one of my favorite humans--ever) and I had died on the same day. I came back, while her Mother moved to Heaven. Personally, I do think it should have been the other way around. Jane was one of the finest people I have ever known, and it doesn't take looking too far to see why her only child has been my one true friend for so very long. We shared tears and sadnesses, medical complaints, grudges, angers, and fears over many hours, days, and weeks.

But, we also shared plans. That's something I just wasn't used to. Nor was I adequately prepared for this part of the journey. speaking of things future seemed a very bad and evil trick to me. How dare I even consider a tomorrow? My sole focus, for years had been to "Survive Until Dawn!" Now, we are talking weeks, and months, and years down the road. A foreign language, spoken in a foreign land was what it was to me. I couldn't hope. Everybody said so. Anybody with an M.D. behind their name told me so. Sara either (I still do not know to this day) was not going to believe it, or she was not going to accept it. That wasn't the plan SHE had.

Over the course of time from then, until today, Sara has very lovingly, patiently, slowly (well, kinda, as long as it's on HER schedule!) helped me look through the mirror a bit. Where my computer represented my "productivity", Sara's coming into my life, and the loves and lives of her family and friends as well, has caused me to dare turn around, and look ahead a bit. I'm still not looking around any corners, up any hills, or through any obstacles. But, slowly I am beginning to believe that I could. I used to all the time. Her statement is that she is not going to stop until the me she knows is inside is "Me!" again. That's a hugely tall order, given all that has to transpire to make that happen. But, Sara is my friend. She is my HCA (Healthcare Advocate). She is my very special friend who just plain old isn't going anywhere. I'd like to tell you something else about Sara, too.

She lives in Middle Tennessee (Columbia, just South of Nashville). In the nine counties surrounding hers, there is NO healthcare or medical attention available for the uninsured or underinsured of this state. NONE! She works as the Administrator of a Faith-Based, 501 (c)3 Medical Clinic (Hope Clinic of Middle Tennessee) and she, along with several volunteer doctors, nurses and pharmacists, provide basic healthcare and medical needs to several THOUSAND "volunteers" who would have no medical care whatsoever were it not for the Hope Clinic. They work by word of mouth only. On "Clinic nights", they work until the last patient is seen and cared for. From Nashville to the Alabama State line they come. It's amazing to watch her work. She is an angel, surrounded by Angels. Her patients love her. Her Doctors admire and respect her. Her volunteer workers all love her. She's "just" Sara! I'm so very proud of her. Her life has meaning, purpose, significance. She is an animal lover (as W.T. will attest!) and owns three dogs and 1/2 cat. Her husband is a supervising Lab Tech at Baptist Hospital in Nashville, working the night shift for more than 20 years, driving 90 minutes each way.

Sara does not generally appreciate people picking on her friends. It really doesn't matter that they are not. The appearance is quite sufficient to bring out the protective beast in her. Believe me, a beast it is, too. With Sara, what you see is what you get. Just be able to take what you get! She is gentle of spirit, kind of heart, longsuffering in her own pain and illness, and is a mindless, raging Bulldog in defense of a friend. She always has been. She swears it's the double Irish in her. It could be, but she's so totally blonde!! Oi!

I do not yet believe. Sara has never done anything but believe. I'm terribly gruff and a complete curmudgeon. Yet, I have come to understand again that there is life in today. That alone has made such a tremendous difference in my general demeanor. I dare not treat her too gently, lest she weaken her resolve to help me. I think she truly enjoys the fight! She surely does enjoy fighting on my behalf, and no victim is exempt. Doctors, nurses, systems, programs, friends...they all must pass muster with Sara or be dealt with! Dispatched is more like it. Her faith is strong, and her Spirit is invincible. She is a Christian of the first order, living out her faith one patient, one friend at a time. I have claimed nearly 100% of her time, talent and treasure these past years. Ten hour drives with her medical conditions, every two weeks, has been taking a toll on her. From visiting me once every two weeks, Sara began making the trip every week to ten days as my medical condition worsened. It got really stupid, really fast. So, we just "flipped" it. I came here. I go home usually about once per month for medical appointments (Medicaid is Illinois only. Tennessee does not have Medicaid!) and do regular business. I see my friends, visit my docs, let Drac poke me a few times, get so I can glow in the dark, and be home for a minute. Then, it's right back here. It's a different environment. I feel like an invalid more severely, yet less often here. I have my days. W.T. seems to know when to be a playful little Kitty, and when to be very close to the "Daddy-One". Lord, what a lover-kitty he is. And, I do love him so. He is a companion who understands the difficult life, I think. Yet, he is always available to hold, or pet, or just talk to. W.T. has quite his own vocabulary, which changes depending on to whom he is speaking. (W.T. just does NOT speak WITH someone. He speaks, you listen and then respond.)

My first EVER pet that I can call my own. A cat, of all things. And, Sara is the "Mommy-One!" of this family. Caring for him has helped me remember the value of life again. I hate admitting that I lost sight of it. I did. I still do sometimes. I get so weary. Yet, now I have someone, and something to fight for. As I said in the very first entry I wrote to this blog, the outcome may be certain, but have no doubt there WILL be a battle. I'm not to battle strength again yet. Heck, I just fell last night and broke my finger, scraped both an arm and a leg (great going there, Diabetic, Coumadin Boy!). Lots of pain there, too. But, today, I am not the patient. I am Bud (or Buddy, if you are one very special friend). I sort of remember how that used to go, that song that I once was. I hven't thought of it in a very long time. Others tried to kill it, take it away, and force it into silence. One person refuses to allow it, and is very gently, ever-surely, spooning little bites of it into my soul.

Things are currently very different. Not medically, by any means. But, in a very real way, things are different. Better, in their own way. I don't feel quite so alone, and I have a Kitten to care for, and care with. We take care of Sara. She tries to take care of us. Here, she is Budroesgirl . If you want to do me a kindness, stop by her port and say "Hello!" I try to thank her all the time, but I'm still really lousy at it. It's so hard to smile through clenched teeth, after all. She used to come here to see me. HA! There's nothing MORE over than those days. Oh, and she's deathly allergic to cats! Go figger!

On this journey, it is really important to never lose site of the path. But, for those of us called on this journey, it is also terribly important that we, from time to time, look around, and behind us. That's where our victories are. When we look up, that's where our strength, hope, and purpose are. When we look ahead, it is never whithout a quite thought of the potential of death just ahead. They tell us we will. Like we didn't know it, or something. Beloved, we're all going to make this trip. It's so simple, even a belly button kid can do it. You don't have to do anything at all!

But, as my dear friend Max Lucado says: "You can tell a lot about a person by the way they leave us." It's not the dying that is difficult--for anyone. It is the leaving. That can be terribly difficult, especially when, along the way, you remember the value of a true friend. Having been one all of my life, it's really kind of nice to have one for a change. How do you stop loving a friend? How do you leave a friend? How do you just stop BEING a friend? A friend is someone who knows all there is to know, good and bad, about you--and loves you anyway.

As someone who once professed friendship with me said:

"Your friend will make the bully stop hitting you."
"Your good friend will hurt the bully until he stops hurting you."
"Your best friend will say nothing of it to you, but you will read the strange story of how the bully's body parts were found in different area codes.".

I used to be a good "Best Friend". I've forgotten how to be a friend of any type, for a while now. I'm honestly afraid to BE a friend. I'm willing to risk vulnerability, but it seems like all those I love enough to call my friend just wind up leaving me. Then, there is Sara. There just ain't no "leaving" in her. She knows all the good things, and all the bad things too that there is to know about me. She took me to dinner tonight, with her husband. She came over here today to see "her" (HA!) cat. She worked all day in a hot building, for patients who cannot pay their way to "Thank you!" Wednesday, we will spend the day together in Nashville, at Vanderbilt University Medical Center while a mutual friend undergoes some rather serious brain surgery. It's her nature.

It's my honor, just to be near enough to make her angry at me. She'll never know why. She doesn't have to. It's none of her business! Yeah, right. YOU tell her that! I got bruises already! With Sara, and W.T., things are looking a little different in my world. Not a lot, and not near fast enough to suit. But, things just might be looking up. I'm not taking any long term debt...yet. I can't see Christmas...yet. Not even Halloween. But, now Labor Day! Well, that's something else again!

Thanks for the chat. It helped. I hope you will keep us all in your thoughts, and your prayers. In the meantime, stay

In His Care,

Budroe