What Color are you?

Arrogant colors believe without them I would not exist…that I am just a “pigment” of their imagination!
There are no shades of me. Either I am or I am not.
Bright ones…I can make you look brilliant!
When I impregnate the clouds rainbows break into dance.
Together with white…stunning!
I’ve been known as a plague, a bug and a bird.
Some of my associates are evil, depression, addiction and death.
I come out at night and intensify the moon and the stars.
When I soak up the sun I encourage growth.
I exist in crevices, caves and bottomless pits.
When a candle is lit…I disappear.
I can be formal and suave or wicked and mean.
Both rich and poor use me to dress.
I impress when I’m shiny or dull.
A punch in the eye…I show up!
With out me your writing would be invisible!

I’m BOLD, I’m BEAUTIFUL, I’m BLACK!

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Time

Time is a gift. A gift that every living being has been given. It can’t be saved  or stored away. It can’t be traded or given away. It’s not a gift that keeps on giving, once it’s been lived it’s gone. Time can not be exchanged or returned. It’s not a renewable resource but for every minute past, another begins.

It seems to me, if it were possible, adding more time has great potential.

What would more time look like? Add to minutes, hours, days, weeks, or months? That’s kind of redundant thinking because no matter where time is added it affects all the others.

Extending every hour by 5 minutes seems reasonable. That would give an extra hour every day and an extra hour every night. I could get more sleep, but one extra hour in the day didn’t seem worth it. Why not add 12 hours to each day. Forget more sleep. I’ve heard the older you get the less sleep you need, besides the extra time during the day creates great potential for a nap. I would have at least 4-6 more hours just to write. Wouldn’t you all love that? I could read more books or finish the ones I’ve started. Be a volunteer spreading cheer, maybe even clean my house, ok maybe not. Of course all of this would come after spending more quality time with family and friends.

Now I’m getting quite excited, all the possibilities seem endless. Then another thought struck me…struck being the operative word! If there were 12 more hours in a day I would have to spend more time at work. Sleep more. Eat more and therefore cook more. Exercise and clean more…is more times nothing still more?

How would this affect the calendar, the rising and setting of the sun,  seasons, the rotation of the earth, moon, sun and stars, gravity?

Suddenly everything is spinning out of control.

The attractiveness of more has left me exhausted.

God could have created the gift of time any way He pleased but He chose a way that gives us no choice except how we use the time we’ve been given. We can wallow in the past, worry about what’s ahead and miss the present OR choose to live life to the fullest, enjoying the gift of “now”.

Cross…not of Gold but of silver

“What’s your line
Tell me why you wear your cross of gold
State of mind
Or does it find a way into your soul.”

Michael W. Smith – “Cross of Gold”

I have a cross…not of gold but of silver. Sometimes I sense it talking to me. Telling me seemingly factual or mundane things. Details that I take for granted but when it speaks it comes alive.

“I live on a silver chain around your neck. My ‘loop’ is part of me not like most crosses, of gold or silver, where the ‘loop’ is an add on. It allows me to hang loose, slightly askew, go with the flow. Gives me a cheerful almost impish look. I severely dislike the uptight look. I’m not perfect. My ends are slanted and at slightly different angles. There’s nothing ‘dainty’ about me. I’m broader than most and slightly bowed giving me a kind of mature feeling. I glow! Although I do have one corner that’s tarnished and black.”

I looked down, expecting it to smile or wink but instead I sensed it asking,

“Why do you wear me?”

The question surprised me. I was quick to answer,

“I wear you because…”

Not having a ready answer was embarrassing but took me on a journey of soul searching.

It was a gift. A gift from my husband on February 23, 1997. One year free from drugs. What a celebration!

“A virtuous reason,” I thought.

It almost seemed to mock me,

“Is that all I mean to you, an accomplishment?”

Accomplishments come and go and some are soon forgotten, I reflected.

“It must mean more than that. Maybe it’s more of a reminder of where I came from?”

Then I remembered a seemingly insignificant event. I have a son, Andrew James. He died the same day he was born. I was angry, resentful and full of grief. Instead of working through it I pushed my feelings down deep inside and with it the date of his birth. Once in a while I would think,

“what a horrible mother, I can’t even remember his birthday?”

I would beat myself up at little and push it back down. A few months after I came home from an intensive six weeks in a treatment center I found a newspaper clipping.

“Birth announcement. Andrew James born and died February 23.”

I wept with joy and thanked God for his amazing gift of love and forgiveness. What a celebration!

I looked my cross in the eye,

“this is why I wear you.” I announced, “To celebrate Gods grace and mercy, to remember the reality of Gods unconditional love. To share the hope.”

Why do I wear my cross…not of gold but of silver?
It finds a way into my soul.

Fears?!

Standing on the edge of the diving board, I knew no fear. I was anticipating the rush of gliding through the air and cutting the water with hardly a splash. My preparation and concentration was at its peek. I entered the water with a speed and an angle that was bizarre at best.                                         “How could I have done this again?”                                                                                I asked myself as I sank to the bottom. Talk about insanity! I just had to take one more jump and manipulate one more twist…the results were always the same. Why did I think this time would be different? Too embarrassed to surface I scoured the bottom and drank in the quiet peacefulness of the surrounding water. When I could no longer ignore the screaming of my lungs I knew it was time to face my worst fear…would they give me back my bathing suit?

Exercise?!?!!?

A few years ago the guilt of not getting exercise finally pushed me to the brink. It would have to be something I enjoyed with a hint of “danger”. When I was 13 my parents gave me a pair of, tighten onto your shoe, 4 metal wheels, really awesome sounding roller skates. They went everywhere with  me. It didn’t matter what the surface was, I beat them into submission.

Now 40 years later what could be better than….Rollerblading! I’m pushing mid 50’s. My mind and spirit haven’t quite caught up yet! (Two years ago I went snowboarding for the first time…also the last). When I mentioned my desire to my husband he didn’t freak out or tell me I was crazy, he just quietly suggested that maybe I should consider buying some “protective gear”. Sounded reasonable to me…not having any idea what “protective gear” was. The clerk at the sports store was very helpful…a little skeptical perhaps, but shrugged and said quietly, “A sale is a sale”. Quite a few dollars later I’m walking out of the mall quite pleased with myself…I’m sure he gave me a good deal!

My “protective gear” is strewn across my couch waiting and watching patiently as I am trying to figure out where on my body all of this is suppose to go. (I think I might have seen some of it quivering slightly but that may have just been my imagination!) “There must be instructions with this” I thought (I love instructions, seriously I do) but all the packages had on them was: Helmet, face guard, wrist guards, elbow pads, knee pads and a few other gadgets that I can’t even pronounce! It seemed fairly straight forward as to where all of this should go. I just couldn’t figure out which was what! It would have been helpful if in large print (so I could see it without my “progressive” lenses) they would have labeled each item. For instance “LEFT KNEEPAD…THIS WAY UP”. I finally decided to start with something familiar. Helmet. Goes on my head. Now I’m pumped and just kept putting stuff on. If something didn’t feel right it got moved to a different appendage! What a “rush”!

As I contemplated my situation, not being able to move, I was thinking,
“A full suit of armor would have been much easier and if I did fall it would be so deafening I wouldn’t have to wait long for help!”
Now, where are my skates?!

Fast forward another 27 years, I find myself faced with the same dilemma. A number of random surgery’s accompanied with some major back issues have once again rendered me “unexercised”. My Doctor kindly suggested walking around the track. Smooth even surface, no hills, and best of all “resting” benches. Frantically sipping Tim Horton’s extra large coffee I slowly, reluctantly drive to the track. It’s a beautiful sunny day, kids and parents playing in the play ground, walkers enjoying each others company, some runners pacing themselves, others not so much! A few observers basking in the sun. I check out where all the benches are, making each one my goal. This is doable! Thanks Doc! Tomorrow I’ll even get out of the car!

 

First blog post

I am starting a blog as an avenue to encourage myself to write. I am a die hard procrastinator so I need an incentive even to do things I enjoy. My blogs will mostly be short…some might include photos that I have taken as soon as I figure out how to access and add a photo! A continuous theme or topic may squeeze me into a “box” so my posts will be random thoughts or stories…some will be true, most will have a true component but slightly embellished. WOW my first Blog! Now how do I post it?