Today's Photo

Wandering the road of desperate life.

Aimlessly beneath a barren sky...

So afraid that you will not be found.

It won't be long before your sun goes down...

A troubled mind and a doubter's heart.

You wonder how you ever got this far...

Vultures of darkness ate the crumbs you left.

You got no way to retrace your steps ...

Leave it to me .

I'll lead you home.

Back To Ireland

In a few days, I will be going back to my beloved Ireland.
I have no elaborate, busy, vacation plans made for my time there.
Actually, I have nothing planned, other than the ride to and from the airport (thanks guys).
I just need to be there. I need to soak up Ireland's calming essence, and breath in it's quiet air. I need to let it's rain wash away my worries. I need the simple time with friends.
It is not a trip about doing; it is a trip about being.
Ireland grounds me in a way nothing else can. Where that connection came from, I don't know. There is not a drop of Irish blood in my veins, that I know of. But it is the place that calls to me like no other. Going back feels "right".

Grace, Gratitude, And Recognition (4)

I see the grace, am grateful for, and recognize the beauty in these five things today:

1) The care, warmth, and love from someone I was introduced to yesterday. His hug was gentle, and genuine! And the prayer he said for me was sincere.
2) Discovering money I didn't know I had, in a pocket where I forgot I had put it.
3) The fellow survivors who I have met on this journey, who give me more hope than they could ever know.
4) Red nail polish. I was finally brave enough to try it.
5) The comfort of music, in the middle of a restless night.

There once was a boy...

On a day when I truly needed some hope, I received a wonderful, encouraging message from a virtual stranger (now a friend). His words truly touched my heart. And when I thanked him, he shared this with me:

"I was watching " A Fistful Of Dollars " as a child, and there was a line in there that struck a chord within me:
"Why are you helping me?" said the Mexican peasant.
"Because there was once a young boy who needed help ... and there was no one there to help him", said the man with no name."

It struck a chord with me too... deeply! I am so grateful!

Touch The Trees

There is a certain little boy that is teaching me a lot about life. At two and a half years of age, his world is very uncertain. Before he was even capable of understanding it - he was abandoned. As a result he is in the foster care system.
He is my foster nephew. Cuter than should be legal, and more hyper than any other human you will ever meet, he is family to me.
But rather than call me "Aunt", he has dubbed me "Doodle". A random title, purely his own. And because he is so precious to me, I wear it proudly.
Today he came running out to meet me. One little, red, fireman boot on, and one little bare foot.
Quite matter-of-factly, he immediately informed me that he wanted to ride the swing in a nearby tree. And because he is cuter than should be legal, I agreed to the plan.
It is one of those blue tupperware-type, children's swings with a safety harness. But it still seems so big for such a little boy.
I buckled him in, and began to push the swing. Every push was met with squeals of little boy laughter.
And then :"Doodle, I want to touch the 'tees'!"
Not sure I heard him right, I asked "You want to touch the trees?"
"Yah Doodle, I want to touch the 'tees'!!!"
Where he even got the idea, I'm not sure. But the tree branches were awfully high above him. I couldn't believe he was serious.
And so I asked, "But aren't you scared?"
There was a long pause. The swing kept it's gentle rythm, back and forth, while he considered.
Then, in his very matter-of-fact way, he declared "Yep!"
I had to get this straight: "You want to touch the trees, but you're scared."
Him: "Yep".
"Doodle, I want to touch the tees."
His trust was so innocent.
The urge to go further outweighed the worry of a fall.
"Okay - hold on."
So I pushed him higher, until his little toes were skimming through the leaves. He screamed, and laughed, and squealed. Terrified and ecstatic, all at once.
"Doodle! DOODLE look!!!! I touching the tees!!!!"

And on my way home I got to thinking. About my relationship with God. My life can seem very uncertain at times too.

"God. I want to touch the trees"
"They're awfully high up there, child. Aren't you afraid?"
*pause*
"Yep! I'm terrified!"
"But God... I want to touch the trees."
I want to trust.
I want my urge to go further, to outweight the worry of a fall.

"Okay - hold on...."

Get Over It

Random, Rambling Thoughts:
Overheard from the children playing across the street: "Oh come on Nathan, it doesn't hurt that bad!"
And as I continued on my mission of taking the trash out, I got to thinking....
How many times have we heard that in all of our lives? If it wasn't said directly, how many times has it been implied?
"Oh come one, it doesn't hurt that bad." I.e.: "get over it".
Have you ever noticed that our cars spend more time in the shop for repairs, than we give ourselves time to mend? Why is it acceptable to have more time off work to celebrate a wedding, than you're given to grieve the loss of a loved one?
Why are we so quick to minimize the pain of others? Why is it so difficult to validate another's wounds? Is it because we cannot acknowledge our own?
We are encouraged to celebrate the "good" emotions, (Don't get me wrong - I'm all about that), and down-size the "bad" ones. But "good" or "bad", are equal emotions, and need equal recognition.
Why are we so quick to label which feelings are "good" and which ones are "bad"?
What if pain isn't all "bad" as we so quickly categorize it? What if pain isn't the enemy, but only the messenger? What if there really is beauty to be found, even in the bad?
Then maybe it would be worth the time spent searching out the hidden gems, rather than just "getting over it." And maybe it would be easier for us to allow other's their true feelings.

Breaking The Rules

On all sides of my little apartment/condo, I have neighbors. Well, except for above and below me. One of the benefits of where I live is, it's all on ground floor level.
It just so happens, that I am also the youngest inhabitant. And not only the youngest, but I'm also the strangest. Short-haired, tattooed, hippie chic strange. Beyond that, I also break the rules.
Go on, shake your head. I'm sure you can only imagine what my poor neighbors have to put up with.
Admittedly, some of them shake their heads about me too. I've seen them do it.
On one occasion the head shaking was when a resident happened by my window whilst I was dancing wildly inside. But I also caught her smile.
Another time it was an older resident shaking his head when he caught me standing in a downpour of rain. While he clutched his umbrella, I explained to him my theory on walks in the rain preventing premature aging. He thought he was beyond help. So I invited him to test a new theory - that walks in the rain may actually reverse the signs of aging. He courteously declined. (I'll just have to find someone else to test that hypothesis.)
As for the rules I've broken - there are many. I think we've all lost count.
Walk into my living room, and you will see the first glaring misdeed. COLOR.
I painted, when no painting was allowed. And not neutral mild colors. No! Citrus Zest Yellow, Cheerful Red, and Burnt Orange are splashed through several rooms. If you're going to be accused of color, they might as well be worth the accusation. If you ask me!
I also violated the landscaping etiquette... badly. I tore out the nasty, burgundy, thorny bushes by the roots (claimed there had been a bad wind). And in their place, a variety of colorful flowers now grow.
I disobeyed the "no stuff" decree, and put out potted plants and *gasp* windchimes.
Worse yet, I ignored the statute concerning pets. I snuck the Two Tiny Terrors in and out in handbags for quite some time.
However a strange phenomenon has occured. Everyone knows I've broken the rules. But I seem to have become a "special needs" case. "Oh, she just can't help herself." (And they are right - I couldn't.)
Rather than form a mob and demand my immediate eviction, my neighbors have developed a "grin and wink" attitude. But, better yet, everyone likes me. And they most definitely like the Tiny Terrors (who are happy to no longer be smuggled in purses). So the landlord looks the other way, as long as I "don't cause trouble". No Citrus Zest Yellow, Cheerful Red, or Burnt Orange trouble!