Someone remarked how I always had a smile on my face. What's my secret? Here are seven things I live by that keeps a smile on my face.
1. Forget about the numbers that make you unhappy like age, weight and days til Christmas.
2. You are who you keep company with. Keep only positive friends.
3. An idle mind is the devils workshop. Keep learning something new.
4. Bad things happen, grieve, endure, pray and move on.
5. Don't take guilt trips. Go to New York, Arizona or to my blog instead.
6. You are your best friend. Treat yourself to what you love.
7. Laugh, love, and live. Enjoy the journey that is your life! And SMILE!!!!!
THIS IS SUPPOSE TO BE FUN!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
BOOGEY MAN
When the kids are little we spend an enormous amount of time convincing them and re-assuring ourselves that there is no such thing as a boogey-man.
Kid in tow we triumphantly open the closet doors, check under the bed and with complete confidence look behind the bedroom curtains.
Flash forward 15 years. Daughter is in her first apartment. Son is off to college. They are confident and intoxicated with the youthful notion that they are invincible. Nothing bad will ever happen to them. Maybe someone else but not them.
Now it's time to fess up. After years perpetuating the "there is no boogey-man mantra," out of our own fears and watching the news we have to say that there is in fact many boogey-men.
There are rapist, killers, freaks, druggies, robbers, fire bugs, criminals, sex offenders of all kinds and many other things that go bump in the night. All boogey men, all capable of inflicting harm, mutilation, and death. The boogey-man is real!
Please be careful. Never approach a vehicle alone, lock your door, stay alert, check in with the ole parents often, never have a first date in unfamiliar territory and let people know where and who you are with.
And pray!
Are you afraid for your 20 something children and grand children? What do you tell them to make them believers of the dangers of this world?
Kid in tow we triumphantly open the closet doors, check under the bed and with complete confidence look behind the bedroom curtains.
Flash forward 15 years. Daughter is in her first apartment. Son is off to college. They are confident and intoxicated with the youthful notion that they are invincible. Nothing bad will ever happen to them. Maybe someone else but not them.
Now it's time to fess up. After years perpetuating the "there is no boogey-man mantra," out of our own fears and watching the news we have to say that there is in fact many boogey-men.
There are rapist, killers, freaks, druggies, robbers, fire bugs, criminals, sex offenders of all kinds and many other things that go bump in the night. All boogey men, all capable of inflicting harm, mutilation, and death. The boogey-man is real!
Please be careful. Never approach a vehicle alone, lock your door, stay alert, check in with the ole parents often, never have a first date in unfamiliar territory and let people know where and who you are with.
And pray!
Are you afraid for your 20 something children and grand children? What do you tell them to make them believers of the dangers of this world?
Monday, January 9, 2012
I AM MY BELOVED; AND MY BELOVED IS MINE
May 2010 was the last time I succumbed to my uncontrollable urges. You know the passions I mean. The one's that hurt you, yet your heart aches for them. Desire is a beast. No matter how hard you run and hide your true self always catches up to your desires. No matter what petty distractions capture your thoughts, it is fleeting and momentary.
My lover always return to me. And my desire is made stronger by the time we have spent apart. As I sink into my chair, I can feel the rush of blood run through my throbbing veins. My fingers tremble as I inhale deeply preparing myself for the electricity to jolt my heart. My mind is alive as my fingers run deftly across the keys of my lap top and words, pictures, sights, sounds, stories come back to me as I am thrust into an imaginary magical world of writing.
My lover has returned, and I prepare myself for the criticism and rejection that surely will follow. I can run no longer.
In other words....I'm baaaaack!!!!! Forgive me for staying away from you so long.
My lover always return to me. And my desire is made stronger by the time we have spent apart. As I sink into my chair, I can feel the rush of blood run through my throbbing veins. My fingers tremble as I inhale deeply preparing myself for the electricity to jolt my heart. My mind is alive as my fingers run deftly across the keys of my lap top and words, pictures, sights, sounds, stories come back to me as I am thrust into an imaginary magical world of writing.
My lover has returned, and I prepare myself for the criticism and rejection that surely will follow. I can run no longer.
In other words....I'm baaaaack!!!!! Forgive me for staying away from you so long.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
ZEST
Just when you think life couldn't get any better here comes Arlee with the Alphabet Challenge and bam a big heaping helping serving of zest adds a different flavor to the mix. My blog for certain will never be the same. Despite being a lady of a certain age and finishing up my last semester in college I rose to the occasion and blogged my heart out. I only regret I didn't have time to comment as much as I wanted and read every one's blog every day.I am grateful to my new friends and followers and I am looking forward to making house calls on everyone once school has ended May 11th.SO THANK YOU ARLEE FOR THE ZEST...IT WAS JUST WHAT WE NEEDED! Mmmm Mmmm GOOD!
Friday, April 9, 2010
INFLUENCE: Have You Touched A Life Today?
Do me a favor. I want you to think about the person or persons that influenced you.... to buy a house. Get an education. Be a productive person. Be responsible about having children. Get and keep a job. I always tell my daughter, "you are who you hang with". Do you believe that? Who did you hang around? Who made you the person that you are? I'll bet you right now your answer to the majority of these questions are.... a family member, a teacher, some neighbor, a friend or a pastor. What's my point?
If you don't have anyone that is a positive influence in your life, anyone to teach you how to become a productive, responsible person that respect life and property and value education then what happens? Lack of discernment happens. You lose the ability to recognize differences between right and wrong, what is appropriate and what is not, what is moral and what is immoral. If you look over your life I am willing to bet that someone taught you about discernment. Do you see what an affect not having the influences of both parents (our first teachers), clergy, neighbors, and school instructors have had on society. How do we rebuild? Where do we start?
Try mentoring someone. I have mentored in formal programs and just to whomever I feel could use my counsel. I teach my adult women friends about finances, talk to young couples about marriage, nag high school boys about keeping it in their pants and encourage college girls not to give it up so easy. I think the government should pay mentors to pair up with faltering families and troubled youth. Give them bonuses if they can get that person or family to take a path forward. O.K. it is not a perfect plan but it is a start. What do you think? Who have you been an influence to? Who influenced you?
If you don't have anyone that is a positive influence in your life, anyone to teach you how to become a productive, responsible person that respect life and property and value education then what happens? Lack of discernment happens. You lose the ability to recognize differences between right and wrong, what is appropriate and what is not, what is moral and what is immoral. If you look over your life I am willing to bet that someone taught you about discernment. Do you see what an affect not having the influences of both parents (our first teachers), clergy, neighbors, and school instructors have had on society. How do we rebuild? Where do we start?
Try mentoring someone. I have mentored in formal programs and just to whomever I feel could use my counsel. I teach my adult women friends about finances, talk to young couples about marriage, nag high school boys about keeping it in their pants and encourage college girls not to give it up so easy. I think the government should pay mentors to pair up with faltering families and troubled youth. Give them bonuses if they can get that person or family to take a path forward. O.K. it is not a perfect plan but it is a start. What do you think? Who have you been an influence to? Who influenced you?
Monday, April 5, 2010
DEATH
My daughter was in first grade when we had the "death" discussion. I was told by doctors I would not survive my bout with pancreatitis and as organs began to shut down and last rites administered I groped for words to explain death to my child. Even after I beat the odds my daughter would plead a year after the fact for me to promise her I wouldn't die. Of course I couldn't do that because I knew one day that I would.
"There are far worse things that could happen to me than dying," I said to her one day. "Like what?"she asked puzzled as her eyes rolled around to indicate maybe I didn't understand that we were discussing the ultimate "boogie man," the final frontier. "I could be like a vegetable in a coma, somewhere between life and death," I offered. Her eyes popped open as she tried to wrap her little mind around that. "Suppose I was awake but couldn't move at all, couldn't talk or walk, completely paralyzed." Silence ensued as she knew someone like that and I imagined she was visualizing me in that person's place.
I am more than just a body. I have a spirit and once the body wear out your spirit goes on. So even when I die I'll come to you in different ways as my dad comes to me. On some beautiful Spring days I'll smell a hint of his cologne in the wind, or I'll glimpse him out the corner of my eye and think had I turned quickly enough I would have seen him. At night when it's quiet and I'm in bed my mind replay long ago talks and I close my eyes and feel my hand in his.
Above all my little girl, God will be there for you always. He will comfort and guide. When you are old enough to read His word you will be assured in knowing that my love is everlasting and life is eternal for those who truly believe. She's never again pleaded with me not to die.
"There are far worse things that could happen to me than dying," I said to her one day. "Like what?"she asked puzzled as her eyes rolled around to indicate maybe I didn't understand that we were discussing the ultimate "boogie man," the final frontier. "I could be like a vegetable in a coma, somewhere between life and death," I offered. Her eyes popped open as she tried to wrap her little mind around that. "Suppose I was awake but couldn't move at all, couldn't talk or walk, completely paralyzed." Silence ensued as she knew someone like that and I imagined she was visualizing me in that person's place.
I am more than just a body. I have a spirit and once the body wear out your spirit goes on. So even when I die I'll come to you in different ways as my dad comes to me. On some beautiful Spring days I'll smell a hint of his cologne in the wind, or I'll glimpse him out the corner of my eye and think had I turned quickly enough I would have seen him. At night when it's quiet and I'm in bed my mind replay long ago talks and I close my eyes and feel my hand in his.
Above all my little girl, God will be there for you always. He will comfort and guide. When you are old enough to read His word you will be assured in knowing that my love is everlasting and life is eternal for those who truly believe. She's never again pleaded with me not to die.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
A DREAM DEFERRED
I've gotten a challenge. You know I can't back down. Here is the challange. All you have to do is blog to the alphabets A-Z for the month of April excluding Sundays. My friend Lee invites all bloggers to participate. For more info. check out Lee's blog http://tossingitout.blogspot.com/
I have always known writing is my destiny. Before I started school I hid under our kitchen table cloaked in secrecy by the lace floor length table cloth left to my game of choice "scribbling." With an eraser less pencil I scribbled on the blank side of discarded bill envelopes. In those days I envisioned myself as a "secretary." Later when I learned my alphabets my writing skills advanced to jotting down every family member's order at supper. It didn't matter to me we all had the same order. I just had to write something. In middle school I started reading "Nancy Drew" and the "Hardy Boys" mysteries. It was the spring board to my starting to write real stories. By the time I was in high school I advanced to writing one act plays. One of them made it to my high school stage. The play received a standing ovation. It was that moment I knew I wanted to pursue writing as a career. Then it happened. My senior year my parents explained why I couldn't go to college to be a writer. "There is no such thing as a black writer. You need to concentrate on something practical," my parents said firmly. It was no need to bring up Niki Giovanni or Maya Angelou, you just didn't disagree or question your parents that way. A dream deferred.Writing kept returning to me like an old lover whose advances to put black ink on white paper I continued to rebuke. Three decades after my parents senior talk, I read of a writing contest in the newspaper that made my knees buckle and my heart beat loudly in my head. Fingers poised over keys I succumbed to my lover and the sight of my words on the computer screen filled me with an ecstasy of pleasure I could not have imagined. I was finally where I belonged.
I have always known writing is my destiny. Before I started school I hid under our kitchen table cloaked in secrecy by the lace floor length table cloth left to my game of choice "scribbling." With an eraser less pencil I scribbled on the blank side of discarded bill envelopes. In those days I envisioned myself as a "secretary." Later when I learned my alphabets my writing skills advanced to jotting down every family member's order at supper. It didn't matter to me we all had the same order. I just had to write something. In middle school I started reading "Nancy Drew" and the "Hardy Boys" mysteries. It was the spring board to my starting to write real stories. By the time I was in high school I advanced to writing one act plays. One of them made it to my high school stage. The play received a standing ovation. It was that moment I knew I wanted to pursue writing as a career. Then it happened. My senior year my parents explained why I couldn't go to college to be a writer. "There is no such thing as a black writer. You need to concentrate on something practical," my parents said firmly. It was no need to bring up Niki Giovanni or Maya Angelou, you just didn't disagree or question your parents that way. A dream deferred.Writing kept returning to me like an old lover whose advances to put black ink on white paper I continued to rebuke. Three decades after my parents senior talk, I read of a writing contest in the newspaper that made my knees buckle and my heart beat loudly in my head. Fingers poised over keys I succumbed to my lover and the sight of my words on the computer screen filled me with an ecstasy of pleasure I could not have imagined. I was finally where I belonged.
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