Hope

Today seemed as good a day as any to honor the animals we have taken into our hearts and homes. Over the years I have had my share of adopted animals. From dogs, cats, frogs, birds, hamsters, etc.

The seasoned adopter makes sure they can accommodate the "new member of the family" so as their forever home doesn't become another disappointment in their lives. Granted some people do think they can do this without really taking into consideration of the possibilities that it will take a lot of understanding, patience, and time not to mention money to take care of the animal. Sounds cold but it is a reality we must bring to the forefront of our mind or it will surely be sad for you and more traumatic to our new friend.

I thought I would never get my younger son's Rotty, Isabella, to come out from behind our couch. Her previous owner felt keeping her in a closet was the best thing for her. The breeder who was legit went on a visit to see how the puppies he had just sold were doing. It had been a few months since he had seen them and he was curious to see if they were getting along with their new families. He also wanted to make sure the family still intended to keep the puppies or had they changed their minds.

The breeder made his last round at an address he believed was a house with a big yard or so the buyer said. Instead he stood in front of a row of apartments. Finally finding the person who bought the last female Rottweiler, he rang the doorbell. The buyer was shocked and became a little insolent as to why the visit was necessary. Reluctantly the buyer let the breeder inside asking if he could get the breeder something to drink. We all know what the answer was. This enabled the breeder to look around.

For some reason, maybe the breeder heard a noise, opened a front closet door and found a water dish and feeding dish next to a blanket, but no dog. The buyer came back with a glass of water followed by his two toddlers and the puppy. By this time the breeder was back on the couch. Asking a few questions the buyer answered with what seemed to be the right answers. That is until the breeder brought up the fact that the buyer lied about the living arrangements and then caught the buyer in a lie as to where the dog ate, slept, etc. The buyer asked the breeder to leave stating it was none of his business where the dog was kept or lived for that matter.

The breeder picked the puppy up and began to leave the apartment. When the buyer tried to stop him the breeder stated he was going to call the police and the A.S.P.C.A to report his findings. The buyer yelled he wanted his money back. The breeder turned, looked the buyer in the eyes and stated that by the time he got through reporting everything the unreturned money was going to be the least of his problems.

The poor breeder tried to re-enter the poor puppy back into the next generation of puppies born to her parents but the danger of fighting was too great. Enter my son who was a friend of the breeder.

Standing in the doorway of our house was my son with this beautiful female rotty with the sadist eyes. We named her right away and Isabella just seemed fitting for some reason. I took two weeks vacation from work and every day I tried to coax her from behind our couch where she sook solice for some reason. Little by little I spoke in soft tones, and even showed her her new toys. My son and I took turns babysitting her while the other went to the store to buy things we thought she would like. Toys, blankets, bedding, water and feeding dishes, etc. Nothing made her happy.

Then morning while my son was at work, I went into the kitchen to make myself some tea before trying to work with Isabella. She saw me pass in the hallway. Slowly she crept from behind the couch and across the front room floor. Peeking into the kitchen from the doorway she watched as I put my tea bag into my cup. She didn't realize I had been keeping an eye on her from the kitchen where I was standing. It took everything I had to keep from hooping and hollering for joy.

Isabella came next to my leg and nudged me. The tears fell as I stooped down to pet her head. When my son came home from work to find me sitting in my recliner watching TV with Isabella next to me chewing on her new toy his mouth fell open. We celebrated with a nice dinner which we shared with Isabella.

It has been years since that happened and I find myself wondering if the two-and-a-half years with us made a difference in her life. We no longer have her. I am happy to say death didn't part us. The breeder lost both Isabella's parents and no longer had any of the puppies. There was kind of an understanding of "fostering" we had done and he asked my son if he could have Isabella back. No money changed hands but we had completely fallen in love with Isabella. No hard feelings came from it because of the understanding my son had with his friend, even though my son forgot to tell me.

I know she is happy from what my son says because the last time he visited his friend Isabella ran up to him, stood on her hind legs and put her paws on his shoulders as she licked his face. I would've paid a million dollars to see that one, but I know it made my son very happy.

So for those of you who have rescued animals, I say God bless you for your kindness and I pray your forever friend who finally found their forever home loves you....forever.

Do You See What I See?

Standing in one place wherever I may go I often wonder if others see what I see. But now that it is Christmas time and a busy time of year I catch myself watching people to see if they notice the little things. Many prayers go out when I feel the need, but all the wonderful things I see may seem small and insignificant to others, just the same I know God is behind it all.

A small child putting its hand to the face of a baby sibling and soothing words being said so the baby won't cry. A young man holding the door open for a mother who is trying to hold onto packages and herd four teens into another store, never once noticing how she got in the store without using her own limbs. A couple busy going down a list of names making sure they didn't miss anyone, while their five-year-old tries to keep up only to trip on his untied shoe laces.

Sometimes I wished I could shout from the roof tops. Like have we gotten so into the commercialism of our holidays that we have become numb, blind, and deaf to what is happening to those near and dear to us? But alas I feel after the staring is over one by one they will all go back to what they were doing. 

Perhaps we all need our turn at what Ebenezer Scrooge went through when he was visited by the Spirits of Christmas Present, Past, and Future.

Hold on to what really matters, those little Kodak moments when you least expect them. So we aren't going to stop shopping, or packing the malls diligently seeking the prized gift we want to give to our family and friends. Don't wait until you fall into your favorite piece of furniture before you finally think of those around you. It may be hard at first but I am sure if you can train a dog to do tricks you can rewire your thinking.

If we all did this I am pretty sure we would all have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I know I am going to give it a shot this year, how about you?

Sophia, Bella

Sophia, young and bright comes to the aid of her family when illness threatens her father. Interrupting her second year in college, her life takes a drastic change when a handsome young stranger enters her life. Lorenzo, a successful attorney had one thing on his mind when Sophia caught his eye, he had to have her. Life was wonderful for the happy couple, until one day while visiting her father at the hospital, Dr. Steven Spago walked in. Now, it was three lives intertwined in passion so great that Sophia knew she had to make a decision before one of them made it for her. Just when she thought she had everything under control a new twist would tie them all together…forever!

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

The curls of steam floating in the crisp morning air escaped from my freshly brewed cup of coffee. Standing on the patio overlooking our backyard a twinge of loneliness enveloped me. I soon forgot about the coffee and wondered why I was feeling this way. Walking back into the house I tried to lose myself in the housework that was before me.

Making breakfast for my mother and I, I cleared the table. Washing and folding clothes was next and it was done before I knew it. Next vacuuming which didn't take long either. I had more on my mind than I thought and I had a bad habit of cleaning the house like a tornado with a blouse on when I was in this frame of mind!

My mother kept asking me what was wrong and I kept answering I wasn't sure. Never tell your mother that something has been bothering you! For the rest of the day the feeling just wouldn't go away and the more I tried to bury it under whatever I was doing the worse it got.

That night while I was trying to go to sleep I could hear the neighborhood dogs bark every once in
awhile. Trying to picture each one of them, my mind wandered to all the dogs I had had in the past. Tears filled my eyes as the memories of my last dog Pepper entered my mind. She came into our family at the right time. Newly divorced, I had just lost my job and was in a tailspin I couldn't afford to be in with two small children to take care of. We went to live with my mother and step-father who had an array of animals. Horses, rabbits, dogs, cats, and pigeons. I was used to all these animals and my kids just thought every day at the zoo was wonderful.

The next day I woke up and felt a deep satisfaction of love. Taking care of something. Something. Taking care of something...that's it! I immediately felt as if a burden was lifted when I finally figured out what was bothering me. I waited until my mother woke up then carefully told her what I felt had been gnawing at me. My mother isn't an animal lover by nature. She just fell into it when her children and grandchildren brought strays home. At first, my mother was totally against the idea saying she didn't want any animals anymore. When I told her I felt this is what I needed and maybe I should move out now that my kids were grown and out on their own. This way I could take care of my animal in my own place.

Two days later my mother made an announcement and informed me that if I felt this strongly about having an animal she didn't think it was such a bad idea after all. I called my little sister in Texas to ask if she had any puppies because she and her husband are breeders of Mini Schnauzers. My sister told me she had one female left that was the runt of the litter. If I wanted she would ship her out to me. But the airport had different ideas. Days of arguing and trying to understand that the puppy couldn't be flown if the heat index was 85 degrees and above and no relief in sight under the scorching summer sun.

Calling out to God to help me get through all this red tape and get my puppy home to me left me utterly exhausted. Then one morning the phone rang and my brother-in-law told me he had made a phone call to an airport that was three hours from their house that agree to fly the puppy earlier, like at 
6:00 o'clock in the morning and she would land two hours later. My brother-in-law made arrangements to have the puppy flown two days later to an airport that was an hour away from where I lived. I didn't mind and my brother-in-law just wanted me to stop crying!

When I picked the puppy up I fell in love with her as I lifted her out of the crate she was shipped in. I knew instantly that I wanted to name her Grace. It was the grace of God Himself that made a way when there seemed only impossibilities. Like when He parted the Red Sea. Like when David slew Goliath. When everything from the time I became aware of Him to the time I decided to accept Him as my Lord and Savior began to all make sense in this one moment. Every moment my Father has His hand in making the impossible become possible. I have finally learned that God is bigger than all my problems and bigger than all my fears with a front row seat to what it feels like to be a part of what His love is all about. Gracie has become the song in my heart that I needed so badly, for so long.   

The Grandmas

I remember at one time praying to God for grandchildren. My older son was seeing someone, while the younger one got married. A year later my oldest son became a father to my granddaughter, Sophie. The relationship between his girlfriend and himself didn't work out but they make it work for Sophie's sake. Almost two years later he became engaged to his new girlfriend and they welcomed my grandson, Gavin, into the world. I thought my life was complete as a grandmother until my youngest son and daughter-in-law had a baby girl, Lily three months later.

I started buying baby clothes, cribs, toys, bottles, diapers, wipes, etc. and that was just for my house! When the babysitting started I wanted to be ready for the adventure. My mother, their great-grandmother, joined in the effort as well. We soon became known as "The Grandmas". My mother was known as Nana, so I wanted a special name as well. Mimz came to mind because my mother loves watching English movies. Sophie referred to me as Mim and my mother as Nana, but the adults just called us the Grandmas.

She loves to sit on my recliner rocker with me while we watch Elmo. Sometimes we will watch opera and she loves to pretend she is singing. She is getting older and can now make me laugh until my sides hurt. Her antics make her Nana laugh as well. Now we have little tea parties with all her dolls.

Now her brother Gavin, is beginning to recognize people. The grandmas get a special smile now and again. When I sing to him and my mother joins in he lets out a little giggle or falls fast asleep if it includes being rocked to sleep. I can hardly wait until he can walk so we can run around the house with his sister and chase after Nana. It will be fun when it happens.

Lily will be next in line to complete the ensemble of pure craziness that the grandmas can hardly wait for. She will join her cousin, Sophie, in tea parties and feeding their babies. Then Gavin will come along and either join in or make them scream as he disrupts their tea party or takes off with their babies. But the grandmas will make everything right again.

Seems a bit overwhelming but I am looking forward to it all as is Nana. Because if anybody can pull it together, patch it up, or put a band aid on a boo boo, we can. With a special kiss, a warm hug and a smile this is what grandparents aspire to be. Even though there are no grandpas on either side, the women in this family are very strong when they need to be. The grandmas will prevail, by the Grace of God, to be all that they can be for all that come to us because of a dream in a heart so long ago to be just that....a grandma.

My Mother, My Friend

As I sit at the kitchen table drinking my coffee I look over at my mother who is working on her daily crossword puzzle. I often wonder if she will ever know just how valuable a person she really is.

When I was younger, I would follow my father around. Learning how to plant rose bushes and keep them up or build missions out of sugar cubes. Anything that had to do with my father I was there front row listening with great admiration. My older sister would do the same with my mother. Granted, I loved my mother dearly, but she was always taken up with something in the house and I apparently wanted more. As a girl I found it hard to believe that household chores were what being a female was all about. I tried everything I saw my father do, within reason.

My mother did play a role in my life even if it was a small one in the beginning. Then one day I began to realize after my parents divorce what a wonderful human being she really was. We would talk to all hours of the night sometimes or go somewhere and find out we liked some of the same things.

A few years later I got married and had a family of my own. My two sons are close to me and we do talk to great lengths at times. But somehow I often wondered if they ever felt the same way about me as I did my mother. It wasn't until recently that my youngest son told me he never felt that way. Whenever anything bothered my sons, even as of today, they come over and just sit not saying a word. Sometimes they will just ask to take a nap in my room. When this happened I wanted to ask what that was all about but didn't. 

It was my youngest son who explained it to me. "You know Mom, sometimes my brother and I don't want to talk about what is bothering us at the time. That is why we don't sit with you but ask to take a nap in your bed. The blankets are like your arms wrapped around us like a big hug." I cried when he told me that.
Now that my sons have their own families and yes they still once in a while take a nap in my room, it is comforting to know that they still feel that way about their own mom.

Time has taken my step-father to his grave and divorce visited me a long time ago. So here I sit with my mother watching the same tv shows that make our sides ache or tears to our eyes. We have become friends in the midst of a mother-daughter relationship. Age has taken its toll on both of us but we have come to know that even though we cannot be in eachothers faces, we can be there for one another when it counts. This is all in the game called Life I suppose, but I wouldn't have it any other way...  

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

God bless all of you that have been faithful to my blog even though it has been awhile. I want to wish all of you happy and safe holidays. Whether you receive the gift you always wanted, were able to afford the one you wanted to give, or receive a blessing from our Father in heaven, just remember to give thanks. Thanks to the one who gave His only begotten son, Jesus Christ, because He so loved the world. That is a gift that keeps on giving every day. Say a prayer of thanks....

I also want to thank the person who furnished the picture for my blog: http://www.flikr.com/littlefurby

Soft As Velvet and Smooth As Wine

I read an article by Mark Flanagan of About.com regarding the writer Sue Monk Kidd. Better known as the writer of "The Secret Life of Bees". Let me tell you as a writer, even though unpublished at this time, I find Sue's stories so soothing. To be able to write a story that captures the readers hearts in the first paragraph I find could only be a gift from God himself.

The story flows and envelopes you. I find only limited things can do that to me unless it is a movie like "Sleepless in Seattle" or "You've Got Mail" or still yet "When a Man Loves a Woman". Now there are quite a few more than have caught my attention but none so much in the written word of books. Sue I find must be a pleasant person who sees things differently than most and can write about anything that some can't.

I write fiction romance and some day hope to be published. Having written one complete novel with three waiting to be, I always knew I wanted to write a book. Of course I have poems galore that I have written since I was thirteen years old, but the dream I always had was to write something spectacular as "Gone With The Wind" or "Wuthering Heights".

Finding something as wonderful as this story "The Secret Life of Bees" warmed my heart and gave me courage to continue in my writing. I thank Sue Monk Kidd for giving me hope and I pray my writing will be like her's, soft as velvet and smooth as wine.

Gramma Hood

I remember praying for grandchildren one night. Yes, those little people that pee on you, poop on you, and scream at you. I felt as if I was never going to have the pleasure of waiting at the screen door with my heart jumping for joy as my sons pulled up in the driveway and the baby hadn't even gotten out of the car yet. Would I be too old? Not able to walk around with them in my arms because my arthritis had other ideas? Too slow because age had suddenly caught up with me?

Then one day my oldest son came over with the wonderful news my heart had longed to hear, "Mom, you're going to be a grandma." I don't remember anything passed those words because I was too busy daydreaming of endless shopping, looking up fun games for kids, a crib for my house, etc. Praying the "little one" would be healthy was added to my constant prayer list that I imagine any civil Grandma would have.

I even spent an entire week concentrating on names the baby would call me. My mother had a name, Nana or Gammy (by my two sons). My older sister had a name, Grammy. Now it was my turn. I needed something as special as my two predecessors. Something that would make me smile every time I heard it. Then it hit me. My mother and I had been watching an old English movie and there was this endearing little old lady (I'm only54 y.o.) that everybody loved and referred to as Mims. So that was my chosen name--Mimz. Of course I spelled it differently somewhat, with a z at the end but it was my name. At first my boys thought it was kind of dumb. My mother even suggested Mimi, but I stuck to my guns and stated, "My grandchildren will call me Mimz, not you." So everybody agreed to disagree and let it be Mimz. Even though everyone wound up calling my mother and I "The Grammas". Aye Chihuahua!

The day came when my son called me from the hospital to say the baby was three weeks early and coming soon. I prayed that the baby would be healthy and Mama would get through it without any problems. Little Sophie was born at the tail end of July and wound up staying in the hospital for a week until she reached 6 lbs. Papa couldn't get enough of her, finally his little girl was here and it was his turn to cry. That was 14 months ago and when her first birthday came he cried again. Actually he has told me he never stopped crying since he brought her from the hospital!

This grandchild of mine now plays games with her Nana and Mimz every time she visits. Running down the hallway screaming, hiding behind Nana's recliner with my mother calling out to her "Child, come herrrrre!" and little Sophie coming from behind the chair looking into my mother's eyes and laughing so hard. This game is played over and over until something else catches little Sophie's attention and off she goes running through the house again, much to her Nana's and Mimz' delight.

The news of another grandchild came again two months ago from Sophie's Papa. This time the doctors told him it was a boy. The tears again flooded my son's eyes. I am so glad he is comfortable enough in his own manliness to express his emotions. The wait is going to be too long for this baby too but it is going to be loved as much as the first. After all, isn't that what a grandmother is supposed to do, spoil her grandchildren? Anyway the baby is due on Valentine's Day and we can hardly wait.

But that isn't even the end of it, for my youngest son just came over to visit the other day and announced that he too will become a father. Of course he has a son from a previous relationship and the mother made it difficult for any of us to see the baby so my son stopped trying. One day I pray my first grandson will join us too because we all loved him when he was with us off and on from birth to one year. But now our prayers will have to suffice until then. My daughter-in-law has a son also from a previous relationship and we just love him. He's a sweet boy of 13 1/2 and is overjoyed with having a brother or sister. The baby is due early May of next year and I can't wait to hold him/her.

So now that my grandchildren are popping out like popcorn around here, I have a vision of a row of cribs in my room. Of course I am moving into one of the bigger bedrooms in the house but I love just the thought of being surrounded by my grandchildren. Yes, the little people that pee and poop on you and even scream at you. I wouldn't have it any other way!

Pencil and Paper, Where Art Thou!

I knew the day would come. I suppose it happens to other people, just not me.... You turn on the computer just to stare at a black screen. Your head does the dog tilt to one side, then you play with every button you think will help. Plugging, unplugging, checking the router, etc. When it becomes apparent that short of a miracle the darn thing isn't going to do what you want it to, you start making your calls.

At first I called the company that I have Internet access through only to be told they don't do technical work. They give you the telephone number to the maker of your computer and wish you luck. I spoke to someone in India then the Philippines. I was told that I would be receiving an empty box for the computer. To place my computer in the box and ship back to them for repair. I received the box in two days and shipped the box back immediately. The only thing I could do was track the package but couldn't find out what kind of repair was being done when I got an email stating they were sending my computer back to me.

Two days later I received my computer with the repair notice at no charge. It was not a virus as I suspected when I saw the Bios Password come across the screen, but only the black box that is part of the power cord. One end of the cord plugs into the wall with the other end in the box. Then another cord plugs into the box while the other end plugs into the computer. This little black box caused so much grief. I was praying that it wasn't something that was going to cost me an arm and a leg to fix. Then the realization of what was on the computer that I couldn't retrieve, such as my three novels. One I just finished, the other two that I was in the process of writing. My short stories, my poems, etc. Ahhhhh!

Is it wrong of me to think back to a simpler time when pencil and paper was all you had to worry about? Or a sharpened pencil? A preference of pen or pencil? Lined or unlined paper? All I know is that it all seemed pretty good to me. More control over things with pencil and paper! I grew up with manual typewriters, micro film, mechanical pencils, etc. My sons grew up with computers, as will my granddaughter. I have taken classes, I have gotten into the computer to better understand what is happening, I have pestered my oldest son over and over about certain programs and such. I just finished advanced classes but I think my next step will be to get into the meat of the computer. Find out what makes it tick and why. I am certainly all for new ventures and exploring all that the future has to offer in computers. But I really don't think I will forever "back up" my work by writing it all down. Crashing computers will not take my life over again. I will write my notes on paper no matter what anybody says. It's just as plain as that.

Thank You, Soldier!

"A Soldier is someone who, at one point in their life, wrote a blank check made payable to the United States of America, for an amount up to, and including, his or her life. That is an honor, and there are way to many people in this country today who no longer understand that fact."

Happy Birthday, Mimz

This birthday that just passed was celebrated by close friends sending birthday wishes, giving presents, singing songs in emails or in person, etc. Then my granddaughter came for a visit, albeit thanks to her mother for being so thoughtful in calling me on the phone and letting my granddaughter say happy birthday by breathing in the phone, it was awesome! Then she came over and I spent the whole day with her and she wound up spending the night. I had forgotten how wonderful waking up in the middle of the night, my eyes resting on this little person smiling back at me, then turning over and falling back to sleep. I cried. She is a wonderful little miracle.

Just to let you know how wonderful, she is almost 9 mos and she was singing to me while I was rocking her to sleep. At first I wasn't sure, but when I started to sing to her I noticed she wasn't baby talking but trying to sing too. Her mother sings to her with this amazing voice that is natural--no singing lessons, and I've heard her Papa sing to her which I find endearing. Singing to me has been so healing for so long, and now I have been given a gift so precious from my granddaughter. There is no topping this by any means...sorry, this all makes me cry. Happy 54th Birthday to me...

Romance

Romance...it is a beautiful word. When you are in love, it is even better. I write romance novels and right before I start a novel, I think about Gone With The Wind, Wuthering Heights, When A Man Loves A Woman, or You've Got Mail. Any one of these greats will bring to mind the feeling of losing yourself in someone else.

Writing a novel was always a big dream of mine ever since I was a teenager. The first time I attempted to write a story, I wrote three simultaneously, without chapters. By the time I decided to concentrate on the first one I was well passed 919,515 words. Then I got the idea to join a writing group, which then led to joining classes within the group. All of this helped quite a bit but I soon learned that I needed to chop up my stories in chapters. Wow, how the heck could I forget that?

I wrote the first novel in three months from start to finish, another three months to put it into chapters, and a year to edit the darn thing a kabillion times. I didn't want this to become a chore but remain a hobby. I was discouraged because I knew I was good at this writing thing, but the more I read about how much work the group was putting into their own stories I decided to stop and take a vacation. I couldn't believe how hard something that brought me so much pleasure, was slowly turning into a nightmare.

That is when I made up my mind that I would write what I had in my heart to write and when I was through then I would go on the endeavor of the next step...finding an agent. I still don't think all of this is as hard as everyone makes it out to be. I just decided that I will try, giving my writing as much of a chance as I can give before "I" say enough is enough and stop.

Writing is second nature to like breathing. I can lose myself in it for hours. Start early in the morning before anyone or anything tries to interrupt me and before you know it I look up at the clock and evening has arrived in all it's glory! I love to write, it frees my mind. If someone were to give me something to write about I feel as though I have this tight coat on. Can't breathe, can't think, inevitably I can't write. I can write anywhere, any time. I don't believe I have to lock myself up in another room and I only have four walls staring back at me. I can be among others and still write, providing I am not interrupted. My mother solves her crossword puzzles, my sons go about their lives, and I am at the kitchen table or TV room with it blaring as my mother watches her British comedies or movies. I am perfectly fine among all of it. But I do become a little agitated if you try to engage in conversation with me. Writing is important to me and I hate being interrupted for anything. When I get an idea I run with it. That is how important writing is to me. It means everything in the world to me, to get it down on paper or in the computer.

Tiny Little Miracle

Our tiny little miracle came in the shape of a preemie named Sophie Cadence on July 26, 2009. She was tiny and had some stomach problems but being a fighter, our worries were soon over. Sophie came at a time when I needed something in my life and I knew it had to be a miracle because let's face it there could be nothing else that would be acceptable to me.

She looks like her mother at times and somewhat like her father too. Sophie has grown in leaps and bounds and knows how to get what she wants when she wants it! You know when she is around because you can hear the giggling or roaring laughter in the room from all those around her. When she is in a playful mood with her Papa Gabe she will stick her pacifier or teething biscuit into his mouth. I tell him she is tired of hearing the talk, she wants to play, and play they do.

Papa Gabe will sing his rendition of "Cuban Pete" while Sophie starts dancing. Actually she likes for Papa to hold her at the waist while she jumps up and down kicking her feet until he stops singing. Sometimes she makes him sing the song two or three times, depending on her mood. Then there is time where she just wants to sit and watch TV with him. Of course the images go back and forth to her, but she gets a kick out of Papa when he hoops and hollers for his favorite team when they score. She laughs and jumps up and down waiving her little arms as if she is helping to cheer his team on too.

When nap time comes sometimes she just wants Papa to hold her and they both nod out. I try to put her in her crib but she cries out waking her daddy and he takes her back in his arms. She loves her Papa and he loves her. They are very close as it should be between parent and child. I wished both Mommy and Papa would have been able to stay together, but I know in my heart that they both love her and pray this sustains her for the rest of her life.

I speak only of what I know on Papa's side because I am his mother. When he first brought her over he had the baby carrier in one hand with the diaper bag that held all of the baby necessities, including a notebook that had Sophie's feeding and changing schedule. From the start Gabe was involved in everything, even caring for Mommy when she was still hurting from her C-section. He would wash Mommy's hair, help her shower, make her something to eat, etc. Of course the other Grandma helped too by caring for Mommy when Papa went back to work.

But even though the relationship between Mommy and Papa didn't work out they still had Sophie to remind them of when it did. Whether it is in her smile or gurgling, they can't deny that this wonderful, beautiful human being is truly a little miracle that we all needed in our lives.

When I hold her she stares into my eyes and the corners of her little mouth turn up. That smile melts my heart and I know in the future it is going to mean BIG TROUBLE when I start taking her shopping with me, from the first to the millionth time. I will cherish every moment as any Grandmother would and hope for a kabillion more to come...

Family

Family...ah yes, those people that at one time or another you wished you could exchange for a better model or nothing at all. But really, if you had the "real" chance of doing this you wouldn't. Come on, who are you kidding? You've already broken these people in and put up with their "stuff" all these years. Do you really want to start all over again?

My family has been there for me through thick and thin. They have also kept my feet on the ground with the occasional "reality check". Let's face it, we all get those checks when someone in the ranks feels we are lifting off the ground onto that "high horse" and need to be brought back down, with love hopefully. Your family knows what made you tick as a baby, child, adolescent, teenager, and young adult. Now it is up to you to show what you have learned and what you are all about now that you are an adult.

We go to work and somewhere along the line are reminded that our mothers are not going to come behind us to clean up. We go through the rest of our lives realizing that "hey wait a minute, I have to do this myself?" Then it begins to click in our minds what we really do have. There are others that don't have that much and wished they did. Don't get me wrong, I am not going on a tangent of what our parents or grandparents reminded us of everytime we refused to eat something on our plate. "Do you know there are starving kids in ---- that would give their right arm for a feast like this!" Of course you only think it in your mind, if you're smart: "Well, can I mail it to THEM?"

Families on the short end of things are either for you or against you. But you have to be honest with yourself when you are criticizing them. Are you being honest when you say to yourself, "I don't do anything and they yell at me for nothing!" Because if this is true then you answered your own question of why they treat you the way they do. You aren't doing "anything". I don't have the answers for all of this but what I do know is the one set of people you can't fool....you guessed it--your family!

So while summer is upon us and the BBQ's will be starting full speed ahead, it would behoove you to make peace with your people and have a good old fashion party in the backyard. It brings families together and you never know what surprises may come, but whatever you do, always strive to have fun. Your family is what makes you, you and granted now you can add your two cents when the conversations start...

My Father On The Throne

My Father on the throne
Where have I gone wrong
The fight is long and hard
I grow weary where I stand
My heart refuses to yield to the fear
I see within my own eyes
For my God, my Father is still on the throne
Regardless of all I see
My heart my Father spoke to
still beats within me!

Lesson In Love

Never take someone for granted

Hold everyone close to your heart

If not, you may wake up one day

and realize that you lost a diamond

while you were busy collecting stones.

Always Learning, Ever Changing

Writing short stories and poems since I was thirteen years old, I always wondered what it would be like to actually write a book. Now I do. I am not published yet but that will come, I am sure of it.

The romance novel I wrote took three months to complete. Editing and serious revisions took a year. Still plugging away at it though. I refuse to give up because some people who shall remain anonymous think I have potential. No, I am not including my mother or sons or anyone else in the family. Though it seems that normal to have these people in your corner because quite frankly you will need them when and if the rejection letters come and you know they will.

You began to notice as time goes on the stories you write begin to mold you as a writer. One person pointed out certain things in my manuscript that needed some changes. At first I became a bit defensive, then I realized if I was going to be successful I needed to start being a little more flexible. It didn't mean I would lose my voice as a writer, but that I would become a better writer. I learned what works and what takes too darn long to explain a simple action.

This journey has made me cry, wonder why I became a writer, and what started out as a hobby turned out to be such a chore. I am at the computer from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed. I am on Christmas vacation from school and have a month off. This is as good a time as any to revise the darn thing.

You know sometimes life gets in the way of creativity. But if I don't climb back in the chair and try to improve what I can and let go of what I can't, then I am no better than the person who so easily gave up. You have to wait for your moment to shine. It will come. Patience is a virtue and by that I mean you will have to learn the difference between want and need.

What are you hungry for as a writer? Fame and fortune? If so you will be disappointed. But if you want to become a published writer who can handle the success that comes with it and continue to be disciplined then half the battle is won. Why? Because you have learned a valuable lesson, always learning, ever changing.

Oh Christmas Tree

You knew the day was coming once Thanksgiving passed that it was inevitable a tree was going to be in your future. Some people are reminded by Santa's little elves otherwise known as your children, grandchildren, somebody's children, whomever. When you stopped making it all about you and finally did do something about bringing that stinkin' tree into the house whether it is artificial or real none the less you put it up. Or maybe you are stalling for time and have no problem ignoring the whining little elves a.k.a. those kids and they know who they are. They live for this stuff so you can't disappoint them. If you think you can put them off try living with a new name for a while, you know, the Grinch, who tried to steal Christmas.

The tree is sitting in a corner now just waiting to be decorated. Ah, was that so bad? But wait, you are reminded that new decorations are in order cuz the old ones just aren't getting it any more. You put on your jacket and trek to a nearby store and began to purchase your decorations. Pushing and shoving passed several little old ladies who seem to take hours for that one "special" little decoration for whatever reason. Finally, you settle on a box of balls, tinsel, you forgot to check if the lights still work. Oh well, you pick up another box.

On to the register you go with your decorations, so glad that you are through with the tedious task of all of this you round the corner find about 30 people whose faces are turning into the same as yours. You draw in a deep breath and resign yourself to making sounds when you think the cashier is taking long just to get on your nerves. Once it is your turn and pay for your purchases you run to your car as if someone is going to grab you by the nape of the neck and make you start all over again.

Finally all bags are in the car with you and you drive like a mad person possessed on your journey home. Feeling as if you accomplished a great feat you bring in your treasures and commence decorating. Coffee in hand you place the lights, every last ball, every last stream of tinsel and the star your little "elf" made on the tree.

Standing back you have everyone in the house and possibly your neighborhood and their families waiting and watching as you flip the switch and watch and wait for the accolades to begin...

Uh-oh the lights aren't going on. The lights! You forgot to check the lights! Your significant other hands you the "extra" bulbs and commences to take everyone rolling their eyes to the other room for refreshments while you try to fix the problem. Feeling something staring at you, you turn around and there stands one of your little "elves."

Smiling you try to suggest to the little darling to go get a Christimas cookie in the other room--far from where you are. The elf leaves and you are back to trying to find that bulb that is trying to make you look bad. You feel a little breeze on your neck and once more you turn to see what else in the cosmos interrupted you. It is that sweet little elf again. Only this time the little elf has something in it's arms. What is this you ask. The elf blinks and stoops to put something under the tree. Stepping back revealing a box wrapped in three different types of Christmas wrapping with a bow that has seen better days.

Tears fill your eyes and your throat tightens as the elf replies, "This is for you Daddy, Merry Christmas."

Friends Forever

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When we are looking for someone to be our friend I have often thought about where our starting point is. Sometimes we are so into the perfect someone that we miss the one that could have been the friend we needed and the search would've been over sooner. Then there is the popular person we think we need as a friend when the person who had been loyal to us was never chosen.

Maybe it sounds a little too far fetched, but what if "you" aren't what this other person is looking for? You do realize you first have to be the person whom you seek. Are you the friend who would never turn your back no matter what happens? The friend that cries when your friend cries? Stick up for them when everyone else accuses them? Better yet what if your friend's significant other starts a riff between you two. What then?

I have been that friend, chosen and overlooked, so I know what I am talking about. I have also been successful at choosing friends when I wasn't even looking. While I was attending school I met three kind souls who adopted me as their friend. I have written about these three friends in a previous blog and pray that I never loose touch.

The other day I was visiting Facebook and received a message from someone I had gone to school with. We were best friends in high school. She was having a hard time with her mother, the usual teenager vs adult kind of thing. I of course was getting along with my family but my friend was in trouble. So I did the only thing I could do--stand with her. I took a towel with some of my clothes inside and walked to school like nothing was wrong. When we met at school she asked me what the towel was for so I opened it up. When she saw my clothes her mouth fell open as she asked, "You would've done this for me?" Without hesitation I replied, "Yes." We cried together then laughed til we cried again.

In our Facebook messages back and forth to one another telling each other how good it was to reconnect after so many years apart (we live in two different states) we promised to stay in touch. When I finished reading her message she signed off as "Friends Forever" and the tears filled my eyes.

Some friendships can never be "planned" or "chosen" because they just "happen" when you least expect them. I wouldn't have it any other way, would you?