*Quilt Of Holes*

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls.

Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles; an angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.

But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in every day life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.

I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of wordly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened.

My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.

Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose; each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been. My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise.

My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness, and wealth, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it. I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me.

And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was.

I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light.

An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes. Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, "Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles."

Each point of life in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you."

May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through!


*Anonymously written but sent to me so that I could share this with someone I love, care about or even someone who needs Jesus in their heart. I would like to remember Jesus is the reason for the season - Merry Christmas to all who read my blog.

*INTERNET RELATIONSHIPS: Do They Make Friendship Possible?*

Over the past 10 years or so, I have had the occasion to meet people, both men and women, through the click of the mouse. Cyber-space has opened an entire universe to me, transecting both time, place and space. Some connections have been through chat rooms, various subjects including music, politics, fragrances, and books.

But, who are these people who I meet in this impers0nal forum and what, if any true meaning and relationship do they have and give to our lives? Do some of us feel more comfortable behind a compuer screen where we can be who we want, say whatever we feel (uncensored at times) and allow others to think about us in a way that may not be accurate in the real world? How often do we hear others say that they are there for us, and within a few weeks, maybe even days, their words dissolve like alka seltzer in water, and we do not even hear from them again? Are others reactors (i.e. people who only say, I am sending you thoughts and prayers), does this mean that they really care about us, would take the time to be there if necessary, or just want to look good on the computer screen for others to see?

Sometimes it seems as if we give those individuals whom we meet on the internet more value and excuse them more often if they do not meet our expectations, than those individuals who are a part of our real, non-cyber lives. Sitting behind the veil of a screen reminds me, in a way, of the great and powerful Wizard of Oz. We imagine grandiosely, when in reality, there may sit someone who, like everyone else, is timid, shy and maybe a cut below average.

I remember back in 2002 when I found that my oldest daughter had passed away. I came home with my then husband and was at a loss for what to do with myself. My then husband, of course, had no difficulty just going to bed and sleeping. I couldn't do that, I couldn't function, I couldn't move, I didn't know what to do. I turned on my computer and began journaling my thoughts, my anguish and my pain on one of my nursing message boards. It was the middle of the night and I thought no one would even notice. The next morning my email was flooded with my cyber nurse friends love and concern. It literally made me sob. This wasn't just published on the nursing board, this flood of email was sent to me personally and the thoughts were so kind and caring. My cyber friends overwhelmed me with their kindness and yes, their love.

Pain and loss are the great equalizers, and it is often the case that during these times, we know truly who our friends are, and who are those who say the are, but are not. That being said, there have been individuals whom I have met through the internet who have been genuinely concerned, caring and even loving in so many ways. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Every human being with whom we interact is created in God's image, and therefore, is as valuable as we are ourselves.

What have I learned from this experience, and where does it leave me in terms of the conclusions that are reached about relationships on the internet vs. those outside of cyber-space? For one thing, I am much more appreciative of the real friends that I have. Flaws and all, you are grand, and when you say you care, you mean it. When you say you pray, you do it, and when you say you are there for me, I can literally feel your hearts beat......

*A House Is More Than Just Mortar and Bricks*

The other evening I was watching one of my programs on television about a family that found themselves in financial difficulties after the patriarch father died. They were talking of selling their vacation home that the 5 children were raised in to get out of debt. I sat thinking to myself "sell it, it's just a house".
Somehow they all wound up at that vacation home not knowing they all had planned to congegrate with their significant others for a weekend.

After each couple had arrived separately, they began to reminisce about the good times that they had memories of while growing up in that house. This immediately brought a tear of warm remembrance to my eyes as I reflected back to the house that I raised my children in. My first husband and I lived there for over 20 years when we both went our separate ways. I began to remember warm thought after warm thought about that house and realized how many wonderful memories probably still live there.

My husband and I drove by that house night after night when we decided to buy it. We thought that it was way over our budget but we just had to have it and couldn't wait for the other people living there to move. We loved the fact that it had a beautiful, big weeping willow tree in the backyard and a warm, inviting brick fireplace in the living room. Over the years, the weeping willow became a burden to trim weekly and cured us of the need for that tree. The fireplace lost heat terribly when you opened the flue to burn logs, but we didn't even consider that at the time.

I was pregnant and left that house to have my children and bring them home to raise them, school them, and eventually let them go when they reached maturity. I decorated that house many times over trying to be the Martha Stewart of my day. My children walked their first steps, talked their first words and grew up too fast in that house. My oldest daughter, Leslie, painted a blue line on the sidewalk so that her brother could have a 'finish line' when he was 'driving' his Hot Wheels. She got in trouble for that, but was quickly forgiven because she did it for her brother. That blue paint line remains on that sidewalk to this day. Years of weather and erosion could never erase it.

We had so many holiday dinners and partys in that house that they became a tradition that my children carry on to this day. I have such wonderful memories of friends and family who have long ago passed but came to those holiday celebrations each and every year. Even though there were marital fights that I thought may have harmed my children's psyches, they didn't, because my children grew up to be warm, loving adults with their own families and they still drive by that house every chance they get.

We raised a host of pets in that house and I can remember them all. Many meals were cooked, families gathered, I gardened, sewed, and made it a family home that I will always treasure in my heart. That house was more than mortar and bricks, it was a warm family home where children prospered and grew into fine adults. I still miss the smiles and talk, the happy laughs which still echo above the lonely sighs. Whether leaves are green in springtime or snow lays lightly on the ground, that old house still holds the memories of all our family sounds.

*In The Land of Sandra Dee*

Long ago and far away,
In a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan
or the dawn of Camelot,

There lived a race of innocents,
and they were you and me,
Long ago and far away
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

Oh, there was truth and goodness
In that land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges,
and Peyton Place was porn.

For Ike was in the White House,
And Hoss was on TV,
And God was in his heaven,
In The Land of Sandra Dee.

We learned to gut a muffler,
We washed our hair at dawn,
We spread our crinolines to dry
In circles on the lawn.

And they could hear us coming
All the way from Tennessee,
All starched and sprayed and rumbling
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We longed for love and romance,
And waited for the prince,
And Eddie Fisher married Liz,
and no one's seen him since.

We danced to "Little Darlin'",
and sang to "Stagger Lee"
and cried for Buddy Holly
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

Only girls wore earrings then,
And three was one too many,
And only boys wore flat-top cuts,
Except for Jean McKinney.

And only in our wildest dreams
Did we expect to see
A boy named George with lipstick
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We fell for Frankie Avalon,
Annette was oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie,
They never made it twice.

We didn't have Star Trek Five,
Or Psycho Two and Three,
Or Rockie-Rambo Twenty
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold,
And Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat
Whose co-star was a chimp.

We had a Mr. Wizard,
But not a Mr. T,
And Oprah couldn't talk yet
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We had our share of heroes,
We never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin,
Or Marilyn Monroe.

For youth was still eternal,
And life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever,
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We'd never seen the rock band
That was Grateful to be Dead,
And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson,
And Zeppelins weren't Led.

And Beatles lived in gardens then,
And Monkees in a tree,
Madonna was a virgin
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We'd never heard of Microwaves,
Or telephones in cars,
And babies might be bottle-fed,
And they weren't grown in jars.

And pumping iron got wrinkles out,
and "gay" meant fancy-free,
And dorms were never coed
In the Land of Sandra Dee.

We hadn't seen enough of jets
To talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left,
At the bottom of the bag.

Buicks came with portholes,
And side shows came with freaks,
And bathing suits came big enough
To cover both your cheeks.

And Coke came just in bottles,
And skirts came to the knee,
And Castro came to power
In The Land of Sandra Dee.

We had no Crest with flouride,
We had no Hill Street Blues,
We all wore superstructure bras
Designed by Howard Hughes.

We had no patterned pantyhose
Or Lipton herbal tea
Or prime-time ads for condoms
In The Land of Sandra Dee.

There were no golden arches,
No Perriere to chill,
And fish were not called Wanda
And cats were not called Bill.

And middle aged was thirty five,
And old was forty three,
And ancient was our parents,
In The Land of Sandra Dee.

But all things have a season,
Or so we've heard them say,
And now instead of Maybelline
We swear by Retin-A.

And they send us invitations
to join AARP,
We've come a long way baby,
From The Land of Sandra Dee.

So now we face a brave new world
In slightly larger jeans,
And wonder why they're using
Smaller print in magazines.

And we tell our children's children
Of the way it used to be
Long ago and far way
In The Land of Sandra Dee.


*I don't know the author, but this brings back so many wonderful memories!

*Me, Myself and I: What I Like Least and Best About Myself*

Each one of us has our own definite, unique blueprint of who we are, what we have to give to ourselves, our family, our people and to the world. A canopy, if you will, of our strengths and weaknesses surrounds us all, at any given time. Many of us have talents, assets that make them truly a wonderful human being. Actually, it may be a truism to say that each one of us, in some small way or other, is able to make a difference to ourselves and others.

I am considered a very strong woman by the people I know but at any given moment, I could easily fall to my knees when it comes to concern for my children and my grandchildren. I would literally give my life for them. They are my highest priority. I used to worry myself sick about their welfare, their upbringing, their health, their values, that is until I learned to turn it over to God. God and I have done a very good job with these children, if I do say so myself. No, I have over the years learned to not worry. Worrying to me, anyway, shows that I have no faith in my God. Let go and let God. I have banished worry from my life and I am a much better person for it. It is wasted energy on the part of we human beings. Worry causes fear, lack of trust in your savior, and interferes with our own ability to be independent human beings. So in my eternal self-evaluation, I have banished worry to a higher being. This has become a trait that I admire in myself, this banishment of worry..

One other thing that I like about myself is my extreme sense of loyalty to friends and others. If I care about someone, sincerely, I would be there for them no matter what. I treat my friends with a good heart and let them know how much I love and care about them.

I must now work on my extreme lack of patience with everything. I admit it, I am the most impatient person I know, have been most of my life, being a type A personality. I do things myself, rather than waiting for other people to do them, not because I am kind, but because I am impatient. I just spent a night in the hospital with what my doctor thought could possibly be a heart attack. I went to the Emergency Room with all the bells and whistles of an ambulance, a call to 911. I was released after much testing and blood taking, as well as upsetting my children. It wasn't a heart attack, but it very well could have been. Now I must reconsider my priorities once again. I have attacked and banished the worry monster and now I have to work on the impatient one.

So here is the question posed to my blog readers: What do you like least and best about yourself?

*Where Is America Headed?*

I guess I must stop watching or listening to the news, because every day I hear and see statistics that keep me awake at night and make me fearful of America's future.

I heard that this year, America is facing the largest deficit in the entire history of our nation. The entire history, I find this amazing that we could be so much in debt, the richest country in the world? We certainly have greatly over-extended ourselves in Iraq, no only monetarily but in the loss of lives, both American and citizens of Iraq. The devastation from Katrina plagues our country to this day. When you couple this with rising gas prices, the dependence on oil from other countries, and now the threat of nuclear weapons being developed in both Iran and North Korea, we are in very difficult times. I think that the current Foley scandal is minimal in comparison, but it is certainly an issue that must be dealt with as well. I believe, truly, that all of these issues speak to a greater conclusion that currently exists in this country: America has a failure of leadership. This is, of course, my opinion, but when I look at the overall picture of where we have gone, the fact that we continue to fight a war that is not really ours, and have a Secretary of Defense, Mr. Rumsfeld, who refuses to budge, and a President that continues to back him, it is a reality.

I worry about the future of our country and feel that we are headed down a river of no return.

*Using The Cloak Of Addiction As An Excuse?*

As I was watching CNN last night, I had to shake my head in disgust at the current tactics that are evolving out of Washington.

It is no secret by now that the Republican, Mark Foley, of Florida has resigned from Congress. Apparently he was sending some suggestive emails to house pages over the course of his tenure in the House of Representatives. Some emails were extremely suggestive, at best. Among rumors about his sexual proclivities, was the possible misuse of his power to lure young men towards him forcing Mr. Foley to resign his position.

Personally, I could care less what his sexual preferences are, this not need to be used to approve or disapprove of who he is as a person. The larger issue, for me anyway, is whether or not he did, in fact, misuse his position and power to have access to young gentlemen? Also, who knew what about this, and when? It has been suggested that Speaker of the House, Mr. Haster actually had knowledge of Mr. Foley's actions as much as a year ago; but that this information was not made known. I would also bet that it was covered up by the Republican party. Knowing that some one is guilty of what is essentially, pedophilia, and doing nothing about it makes the person who knows just as guilty, in my opinion. This does constitute a problem for the Republican party and anyone who knew of Mr. Foley's 'problem' and failed to report it.

Moreover, I learned last night as well that Mr. Foley had checked himself into a center for alcoholic rehabilitation. His attorney even announced that Mr. Foley is indeed, an alcoholic. This piece of information came as a surprise to many people that are close to the congressman, who conclude that alcohol did not seem to be a problem for him.

Alcoholism and drug addiction are considered a disease. They are conditions which become obsessions of the mind and disorders of the body. Millions of people suffer from it, and those who are addicted, wreck much havoc to their families and the people around them. One remembers the recent 'rehabilitation' of Rush Limbaugh from his addiction to pain pills, right? I also remember one of the Kennedy's going into rehab after running into another car, which he didn't remember doing. What I have a problem with is anyone claiming addiction for the sole purpose of justifying an undesirable behavior. I find that very disturbing.

I wonder if there isn't a cover-up in Washington as to whether or not the Speaker of the House, Mr. Haster, or any other Republicans, for that matter, who knew about Mr. Foley's misuse of power? Is the claim of being an alcoholic now being used as a tactical advantage to justify bad behavior for the rich and powerful in Washington? What a shame......................

*What To Count*

Do not count how many years you have spent,
Just count the good things you have done;
The time you have lent a helping hand, and
The friends that you have won.

Count your deeds of kindness,
The smiles, not the tears;
Count all of the pleasures that you have had
But never count the years....................

*Autumn and October*

Today, as I was changing my fragrance wardrobe, putting away my summer fragrances and adding my rich, beautiful fall fragrances, I began to think of October:


October is a gypsy queen
In dress of red and gold
She sleeps beneath the silver moon
When nights are crisp and cold.

The meadows flame with color now
which once were cool and green
Wild asters and the goldenrod
Bow low to greet their queen.

When she is tripping through the wood
with song so clear and sweet,
The autumn leaves come sifting down
and rustle beneath her feet

*A Woman Of My Age........*

They say........

A woman of my age should not let her hair
Fall below the marks of her shoulder.
It will bring her face down
And make her look older

Further more, a woman of my age
Should not wear blouses without sleeves
Because the upper arms
Are not what they used to be

A woman of my age
Should keep her skirts hem line at the knee
Because as you age
There are some things that folk's should not see

A woman of my age
Should wear sensible shoes
Because of corns and bunions
It is the best thing to do.

But I say.....

A woman of my age
Should let her hair grow.
When it gets too long
I think that she will know

A woman of my age
Should wear tank tops when it is hot
Whether she can lift fifty pounds.
Or not.

A woman of my age
Knows personally best
The length at which
Her hem lines need rest.

A woman of my age
How I hate the way it sounds.
We listen to the media
And in it's images we drown.

A woman of my age
Is secure and finally sure of herself.
She doesn't long to be nineteen
But she is not ready to be put on the shelf.

A woman of my age
Should not wear tube tobs
On that point, I agree
But that is where it all stops........

*The Courage To Be Myself*

I have the courage to:

*Embrace my strengths
*Get excited about life
*Enjoy giving and receiving love
*Face and transform my fears
*Ask for help and support when I need it
*Spring free of the superwoman trap
*Trust myself
*Make my own decisions and choices
*Befriend myself
*Complete unfinished business
*Realize that I have emotional and practical rights
*Talk as nicely to myself as I do to my cats
*Communicate lovingly with understanding as my goal
*Honor and respect my own needs
*Give myself credit for my accomplishments
*Still love the little girl within me
*Overcome my lifelong addiction to approval
*Grant myself permission to relax and to play
*Quit being the all-time responsibility sponge
*Feel all of my feelings and act on them appropriately
*Nurture and care for others because I want to, not because I have to
*Insist on being paid fairly for what I do
*Set limits and boundaries and stick by them
*Say "yes" only when I really mean it
*Have realistic expectations of myself and others
*Take risks and accept change
*Be totally honest with myself
*Correct erroneous beliefs and assumptions
*Respect my vulnerabilities and accept them
*Heal old and current wounds
*Wave goodbye to guilt
*Plant 'flower' not 'weed' thoughts in my mind
*Treat myself with total respect and teach others to do the same
*Fill my own cup first, then nourish others from the overflow
*Own my own excellence
*Plan for the future, but live in the present
*Value my intuition and my wisdom
*Know that I am lovable
*Celebrate the differences between men and women
*Develop healthy, supportive relationships finally
*Make forgiveness a priority
*Accept myself just as I am now

*Pandora's Box Is Now Opened................*

For anyone who reads my blog frequently, one would know that I have been against the war in Iraq from the get go. I said at the time, to myself and several friends, "If our country invades Iraq, we will be opening 'pandora's box'.

It's not that I am a follower or a great fan of Saddam Hussein, I am not; just like I not a fan of any dictator and he is only one of many. There are some far more dangerous and ruthless than Saddam Hussein. No, it was not that, it was that our country, the United States of America, had no business whatsoever being there since there were more, many actually, problems closer to home that deserved our attention. We essentially gave up on our search in Afghanistan for Bin Laden; we could have caught him if we had not rushed to judgement and invaded Iraq looking for those elusive 'weapons of mass destruction'. Bin Laden is still out there somewhere, making threats against our country, and we found no weapons of mass destruction.

I was watching CNN today and heard that several billion more dollars and at least 60,000 more troops are needed in Iraq and that the violence is increasing almost to a civil war. I can't watch the news much anymore; I can't justify the money, the loss of life, both American and Iraqi, that is shown daily. It is horrific to me and it makes me cry. Almost two years later, over 2500 Americans have been killed, countless others wounded, and thousands of Iraqi citizens, women and children included are killed or injured and billions of dollars are being spent. We have no business being in Iraq, we have opened Pandora's box as I predicted when this massacre began.

Today, we know that Saddam had no weapons of mass destruction, and that our presence inside of his country has actually created more harm than good. Iraq is now more of a breeding ground for terrorists than ever before. Some citizens of Iraq are saying that times are worse now than during the tenure of Hussein, imagine that! As Americans, we are greatly overextended financially in a war that is not even our own.

My question is, why did we go? Why do we stay there? Soldiers leaves have been canceled at the last minute so that they cannot leave Iraq, but must stay and fight. Imagine how they, and their families, feel? They are even thinking of recruiting our National Guard. Is anyone going to stay home to protect our country?

We have no dignity or respect left in other country's world view; just a short time ago, we were the greatest, richest, most respected in the world. We lost that respect; we are in greater financial distress than we have ever been; we are not solving our own country's issues and we have lost over 2500 young soldiers.

Was it worth it? I don't think so and I never have. It will be decades before this issue is resolved and that is the future that my children and grandchildren will have to live with, all because we opened Pandora's box.

*The Art Of Giving*

We give of ourselves when we give gifts of the heart:

Love, kindness, joy, understanding, sympathy, tolerance, forgiveness.

We give of ourselves when we give gifts of the mind:

Ideas, dreams, purposes, ideals, principles, plans, inventions, projects, poetry.

We give of ourselves when we give gifts of the spirit:

Prayer, vision, beauty, aspiration, peace, faith.

We give of ourselves when we give the gift of words:

Encouragement, inspiration, guidance.

*My Instructions For Life*

*Give people more than they expect and do so cheerfully.

*Memorize your favorite poem.

*Don't believe all that you hear, spend all that you have or sleep all that you want.

*When you say "I love you", mean it.

*When you say "I'm sorry", look the person in the eye.

*Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a stroke of luck.

*Believe in love at first sight.

*Never laugh at anyone's dreams.

*Always love deeply and passionately. You may get hurt, but it's the only way to live life completely.

*In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.

*Don't judge people by their relatives.

*Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes soft.

*Talk slow, but think quickly.

*Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.

*Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

*Mind your own business.

*Say "bless you" when you hear someone sneeze.

*Never give yourself a haircut after three margaritas.

*When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

*Remember the three R's:
Respect for self; Respect for others; Responsibility for all your actions.

*Smile when picking up the phone, the caller will hear it in your voice.

*Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

*In disagreements with loved ones, deal with the current situation, don't
bring up the past.

*Spend some time alone with yourself and enjoy your 'company'.

*Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.

*Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

*Read more books and watch less TV.

*Keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.

*Trust in God, but lock your car.

*Never pass up an opportunity to pee.

*Be gentle with the earth.

*Read between the lines.

*Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.

*Hold Fast Your Dreams*

Hold fast your dreams!
Within your heart
Keep one still, secret spot
Where dreams may go.
And, sheltered so,
May thrive and grow.
Where doubt and fear are not.
Oh, keep a place apart
Within your heart.
For little dreams to go.

Think still of lovely things that are not true
Let wish and magic work at will within you.
Be sometimes blind to sorrow. Make believe!

Forget the calm that lies in disillusioned eyes.
Though we all know that we must die,
Yet you and I may walk like gods and even now at home in immortality.

We see so many ugly things
Deceits and wrongs and quarrelings!
We know, yes we know how quickly fade the color in the west, the bloom upon the
flower, the bloom upon the breast, and youth's blind hour.
A place apart where little dreams may go, may thrive and grow.
Hold fast - hold fast your dreams!

*Where Are We In The War On Terror?

My best friend and myself recently took a short vacation in Atlanta, Georgia to visit my son. We were flying back home on September 11th and we both noticed that the flight was only one-third full of passengers. Amazing, we could have our own individual bank of seats to relax on. I then began thinking that possibly many people were frightened to fly on this date, it being the five year anniversary of our country being attacked by a terrorist group, Al Quida.

For many of us, this day will commemerate their own memories on the importance and impact on them. But there we a larger question that looms in the background. Where are we today, as a nation, and around the world in combating the war on terror?

Mr. Bush will tell you that we are indeed winning this war, for there have not been any more attacks on U.S. soil since that horrible day. But, does this alone constitute a victory? Have we won the battle, but are we yet to gain in the war? How do we explain why so many home-grown terrorist groups have recently surfaced in Iraq, Hezbollah, and Hamas in Israel? What about this even larger threat in Iran, and it's development of nuclear weapons down the path? How about North Korea as well, can this country be excluded as a potential terrorist entity as well?

Since we invaded Iraq, this country has become it's own training ground for fundamentalist Islamic extremists from the Middle East, whose goals are to destroy all that is Western. Have we as a nation, truly learned the lessons? Are we better prepared to face those who want to attack us today, five years later? I personally feel that our world is a much scarier place today than it was five years ago. Why have the recommendations from the 911 commission not been implemented? Has our leadership been effective, or has it failed in making Americans safer today?

I will never forget 911, I never expected to see something as horrible happen in my lifetime. I will continue to pray for those who have suffered, in one way or another, from this tragic day in U.S. history. May the burdens of their hearts be lifted, as we, a nation, and a world, begin to make sense of those actions that took place on that terrible day.

I found it interesting to note as I watched a special on CNN titled "Footsteps of Bin Laden"that Osama Bin Laden truly believes that what he did resulting in the attack on the U.S. on 911 was ordained or directed by his god. I felt a cold chill enter my body when I heard this because George Bush said the same thing when he was questioned by a well-known writer. It is so scary, is it not?

*Do You Like Change?

Most people I know, if the truth be told, do not like change. To change means to do something differently, whether it be by act, deed or principle. Sometimes a change may involve a manner of living, thinking or relating. For example, a person who may feel some anger may need to think before speaking and curtail his/her comments and have to bite their tongue. Other times, change involves a complete shift, whether it be in the form of a job, a place to live, a relationship, and the list goes on and on.

I was listening to my mind as I was driving the other day, exploring my feelings actually, and started thinking about the recent changes in my own life. I have found that, in my own life anyway, the hardest part of any change is making the decision to do so. Once that decision is made, it is like an epiphany and I feel like a hundred pound weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. After that it is easy for me to adapt to the change. As you know, I frequently 'take stock' or do an inventory of myself, and I am totally honest with myself about my way of thinking and acting. For some, this is a task that is prefunctory, and the motions are done, but neither the thinking, nor the behavior changes. This self-evaluation, or inventory taking if you will, can be truly life changing, especially for those who are willing to take an honest look at themselves and take true stock in how they have been acting or behaving.

I truly feel that one can grow by adapting to change. By growing, we are learning that some patterns of thinking or behaving do not work so well for us; we must take the time to think them through and follow a different course. But changing is difficult to say the least, but to stay the same, and not take an honest look at oneself, and learn, can be even more harmful in the long run.

I have learned some valuable life lessons through change. I lived alone in Florida for several years in a beautifully furnished home, had a good job, all of the things that I thought that I wanted, but I was far from happy. One self-reflective night, sitting on my porch, watching a lightening storm, I made the decision to sell the home, move back to Michigan and be with my family. I have never regretted that decision. I was able to be the Grandma I always wanted to be, I was able to establish a bond with my Mother before she died and renewed many friendships that I had left behind. Again, the hardest part of making that change was the decision to do so.

I also made the decision to end a marriage that never really was one. I stewed over that change for quite a while, but once I made the decision, I could not believe how much happier I became. I feel such a strong sense of independence since then. I am happy with the job I do, I love coming home at night and greeting my cats since their love is unconditional, and I love being with 'just me' because through change I have enriched my life many times and I am comfortable being alone with 'just me'.

*If I Had One More Day*

I just recently read an article about a new book written by Mitch Albom, an author who I have read before. I loved his first book called "The 5 People You Meet In Heaven" which I read in one sitting and cried because it was so beautifully written. I then read his other book called "Tuesdays with Morrie", which I didn't really care for or consider as well-written as the above.

He is now releasing today a book called "For One More Day" which poses the question of whom one would like to spend just one more day with of the people that one had lost.

Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more day to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever? I began seriously posing this question to myself and here are my thoughts:

I lost my daughter, Leslie, in July of 2002 and I would still find that being able to spend one more day with her would be too painful for me to endure now. It is still extremely difficult for me to deal with the fact that she is gone. I also believe that every parent that has ever lost a child, regardless of their age, feels some form of guilt that they were unable to either save or prevent the death of that child. Even if there was nothing you could have done, it is still impossible to come to grips with it. Maybe this is especially true for mothers, who feel that sense of protectiveness and caring for their children even when they grow older. I know that I will never lose this protectiveness, ever, for the two children that I have remaining, nor for my grandchildren, call it maternal instinct if you will. It is through my strong belief in my faith and the hereafter that I know she is protected now and that I will see her soon.

Then I thought of my Mother, who died shortly after my daughter. I always had a strained relationship with my mother until a few years just before she died. It wasn't because I wanted it that way, that's just the way that it was. During the last few years before she died, though, I did everything I could to try to form a more durable bond between us. She was ageing and I was her caregiver when her health failed. I sat with her in hospitals and nursing homes when she experienced confusion and delirium due to the deterioration of her health. Before that I also frequently took her, her wheelchair, her oxygen tank, and her, to her doctor's appointments, as well as to fun things such as getting her hair done or spending the day at Costco shopping (she loved that) or wherever she wanted to go. I insisted on getting her dressed up and taking her to family functions on the holidays even though she resisted; she preferred to stay in her home as a recluse, but I wouldn't allow it and she did have fun with her children, grandchildren and great-children. The last photo we have together is during her last visit to my daughter's house for Christmas. She is wearing a red sweater that I bought for her and she is smiling, something she had forgotten to do, due to her self-imposed reclusiveness. I also am smiling and have my arm protectively around her. I treasure that photo. I know that she loved that Christmas. I also remember her frequent phone calls before she got sick, asking me to bring her treats from McDonalds or Wendy's or Kentucky Fried Chicken, which I did. I then would spend time with her and ask her about her health or how she was doing, and frequently gave her baths or groomed her hair. She religiously watched QVC and would call and ask me to order things for her because she somehow couldn't open an account for herself.

I also was the one that made the decision, by myself, to take her off life support and I was with her when she died. For all of this I am thankful because, in my heart, I know that we finally 'bonded' and that I did the best that I could for her. I wouldn't need to spend the day with her either because I accomplished what I wanted to do and say before she died.

I then began to think of my Dad, who died at the age of 40, when I was still young. I would love to spend that day with him - that is my choice. He died before he could see his children marry, have their own children and could experience the great love of being a grandparent. He came to my high school graduation but he never was able to see me further my education and advance in my nursing practice and obtain not one but 3 degrees. He would have loved that. He would also have loved to see how well his grandchildren were raised by myself, my brother and my sister. He would never know the fine values, the ethics and the strong sense of right and wrong that he had instilled in his children. My dad made me the political person that I am today by asking me to watch the elections or the campaigns with him on television. He was a strong union man and also a Democrat. He explained to me that running this country was something everyone should be interested in. He explained, after each candidate's speech, what all of it meant and developed my foundation for caring about my country and who was running it. My dad served in 3 branches of the service during WWII. The freedom we have in this country today is not something he ever took for granted, he fought to ensure that we had it.

It is not something today that is stressed to our young people; to get involved and know who your candidates are, what they stand for, and insisting that they fulfill the promises that they made. My dad also taught me to be proud of who I was and not to ever settle for anything less. In all truthfulness, though, he wanted me to be a policewoman, he really did. He wanted me to take care of him when he got older, and I would of, but he didn't get older and I didn't become a policewoman either. In the short time that he lived, he taught me more than anyone in my life.

Yes, when I think about it, I would loved to spend that day with my Dad and show him my life. We could go out for a cold beer, something he also loved and discuss the politics of today, he would have many opinions on that!! And as far as my accomplishments in life, well, he would be so proud!

Happy Birthday Little Boy..................................

Today was Justin's 8th birthday. I went out this morning and bought him a Star War's light sabre, something he has always wanted. I think I mentioned before how Nate, our mental health worker, brings in his 'real' one and the little boys on the unit where I work run up and down the halls at night with their capes (tied hospital gowns) and pretend to be Jedi warriors.

He loved the light sabre. His adoptive mother and little sister were coming in especially for his birthday. We had the kitchen at work bake a cake especially for him and his family. We rearranged our whole evening schedule so that he could enjoy his family and his birthday party. We had 11 other children on the unit, some his age and some teenagers, chip in to make it a special day for him, and it was, at least for a little while. I carefully planned out how I would adjust his medication given in order to keep him calm, not showing his inner rage and anger, so that he could enjoy at least this one birthday. I wanted it to be special for his little sister and his adoptive mother as well since they love him so. Even though he requires placement for at least 18 months in a facility that will attempt to control his rage, his adoptive mother will take him back again and try to give him a good life when the 18 months is over. He has been at our facility this time since July awaiting placement, since we are a short term facility. We are patient, though, his doctor loves him as well, and we will await the opening for a bed at the other facility. He has been with us on several other admissions, but we always take him back. We are still trying to 'fix' the damage his parents did and pray for a somewhat average adulthood for him, so that he doesn't become a part of the penal system.

Justin was born addicted to drugs since his mother used all of her pregnancy, most likely not even obtaining prenatal care. His parents also sexually and physically abused him grossly before he was even 2 years and eventually removed from the home. He was thrown against the wall as an infant and he and his sister were severely neglected before the authorities stepped in and removed him from the home. His adoptive mother took he and his sister in and even at the risk of eventually ruining an already unstable marriage, she has hung in there and kept him and his sister. She loves them, even though she is sick herself with Lupus that flairs up frequently due to his many behavior problems and admissions to our psychiatric hospital. She is the mother that should have given birth to them, but she didn't. I sometimes wonder if their 'real' mother ever considers the damage she has done to him. I hate her for what she has done, but I doubt that she will ever know this or care. Sometimes I have even fantasized about (if I could) taking his parents by the shoulders, shaking the heck out of them, and saying "look what you have done to your children, look at the life they have, all due to your selfishness, you should have never been allowed to bring children into this world" but I know that I can't so it is just a fantasy of mine.

Justin acts out sexually constantly now, even though we have tried so many different medications to control his behavior. He has even reverted back to wearing pullup diapers, he had complete control not too long ago. We have counseled him, tried behavior modification, everything and anything we can to help him, but nothing seems to work. When he gets into a rage, we have one of the staff escort him to the quiet room to hold him down when he is throwing things, destroying property, swearing, hitting, kicking or attacking, in order to calm him down. We give him medication to assist in the calming but it seems nothing is working anymore. When the medication kicks in and he has had his supper, I take him to his room and run a warm shower for him. He gets ready for bed and sweetly asks, Miss Charlotte, please come and tuck me in. So we keep doing it, day after day, and hope and pray that something will eventually work so he live a somewhat normal life in our society.

I often hope that his mother and dad someday know that through their selfishness and disregard for their children, this is what they have created, a child who is barely manageable, who must be medicated, sedated, just in an attempt to enjoy his birthday party. It just doesn't seem fair to me, he should be a little boy like all other little 8 year old boys, looking forward to starting school, making new friends, and playing Jedi warrior with his light sabre...................

*Parents Need To Be Parents*

I hate to admit it, but I frequently watch a show on Monday night called "Wife Swap". This show takes two women from two families and places them in each other's homes for 2 weeks. During the first week, the swapped "wife" must follow the rules of the household she is sent to. The second week, she makes her own rules, as she sees them, and the family must follow them. They are reunited with their 'real' families after this and meet as a group with their husbands to share their experiences. For the most part, the wives are total opposites and this makes the show interesting. Since I have been watching this, I have realized why a lot of the children that are admitted to the Adolescent Psychiatric Unit where I work have the behavior problems that they do. I am not basing this conclusion on just one episode of this show; I have observed many with the same issues that I am writing about and it disturbs me.

Last night's show had a mother who wanted to be her children's "friend". She did not work, she devoted every waking hour in making sure that her kids were 'having fun'. The father accepted this and worked fulltime as well as did what housework he could because Mom didn't have time to clean. The house was deplorable, and when I say this, I mean that the Health Department should have intervened. The woman had a total of 25 different animals or pets living in the house. The animals lived as freely as the kids and excreted their waste in the house wherever they needed to. There were no rules, no bedtimes, no limits, no scheduled meals, they ate fast food for the most part. They didn't even have a dining room table because they ate whenever and wherever they wanted. There was a teenage boy, another boy and a little girl living in this total lack of structure, filthy home. This mother was convinced that she was raising her child to be healthy, productive adults. They could have sleep-overs with their friends whenever they wanted without even requesting permission to do so. The mother took them wherever they wanted to go regardless of the time and whether or not they had school the next day or not.

One might think that this is unusual, but it isn't. I have seen several mothers on this show as well as on other shows such as SuperNanny where a nanny is called in to solve 'behavior problems' and also on Dr. Phil where the parents can't cope with their children's acting out. I find this so sad. Parents are not parents anymore. It is not rare to have a young child, even 4 to 5 years old brought in by the police department where I work for admission. Can you believe it? Well, it's true. We have become a nation of parents that want to be friends, buddies, pals with their children and they are doing them a horrible disservice. They are not being parents.

In this country, currently children are encountering an increasingly hostile culture resulting in a growing number of children experiencing mental health problems. Mental health resources are currently treating only one of five children requiring treatment, and resources are diminishing at federal, state, and local levels. When children are admitted due to lack of parenting, this only compounds the problem. Most of these children that I have commented on above are not mentally ill, they are behavior issues that are not handled by parents. They are forced onto our police departments and our adolescent psychiatric facilities, which are decreasing by the day and they eventually will become part of our criminal element if this problem is not addressed.
Teachers now are required to dispense medication in the school to kids with 'behavior issues'. Teacher are not medically trained to do so, but due to the lack of School Nurses, they are forced to. This is a very dangerous trend, in my opinion, dispensing medication without the knowledge of pharmacology and medication side effects is a slippery slope. I don't blame the teachers, they are actually forced into it in order to conduct their classes without behavior outbursts. Our police are now forced into becoming the intermediary by going to the home and taking the child (usually in handcuffs) to the psychiatric facility that is available, if they accept children of course.

Children need structure, they need limits, they need rules to become emotionally healthy adults, they don't need parents who want to be their 'friend'. I hope that our country's parents wake up and take responsibility for raising their children. If they don't, their children will pay dearly in the future for this growing problem of lack of parenting.

* Just For Today*

In my previous post, I mentioned that we try to counsel our patients and teach them life skills in the short period of time that we have them. We frequently use the message below and I am not sure of the author. However, the message could apply to anyone, not just the adolescents we share it with:

Just for today I will try to live through this day only and not tackle my whole life problem at once. I can do something for eight hours that would appall me if I felt that I had to keep it up for a lifetime.

Just for today I will adjust myself to what is, and not try to adjust everything to my own desires. I will take my luck as it comes, and fit myself to it.

Just for today I will try to strengthen my mind. I will study, I will learn something useful. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration.

Just for today I will be happy. Abraham Lincoln said, "Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be."

Just for today I will exercise my soul in three ways: I will do somebody a good turn and not get found out. If anybody knows of it, it will not count. I will do two things that I don't want to do for self discipline.

Just for today I will have a program. I may not follow it exactly, but I will try. I will save myself from two pests: Hurry and indecision.

Just for today I will have a quiet half hour to myself, and relax. During this time I will try to get a better perspective of my life.

Just for today I will be unafraid. I will not be afraid to enjoy what is beautiful, and to believe that as I give to the world, so the world will give to me.

Just for today I will be agreeable. I will look as good as I can, dress becomingly, talk low, act courteously, criticize not one bit, not find fault with anyone and try not to change or improve anybody but myself.
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As you read each of these, don't you think that if we all practiced these simple life lessons, just for today, we could live in a harmonious world, a world without war, suffering, and pain. We would be more tolerant of different lifestyles, different skin colors, different religions, creeds, ideals. What a wonderful world that would be...................

*Making A Difference*

Over the past several weeks the Adolescent Psychiatric Unit that I work at has been extremely busy with many admissions and discharges. This is unusual because during the summer our census is usually low. I cannot remember being this busy or as easily frustrated with my job because I love what I do.

The mental health workers that I work with are excellent and have become as frustrated as I have. We work many times without breaks and many are working overtime. We sometimes get angry at parents for their lack of parenting skills. These parents bring their kids to us and expect us to 'fix them' in a short period of time and then return them better.
One cannot become judgemental, one has to remain professional in spite of your feelings toward that parent. We also see kids who are autistic, mentally challenged, substance abusers, sexually abused children, as well as physically and emotionally neglected children. Due to budget and healthcare cuts and the closure of most adolescent psychiatric facilities, we now accept children from cities that could be 50 to 100 miles from us.

Last night, after one of the busiest nights I have worked, we made sure all of our patients were cared for, medicated if needed and put to bed. We maintain constant supervision and must check them every 15 minutes as they are all on general suicide precautions. My male and female mental health workers are the best I have ever worked with. However, last night we were all ready to just give up. Frustration does that to you. Nate, my male mental health worker, who was doing a double shift as he frequently does said "I can't do this anymore" because of all of the issues we deal with. We discussed whether or not what we do, what we teach them, what we counsel them on actually makes a difference. The average stay is about 3 to 7 days for most kids. That is a very short period of time to even attempt to undo or repair the damage these kids have experienced. You only hope and pray that you made an inkling of difference in their lives. Did one statement, one short period of counseling them, one instance where you showed that you cared, did anything stick?

We then began discussing some of our really difficult patients in the past 2 years. We had one young girl who came into our facility many times and each time, we dreaded her admission. She was defiant, hostile and very difficult to manage. We gave her timeouts, we put in our Quiet Room, we gave her medication to control her behavior, we had to physically restrain her many times. She pushed everyone's buttons and at first, none of us liked her. One night as I was driving home from work after a shift with her, I said to myself, "I can't deal with her anymore" which I do frequently. I woke up the next morning and decided I had to deal with her, she is my patient and I had to find a redeeming quality in her and focus on that. She had called me every swear word in the book of swear words, she tested my patience to the extreme, but I had to teach myself how to deal with her. So, the next time that she was admitted I tried a different approach with her. I took her aside and listened to all of her complaints, and told her that rather than act out and create chaos on the unit to come to me and ask me for her medication or a private talk and I would stop what I was doing and give her my full attention. She looked at me baffled by my new approach, but she agreed. She became calmer but was still being transferred to a longterm residential facility. She could not return home. This is so difficult for children to accept. They feel abandoned and unloved and act out more. I fully believed that once she left, her behavior problems would accelerate and that there was little hope for her future. We all felt that way, but we tried our best anyway. She is just one example of kids that we try to fix, some stories are even worse.

We began discussing 'Amanda' and her behavior last night and I wondered what happened to her. I found out that she was no longer in placement, was going to college and was leading a good life. I almost cried, it did work with her! We made a difference in her life. You cannot imagine how good that makes a healthcare professional feel. It is all worth it, it does make a difference. Nate then looked at me and said, "yeah, I guess handle it for a little bit longer now that I know she is doing well".

We encourage our kids to call us after their release if they have any problems they can't handle. We have several of these 'discarded' troubled kids call us even late at night. We always take their calls and listen, counsel, and encourage. We are sometimes the only person they trust, but we have earned that trust because we care about them and they know it. We bring them in little 'gifts' such as coloring books, scrapbooking supplies and other things. Nate is a big Star Wars fan and one of best mental health workers I have had the privilege to work with. Sometimes late at night before we put the little kids to bed, we make little 'capes' out of hospital gowns and let them become Jedi warriors. Nate has a 'real' Light Sabre that glows in the dark and they run around the unit with their little capes flowing behind them and their light saber. How could you not love this line of work when you see that?

Our country must take a look at our medical crisis right now. We are closing psychiatric facilities at an incredible rate. We have over 45 million people in this country without health insurance. This must become a priority in our country! We are denying future generations the healthcare they deserve. We are funneling billions of dollars to other countries, we are spending billions of dollars in the Middle East and watching our soldiers die at an alarming rate. Yet, people in our own country are being neglected. This has to stop, our children are our future and we are forgetting that.......................

*The Birth of a Perfumista*

Over the weekend, my grandaughters happened to come over to see their perfumista grandmother. I was pleased to see that I had not only a budding perfumista in my older grandaughter, Deana, who is 25, but now I was witnessing the emergence of her sister Lauren, who is 15, as a brand-new baby or princess "perfumista". I am so pleased, no honored, to see that genetically the fragrance gene is being passed! They sat and discussed, over lunch, which fragrance families were better suited to summer and winter, etc. I passed on to Lauren several of my fragrances that I now longer wore frequently. She is becoming quite adept at identifying florals, orientals, musks, etc., this tiny, beautiful 15 year old! She told me that her friends admire her 'collection' of fragrances that I have already given her. She sniffs fragrance strips in magazines and is developing her own fragrance style or signature, if you will. I could not have been more pleased!

My older daughter, Leslie, (their mother) loved perfume as well, but vacillated between two or three fragrances. Her sister, Holly, likes fragrance occasionally, but could really live without it if she had to. Can you believe it?

I was becoming frustrated that my love of fragrance would never be passed to future generations, considering it almost a failure on my part as a perfumista. However, I am pleased to witness the birth of two future perfumistas that will:

*Know what a dram is, and be able to convert it into milliliters.
*Know how many sprays there are in one milliliter.
*Pretend to listen when a salesperson explains the intricasies of a new scent production (even though they know more than her).
*Knows the right fragrance family for all the people each knows around them, family or friend.
*Have a long perfume wishlist that makes no sense to any other living creature on earth, but another perfumista, like myself.
*Hoards discontinued scents that were favorites 20 years ago.
*Dreams of the perfect arrangement for all of her perfumes to display.
*Understands when another perfumista's favorite scent is being discontinued, mourning along with them, understanding the pain.
*Always has a perfume atomizer full, beside the bed for a quick spritz when needed to make one's day, or night.
*Can discuss perfume for hours, but only to perfumistas, or other perfume lovers, and not think this is unusual.
*Knows the latest fragrance releases, even before sales associates do, and quite often has much more knowledge than them.
*Has tons of perfume shopping sites bookmarked in her favorites.
*Sees certain perfume bottles as "works of art".
*Actually contemplates and studies whether to purchase groceries or a new fragrance.

Now I can die with the knowledge that I have passed on this very important genetic trait! I have witnessed the birth of two young perfumistas that will wear the title of "perfumista" well! Thank you Deana and Lauren, may your life be filled with fragrance.

*Lessons Learned In Blogville*

I think that it has been about a year since I began writing my blog. Writing a blog and reading those of so many other people has been a fascinating journey for me.

Most of what I have read has been positive, and this blogging hobby of mine has allowed me to uncover and to discover so much about myself through my writing, and I have met some very wonderful people in the process.

For the most part, it has been a rewarding process. But I have also met some nasty people, vindictive, vengeful people as well. I have seen individuals, who shall go unnamed, who are cruel, mean, abusive and who speak poorly of others. They use words here in the land of Blogville that would not dare be uttered within their community, nor to others. Some men and women actually brag about being unfaithful to their spouses. There is a bully mentality among several of them, the conclusion being that if you are made to feel terrible, you may change to their way of thinking. Consequently, some feel it is necessary to come here and berate others simply because they can. To me, this conduct is a form of bullyism by proxy.

This brings me to my question for the day. Are these individuals really so righteous? Does God look upon them with favor, dignity and strength, or as those with weaknesses? One example I read was from a very kind religious woman who admitted to being bi-sexual. She was literally harrased, shunned, bullied and made fun of, and was spoken to in the most unpleasant of terms, all because these individuals did not approve of her life-style. So, who is the more righteous? The one who is open and honest, although maybe different, but who has a kind heart and a good soul, or the one who is mean, nasty and abusive? I was raised to believe that being a good Christian means being a good person, no matter what else may be involved. Are these individuals who cheat, lie, bully, demean, curse, harass, truly good people? Not in my world they are not! Frankly, I think they are shameful individuals, who live within a realm of negativity and criticism, and the only way to make themselves feel big/better is by putting other people down, regardless of the cost.

Therefore, this post is for all of you, who ae a little different, maybe not so observant, committed, or have chosen another path, to know that you are respected and loved for who you are. Live and let live for heavens sake. It is also for those of you who are religious and righteous to know that you, are the examples, the pillars of our community, whose words, thoughts and deeds are cherished and appreciated by us all as well. If we cannot learn to respect one another, how can the world be expected to respect us as well?

*Secret Lives of Single Women*

A co-worker and myself were having a discussion the other day about marriage and when I told her that I was going through my current divorce, she said, "Wow, you must really be hard to live with". I looked at her and responded, "No, I just made a few wrong choices in partners". I then began to think to myself about the perception of people that have been married more than once as well as the perception of single women living alone who prefer it that way.

I must say that I entered each of my three marriages with the best of intentions; to live happily ever after, to be faithful and honest with each other, and above all else, to trust. I would have probably been shocked if I had known at a young age that I would go through three divorces! I would have said to myself, "No way, marriage is forever", because this is how I was raised. My own parents stuck it out even though their marriage was not a good one If my father had not passed away at an early age,they would probably still be married. Would this be considered a happy marriage? Not on my terms, but I didn't know it then. My parents fought like cats and dogs, but when you are young you don't understand that. Today 50% of all marriages fail. I admit that I tried to buck the odds with my second and third marriages, but I became part of the 50% failure again. I am not unhappy because of this because I have learned to be alone, to like my own company, and to survive quite well on my own. It is a myth that single women are sad, lonely and financially troubled. Actually, despite some very real hardships, they've never been happier.

Do they become lonely? Of course they do, but it is much lonelier to be in a relationship where you feel lonely. That is a sad state, believe me. Are they sad now and then? Sure, aren't we all? Do they occasionally lose sleep worrying about the future? Yes, and with good reason: being a single older woman comes with it's own economic challenges. But that doesn't stop the majority from believing that middlelife offers an opportunity for growth, for instance, doing something you always wanted to do. In reality, many of my single friends and myself are living lives of secret contentment.

We are not desperate to find a mate, open to a nice relationship, maybe; but obsessed with finding a partner, not on your life. I know I have reached a point in my life where I am more mature, more secure and more content. I don't have to be out and about seeking attention like some younger single women do - and I did the same as a younger single women. I like myself for who I have become. Lord knows I worked hard enough emotionally to get here. It was a hard road of disappointments and severe emotional pain to become confident, self-assured and proud of who I am now in my later years. Is this the wisdom that comes with old age, is it maturity and finally growing up? I don't know, but I am happy that I have finally arrived. I don't feel the need to have someone 'complete me' as Jerry McGuire said. I am complete and do not feel the need begin a search for another man. A relationship would be nice, but no more marriages.

In all reality, I would be very reluctant to even contemplate another marriage. I expect so much from a marriage. Those same old things I was looking for when I was young: eternal love, faithfullness and truth and devotion to each other. I most likely would pick the wrong person again. Am I hard to live with? I don't really think so, I just make bad choices every now and then.

*A Tribute To Minerva Frances Champlin*

Thought about my sweet Grandma all day yesterday, July 17, on what was the 39th year of the day I lost her.

I have missed her deeply since the day I traveled to Troy, Ohio to her funeral and met her brothers and sisters from Mississippi attending her funeral. Her sister Susie looked so much like her it made me cry. I had never met any of her people, the Ballards, from Mississippi, but I would have loved to have know them.

My grandmother married my grandfather, Cecil , as a young girl and moved to Kentucky with him. She bore him 4 sons, losing one at birth. She lost my dad, Stanley Eugene Ballard before her death and I know that it literally broke her heart. Since I have lost a child at almost the very same age that my grandma did, I understand the pain that she suffered at the time.

My grandma was in the room of the home on Simpson Street when I was born. I was her first grandchild and I was the girl she always wanted. My mother had already decided my name was going to be Linda Diane, but my grandmother convinced her to name me Charlotte Diane. Charlotte was a dear friend of hers that I never knew growing up, but I have her name just the same. My grandmother literally doted on me the moment I was born and loved me deeply until the day she died.

We moved from Ohio when I was barely 9 years old. It was extremely difficult leaving my grandmother in Ohio. She solved that problem by having my Dad drive me to Ohio the very minute that school let out. I stayed with her for the whole summer, just returning to Michigan when it was time to go back to school.
My grandmother ran a boarding house for men in Ohio. She also had a gentlemen who worked for the railroad have only his meals every day at her immaculate, well-maintained home. This was her source of income since she had no skills, marrying as young as she did. I grew up around her roomers and boarders and remember each one of them fondly. She also lived in sin with a man named Preston Cross for years and they had a wonderful relationship until the day he died. I never questioned why they didn't marry, but I never associated her with my grandpa Cecil. Preston was like a grandpa to me as well. My grandmother doted on me when I stayed with her. I remember going to a dry-goods store and going up to their upper floor by way of the old creaky wooden stairs and looking through all of the books of paper dolls, and at the coloring books, and the crayons. My grandma would just tell the shop owner, "give the girl whatever she wants", she was like that. I didn't just get a box of crayons, I got the big box with the gold, silver and copper crayons! She was so good to me. I thought all grandmas were like that. She would take me to the County Fair in Ohio and would say "let's have our picture made" and we did. I didn't know until recently that her real name was Minerva Frances. She went by Frances. I remember the fragrance of that dry-goods store, the fragrance of the paper doll books and crayons, and it is comforting to be able to remember them.

My travels to my grandmothers house in the summer continued all of my young life. I even stopped and stayed at her house on the way to Florida for my honeymoon. She was so glad that I did. She would write letters to me faithfully until her fingers became so crippled with arthritis that she couldn't. She then had a friend write as she dictated. I traveled to Ohio to see her in the hospital right before she died. I remember brushing her beautiful, long, black hair that grew to the middle of her back. She never dyed her hair, but it was a lustrous black until the day she died, just like my Dads. She was confused during her last hospitalization, but told me that she had heard them 'calling me' over the hospital intercom to come to her side, and now, here I was.

Minerva Frances was a very special part of my life and I will always love her and honor her memory. I like to believe that my Leslie is now with her and enjoying her like I did. I took Leslie on a train once to see her when Leslie was a toddler and my grandma showered her with the same love she always gave me. I am convinced she will know her when she sees her now................

*The Hurtful Things In Our Lives*

You know how kids are when they are hurt....they keep their hands over the boo-boos so that you can't see them or treat them. As adults, you know they have to let go so you can help them and make them feel better......but most of the time, the biggest job is prying those fingers away.

That is the way we are sometimes with the hurtful things in our lives.....we are so busy "holding" on to them that we don't give our faith and God the chance to do his work...because we "think" we know better.

Now, asked straight out who could handle it better, us or God...we would think it was a silly question, God, of course! But WHAT do our actons say? And what is the benefit of worry? And what does it tell our children about the faithfulness of God to his people and the covenant he has with us? Let go and let God..........

*Life and Death: What Will Your Epitaph Say?*

Currently I am reading a book called "Tuesdays With Morrie" by Mitch Albom. I previously read "The Five People You Meet In Heaven" as well, completing it in one sitting!

"Tuesdays With Morrie" is about a man who is dying from Lou Gehrigs Disease (ALS) and how he handles it. "The Five People In Heaven" is about a man who works at a carnival and fixes certain rides when they need it. He is a man who felt that he went through life and no one noticed or cared, even when he died. These are both small, but very powerful, books.

Each one of us has experienced change in the form of illnesses, or the natural deterioration of our own bodies during the ageing process, and it is an inevitable consequence for us all. Moreover, many of us have gone through the pain of watching a loved close to us die, either figuratively or actually (such as an illness which renders a person to be someone other than he/she used to be, or death).

This subject makes one think about how our own bodies change, and the impact that this has on those around us as well. Some of us will fight and resist change and insist upon hanging on to a dream or an idea of a person as he/she used to be. Is it not often the case that as we watch someone whom we love or care about deeply become ill or suffer, that at times, we too may die in the process as well? Are we not all ordinary individuals having extraordinary experiences?

When the day is done and over, how do we decide who we are? How do we judge ourselves, and when, and by what achievements (of lack thereof) does one leave an imprint on those around us? Do we measure ourselves by only our achievements? Do each of us stop to live the very best life we can, or do we keep waiting for the miracles around us to happen? Does age become our teacher, or our own enemy? If you had to write your own epitaph, what would you want it to say, and why?

*In July - The Voice of Silence*

Here it is July, a month that I have grown to hate. Each year, I try not to think about it, but I literally hold my breath that nothing happens until the month is over. Silly, yes? But, I have had so many losses occur in this month that I feel it has become a month to fear.

My first loss in July was July 7, 1962. My father, who was only 40 at the time, died while I was at the airport picking up my sister who was coming in from Missouri to be at his bedside. I just happened to stop during my walk through the airport and called my mother. I had a feeling something was wrong, but my Dad had conquered illness so many times that I wasn't prepared for this loss. I was pregnant with my first child, Leslie. I took his death very hard - I was extremely close to my Dad and not at all prepared to lose him.
My second loss was my dear grandmother, Frances on July 17, 1967 . Oh how I loved that woman. She had been ill but I didn't expect to lose her either. I traveled to Ohio to be at her funeral and was pregnant at the time with my second child, my son Steven.
My oldest daughter died on July 5, 2002. Now I knew there was something about July. Her death took all of the inner strength that I could muster up just to keep breathing.
I hope to get through this July with no further loss and I dedicate this message to the loved ones that I have lost:

Listen to the wind when I'm not there to be with you,
For as it dries your tears away it will tell you of my love.
As you walk in the fields of Heaven, when I'm not there to walk with you,
Listen to the lark as it sings of my love for you.
When it's late at night and I'm not there to hold you,
Dream of tomorrow and you will find me there.

*My Requirement: Communication and Honesty*

In my opinion, lying to your partner is never right, but sometimes understandable. Some people try to control their partner by becoming upset at things they disapprove or or don't like. The other person resorts to lying to avoid upsetting them.

However, true communication involves both a willingness to hear the truth and a willingness to tell the truth. If one person refuses to hear the truth, the other person may stop telling it. People need to give each other the freedom to be honest.

It is fine to express your feelings about a partner's behavior and hope that they will change. It is quite another to use emotional blackmail to prevent them from doing things you don't like. Adults should be in charge of their own behavior and accountable for the same. Obviously if their actions are illegal or immoral that changes things - as long as you don't try to apply your own moral values on them. Adults also have a right to decide on their own moral values.

*Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness*

Even though I worked last night on the fourth of July, I was thinking about my country and some of the basic rights that were set forth by the founders of our nation. We are truly blessed to live in this country. Among the things that I considered, some were vague, although significant, they included the pursuit of happiness.

What is happiness though? Many could say it is objectively defined, as being a virtue, or a state of being that has more reference to doing service for others, and impact on the outside world rather than a subjective state of being. Other people define happiness more subjectively, in terms of tangible objects, such as money, winning the lottery, have a beautiful home with a swimming pool, a well-stocked fragrance collection (me), looking good all the time, buying as much as one wants, etc. Still, for others, the idea is defined more from within, having a state of well being, including and most important, good health, both physical and mental, and achieving a certain type of inner peace, a quiet mind if you will. Still for others, it could be having children, seeing them succeed in the lives, and being happy and healthy and reaching their goals.
My question is, what is your definition of happiness? How, and under what circumstances do you achieve it? Does it involve selfless acts, necessary? Are the accumulation of material goods a part of what makes you happy? Is it a state of mind, body and soul? Remember though, happiness is not a way of life, it is fleeting, and must be appreciated while you have it. It comes and goes, and is not a permanent thing, only short-lived so that you compare it to the other times, making it special and worthwhile.

*The Gift of Memory*

Over the weekend, two of my grandaughters came over for a visit; the older one is expecting my great-grandchild in January and I can hardly contain myself in the anticipation of this event. Can you even begin to imagine, a great-grandchild? We were talking about my hobby of scrapbooking, which I love. I have made scrapbooks for each of them and the older one said that several people that she showed her books to stated that they were good enough to be done professionally and sold. I love the compliment because I am proud of my work, but, as I told her, I could never do that because they are too personal to me. After they left, I began to think about that and realized that I scrapbook for them not only to somehow preserve their legacy, but also, to give them my memories.

I have given many gifts to my children and grandchildren over the years and I suspect I will give many more before my life is through. Some will be simple, some extravagant, most carefully chosen, some picked in haste on the way to somewhere. Some could be rare and unusual, the kind of gift that makes the giver hover excitedly while the paper is unwrapped. But even those incomparable treasures could have been uncovered by someone else - even, heaven forbid, by another grandmother. They're unusual, but they're not unique. There is only one gift in all the world that can be given by me alone, only one gift I can give that is 'truly' unique. That is the gift of memories, captured and preserved and passed on to the people that I love. Only I can preserve the timeless treasure that conveys my heart and my love to them most eloquently. Even some of the treasures that I make by hand, my crocheted blankets, for example, provide a mute testimony to my unconditional love for them. But not even the most exquisite handmade treasure cannot communicate the way a picture can, the way a word can. Sometimes you have to tell the story by actually telling the story. Just yesterday, I was listening to some music and heard the song "Jesus Christ Superstar" from the broadway show by the same name. I had taken my three children to see the play at their school when they were younger. At the end of the performance when everyone was standing and clapping their hands to the music and such a great performance, I looked up and there on the stage were my three kids with the cast, singing their little hearts out. What a fond memory! I will have to scrapbook that thought, I want to let them know how great a moment that was in my life, something I will always remember. The gift of family stories preserved in words and pictures is an irreplaceable and timeless treasure.