Homicide Hotline

I have of course heard of a suicide hot line, but I'm thinking if there isn't already such a thing, why not a homicide hot line? I have gone to the tanning bed several times this week to just wind down, relax, get away from things. Okay, maybe people. I am looking dry and prune like all for the sake of a little sanity. I'm at my wits end.

This morning my day started with a nonsensical text message (which woke me up). After an already restless couple of nights I had just had it. I am one of those people who isn't a fighter. I don't start trouble, I do my best to avoid it. I like to make nice. That being said...I just couldn't take it anymore. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was just one too many of these kinds of messages from a certain somewhat off balance person. I did what you should never do, however, which was to engage in the nonsense, and answer back. I said ALL of the things that I had been holding in for weeks. I've been as mad as a hornet all day, and so distracted that I ended up falling down the last couple of stairs earlier, and nearly broke a finger trying to put the dog out. I saw red all day long.

Finally this evening I called a good friend and she stopped by and let me get it all off my chest. At one point I said to her "there should be someplace to call when you're feeling like this...isn't there a homicide hot line or something". She and I both knew that I was kidding, and had a really good laugh, but in light of some events near my hometown recently, I am left to wonder...is there such a number to call?

THIS KIND OF LOVE

I can remember when my children were very small, how much I loved to hold them while they slept. I could while away hours watching a tiny angel in my arms, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. I miss the days when my little ones were always reaching for mama to hold them.

My son was born with a full head of perfectly parted hair. He looked like a little televangelist. I loved stroking his little bangs into place as he fell asleep, and when he got older he used to play with his own little brown locks when he would begin to drift off.

I have a Klimt print that hangs above my mantel that so reminds me of my middle daughter. I love the piece, because it so well captures the feeling of contentment, of peace and of joy that is offered in the love of a parent's embrace. I hope it is the feeling offered to guests in my home as well.

I am blessed to be able to witness this kind of love between my daughter and granddaughter these days. This week it was even more evident, as my granddaughter had to spend a night in the hospital. I am so pleased with the measure of grace with which I saw my once little girl patiently caring for her own little one.

Without even a word, we are able to say I love you. My youngest daughter used to delight if I squeezed her hand three times, because it was our code for just those three words. I have never outgrown the need for that kind of touch, as my own parents were very loving with me as well.

May we all keep this kind of love in our lives forever.

Not Alone

Today I was leaving work and for no particular reason (that I'm going to share right now) had an overwhelming need to see my Dad. I couldn't seem to drive quickly enough. I could feel myself welling up with tears as I neared the cemetery. When I got there I parked at the top of the hill and walked , almost ran, to his grave. Once there I fell to my knees, and head in hands the tears finally came. "I miss you, Daddy" was all I could really muster. I knew he knew the rest. I felt that he very much knew that I was there, and why I was there. I also felt that he spoke to me. I know that he wishes that he could be here to help me still, but I felt him telling me that I know what I needed to do.

My father and I were fortunate enough to spend some very meaningful moments in the months before his death. We had some very faith affirming conversations on the subjects of God, of faith itself, and of Heaven. I feel strongly that my Earthly father was pointing me toward my Heavenly Father today. I know that my Dad would like for me to pray and seek God's will. I feel that he was reminding me that we have a Heavenly Father that loves us both and that I need to trust Him, lean on Him, rely on Him and learn to let go of the worry and the fear.

As I write this, I'm feeling tired and a bit ragged from the emotion of the day, but I did get the reassurance that I needed. I need a night's rest, that's for sure, but after that, I feel ready to press forward. I am changing my life, and ever so motivated, but sometimes it's really hard going it alone. Today I was reminded that I AM NOT alone.

Monday Monday

Rainy days and Mondays always get you down? Well, it's Monday AND it's threatening rain. Somehow I feel ready to face the week, however. I am so full of motivation lately, I have no idea what is getting into me. I have so many ideas, so many projects planned, I'm feeling so creative. Maybe it's just Spring in the air, but whatever it is, I hope it keeps coming.

I'm planning on digging up my roses in the front yard, as they don't offer me the color all summer that I would love to see. Thinking about hibiscus instead. My front yard is very sunny all day, and I have a picket fence for it to grow on. Does anybody have any tips or recommendations?

I'd love to hear from you!!!

Writer's Room

I've been working on the house as of late. I have painted four rooms in two week's time. The latest to be painted is my new writer's room. I have always dreamed of a space where I could work uninterrupted and a room where I could keep all of my books, reference materials, resources and computer.

For now, the room is furnished with some pieces that I had in the house, but I'm looking for a nice farmhouse table to use as a desk. The markets will be going full swing as the weather begins to warm, and I'm sure I will find the perfect table, as well as some other things to complete the room. Also looking for two short file cabinets.

I painted a large blank canvas in a creamy white and hung it on one wall in the room. A blank canvas is what every writer faces every time we sit down to work. I think it makes for a nice conversation piece, but it actually looks rather lovely contrasted against the warm cinnamon-sugar wall color.

What do you think so far?

It's been a while.

Hello bloggers. It's been a long while since I visited. I have had a very transitional couple of years in my life. My father passed away in November of 2009. I was growing very weary at my job in banking and was actually fired from my management position in April of 2010. I was terrified initially, but have felt a sense of freedom as well. I know that at the age of 44, if I am going to do the things that I've dreamed of...now is the time. Selling you crappy CD rates was not one of the things I aspired to continue doing. I hope to spend a little time here sharing if that's okay with you. I'll be looking for some of you to follow as well.

Endless Love

I went to the funeral home after work today. One of my co-workers lost her husband this week. He was 56 years old. She woke up the other morning and found him on the floor. He was just "gone". No warning.

I have known Bettina for less than a year, and I cannot count the times I've heard her refer to her husband as "my Marty". She has told me so many times how they are more in love today than when they met...it just kept growing. They were married for 26 years, and worked together for a few years before that.

The two had no children, but instead, two beautiful Afghan show dogs that were their life. They devoted themselves to one another and these dogs...and not much else. It's all they wanted or needed.

Tonight, this lovely woman sat in a chair, pulled up to her husband's casket, and rested her head upon his arm, her hands tenderly and constantly stroking his chest, arm and head. She needed the comfort of the man she loved. I had never seen an arrangement like this at a funeral home, but they actually had the kneeler slid down toward the bottom of the casket to make room for this chair...she refused to leave him. She told me that she "just can't do this", and that she wants to "take him out of there and bring him home". She wasn't trying to be dramatic in any way, she said this with the innocence of a child. For her there was no way to process the idea of life without "her Marty".

When the author Nicholas Sparks released his first novel, "The Notebook", I sobbed uncontrollably at the depiction of their love for one another. Their love was an incredible thing. I was in a struggling marriage at the time. I had been married for 16 years to a man whom I loved deeply. I know he loved me too, and yet, there was most definitely something missing. The bond that I longed for just was not there. After fifteen years I learned that it was because of some secrets that he was unable to share with me. I forgave him initially, but the trust I once had in him was so broken that I couldn't open myself up to him the way that I once had.

That book that I read really put words around some desires that I had had in my heart my whole life long. I knew that I wanted the kind of love that that story was about.

Over the last few days as I have encountered the grief that this dear woman is experiencing, but I have also caught glimpses of something that is so beautiful. The real love that they shared is just so evident. I think even she would agree that it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.

As my friends and I left the funeral home, I told one of them that I would rather remain alone for the rest of my life than to settle for anything less than that kind of love.

A piece of advice from a girl who knows. If you've want greener grass, water the grass that you have. It's so worth it!!! Wear your heart on your sleeve, say I love you until it's almost annoying. When you run into temptation, be some one's hero and just do the right thing. Treasure what is precious to you, protect it with all your heart.

Aspire to great things!