Brick by Brick: Rebuilding the Broken

When cHaOs AiMs To ReIgN sUpReMe CaNnOns FiRiNg FrOm A trampoline  Visions BlUrRy in My hEad AfflicTiOns dripping Down in red NO escape, No way Out to find When darkness overtakes the mind Until, and only when it's time Does reason and peace come back to mind   The only sure and true way to be free To escape what is haunting me -  Cry out to God He is right there all it takes is a simple, tiny prayer - "GOD HELP ME! GET ME OUT SOMEHOW!!"   And He is Right There, Right Here, Right Now    Peace comes in and takes a seat Jesus is near, within your heartbeat   He is simply waiting for your call Jesus saves, rescues, restores He cares for ALL   He knows just what you need the most He will be there, He is very close  NOTHING MAKES SENSE in this broken world, But He takes DIRT and turns it into PEARLS. I don't know where you are right now If you are like me, life has broken you down The only thing, the only One  Who is always there  is God's own Son. He left His home, Hi

 Please don't tell me I am the only one who misplaces things.  I must admit, organization isn't my strong suit. I have a Dr.Jekyll/ Mr. Hyde ( or hide? ) approach to filing things away. The intentions are fine, but distractions are sometimes louder and - "One sheep, two sheep, I'm beginning to lose sleep!" Or however that song goes....Ok, time for the monster to go back under the bed where he belongs.    I make lists to accomplish daily goals. I fight against this gremlin every day. Some days I win. Every once in a while, though, he gets the upper hand.  But sometimes, the game takes a surprise twist. For instance, I need to wear finger-less gloves almost year round to keep my hands from going blue, (thanks, Reynaud's), and they need to be compression gloves to ease the crippling Psoriatic pain in the joints. So, I must have a pair available in the vehicles, by my bed, in the living room, and the kitchen. Great! Got it! Until I wear the living room gloves to b

When the path is too hard to find on your own, you need someone to lead you through the haze. (I started writing this post over two years ago.) The fog was so thick, I could feel it slithering up my spine. The once silent beast had made it's way into my senses, no hope for recovery this time. The high-functioning anxiety had turned ugly. Even my loved ones had never seen this side of me before. My entire life, I was accustomed to hiding the darkness within. Like an ill-gotten prize to hoard in the filthy corners of my being. There is no definite explanation why a child is tormented so, with thoughts and feeble attempts of self-harm. To carry those characteristics to adulthood is a heavy burden none should bear. Everyone's story is different, yet many are the same. Some of our stories may end well, others are rocky and difficult beyond our own strength. Those are the stories that give us courage and fortitude to fight harder than ever before.  When it becomes too dark to see,

I have a confession to make. I am obsessed with rocks. Always have been fascinated by the simplicity and understated beauty of a rock. It has no moving parts, it doesn't light up, or make any noise, or any of those enticing things that catch your attention. Yet they are a testament to the beginning of time. Steadfast and true .       Many years ago, when my husband's great grandfather lived here, there were so many boulders on the land that they used them for building foundations and walls. How they accomplished such a feat is beyond my comprehension.The rock fence that was once across the back of the property is buried deep underground now. They are not going anywhere. Except for a couple that were uncovered when we were having some work done. Those three rocks have been sitting in the meadow for several years, until we finally had enough horsepower to drag those enormous rocks to their destination - our front yard. The amount of power it took to move them was more than any

You have had a long week. The boss has been especially irritable, clients have been overly demanding, coworkers uneasy and nothing seems to be going well. To top it off, the family schedule is so crammed this week that the only time they speak to each other is to get to the next thing. Whew! It's finally Friday night! Time for a nice evening at home. Pop some corn, put in a movie...  "Oh, forgot something to drink. Let's see what we have already chilled?"  You open up the fridge and...  "Auuuugh! What is that awful smell? Kids! Have you left another science experiment in here?" Slowly you realize no one is going to answer your questions. They are all out for the night. So it's up to you to search for the offensive odor and it's host.  You sigh and begin the treacherous process of cleaning out the refrigerator, looking for what is causing the stench. Digging through the layers of last night's casserole, the fresh vegetables from the farmers market

One of our kids' first favorite story characters were the lovable pair of amphibious friends known as Frog and Toad Adventures written by Arnold Lobel. The ever cheerful Frog was always in a pleasant mood, and spent every day he could making memories, having fun, exploring, learning and sharing life with his best friend Toad. Toad was a solid chap, albeit on the pessimistic side of things, still ever ready to enjoy another day living to the fullest in his simple little world with his neighbor and very best buddy, Frog. We had read the book and we checked out the video as often as we could from the library. It wasn't long before we realized there were more books! Then they learned to read the books by themselves, and their favorite lines soon became part of the family vocabulary. "Frog and Toad" were the best friends a little boy could have. Did I mention three of my children were boys? Frogs and toads became the Search for the Holy Grail where eve

It would NOT shut off!!!! I tried everything that day to no avail. At first, I couldn't even get it off the wall. I didn't know it was going to be this hard. It began like any other low battery signal - with a very slight ...beep. Then it gradually grew in intensity. The BEEP turned into a double BEEP BEEP. The noise was driving me batty. BEEP BEEP I finally got it off the wall somehow. But then I couldn't get the back off to be able to remove the battery. I tried tapping it on the counter. BEEP BEEP I tried using a jar gripper. I even tried a screwdriver. Hmm... BEEP BEEP ALL RIGHT, where's the hammer? Just a little tap. OH, COME ON! ...BEEP BEEP So, I don't want to break it, BUT I DO WANT TO STOP... BEEP BEEP... THE NOISE! Sigh. I am the only one home  ...BEEP BEEP Well, I guess it's just going to have to wait until someone comes home to help me remove the battery. What to do? I can't think straight anymore. ...BEEP BEEP

When you lose a loved one, there are no words to describe the many facets of what you are going through, and how that impacts the rest of your life. After the initial days of loss so much of what you do only happens by routine, totally unaware of anything surrounding you except the gaping hole left staring you in the face. The shock has settled deeper in your soul and you may remember to drink if you are thirsty, you may try to peck at the food placed before you, and you may crawl into bed because you must get up again tomorrow. You try to resume a semblance of life. How it affects you may be so different than other members of your family, or anyone you know who has been where you are now. Fresh grief is like a candle, or a flower. The way we react, respond, and who we become has so many variables. Some seem to find their way quickly into a different sort of who they used to be. Others may have numerous reasons for not being able to pick up the pieces as gallantly.

How often we hear the line - It must have gotten lost in the mail ... At times it seems like a joke - Yah, right. You wouldn't have sent it at all if I didn't call you again to ask for it; As we hang up the phone, seething with anger at the offense. (or is that just me?) But then there are times when the postal carrier brings such delightful news from that loved one so far away. Brightening our day so, filling our hearts with joy to know that they are safe and well, and very soon they will be home again. These days, the post office doesn't get used as often with e-mails, texting, face timing, and so many other ways to communicate with the world around us. Yet speech is what sets us apart from the animal kingdom. I have yet to see a baboon create a lovely poem. When I mention the phrase lovely poem , I am sure several of my readers can recall a line or two from their favorite author. The words we use each day have a great impact on what we become. Just saying

Ever notice how certain remarks or lingo seem to span the ages and we forget how they came to be? Some may seem silly, yet they become useful in certain situations. Take the phrase "Can you dig it?"   - has that person really asked if you are capable of using a shovel to dredge up that new band playing for New Year's Eve? Then if you could scoop the drummer, bass guitarist, lead guitar, saxophone and violinist with a large enough shovel - what would you do next? Absurd, you say? Of course! So let's go back to the phrase and see what's going down! Okay, now I'm on a roll , there's no stopping me, I'm just winging it ..... (Sorry, I digress. Puns definitely intended today.)  The phrase "Can you dig it?" is most commonly associated with the late 1960's and 70's Woodstock era and movies from the USA. But what does it mean? Digging far enough back in time, it comes from the Gaelic An dtuigeann tú?  - which means Do you un