To pray or not to pray...that is the question.

Ours is not a straight forward path and although we hope to be progressing forward all the while amidst the twists and turns, life is one adventure after the other. While in some of life's transition periods we seems to sail beautifully, there are those that knock us flat and cause us to crawl. It is our determination to never quit that pushes us to make it through whether we find ourselves sailing or crawling.

My recent transitions put me through one of the worst years of my adult life. When things got particularly difficult, I stopped blogging and spent a large part of my time crying out to God. He alone sustains me. It is not that I am without love here on this earth; I am, in fact, quite blessed to be loved by many and blessed to return that love.

One would think that I would have long ago learned to be cautious in my personal prayer life, yet I sometimes forget that when I ask my Lord to do something for me that He definately has wisdom that I do not understand nor appreciate during the times He is working a change in ME. So, he does not change. I do. And, its always a difficult struggle.

My case in point is this: Having come to the realization that when faced with any dilemna my first reaction was to "handle it myself" and I called on Him only after I had struggled and pushed myself to exhaustion,frustration, tears, and even anger-then and only then would I look to the hills from whence my help cometh. I finally became so very tired of this cycle, that I cried out to Him, "Heavenly Father, draw closer to me!"

I also forgot His sence of humor. Reaching out in His infinate love, He allowed many circumstances to arise in my life that gave ME the chance to choose the old methods of coping or a new way-His way. I began calling on Him FIRST! Not only is He the One who saved me from hell, but He is my Savior all day every day. He saves me from every single thing I ask Him to.

The name of the Lord is a strong tower the righteous run into and they are saved.

Those words are His promise to each and everyone of us and He likes it when we remind Him of His promises...that shows we know what they are and Who He Is.

I call on His name, having been made righteous by the blood of Jesus, and tell him what I need to be saved from. That list has ranged from pain to desperation. He saves me from depression, self-pity, fear, anger, frustration, my distorted self-image, my racing mind, bouts of sleeplessness, from lack of anything, anxiety, feelings of unworthiness, hopelessness, old coping mechanisms, and other old self-destructive habits including the need to fix everything for everyone.

What joyous freedom! I have the peace that passes all understanding that the Bible talks about and so few of us ever experience enjoying. Calling on Him first goes against our human nature and everything we are taught by strong, self-sufficient, determined mothers who lack the deep intimate knowledge of Him and Who He is. This is not a condemnation merely my own observation. My own mother died at the tender age of 58, worn out to the point of exhaustion mentally, physically, and spiritually because she didn't know the height, width, and breadth of His love.

Not having a God-like father has cheated many of us of the joy of a man who is safe and simply adores us all the while teaching us of life and God Himself. I have come to know that my parents did the best they could. I hold no anger toward either of them. I also know that I am one of the blessed ones. I got it!

God has wooed me since childhood and while I will pray more cautiously from now on, I will continue to pray. He is the love of my life, the joy of my soul, the creator of all that is good...even when it means He has to allow me to struggle. And for that I find myself grateful to Him.

Another day in paradise?

I apologize for having been offline for so long...I am so locked in my head and quite stuck. This post is an attempt to touch base with you and hopefully gain some insight to what is going on with myself.

Cycles...now there is a word for you. I am looking back at my life and I see cycles...lots and lots of cycles. I learned them from my mom and then apparently contiued them into my own life. Would she be happy or proud? I don't think so.

My folks did this dance. Things would go well for a while...when they started falling apart, Dad would get drunk. Mom would get sick of the drinking and eventually would pack us and our necessities and move us somewhere to start over. Dad would straighten up and back home we would go. When the family was together, I was just one of the kids. When the family split, I was the other parent.

My father had no clue as to what you do with a wife and kids other than you work to provide for them. He also knew we were a resource for getting work done. Other than that, the poor man was clueless. Because he was different than his dad and brother, they abused him.

My mother was one of 12 kids in a very poor family. Her father worked out of town all week and came home on the weekends. He had a woman in the other town and my moms mother had suitors of her own. He fathered a daughter in his other family, she gave birth to a son from her boyfriend.

My own mother learned how to play the victim role and she did so valiently. When she would leave my father, friends of the family would give her money so we could get set up and start life over. My father's behavior was socially unacceptable; my mother's was not.

My first attempt at escaping this insanity was at the age of 18. I moved to South Carolina to live with a friend and her new hubby. While there, I was raped by her new brother-in-law.

My next attempt was to get married at the age of 19. I married a fellow from the northern end of our county. The morning after our wedding I woke to find him sobbing in the bed next to me. Eighteen months later, I ran off to live with a friend in another state. The final upshot of the years spent in Virginia is that I returned home pregnant to my mother's at the age of 24.

She had contacted me in Virginia on a Wednesday and said she and the boys would be moving to Va. on Friday and told me to get us an apartment. I agreed with two stipulations. I wanted my own bedroom and I was keeping my cat. Although she hated cats, she agreed. I borrowed money from my boss and by Friday I had a three bedroom apartment ready for her and three of my brothers. The eldest boy had escaped to the army at the age of 17.

I began working three jobs for a total of eighty hours a week to support my family. One day I came home to find that my cat was gone. My mother had asked the manager's son-in-law to "take her to the local animal shelter". A few weeks later, I saw my cat at the pool of the complex. She was so skittish that I could not get close enough to catch her.

Soon after, I mananged to end up with 48 hours off from all three jobs at the same time. I slept the entire time and when I woke up, I called and quit my two part time jobs.

Shortly thereafter, I came home from work to find many able bodied young men carrying my belongings down the sidewalk. I stopped one and asked what they were doing. My mother had decided we were moving to a smaller place because we could no longer afford three bedrooms. I turned on my heels, went to the store, bought a six-pack of beer and then located my swimming suit. Without speaking to my mother, I went to the pool and shared my beer with some friends.

Not surprisingly, my mother and I would now share a bedroom. She and the manager had become great friends and the woman did whatever my mom wanted.

A few months later, after my long day at work, I went home to the apartment where I was now sharing a bedroom with my mother. I opened the door and was greeted by a growling rotweiler. The manager, who lived across the hall came out and informed me that my mother had gone back to Ohio and I would be staying with her and her husband until I got back on my feet. Her daughter and son-in-law now lived my my apartment. Oh, and would I please not forget to send my mom some money on paydays as she now was the sole support for my brothers.

I remember going to bed that night in shock. Close to payday I got a letter from my mother. In it she detailed how hard and horrible life was for her and the boys and would I please send money. I did. I sent her $150.00 every pay day for as long as I could. As long as I sent money, my mother wrote to me. When the money stopped so did the letters.

Being young, beautiful, and naive I was in a few relationships during this time. The first was with a great man who had racial issues. As a young black man, he had always been attracted to white women. His mother never approved. Eventually, it became clear our relationship, despite our deep feelings for each other would never progress to the next level. As difficult as it was, I moved on and eventually landed in the arms of a married man.

I basically managed to jump from the frying pan into the fire. The married man fathered my daughter. Pregnancy changed everything. I went from being a carefree foolish child in a woman's body to a ferocious beast who only cared to protect the life growing inside of her. When I found out I was pregnant, I had just started seeing another man and he assumed he was the babies father. No one ever said differently. I did not love this man, I had given in him to his pestering me for a date in the hopes of getting him to leave me alone. I learned later that he had, in fact, confronted my married lover and told him that he would take me from him. He didn't want me, I was merely a conquest.

I loved being pregnant...physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. My life had purpose and I felt sexy, alive, needed. Pregnancy was wonderful, but my life was in shambles. I moved home to my mother's. She had finally divorced my father and was engaged to be married two weeks before the baby was due.

My babies, starting with the first one, were not the type to show up on schedule. My mother was to be married at 2p.m. and my mucous plug came out at 1:50 p.m. Since I had invested most of my child support in making their wedding wonderful, I did not tell mom or her intended.

Since I had thrown quite the fit upon learning that my mother had asked her baby brother's wife to be her maid-of-honor, I was able to stand up with the wedding party for the wedding. My stomach went from jello to concrete for the entire ceremony.

At the reception, my brother and I conspired with my aunt and uncle to be certain I would have transportation to the hospital when the time came. They let the newleyweds take their spare car to the hotel where I had rented them a room for the honeymoon. They came home the next afternoon to a note that read, "Gone to the hospital. See you there."

A month earlier, my mother had hosted a baby shower for me at my cousin's home. It was wonderful and I recieved many wonderful gifts for the baby. Although I had never made it a secret that my baby's father was a black man, some of my aunts had apparently not been told. The day my baby girl was born, some of my shower attendees went to my cousin's home and took their gifts back.

So what's been going on with me?

I am in one of those churn-n-burn phases that I often go through. Lots and lots of things going on inside of me and around me. Accepting things I can not change is a tough thing for me sometimes even though I know there is such freedom at the other side of the acceptance. I often go through the stages of grief in these situations depending on, of course, the magnitude of it all.

According to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross the stages of grief are: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance. I discovered her and her works at the age of 16 when I was forced to cope with the death of my grandfather. Even though she applied these stages to any form of catastrophic personal loss, any significant personal change can elicit these stages.

I found liberty to allow myself to experience the stages and ultimately healing in reference to the loss of my grandfather. I have utilized my knowledge of the stages many many times since. It is said that the only constant is change. I have found that to ring true in my own life and the lives of my loved ones. There is comfort in knowing what to expect in the grieving process.

I often grieve the loss of expectations or dreams. Reality is often a hard pill to swallow. So in repsonse to "so, what's been going on with me is? is simply this: I am grieving the loss of a handful of expectations and dreams right now. I am in the depression stage. I look forward to reaching acceptance where I will finally have peace.

Jesus,

There seems to be much in my life lately that I cannot control. I am glad that I know You, Who controls it all. I need You. I need You more and more with each passing day. Please help me transition through all the upcoming changes. Please help me keep my eyes on You, the Author and Perfector of my faith-the One Who is and Who was and Who is to come. Jesus, my Rock, my Fortress, my Savior, my Healer, my Righteousness, my Provider. My life is in You. This is but another humbling experience to draw me closer to You. And I welcome anything that does that. I know You will be with me through it every step of the way. Amen.

This prayer came from here. Please take some time and do yourself a favor. Go visit this blog. She is so real, so open, so honest. I find inspiration to keep on keeping on almost everytime I visit. I thank God for putting her in my path, a fellow female traveler on the same journey.

He would have been 39 today~

Today would have been my brother, Donnie's, 39th birthday. The following is a journal entry that I made on the ninth anniversary of his death. I still miss him but have come to know that he is in a better place and appreciate that all things Do work together for good to them that love The Lord. There is a peace deep inside of me that I never had. This can be a sad read, so do not feel obligated to read it.

Much love and many hugs....Phyl

*****

Tribute to Donnie(my brother who died in 1992)
Today, July 19, 2001, at precisely 3:19 p.m. I held in my arms a tiny male infant, only 2 months old. The time is important because at that very moment my brother, Donnie, had been dead 9 years.

Irony? I think not. Rather I think it quite fitting that I would be quietly celebrating life and all of its miracles as that dreaded time rolled around. Time unfortunately,or is it fortunately, stops for no one.

Although I know Donnie is in a much better place, I find I still miss him. What I would give to feel his arms wrapped around me in a hug!

I have allowed myself permission to mourn...miss him. I allow myself the pain....sometimes sharp, sometimes dull, some times it sneaks me, sometimes I know it is coming.

Never once in the 32 years prior to Donnie's dying did I ever consider that I would live life minus a sibling. Not once did it occur to me what it must be like to bury someone birthed from the same womb, raised in the same house, as I was.

I do know that once faced with that horrid reality, I thought I would never draw another pain-free breath in this life time...I was convinced I would never live another "normal" day. Everyday life without Donnie in it just didn't seem a realistic possibility.

I hurt, I ached, I cried. Due to the nature of the wreck...it was on a motorcycle...his body was in such shape that it would have been easy for me to deny that it was in fact Donnie's. Somehow, though, even in the deep dispairs of my grief I KNEW that I had to find him in there. I knew the importance of my own healing and that healing began with acceptance of the most horrendous fact imaginable to me at that time.

Could I do it? Could I find my Donnie in that swollen excuse for a corpse? If so, then could I forgive God for taking him and Donnie for allowing himself to die? Could I work through this pain to any sense of healing? When I had originally heard the news my heart literally ripped...I screamed from the torturous pain. Could anything hurt this bad? Why my 23 year old brother? I reminded God of the fact that Daddy was older and that he would not be missed nearly as bad as Donnie...and then asked him why he let my Dad be here this long anyway. Why didn't he take Dad and leave Donnie here?

The next few days were a blur for a long time. I counted minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, then years...all relevant to the time and date that Donnie had left this planet. I thought time would never again not be related to that one event in my life.

I remember going to Mom's for 2 weeks afterwards and lying on her couch looking up at the pictures of all of us kids. Next thing I knew, I was sobbing as my Mom held me. I recognized the hand in the picture as the same one in that damned casket.

Later, Alan told me that the undertaker had shared concern that they would not be able to have any of Donnie's body out from under the cover, as he had suffered terrible road rash. Alan explained to him that having his hand and arm out were mandatory to those of us left behind. Our family has always been and will always be a great bunch of huggers...the guys always did the manly thing and shook hands before hugging. Sure enough with the help of the undertaker and a long sleeved white shirt, we were able to clutch Donnie's hand one final time.

I remember frantically-almost maniacally-searching through hundreds of photographs until I found one of just Donnie and I together. Try as I did, I couldn't remember his face before the wreck, couldn't feel his arms wrapped around me, couldn't see his smile, or hear his voice. I HAD to know that he HAD been and that he loved me. I found a picture finally-one of him with his arms wrapped around me-baby and all. He and I were giggling. It was wonderful to see...somehow soothing my ravaged heart.

I was so mad...angry that my brother had died, angry that Alan had had to identify his body, angry that we lost Donnie, angry that it hurt so deeply...I even considered that Donnie had committed suicide. I was just good and ole mad!

Fearing that I would never function again, I sought counseling through my church. I know that nothing short of God's love, comfort, grace and mercy that pulled me through that time. I also learned that while screaming,"Why?!?!?!?!?", at the heavens may be therapeutic, there isn't always an answer.

As the old adage goes--time heals all wounds. Lord knows, how I hated all of those polite, trite sayings that folks would spit out when they could think of nothing else to say instead of just sitting in the uncomfortable-ness with me. I can only hope that I was not rude. Thing is...no one could comfort me. I cried when I needed to cry, bitched when I needed to bitch, felt sorry for myself when I needed to, and screamed when I needed to scream. I also prayed constantly. I knew that I had to work through this. I do so appreciate those patient people who allowed me to share my pain with them...and those who carried it for me when it was too much to bear. I talked and talked and talked about Donnie...the gory details of the wreck, how horrendous his body looked, and constantly recounted as it came back to me the awful details of that horrible week.

By the time the third anniversary (is there an appropriate word???) rolled around, I noticed some healing. I was crying less often and for shorter periods of time. I was able to recall with a smile or giggle some of the times Donnie and I had shared. I could see his face, feel his hug, hear his voice. I knew I was getting better.

Today, as I write this, it has been 9 years...I don't know how many months, weeks, days, hours, or minutes. I have "normal" days....)whatever that is:)! I got to the point during that 3rd year, where I gave myself permission to not be miserable, to forgive God and Donnie, and to not feel quilty because I was still alive.

Even though my heart will never totally heal, it is now capable of having "Donnie" moments without ripping further and with time and age I have concluded that all is as it should be.

Our Mom never recovered from losing Donnie; it was not possible to focus on her "4 living children". She simply could not accept that Donnie was no longer here. Three years ago, she too left this planet. As I held her hand and she drew her final breath, I released her to go to Donnie. I miss her...but I know that she, too, is in a better place, at peace and whole again. What more could I wish for loved ones?

Within the first week of losing Donnie, everyone of of his siblings and our Mom heard this song-at separate times-and all of us immediately thought of him.

Jesus And Mom Will Always Love Me

Made a wish upon a star:
I could have a brand new car
Got tired of wishing, so
I stole one.
Twenty-three* and knew it all
My dreams were big but, my thoughts were small.
So many roads,
somehow, I chose the wrong one.

Jesus and Mom will always love me
even when the devil took control.
Jesus and Mom will always love me...
this I know.

I felt trapped most all my life
found new kinds of lows and highs
Never been a husband,
but I've had a lot of wives to hold me.
Headstrong, stubborn,
couldn't be told
like a wild horse that couldn't be rode...
a rainbow chaser hungry for gold
and still searching.

Jesus and Mom will always love me
even when the devil took control.
Jesus and Mom will always love me...
this I know.

I wish Mom could see me now,
how I've turned it all around...
lately I've been going down the right road.
Like a picture that you paint
with blues and grays and cans of paint.
Heaven knows,
I'm not a saint but I know...

Jesus and Mom will always love me
even when the devil took control.
Jesus and Mom will always love me...
this I know.

Note:
The song is by "Confederate Railroad" and it reminds all of us of Donnie.
*I took the liberty of changing "17" to "23".

Prelude

Something amazing has happened in my life. I am in love...real honest to God absolute head-over-heels in love. Aside from the usual joys of being in love, this new state of being has given me many gifts, inner gifts of discovery about who I am, what I want and need in my life, what I am willing or not to sacrifice, and what makes me tick.

It is almost sad to tell, but I was with the same man for almost 20 years, and despite our valiant efforts it never flowed between us. One of us would be on the other off. If I was up he was down. While I hold to the "opposites attract" theory to some extent when it comes to my life partner, there needs to be some major similarities between he and I. For 20 years, that man asked me why I loved him...my pat(and rather lame) reason was to smile coyly and say, "Because you are you!" This answer never satisified him and now I understand why. The fact is that I did not love him. There was no underlying respect or appreciation to that relationship and a woman must respect and appreciate her man. For me, any feelings before or without that are (quite sadly) merely infatuation and lust. I freely admit to having had both feelings for him but what I felt is not love. We got married and had children and then struggled diligently to "make it work." It did not. Two years ago I realized that, if after 18 years we could still not get it right, it was time to move on.

When I was 23 I met a man and fell into lust & infatuation fast and hard. He was gorgeous, passionate, and very married. The fact that he was totally enamored with me didn't hurt my feelings one bit. I was young, beautiful, and very naive. The fact that I was totally enamored with him didn't hurt his feelings one bit either. What a lethal combination that was. We began seeing one another and the attraction became bigger than the both of us until that fateful Sunday when we made love. It was so overwhelming that we both cried.

Our connection was so strong that I could call his name out loud and he would go to the phone and call me to see what I wanted. The stories I could tell you would send chills up and down your spine and put goose-pimples on your goose-pimples. The chemistry was over-whelming for both of us. We could not be in the same room and not touch. It was the most wonderfully hellish-heaven one could imagine. He was my everything. Then it happened; I got pregnant.

The miracle of conception changed me from a young, crazy, and wild woman who was content to be with her married lover when he could get away to a woman who was now going to be soley responsible for a new life. I could not raise my child as the product of an ill-fated love affair nor could I remain a mistress any longer. The life that grew inside of me gave me the strength and courage to do the most difficult thing I have ever done barring nothing before or since. I left the state of Virginia, went home to my family, and began life anew.

I went back to Virginia for a while, and even spent time with my beloved but it was never the same. To be perfectly honest, when I got pregnant again, I was not sure if the baby was his or not. I moved back to my family, this time for good.

Life without him was empty, lonely, horrid. I reached into depths of my soul and found strength I never knew was there. I moved on; I perservered; I survived. I raised my daughters with more love than I knew was possible. I also moved into another relationship and had more children. To this day, I regret bringing other lives into my mess but I was simply someone trying to get on with my life and eek out as much happiness as I could. Some where deep in my core I always believed that I would see my beloved again before one of us left this planet and some how I managed to keep him safely and securely tucked into the deepest most inner part of my heart. When I heard him calling out to me through love songs on the radio and the risk of drawing him out into the open became too real, I stopped listening to the radio.

However, every five years give-or-take a day or two, he would come crawling out of there and consume my everything. I could hear him screaming my name. It grew louder by the moment until I would give in and call him on the phone. It was always as if we had never parted and we would always giggle because he had, in fact, been calling my name. These calls proved enough to enable me to once again tuck him safely away and get back to my life.

Two years ago I was at the 18 year mark of my then current marriage and had the epiphany that those 18 years of work had availed us nothing. I initiated a seperation and once again started life anew. I also had the need for closure where my beloved was concerned. Loving him had shadowed my marriage and I do not doubt that it affected my ability to love whole-heartedly the way a committed woman would do. A few months into the seperation, I made a phone call and left a message for my beloved to contact me. Although excited at the prospect of hearing his voice, I knew what I had to do and I was prepared for it. What I was not prepared for was his reaction when he returned my call.

This man was giddy and had a desperation in his voice that I had never heard before. He had been looking for me and his daughter for over a year and had given up hope of ever finding us. My message had proven to be right on time and he was thrilled to be able to talk to me. It was as it always was. We spoke of old times, laughed at the crazy things we had done, compared notes on who had remembered what, and then discussed the current status of each others' lives. I was newly seperated; his wife had passed away suddenly a few years back. I cried because I hurt for him; I cried because I had not been there to soothe his ravaged soul. His time was limited and even though he was currently in a relationship, he asked if he could call me back in a few days. As we had not tended to my business at hand, I agreed.

The next phone call was mind, earth, and life shattering. I picked up the phone, and this is all I heard: "I can't talk long. I just called to tell you that I love you." The phone clicked. No 'bye', no 'later', no explanation. I am not sure how long it was before I was able to draw a normal breath. We spoke occasionally for the next few months but only as friends who cared deeply for one another. Everytime he said my name, it took my breath away. We laughed, we reminisced, then suddenly we began making plans. Everything changed.

Slice Of Life Meme

So Cricket has started a meme of her own...and I am loving the idea. Each week there are three options to use as writing prompts! We all know how much I love to talkwrite so here I go! Oh...and before I start rambling there is more to this meme than meets the eye...so be sure to go check it out for yourself!

Slice of Life choices for the week of April 6, 2008 are:

1. Meeting your best friend.

2. Illness of your child.

3. Family reunion.

I have chosen to share with you how I met my best friend. This is an excerpt from an entry that I made on my live-journal a few years back. Since this is a family-friendly blog if you wanna read the rest of the story you will have to email me for the link:). You just have to promise that you will still respect me in the morning...lol.

Picture a young, beautiful woman just 23 years of age. Having left a bad marriage and moving out of state she finds herself managing the breakfast shift of a fast food restaurant.

Being accustomed to working long hours, she was not surprised when her boss approached her with a proposition. “Our supervisor has mandated that we now have a hostess during lunch hours to refill drinks and assist the customers in any way. He wants to make things a little cozier. Since you are my prettiest girl, I’d like that hostess to be you.” Flattery got him every where and she eagerly took on the new responsibility.

Every morning when she opened the restaurant for breakfast, she was sure to have a fresh urn full of sweetened tea ready for the fellows who demanded it daily. Secretly, she was thrilled to hear things like, “Wow! What are they doing differently? This is delicious!”

Two of the fellows came in every week day for both breakfast and lunch without fail. One was flirty; the other shy with an endearing smile. They loved it when she offered them refills and suggested she use the line, “Coffee, tea, or me?” She declined. Of course, the lemon wedge earrings she wore begged for more comments. She politely informed them that her boyfriend would not approve.

One afternoon, Mr. Flirty Pants asked our young heroine to meet up with him after work and she agreed. However, she regretted her decision within moments. Not having a way to contact him to cancel, she simply did not show up at the designated time and place. Mr. Flirty Pants soon became Mr. Sour Puss and stopped flirting with her.

In due time, her boyfriend opted to move onto greener pastures. One day after work, as she was preparing to walk home, she noticed our above mentioned fellows. Seems they had come in unexpectedly for their afternoon break. Immediately upon seeing her sullen face, they inquired as to the cause. Bravely, she sat down next to Mr. Shy But Smiley and explained. Both of them offered the sweetest condolences and then a surprising thing happened. Mr. Shy But Smiley wondered aloud how a man could let her go. She blushed and lowered her eyes.

Having been once bitten and now twice shy, she immediately put the thought out of her mind deciding he was just being polite. She did, however, walk home on cloud nine.

A few days later, she was surveying the dining room when she noticed that Mr. Shy But Smiling was staring at her. Now, why in the hell did he do that? She stared back…for what seemed like hours. Is it really possible to drown in someone’s eyes? After that day Mr. Shy But Smiley began flirting ferociously and even admitted to having a name. Jeffrey.

Well, Jeffrey and his cohort continued dining at the restaurant regularly and our heroine began to write him off as a harmless flirt. That is until THAT Saturday. Having never seen him in street clothes and only his work uniform, she was pleasantly surprised to see him standing in front of her. That man showed up wearing a white muscle shirt, cargo shorts, sandals, and the most dazzling smile she had ever seen. Now, why in the hell did he do that? She was mesmerized. A black Adonis stood before her. Whew~. How she ever got his food order straight is beyond me. As he collected his order and headed to his car, she found herself straining to not lose sight of him. When his car left the parking lot, she was saddened.

One of her cashiers who had noticed the exchange between the two of them many times before, smiled at her with a knowing smile. Whispering into the cashiers' ear our heroine then made a shocking confession. The cashier giggled; never had her boss acted in such a brazen manner. Little did she know her boss was just as surprised as she was.

The flirting continued, but now her heart began skipping beats at the very thought of him. Everyone in the place knew they were doing the “sweetheart dance”, you know, everyone loves a lover.

Christmas time approached and Jeffrey had made no move towards pursuing our heroine outside of the workplace and she was getting, shall we say, antsy. Thoughts of him invaded her mind constantly and she secretly hoped he suffered the same. Gathering all of her courage and wearing her best fitting jeans, she “accidentally” ran into him at lunch time on her day off. As he stood to leave, she invited him to the Christmas party she was having. Unknown to him, she had definite plans for him under the mistletoe!

He asked her to stop by his work later so they could talk about it. She did.

Bittersweet

My Navy Man just left to report to his new duty station(New Orleans) after 2 weeks leave:(. He is going to be 1,052 miles away from me! I am so very proud of him and I hugged him extra long. I wish I could tell you that he did not see me crying when I went out on the porch to salute him as he drove away. Being a parent is such a bittersweet thing. How can my heart be breaking and swelling with pride at the same time?

My Navy Man Is Home~

This is my Navy Man in his dress blues...and with his fiance'. It was her 19th birthday yesterday. He got her the gorgeous diamond necklace:).

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday
More participants here.

Undergoing MyBlogLog Verification

Wedding Reception!

I survived the weekend! I may have had a drink or two, imbibed, gotten slightly sloshed, been totally drunk by the end of the reception...ahem~, but boy did we ever have a great time!

So many precious memories, touching moments, and just good ole fashioned fun was had by all...

Chris, The Groom, Phylicia(my youngest daughter)

Moi, The Bride

Roger and Alana(my oldest child)

Shauna(my niece) and Phylicia

The Electric Slide(My son's fiance' is on the far right...in the black shirt and beige pants:).

Tonight I am grateful for...

Great balls of fire! Did you eat the Atomic Fireball candy when you were a kid? I did...and I love them to this day.

Cinnamon has always been my favorite flavor for lollipops or hard candy. In sixth grade we used to soak toothpicks in cinnamon oil and then sell them to other kids for a nickle:).

Last night while at Wal-Mart, as I may have been perusing the candy isle for nougut-ahem-I spied my second all time favorite cinnamon candy. Jolly Rancher Cinnamon Fire. Woot~Woot~. I am not talking a few cinnamon tossed in with those yucky fruity ones either. I am talking a whole bag of cinnamony yumminess!!!

Can we just say that I am a happy camper?

Hugs...

Stuck in a moment

You know, God never ever fails to amaze me. Hence the word amazing, huh? I have been in prayer for some time concerning a situation that has been in my life for 25 years now. It involves a man...doesn't it always?

My prayer of late has been, "Lord why do I hang on,cling to this man, the memories, the thought of what-if? Why can't I let him go...get on with my life? Please, God, either take this desire from me or fulfill it."

Well, let me tell you two things:

1. God doesn't care how He gets the message to you.

2. He doesn't care who He uses to bless you!

Two things happened yesterday that were like kicks-in-the-proverbial-rear. The rear just so happens to belong to me. Alana and I were parallel-playing, she on her computer making graphics; me on mine blog hopping. As often happens, she had the music going. So here we are going happily along when I stopped because a song had gotten my attention.

Here is what I heard:

You've got to get yourself together.
You've got stuck in a moment
And now you can't get out of it.
Don't say that later will be better
Now you're stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it.

Ouch! You know how they say what we most dislike in someone else is a direct reflection of something we dislike in ourselves? Ahem...well, I used to get so aggravated with someone in my life because they were stuck in the past...in their glory days...and not, in my nasty opinion, living in their todays. God, forgive me my judgemental hateful attitude. Lord, let me see my fualts and not someone elses. In the future when I feel the need to judge any one help me to look within.

I went back to my blog hopping and then is when the second thing happened. After checking my RSS Feed to see who had posted lately, I went to one of my regular hops and this is what I read:

Can’t forgive the jerk, forget the past, or forsake your bad habits? Christ can! And he lives within you.

This is what I saw:



Lyrics for Stuck In A Moment by U2 here.

The Recipe for a Phyllis

The Recipe For Phyllis

3 parts Desire 2 parts Boldness 1 part Tolerance Splash of Passion Sip slowly on the beach

What's the Recipe for Your Personality?

This has me ROTFLMAO~ If only you knew the story behind it.... ahem~

Reflections Tag

Cricket’s Hearth has initiated a tag called Reflections. The goal is to look back on your life and list 5 negative things you never anticipated happening, followed by 5 positive things you never anticipated happening in your life. Take your time and truly reflect on the top five in each category. When finished, complete this statement: Considering the negatives and the positives in my life, _____________.

Reflections of Scrappynhappy in Ohio

Five Negative Things I Never Anticipated Happening in My Life

1. Getting raped.

2. Getting married and divorced 3 times.

3. Having 6 strokes in 7 days.

4. Suffering from Rheumatoid Arthritis...

5. ...and Fibromyalgia.

Five Positive Things I Never Anticipated Happening in My Life:

1. Jesus Christ becoming 'personal' to me.

2. My children becoming my 4 favorite people:).

3. That I would be the kind of Mom that I am. No money, but lots and lots of love, acceptance, wisdom, guidance, and assistance any ole time they need it!

4. That I would write about my pains, joys, etc., and people would respond.

5. Falling in love with my computer:).

My 5 blogging friends I challenge for Reflection are:



Considering the negatives and the positives in my life, I am even more convinced that "all things work together for good to them that love the Lord and are called according to His purpose."

Today I am grateful for...

First of all, I am so very grateful for the invite to participate in Grateful Gals!

I am thrilled to be here. I wanna share a story. My 18 year old son actually reminded me about this a little while back. I have 4 kids…had them all in 6 years. As you can imagine there were days when I wanted to pull all of my hair out and scream at the top of my lungs. Not wanting to holler at the kids, I would yell this, “Thank you, God, for four wonderful, healthy, obedient children who have a heart for you!” Immediately the storm would calm and order was restored.

Funny the things each kid remembers. Today I am grateful for my children.

Warning~~~Invasion of Bed Hogs

So today I had the pleasure of spending quality time with my 23 year old daughter, who also happens to be one of my dearest friends. She had spent the night and when I got up this morning I noticed that for some reason she had chosen to sleep in the living room recliner.

Finally after a few loud noises and gentle urgings she went upstairs seeking the sanctuary of a quiet room with an entire bed in it.

As I battle frequent flare-ups from both Rheumatoid Arthritis and Fibromyalgia I find it necessary to nap at least for a short period of time almost daily. I do fight it, but ultimately my body wins over my mind.

So, off I go seeking the sanctuary of a quiet room with an entire bed in it. Might I take this opportunity to mention that I went in search of my room? Well, imagine my delight and surprise to find this darling little critter all curled up, sleeping peacefully with the face of an angel in the middle of my bed. Having never been the type of mom to miss a chance to snuggle with my kids, I crawled into bed behind her.

That's when the trouble started. Somehow this itty bitter critter who although she is a full grown woman and is only a size 3, for crying out loud had managed to utilize the majority of my full size bed and totally monopolize the entire pillow. How could this be???

She stirred and I was hopeful that she would, in fact, scooch over...but alas...she only sweetily inquired as to what time it was and she did NOT budge one lousy centimeter.

What a conundrum. Should I wake her and insist she move at least over, if not all of the way out of my bed or shall I let her continue in her blissful ignorance. Having never been the type of mom to arouse sleeping children, I chose the latter.

Being the kind of sleeper who has perfect comfort down to an exact science this predicament did not promote the restoration I had sought. sigh Try as I did, I could not sleep. So...I surrendered and came back downstairs, not before considering slamming a few doors or dropping some heavy item in the general proximity of the bedroom.

Shortly thereafter, my daughter appeared downstairs looking for all intents and purposes very well rested. Thankfully she did not ask why I had gotten up...lol.

I did, over a cup of coffee, mention to her that the strangest thing had happened earlier and that it begged for explanation. How, I wondered aloud, could a critter who, strangely enough, appeared to be no bigger than her manage to hog an entire bed-blankets and all? That's when the light bulb went off!

"Oh Mom," she offered in way of explanation, "It must have been one of them Bed Hogs! You know, they have magical powers. While hogging your bed they have the ability to appear smaller than they actually are. And, well, they do love covers!"

So, dear friends, it is with great concern that I must warn you. There has been an invasion of Bed Hogs and apparently it has started right here in my own home town. It is with a humble heart and hopeful spirit that I fulfill my civic duty by warning you of this pending epidemic. Beware of Bed Hogs! They could be coming to a bed near you!!! Blasted critters anyway. Lucky for the one at my house...at least it was cute!

On a side note: The Bed Hog spotted in my home town has moved on and is currently happily hogging the bed of her beloved. WooHoo!

Family Portraits

Tuesday Meme Theme

Participation is volunteering -- no tagging on this one (not even passive-aggressively ... heh). I got this here.

WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Funny you should ask. My dear Mother had a plan. She would have 4 sons and then a daughter, who she would name Victoria Lynn. Well, God thought differently(imagine that~) and I was born first! Mom panicked and named me after my father...hence the name: Phyllis Ann. Now tell me...how can you do that to a cute lil teeny baby girl? I only weighed 3 pounds 11 ounces, but I digress...

DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I love my handwriting, but fear that handwriting in general will be soon a lost art due to the computer.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? hard salami...with melted cheese...and on a bagel...lol.

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Four~

IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Absolutely

DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? moi??? Lemme tell you a lil story. One of my sons friends is named Kyle. Kyle is always extremely polite...in fact, he calls me, "Mrs. Phyllis" and the hubby, "Mr. Phyllis". One day, after listening to me and the kids verbally sparring, he exclaimed, "Mrs. Phyllis, I gotta tell you, you have the best comebacks I have ever heard!" In a mock-serious tone, I said, "Kyle! Are you calling me a smart@$?" After careful consideration, he answered. "Yes Ma'am, I guess I am."

DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes

WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Ummm...No, nope, nada, never ever ever!

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Hot: old fashioned oatmeal; Cold: frosted mini-wheats

DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? nope

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Vanilla Bean

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? their smile or lack thereof

RED OR PINK? Red!!

WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? today that would be my husband...lmao.

WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? I plead the fifth.

WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? no pants, unless panties count...black dress & red flip-flops

IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Red, baby~

FAVORITE SMELLS? Storm watch candles by Yankee Candle, Oriental Lotus candles from Wal-Mart, freshly washed bed sheets that have been dried on the clothesline, babies-just out of the tub

WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THEPHONE? Alana

HAIR COLOR? only me and Miss Clairol know for sure

EYE COLOR? blue

DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Nope

FAVORITE FOOD? salad from Luigi's

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? color me jaded...happy endings

LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? 300

WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? ok, for the second time...I am wearing a dress:)

SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer...as long as the A/C is on

HUGS OR KISSES? Is this a trick question?

FAVORITE DESSERT? cheesecake; mennonite pudding

WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING? Quilting Magazine

WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? I didn’t watch TV

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SOUND? giggles & laughter

ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Stones

WHAT IS THE FURTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Los Angeles, CA

DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Making people feel like they belong

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? 2 Corinthians 12:9
"My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness."

Pics of my baby...from "Waxing nostalgic" post

THEN AND NOW:

Waxing nostalgic

This is the time of year that most moms are over-loaded with the conflicting emotions in regards to the start of school. I am no different.

The first time I took a child to school for the first time I was devastated...in fact, I sunk into a deep depression that lasted for months. The second child was a little easier in some ways and the third a little easier than that.

My baby, however was a different story. I was not prepared for the overwhelming immediate sense of horror as the bus drove away. They had my BABY and I wanted him back! My hubby held me while I handled the business of grieving by sobbing and hollering that I wanted my baby back.

Funny thing is that we adjusted well and my baby is turning 17 this month and will return to school as a junior. To this day, he still fondly recalls the wonderful times he and I had in the afternoon cos the other kids went all day.

Many afternoons we "went to the movies" in our living room and inevitably, he chose to watch "Fievel Goes West" a delightful tale of a little russian mouse who has a large and vivid imagination...so much so that when a crisis happens no one believes him.

My son and I watched this movie countless times all the while talking and snuggling. After the movie we either "went out to dinner" in our dining room or he "walked me home" to my bedroom with his little arm held out like a proud man for me to hold onto. At the door, he would thank me for the wonderful time and suggest we do it again soon. Someitmes, he would remind me that he was gonna marry me when he grew up!

I am so excited...I was able to get a copy of that movie and am giving it to him for his birthday. I will soon be "going to the movies" I am sure!

Yes, they do grow up but, the times shared never go away. These times spent with my son are all the more special to me because he treasures them also.