Merry Christmas 2016

As the days of December wane, I want to thank my Savior, Jesus Christ, for the many blessings He has bestowed upon me in my life. He is my Savior and my Redeemer. We celebrate His birth at this special time of year, my favorite, most wonderful, time of year.

May your days be merry and bright.

When Life Gets Hard

© 2015 by Intellectual Reserve, Inc. All rights reserved.

When life seems too hard, I must remember the sacrifice that my Savior, Jesus Christ, made for me so that I can wallow in my self-pity, forgetting that, if I could trade anyone their burdens, I would, most likely, take up my own again. He bequeathed me that luxury.
He knows me, yet loves me.
He has descended below all, and conquered all. He is an empath.
I want to be like Him. I think He knows that. I hope He can forgive me my trespasses, knowing my heart . . . knowing my deepest desires.
He knows better than I.

Jesus, Savior, pilot me. Guide me. Show me. Help me, is my plea.
Thou art my refuge through life's harrowing storms. I run to Thee and I wish I could feel Thy arms around me and hear Thy voice say, "Be still. I am here for you."

I love Thee and I want to see Thy face someday and feel the warmth of Thy smile.
I long to hear the words, "Well done," for I do not know if I deserve to hear them.

I wrap myself in the promise of Thy Atonement and have every faith that Thou has ransomed me.

It Stinks to Be a Canary

http://oursimpleearth.com/toxic-perfume/

By Susan Knight

(Spoiler alert: feelings hurt rant)

www.etsy.com

Why do perfume companies have to use toxic chemicals in their products? Those of us who are canaries in a coal mine (chemically sensitive) should be used as the warning signals for chemical toxicity. What people put on their bodies in the form of perfume, cologne, body lotion, body spray, etc., is absorbed into their blood streams through their skin, inhaled into their lungs, and accumulated in their tissues and organs.

There is so much "fragrance" at work that I can't breathe. I was thinking today, as I sat at work, waving air away from my face after someone with perfume walked past my cubicle, "Why isn't there a Surgeon General's Warning on perfume bottles, or body lotions or sprays?" I feel like I'm inhaling second-hand fumes.

www.behance.net

 And now I have a problem going to church. I couldn't leave sacrament meeting fast enough on Sunday, therefore, I couldn’t enjoy the Spirit—or the camaraderie of my friends at church—at all.  I stayed for about one minute at the Enrichment meeting tonight and coughed all the way home, and off and on for the next hour or so. (Where’s my rescue inhaler?)

Because I am so inundated with the chemicals at work (read: fragrance), then again at church, I am super, hyper-sensitive right now. I've become afraid to go anywhere. Forget about going to the movies. Someone wearing perfume always sits next to me—then I have to move! I'm like a perfume magnet.

The chemicals don't assimilate, or wane as time goes on for me, but saturate my body to overflowing. For those canaries like me (13% of the population*), these chemicals used in fragrances make us horribly, physically ill, most of the time on the spot.

There is no pill to pop--no prevention--because chemical sensitivity is not an allergy. But it can trigger asthma, migraines, vertigo, sneezing, coughing, sinus conditions, laryngitis, vomiting, slurred speech, confusion, memory loss, hormone disruption, loss of consciousness, and more. These are the symptoms that betray chemical poisoning from what is erroneously called "fragrance."

www.smartrecovery.org

And you can't wear a mask over your face (unless it's an oxygen mask) because the chemical particulates will adhere to a cloth mask, thus causing more problems with inhalation. Masks don't work with smoke, either.

When there's a room full of smoke, you can see the fumes. You are affected when a car's exhaust attacks your airways. Perfume, smoke, pesticides and gasoline fumes are defined by the same category—chemical pollution. You just can't see the fumes from so-called "fragrance." 

But people like me notice the haze that hangs over a room filled with it. We feel it. We smell it all over us, unwillingly. It hits us in the face like a brick and assaults us immediately. Canaries, we certainly are.

There has been no natural fragrance in commercially-produced perfume or body lotion since the 1980s. If Scarlet O'Hara drank eau de cologne today, Rhett Butler would have to call poison control!

fyeahscarlettohara.tumblr.com

Scents nowadays are all manufactured chemically—some using petrochemicals (derived from petroleum and hazardous to one's health). In fact, chemical houses who create the "fragrance" are making it so it "lingers longer." You might leave the scene, but your perfume hangs out in the air, pulled into the ventilation systems and spread throughout buildings.

Graphic from the article at http://www.ewg.org/research/not-so-sexy

You might think, "Thank goodness it doesn't affect me." All I can say is, "Yet!"

We are all impacted by these chemically-produced “fragrances.” I wasn't always chemically sensitive. It can happen any time. It can happen to your children. Some people are affected by their own perfumes and body lotions already and don't know it. They have persistent migraines, headaches, or that nagging cough. They are fatigued, or cranky. They constantly clear their throats.

There are natural fragrances available in the form of essential oils, but some canaries are even sensitive to them. Luckily, I can resort to the essential oil route. And I carry a Vapor-inhaler in my pocket now, so I’ll have something non-offensive to breathe while walking around my floor at my company. But I can’t breathe it for eight hours a day.

I am very bummed that I can’t enjoy the society of my friends—or any society—because the issue of wearing fragrance, and not offending those who wear it, is more important to protect than the grave matter of chemical toxicity and protecting those with health issues.

I’m sorry for venting.

Sorry. Not sorry.

For more information, visit these other websites:

 http://mamavation.com/2015/03/toxic-perfume-chemicals.html

http://www.ewg.org/research/not-so-sexy

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2013/11/27/toxic-perfume-chemicals.aspx

http://oursimpleearth.com/toxic-perfume/

* Those who suffer MCS (Multiple Chemical Sensitivities) has risen to 19% as of 2019.

26th Anniversary of My Father's Death

Today is the 26th Anniversary of my father's death. 

Henry Joseph Tobelmann, Jr., February 3, 1926-November 14, 1989.

I wrote about it in 2009 when it was the 20th Anniversary of his death. You can read all about it HERE.

This was the last picture taken of my father, out in his back yard by the pond on the golf course.
It was October 1989. He was 63 years old. That's just a little over a year older than I am now.

This was my father's picture and write up in his 1943 yearbook.
He did a lot. He was also voted Best Dancer and Most Likely to Succeed.

                          

                 This is my dad in his Navy uniform.
He served in the Great Lakes camp in Michigan during WWII.

When he got out of the Navy at the end of WWII, he went on to college on the GI bill.
This is my father's graduation picture from Villanova University in about 1949-50.
He got a job at Lukens Steel Company right away. That's where my grandfather worked, too.
He retired early in 1988 after coding from a minor hernia operation.
He took that as an omen, and my parents moved to Palm Coast, Florida. He died in 1989.
I'm glad he had a year and a half of retired life to enjoy.

Friday the 13th

Some trivia about Friday the 13th:

1) Friggatriskaidekaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th. Almost 20 million Americans have figgatriskaidekaphobia, which is also called paraskavedekatriaphobia. Those who don’t mind
Friday, but fear the number 13, have triskaidekaphobia.

2) Since there’s such a fear of the number 13 among Americans, there are many infrastructures that leave off that number. For instance, many hospitals don’t have room number 13, and there is usually not a 13th floor. In tall buildings, the 13th floor is typically skipped and some airlines don't have a Gate 13.

3) There can be more than one Friday the 13th in a year. In 2015, there were three, which is the most that can occur. There is at least one Friday the 13th per year.

4) Butch Cassidy, Infamous American train and bank robber, was born Friday April 13, 1866.

You're welcome
smile emoticon

Blooming Where I've Been Planted

This rings so true for me. There were times I was so depressed, I felt as if I was sinking in quicksand and I couldn't find any foothold with which to boost myself upward. I felt buried, but not only buried, but that pernicious roots and vines had engulfed me, wrapping around my whole body to keep me in my underground tomb.
In hindsight, I realize it as the refiner's fire taking me to a place I needed to be to realize I didn't want to be there anymore.
Now I am planted in a home 2,000 miles away from where I started, and blooming beautifully.

What It Means to Me to Be an American

Each year I spend Independence Day feeling a great sense of gratitude to my ancestors, both direct and collateral (uncles, brothers, cousins), who fought in the Revolutionary War, and in the Civil War (both sides), and in WWI, and in WWII, or have been a member of the military during peace time, to uphold our freedom.

I am grateful we have so many freedoms in the United States. Have you read the Constitution or the Bill of Rights? I don't want to see any of those rights taken for granted, or slowly fade away into the sunset as if they aren't relevant anymore.

If you read history, you know, after two hundred years, the initial ideas of new countries, with their ethics, morals and standards, are questioned, tried, and put to unwanted tests. I believe we are on the cusp of that time, if not already crossed the threshold.

If you read history, or scripture, you know how that pans out, and you know what causes the demise.

When we get soft; when we forget what makes us great (humility, gratitude, service); and when man thinks he is better than God, or forsakes God's hand in our lives altogether, the downfall is imminent. Pride takes over when we think it was us, our very limited selves, who deserve all the credit. Pride goeth before a fall. Read the history of any great empire and tell me what you find. Greece. Rome. France. Spain. England. Has America hit that crossroads now? Are we so proud that we forget Who forged this country, and what this country stands for?

In years past, no matter the immigrant, they had hard times to prove themselves when they came to this great land, until the next group of world-weary travelers landed. They, also, had to prove themselves--and could, finding great opportunity here for those who worked hard.

The Puritans, the Catholics, the Huguenots, the Jews; the Germans, the Irish, the Chinese, the Italians--all had to put aside the notion that this country gave them everything--unearned. They had to prove they were worthy of the freedoms they sought. And prove it, they all did.

I am part of the great American melting pot. My ancestors are European--Bohemian, Moravian, Huguenot, Catholic; German, Swiss, Scots-Irish, English, French. Our blood mingled and blended with other blood until they could no longer say "I am German," or "I am English." Those nationalities fought alongside each other in all the wars to end all wars.

One word should describe us all--American. I am an American. I'm not European American. I know a lot of black people who do not consider themselves African-American. They never lived in Africa. They always lived in America, and don't want to be set apart from the nation like that. I am a full-blooded American. I'm not immigrant, or first generation even, still struggling with the English language.

Those who come to America, should take on this pride of country. If you live here, and you have taken the oath of citizenship, you are now an American, striving to do your part to build up this great nation. You are not Mexican-American, Cambodian-American, or Persian-American. If you live here and reap the benefits, you are just plain old American. Your oath is to this country now.

I know there are still more than 50 good people in our nation, that the angels might not destroy us. Tongue-in-cheek, but the time might come, and perhaps already is on the doorstep, when that number will dwindle due to lack of caring or action, or knowledge of history, and those of us who are God-fearing and still love our country and our constitution, will hearken back to what our country initially stood for--life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; one nation, under God, forged from Judaeo-Christian principles.

Other principles are not like Judaeo-Christian principles. Think about it. It is ridiculous to think any other way will work, unless we want to be guided by fear and corruption, mostly fear, as in monarchies, dictatorships, or terrorists' groups and Sharia law. If you moved here, and became a citizen, you are now part of that Judaeo-Christian culture. It was your choice.

Oh, God, please let freedom still be our cry--the real definition of freedom, as written in our Constitution and Bill of Rights. Please rain down your tender mercies on us so more will be for freedom than against it. Please don't ever let us forget what this country stands for. Let us always remember Thy hand in our creation. In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior and Redeemer, I pray. Amen.

Building a Writer's Platform

I have been working furiously to build a writer's platform.
I read on thewritelife.com that if editors want to pick up your work, one of the first things they do is "Google" you.


http://thewritelife.com/what-does-a-literary-agent-want-to-see-when-they-google-you/

So, I googled me.
There are a lot of Susan Knights!

If you google "Susan Knight, Author," you'll get me.   s.m.i.l.e.

You can also google "Susan Knight FamilyShare" and get the articles I wrote for DeseretConnect via FamilyShare.com.

Also, if you google "Susan Knight divorce," you'll get me.
So sad that my name has to be had with that "d" word, but it's true.
However, you will find some of my best writing on my divorce blog: www.divorce-steps-to-climb.blogspot.com. I have to warn you, it's not for the fainthearted. But it is for women who have gone through the same thing I did--a divorce due to Adultery, Abuse, and Addiction (porn). I call it the Triple A divorce.

I also have a blog about the first two chapters up of the book I'm trying to pitch now: "Connected in Love."
www.connected-in-love.blogspot.com

If you'd like something more lighthearted, try my Mother's Memoirs blog. My daughter, Jewely, gave me one of those fill in the blanks books about my life, so I decided to blog it instead because, well, it's easier to type a lot of stuff :-)  http://mothers-memoirs.blogspot.com/.

I also have a spiritual blog called "Then Sings My Soul": http://thensingsmysoul-susan.blogspot.com/

You can find all my blogs on www.susanknight.blogspot.com.

Please visit them and let me know what you think!

50 Shades of Hell

Photo from "Kristen Lamb's Blog:"
https://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/2015/02/13/is-romance-devolving-50-shades-vs-no-one-puts-baby-in-a-corner/?blogsub=confirming#subscribe-blog

 

I know I haven't written in this blog in forever. I'm maintaining another blog about divorce due to abuse, adultery and (porn) addiction, and I have shared Kristen's blog there as well. But I thought it important to add this to my more pasteurized blog because it's an important subject for today--well, tomorrow, too. . . any day, really.

 

Please take heed.

 

This is one of the best blogs I've read so far about the disgusting movie that is opening on Valentine's Day.

Below are some quotes I loved from this blog post. Okay, so I quoted almost her whole blog post, but this is really good stuff, and so appropriate for my own blog about Abuse, Adultery, Addiction--and how to rise up from the ashes of Abuse, Adultery and (Porn) Addiction.

And I didn't quote everything, of course. You can click on the link above to go and read it for yourself. She is a very clever writer and brings up so many good points about pornography, consent, victimization, and so on. She does not write PC about this subject, which I really like.

Satan's Pandora's Box has been opened by 100 million people who bought the book, 250 million people who viewed the movie trailer, and people who already spent $60 million dollars in tickets before it's even in the theater. This makes me want to cry, really.

My dream is that the women in the theater audiences will get up and walk out. (Is it too much to dream that real men would walk out, too?) It's a dream because women who are addicted to pornography are addicted by reading so-called romance novels. Anti-romance novels should be the moniker.

My fear is seeing these actors and others affiliated with the movie walk up the red carpet and up the stairs to accept an Oscar. Satan's victory complete. I will be throwing up, and not in my mouth.

My soapbox (and my divorce blog) is built upon these sordid subjects and I've been plying Facebook with links to other blogs and articles. Some might say speaking about the book/movie gives it more publicity, but the Edmund Burke quote has been on my mind and I can't be quiet or sit still:
“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”
Enjoy these thoughts from "Kristen Lamb's Blog" and really think about them.

 

-Nothing says I love you like predatory emotional manipulation, sociopathy, abuse and non-consensual sex acts.

-And yes, I know there have been other kinky books like this, but 50 Shades sold over 100 million copies and the movie (despite ZERO plot) is expected to gross in excess of $60 million which means I just threw up a little in my mouth this “story” has tipped from fringe to mainstream and that scares me more than a little bit.

-Grey doesn’t choose Ana because she is a confident, assured woman who can emotionally handle this sort of contract, um relationship, um abus…ok, hell I got nothing. A confident woman would have told him where to put his private jet.

 

-But women have faced thousands of years of not being able to defend themselves against victimization and rape and now we have a cultural phenomenon that is redefining sex and blurring the lines of consent (which are already pretty damn blurry, especially after a drunken frat party).

 

-It’s Grey’s lines like, “I don’t do romance” that kinda more than piss me off. Women used to be worthy of courtship and eventually a ring and a commitment.

 

-I remember living across from a young couple and the pretty blonde had been living with this jerk guy for EIGHT years. She wanted to be married and he wanted all the benefits of a marriage without any of the legal obligations . . .

-Characters like Ana have opened a WHOLE ‘notha can of worms when she refuses to tell Grey NO or to stop or even that he’s crossing a line and hurting her because “then she’d lose him” *gags* and tolerates the intolerable.

-How in 50 Shades of HELL is this remotely acceptable?

 



I Don't Want To Think About IT

One month from today
Jewely will move away
I know I'll be okay
But today. . .
I just don't want to think about it.

Everything Will Work Out

I just wish I could believe this right now.
I am having an anniversary reaction. Two years ago this Labor Day weekend, I had my unfortunate accident. My foot is still not healed. I've had several blessings that my foot will be healed. I am impatient. I feel depressed. I need to take this advice.

What I Do Today is Important

August 31?

As in the end of August?

Wait a minute.

Didn’t I just plant my annuals?

Wasn’t it just the longest day of the year?

Didn’t I just blog about fireworks on the Fourth of July?

But what else did I do?

Ever since I moved to Utah, I vowed I would live in the present—be present to all around me. But, considering how quickly time flies, and not seeing much to show for its passing, I’m wondering if I might be flittering away my life, not filling my moments with memories as I should.

I used to have a tagline with my emails:

“What I do today is important

because I am paying a day of my life for it.

What I accomplish must be worthwhile

because the price is high.”

Author Unknown

I think Author Unknown is one of the most profound human beings that ever lived. This person has

made me realize that minutes and seconds are precious. Instead of spending time watching television,
how about a meaningful conversation with someone? A book in hand is worth more than playing two
video games. Pen a thank-you note, rather than an email.

I have to re-commit to make each day meaningful in some way. What must I do before I lay my head on my pillow that will help me feel fulfilled?

Family, friends, having meaningful conversations, art, writing, reading, giving service, doing the best you can, leaving a place better than you found it. . .

What is important to you?

What is worth paying a day of your life for?

How Am I Doing?

A lot of my friends have been asking how my foot/ankle is doing. Oh, how I am tired of telling the sad tale. I mean, it will be two years that I've been hobbling along. It's been two years that I've been asked, "So, how's the ankle doing?" I will be so glad when nobody notices I've stopped limping.

The newest doctor (son of the second surgeon) who, not knowing my background (aren't they supposed to read my file before they see me?) said, "Your ankle is really weak," as he had me push into his hand.

I said, "I haven't walked right for almost two years. This was my second surgery. Didn't you read what your father wrote?" Okay, I was a little testy with him.

I was on the verge of tears, actually. I had been in a lot of pain and made this appointment two weeks in advance of my next scheduled appointment. I got a blessing from my youngest son which told me I would heal and be able to walk like a normal person; I have to do what the doctor tells me to do and I'll be okay.

While I sniffled and looked forlorn, he took a minute to skim the file. He closed the file and said, "It's only been six weeks from surgery. I think you are exactly where you're supposed to be right now."

"But your father said after 12 weeks I wouldn't remember which foot hurt." Sniffing began again.

He did some quick math in his head. "Yeah, that's three months. You should be fine by then."

I said, "Pardon me, but that's what the first doctor kept saying. 'Give it three months.' Then it was 'Give it six months,' then 'Give it a year' . . . "

He handed me a tissue. "I think you'll be fine. Your ankle is weak. You might need physical therapy to build up the strength, but even now you have good flexibility for six weeks out."

The doctor told me to use the recumbent bike at the gym at work for 10 minutes at a time, going slowly, not racing or aerobic, and build up to 30 minutes by the end of the month. He also said to do circles in the air. Write my name and the alphabet in the air. Get it moving. Get up and walk after sitting for an hour. I do that at work anyway. There's always some errand to run.

"You are still recuperating," he said. "You're not really rehabilitating yet. Go slow. Don't get discouraged. You're doing fine."

When I left, I remembered the blessing. "Do what the doctor tells you to do."

I am doing all these things. I have to have faith that my Heavenly Father is watching out for me. I have to be more positive.

Memories: High School Activities

From one of my other blogs: Mother's Memoirs: my life story in my own words: High School Activities: Today's question from my book:  In school, what extra-curricular activities did you participate in and why did you choose these activiti...

A Few Fun Facts about the Fourth

By Susan Knight

July 4, 2013 

Being from the Philadelphia area, Independence Day is near and dear to my heart. I also have at least a half-dozen ancestors, of whom I am proud, who fought in the Revolutionary War—one who fought with George Washington in all his campaigns. This adds to my fondness for the date.

As an added bonus, two of my ancestors, sisters, married signers of the Declaration of Independence (which I discovered while researching during the July 4th holiday week some years ago).
One of the most interesting pieces of July 4th trivia, I think, is that three U.S. presidents died on that day. You might have heard that John Adams (second president) and Thomas Jefferson (third president), best friends and arch enemies at different times of their lives, died on the day they made famous together—on the sameday in 1826, hours apart. It was the fiftieth anniversary of the adoption of the declaration. (They died the dearest of friends, so, happy ending.)

John Adams

America actually declared its independence from England July 2, 1776. John Adams wrote home to his beloved Abigail the next day and said the date, July 2nd, should from henceforth be celebrated with all sorts of pomp and circumstance. But, a few revisions were needed to the declaration document, so it wasn’t adopted until July 4th. Sorry, Mr. President.

John Adams spent his whole life celebrating July 2nd as Independence Day anyway, and, in protest, turned down speaking engagements offered him for July 4th events.

John Hancock was the only one to sign the document on July 4th. He made his signature large so the monarchy had no question of his feeling. He did a lot of sweating for a whole month, though, because it wasn’t until August 2nd that the other fifty-six signatures began to dribble in. The signers’ names were not published for another six months, in order to protect them. Announcing independence from Great Britain was an act of treason, punishable by death. (*gulp*) The biggest grievance—taxation without representation. Thomas McKean (who married my ancestor's niece) was the last to sign in January 1777. Benjamin Franklin was the oldest signatory at the age of seventy--and went on to be a signer of the Constitution in 1787. Let's see, that would make him . . .

The declaration document, printed by a newspaper in Philadelphia, didn't hit the streets until July 6th. The Liberty Bell sounded from the tower of what was to become known as Independence Hall in Philadelphia on July 8, 1776, summoning its citizens to the first reading by a Colonel John Nixon.

Philadelphia, of course, celebrated the first First Anniversary of Independence on July 4, 1777. Ships in the Delaware River harbor were decked out in red, white and blue buntings.
The third president who gave up the ghost on the Fourth of July was James Madison (fifth president, and considered Father of the Constitution of the U.S.) in 1831. Calvin Coolidge (thirtieth president) was the only president born on July 4th, in 1872.Massachusetts was the first state to declare the date a state holiday. But the date didn’t become a national holiday until 1870. By 1941, federal employees were given a paid day off. So don’t expect any mail today.
In modern times, the Fourth of July is one of the few holidays that has not been moved to a Monday. I hope it never is. That would just be silly.

Being Optimistic

By Susan Knight

Was feeling a little down because my ankle doesn't seem to be healing as fast as I thought it would.

Got a wonderful blessing yesterday from my son and son-in-law. I was told to be optimistic, to do what the doctor tells me and that I will walk again.

That's what I wanted to hear. I've been praying so hard along those lines. I'm glad for priesthood blessings that let my Heavenly Father speak to me in no uncertain terms.

Going to see a new doctor tomorrow. The doctor who performed my surgery is leaving for a three-year mission (Mission Prez) tomorrow, so I'm seeing his son. A new guy. I'm told by those who have seen him, he is very good, too.

I'm still praying fervently, though.

The Summer Solstice Makes Me Happy

Today is the longest day of the year. I love it when it's light out for so long. The sun didn't say good night until about 9:35 p.m. It's a perk of being on the western edge of the time zone.

I was outside cutting flowers at 9:15 p.m., then thought I'd better get inside. Picked a lot of flower arrangements. Roses, honeysuckle, daisies, lavender, petunias, and my lemon thyme is blooming little purple flowers, too.

My house smells delicious!

The scene above looks north and west along the Tyrrhenian Sea coast from Santa Severa, Italy. Appearing in the well-timed sequence, the small figure of the photographer himself is illuminated against the wall of the town's medieval castle. It's the picture on my blog at the very bottom today.

Happy Summer Solstice!

Seeking Meaning in My Life Every Day

By Susan Knight

One of my favorite quotes by that well-known unknown author is this:

What I do today is important because I am paying a day of my life for it.
What I accomplish must be worthwhile because the price is high.

That quote is an exhortation against laziness and having a purpose-filled life.

Each morning when I pray, I ask my Heavenly Father, "Please let me do some good today. Please help me to be cheerful so I might bring joy to someone's life."

Every night as I pray, I examine my conscience and ask myself, "Did I do enough today?" or "Did I do any good today?" I seem to always come up short--according to my expectations.

It's a heavy burden to lay on myself. But that's how I feel about my turn on this earth.

When one hits fifty-ish, one starts examining one's life. The urge to have laid up a legacy resonates in one's soul. Trust me. I'm at the highest end of fifty-ish, so I know.

"Have I done any good in the world today?
Have I helped anyone in need?
Have I cheered up the sad, or made someone feel glad?
If not, I have failed indeed."

The words to that hymn pretty much sum up how I feel.

I want my life to have a purpose. My life comes at a great cost. I don't want to blend into the woodwork every day. I want my life to mean something.

As I finish up here, a song is playing on my blog: "Oh Very Young" by Cat Stevens.

Serendipity!

Oh very young, what will you leave us this time?
You're only dancing on this earth for a short while.
And though your dreams may toss and turn you now . . .
They will vanish away . . .
. . . And though you want them to last forever, you know they never will.
You know they never will . . .

I take it as a sign to not be so melancholy about my life and keep dreaming anyway.
Keep hoping. Keep praying. Keep at it.

S.m.i.l.e.

All of the posts on Facebook about Father's Day are making me sad.
I wish I had someone to honor in my life about being a good father.
I mean, I've forgiven my father. Who knows why he acted the way he did? And he died young, before I had the courage to ask him where his anger came from.
Then there's the father of my children.
I want them to keep thinking he's a good father, so what they don't know won't hurt them.
Save face--look good. It's been the motto of my life, since I was a little girl.
Husband and father. The two people in one's life that should be honored.
It just makes me sad.
I'll get over it. . . tomorrow.

Here's to an End of the Drama

I'm coming down the home stretch. After surgery on May 17, I will finally, I HOPE, get my cast off on Friday.
I pray that this second surgery will do the trick and I will be able to walk again and be pain free.
The doctor gave me a 95% chance. I'll take it. I'll be optimistic.
If anyone out there is reading this, please pray for me.

My purple cast with the blue wall that caused this drama in the background