Ramblings on a Free Friday

Sitting upstairs in my beautiful bedroom, the sun slowly coming up and my view is amazing:  Mountains preceded by red tile roofs, framed with the tops of trees. 




 I'm feeling extremely grateful for this day. And yes, I have the day off from my day job.  I will be helping my daughter move into her long awaited for new home that she can call her own.




 Peaceful and tranquil, and suddenly one of my beloved dogs hops on the bed and demands my attention by literally getting in my face with his big, sad-ish looking blue eyes, placing his huge paws on my computer and begging for touch.  This is the one who had been neglected the first year and a half of his life. His persistent attempts to be touched or played with (He CONSTANTLY brings his ball or rope toy and drops it in front of me so I will play with him.)is so annoying, but I understand and love him to the moon and back! 


So, where was I? Ah yes, the view.  It's almost totally light now and I will soon be getting ready to meet my daughter at the gym where she trains, do her weights class and then head out for some serious, enjoyable work. But still I ramble.  What I really wanted to do was write about how terribly difficult it is to stay in keeping with my life intention: that is to be grateful for all things, to see the good in all and to thank God for this beautiful world. And I AM grateful, and I DO see the good in all and I certainly do thank God for this beautiful world.  But when it gets right down to it....we live in an imperfect world, and anyone who cannot see that, I question their sanity.  Or, if it IS perfect....the perfection is hiding in the greyness of....what??? Pollution?  Okay, pollution.


I was brought up by a Catholic mother,

 and Jewish father.


(of course these are pics of them in their youth, but what great pics they are!)


I believe I have mentioned that more than several times.  And, I was brought up by a conservative (not in his younger days) father, and a liberal (not in her younger days) mother.  Both of my parents were very intelligent, and both obviously impressed me to think for myself, to look at all sides and then make my decision.  I am grateful to have had the parents that I had, I miss them very much, and I often wish they were here so that I could throw around controversial subjects to hear their view on them.  But they're not.


Okay, rambling yet again.  I guess what I want to say is that I truly want to be a positive thinker like Joel Olstien, or Louise Hay, but I see too, at times, to be more like what Mark Twain calls "an optimist who hasn't arrived yet." Unfortunately, to be ruthlessly honest, I blame others for my inadequacies. (Be careful with your judging here...I"m being open and stupidly honest).  So tell me how to keep my upbeat thought process when I'm around people who are always talking about the horrible injustices of the world, people who are angry and fearful that their "rights" are being taken away from them, and others who seem to always see the dark side of the cloud?


When I let myself get involved with the "world's" problems, I become one of the people to be blamed. Catch 22.  So there ya have it.  Again, no answers today, in the meantime, I'll celebrate my daughter's new joy with.....well.......a good sugar-free coke. (another intentional choice...to stick with my gym's New Year's Challenge and give up alcoholic beverages for 6 weeks....Oy Vey!!!!) Have a great, and joyful imperfect day!

My Baby Blue

I have to talk about my Milo....He is my blue eyed, red and white haired, Australian Shepherd.  Let me say this though,before I get started;  I have three dogs and I love my other two with all my heart.  My Milo though...he's different.  I mean they're all different, like having kids, you love them all, but in different ways.  And comparisons are really foolish when you talk about the love of your dogs.  But this is about Milo!

I saw his sweet, innocent, eager face on Facebook.



 I had been looking for a  third dog, but not  actively. When I saw his face, I had to find out more.  His large blue eyes, spoke volumes to me, and the expression on his face was almost confusing and begging for love.  He was adoptable, good with kids and other dogs; well, that was all I had to read. I think it was the next day we drove across the city, about a half hour to where his foster home was.  Turns out he was about 18 months old and his first 17 months were spent in a four by six foot pen, alone, with no real human contact. Apparently, some guy bought him from a breeder and it turned out he traveled a lot so he left Milo with his mother.  His mother was "allergic" to dogs, so she basically pushed food into his small pen.

Milo wasn't his name.  It was Patches.  Patches.  I don't think so.  I knew from the minute I met him he certainly was not a "Patches".  Even now, as I sit here typing, and he goes in and out of the dog door, or as he lies on the floor by my chair, I look at him and know that Milo was his name and should have been his name from the start.

Anyway, his transition was really fairly smooth.  He was great with Tasha and Lexy, our other family dogs. Tasha was very curious and happy he was here and Lexy, the old alpha dog, had been through four other dogs in our household, so she took it all in stride. I honestly can't remember much about his first few days in his new home.  I think that Tasha had some sort of special language that she used when she communicated to him, and told him everything was cool in this house, to hang out, and enjoy his new home. Yep, I do think that was her message to him.




 Because that's what he did.  He seem as comfortable as he could have been for a boy who had no real human contact for the first 17 months of his life.  His foster family, however, was awesome.  They nursed him through the trauma of losing his testicles, and made him comfortable in his own fur by combing out all of the mats.  They also provided a happy, safe place with lots of hands on love and affection.

Still, as with humans, those early days of life are vital, and form us in so many ways.  Milo can't get enough physical contact, and he loves being stroked, hugged and loved on.  Like a typical Aussie, he gets a huge amount of joy from leaping up in the air to catch a tennis ball.



When it comes to food, he can't get enough.  That's  a little disturbing. The owner of our gym said that her dog would eat until he blew himself up. That's Milo...I think he would as well. Fortunately I have a great life partner, my husband, who takes him and his 'siblings' on a hike each morning, on the mountain across from our home. He LOVES that!!  






Milo is extremely intelligent. They say Aussies have about the same intelligence as a five year old human.  I believe it, Milo has proved it.  He is my boy, there is a bond.  I feel guilty that I have to go to work and leave him. Even though he has two others his same kind; dogs. I feel guilty when I leave and don't take him, but I have to remind myself that it could have been worse for him. It doesn't keep me from thinking that he would be much happier with a younger family, with kids who can play with his young, curious self.



Okay, well, it's a Friday night, and my boy is lying next to me, asleep.  He is beautiful, and I am fortunate.  My companion, my boy, my faithful friend, Milo, is a treasure to me.  I am happy to be his!

Grateful Me

So, it's been a while since I've written.  Firstly, I want to say that I probably have had the best Christmas that I've ever had!  And yes, it is because we finally finished our room addition, and yes it is because my daughter and my son in law have finally bought a most magnificent home, (and yes, near us!) and yes, because my son found a lovely lady to love him, and marry him.  (And of course she found a most excellent man, my son, to love her and cherish her; at least he better! ;-)  )


But it's a new year with a future ahead of us all.  I believe there is much in store for us and I want to make sure I'm aware and intentional about knowing how rich I really am.  A friend of mine on Facebook told me about a book she is reading, and highly suggested it to me.


 It's called "The Magic",  by Rhonda Byrne.  Her perspective on life is refreshing and in my case, life changing.  She talks about the wonders of youth where anything is possible, life is endless,  Santa Claus is real, miracles happen, true love is genuinely authentic, and life is good! With her words, she takes you back to those young, childhood memories. If you're really open, and you're really looking, those memories will stir something deep within your being that you thought was lost eons ago. 

" Truly I tell you, unless you turn and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."  Jesus


Actually for me, I'm a die hard idealist who remembers all the enchantments I used to feel when I sat under my grandparents overgrown shrubbery. It felt like a perfect world where no one, or nothing could damage my fantasy of castles, princes and princesses, and a world so appealing, you never wanted to leave. I imagine C.S. Lewis had such a world in mind when he wrote about Narnia.  



For me, it wasn't a wardrobe that took me there, it was my grandparents Spirea.  It grew about four feet upwards and then it's limbs spilled over to the ground and left a cozy, charming space between the trunk of the bush and the limbs that touched the ground. Most of the time it was decorated with tiny, delicate, white flowers that looked like lace.   There, I climbed under it's protective covering and sat for hours, thinking, pretending and enjoying the summer's day.  



Yep, I remember that well.  

Of course I couldn't stay.  At that age,  I wasn't able to put my feelings or thoughts into words.  But if they could have been, I would have said that I didn't want to leave, and why couldn't the world stay like my imagined world.  Now, as an adult I have to ponder the question; "Was it really imagined??? Is it really imagined?" 


"I am here to tell you that the magic you once believed in is true, and it's the disillusioned adult perspective of life that is false.  The magic of life is real - and it's as real as you are.  In fact, life can be far more wondrous than you ever thought it was as a child, and more breathtaking, awe-inspiring, and exciting than anything you've seen before." (Rhonda Byrne...)

I won't even begin to tell you my whole story, but let me say this; one of the reasons I sought out my grandparents' backyard sanctuary was because my everyday life was not exactly my aspiration of the most ideal way to live.  It wasn't bad, and don't get me wrong, I am thankful for my upbringing, but there was always a subtle modulated communique, that spoke of doubt, cynicism and sadness and sickness.



So, to read those thoughts that Rhonda Byrnes spoke of in her book...WOW! And to actually be willing to believe those words, receive those words; maybe????  

Here's the short version of my story; At one point in my life when I found my faith after losing it for years, I was taught that we are not to go by our feelings, that our feelings deceive us, we need  to be practical etc etc etc..blah blah blah.  You catch my drift!!! So trying to be the best person I could be, I interpreted that to mean that my self was not trust worthy.  I became someone hard, self righteous, and fake. But I did it with good intentions of pleasing God and others.  I don't think I pleased God, myself or anyone else for that matter. Actually the reverse happened. However, thanks to God's wonderful grace and mercy, I was able to change.  I had to go through a whole lot of pain to get rid of the fake self and find who I truly was.  I am thankful for the pain that I went through, for the hell that I went through, for all that happened. (I really did try to keep it short!)


"That's the thing with magic.  You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you."  charles de lint - writer anc celtic folk musician

Now, my life has been getting better and better.  Thank God! This book is teaching me even more about the mystery of life abundantly.  The book, as I've already said, is called,  "The Magic".  The Merriam-Webster definition of magic is "power that allows people to do impossible things by saying special words and performing special actions."  The magic she is talking about is gratitude.  Not just saying thank you, but saying thank you all the time for specific things, at specific times, and as she said "saturating yourself in gratitude." Feeling the gratitude in every fiber of your being is the goal.  



"When I started counting my blessings, my whole life changed." willie nelson


When I was about 8 or so, my father called me downstairs to watch a video of WW2 concentration camp survivors. He told me those were my ancestors. It was actual footage of the 'prisoners' being released from hellish, abusive prisons. Tiny men and women who were just a skeleton of their former selves.  The vision put an imprint on my soul that never went away. 




 I remember taking baths after that, and thinking about those survivors, thinking about all the things they had to go through. At my young age I soaked in my tub and felt extremely  rich and grateful for the clean, warm water, the big white tub, and of course the perfumed, bubbly,soap.



That was probably the beginning of my appreciation of all that I had. 

In Rhonda Byrne's book, you can choose to take the journey each day by doing certain exercises. The first one, which is repeated for 28 days, is keeping a journal of all you are grateful for and why.  Each day you log ten things you're thankful for and why you are thankful. 

"It is quite possible to leave your home for a walk in the early morning air and return a different person - beguiled, enchanted" mary ellen chase, educator and writer 1887-1973


 After you finish writing them, you read them aloud (or in your head) and say, "thank you, thank you, thank you". By the end of the 28 days, you have 336 things you are grateful for.  Because you say them every night before you go to bed, you wake up feeling wonderfully prosperous.  

Why do you think scripture is filled with giving thanks?  It certainly isn't because God is a narcissist. I believe it's because God set up certain ways our world, our universe works.  If one is grateful for what one has, however small, then much will be given to that person. If one complains, criticizes, and is constantly finding fault, I believe even what that person has is taken away... not by God, but by their lack of appreciation.

Okay, so I'm finished.  This is my fourth day and it's been a wonderful four days. I am thankful to Rhonda Byrne for writing this book!!! I will keep you posted!

The Christmas Song/Story

I love Christmas!  I love the feelings it evokes, I love the food, I love the gifts, I love the decorating, I love the music.




But it also brings up some pretty crappy thoughts.  I, personally, acknowledge Christmas as a time when we remember that there was a baby born who was the savior.  With the word savior comes thoughts like, 'saved from what'???. With the concept of savior  comes the fact that we're living in an imperfect world; a beautiful world, but imperfect. Usually where I get into trouble is  the thought that something we once had is now lost. Something went dreadfully wrong in this world as we know it, and I believe, we all as humans, genuinely know it!



"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." He was the radical, he was the strange Jew, he was the Savior of all human kind.  





Yet in my heart, knowing that I believe in his constant presence in my life, there is an ache, a dull, continuous reminder, that we still struggle, we still suffer, and we still are not that perfect being we want to be.  




Animal abuse, human abuse and abusing the earth is a glaring example of the emotional and political deformities in our world. Yet Christ came to set us free.  My Christian upbringing says that "we" are saved.  But if we look around, on a global level, saved from what?  When I made the choice to become a Christian, it was very, very straightforward as to what I, personally, was saved from; the hell of my own choices, the pain of things that had shaped my life, and the fact that my depression and life style was on a constant spiral down, down, down.  And then, there he came, into my life....glorious, bright and all the other descriptions you can think of when it comes to God.  JESUS!  Yes, I LOVE that name.



I still have no answers on how to 'save' our beautifully flawed world, and  it really does grieve me.  But apparently, it's not my problem, although my awareness shares the pain. I love the way Rob Bell thinks, and I think this quote fits nicely in this part of my blog:

“Salvation is the entire universe being brought back into harmony with its maker.” 
― Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith 






To be able to articulate all the thoughts that go through my head would be close to heaven for me, but alas, it's not happening.  I'm doing the best I can.  Christmas is about Jesus' birth in my house.  And Jesus' birth was bitter sweet.  He came, and knew from the start, all he would have to suffer.  Whether he saw the big picture from the time he was a young kid, or whether the nagging realization was a feeling that appeared slowly, he knew! His life might have been about how much he loved this life, but also his life might have been clouded with the sad reality of how hateful society can be.  I think he sees that hate today, and is terribly sad.  Especially around election time.  The mud slinging, the disrespect, the overall negativity of it all:  if God weeps, it's about that, it's about our lack of love for one another.




"Father up above, why in all this hatred do you fill me up with love?"  dmb


I always told my kids that St. Nick was where the idea of Santa came from.  I honestly don't think they suffered much by knowing there was no Santa.  I  like honesty on all levels.  I told my kids that we give gifts because God gave humanity a gift; a gift of God's only son, Jesus.   There is so much that was a part of Jesus' birth....The fact that Mary told Joseph she was pregnant and still was a virgin.  Yeah, right.  People are people, no matter where or what times you lived.  Can you imagine Joseph's thoughts?  I'm sure some of his friends might have labeled her a slut.




 But God came though.  He gave Joseph a dream.  (Dreams are really God's secret language.) And seriously, I can NOT imagine what Mary was thinking and feeling about the fact that some very strange being came to her in whatever form, and said, hey, you''re going to get pregnant.  It will be  a boy, and he will be the savior."  OMG!

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will calm the storm with His hand?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby you kissed the face of God?

The blind will see.
The deaf will hear.
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap.
The dumb will speak
The praises of The Lamb.

Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.

I always wanted a son, and 32 years and some months ago, I had one.  He is my heart.  To think of any harm whatsoever coming to him, would kill me, literally, I don't know if I could live if either of my children were harmed in any way.  And yet, Mary had to go through that.  I wonder what happened to her later, after Jesus died.  

There is so much about Jesus life and death that amazes me.  It has caused me to know in my heart that HE is the man, he is the one, he is my love.  

I have a little idea why I think about all of my loved ones who have gone to the "other side' around Christmas.  It's been like this for a while now.  At Christmas I think of dead people.  I feel them sometimes when I let myself.  And I feel their love.  This has compelled an even deeper faith in Jesus because hey, if my dead relatives and loved ones can see me, how much more is that true for Jesus.  

Ahhhh, and yet again, I am rambling.  To put feelings and thoughts into some art form is, in my opinion, prodigious. My attempt to express my feelings, at this time of year, is not an easy task.

I am grateful!! I am grateful that Jesus was born, and lived and died and came back from the grave to prove there's something beyond.  I'm soooo grateful that 2013 has been very good to my family.  I am grateful for ever so much! 

With that, I hope you all have wonderful Christmas and I hope that 2014 will be as good to you as 2013 was to me.  Let's raise a glass of red to that.  If you're reading I'm sending a huge amount of love to you.  I hope you feel it.  

The Meanderings of a Very Fortunate Woman....Who Doesn't Like Rain

It's an ugly day in the desert.  People who have lived here for a long time "just love the rain" and are "so happy" when it rains.



Why do I find that annoying?  I guess I was like that about sunny days when I lived in the Midwest.  I totally realize now, how the lack of sun altered a happy, cheerful attitude in the years I spent living in the middle of the country.



Sitting here typing, the rain is spitting down, the dark clouds feel like an atmospheric depression, especially when I look out at my beautiful mountains.  (I use the term "my" loosely.) We are doing construction on our home so when I got home from work today, the dogs were wet and smelly.  They had access to the house, which was strategically partitioned off to protect the workers from our over protective, over assertive four legged family members.  So, I quickly try to lead them upstairs as they are barking, jumping, and being overjoyed at my return.  Usually it's a delight to be greeted with such enthusiasm. Not today, nope, it was almost unbearable; trying to keep the chairs where they were so as not to attack the men, but yet trying to herd them up the steps to closed off safety, free from the wet, free from causing any over zealous harm.


So, we're still here, in the bedroom upstairs, all four of us.  The room has the undeniable smell of wet dog,





 everything sort of feels damp, and fortunately I was able to suck up the dust and dog hair with my little electric broom.

But the good news is, my loving dogs are all worn out from, well, from everything. They are quietly lounging around, probably happy to have some comfy place to lie, instead of concrete or tile floor.  (Except of course, Milo, my only male.  He keeps trying to look out the window, if he hears a noise he paces the floor, and he is very needy for my attention.  Figures right?  The only male! Restless!)

Did I mention we're having construction done on our house? Yeah, well, it's been going on for a month, a month today.  Try to get the whole picture; the rain, the dogs, the small space, the smell, the insipid grey we and the temperature. It's not "cold", nor is it "warm".  It's that damp, yucky feeling you get when you just can't get warm, but if you put on too many clothes, you're uncomfortable.


 I've gone on enough...It feels really good to just get it out.  The house is actually starting to take shape, I can pretty much see glimpses of that dream house I wanted before we started demolishing and getting drywall dust in our food, hair, clothing, and of course shoes. It's the weekend and I'm out of my old friend red, gotta go to the store.  If there are any type-o's here, please forgive..I just don't really want to edit.  Have a great weekend!

Finding Your Way Home!!!

Jesus said, " Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’There is no commandment greater than these.”


There was a time in my life, which wasn't so very long ago, where I realized I didn't even know myself, let alone love myself.  How can you love someone you don't know? I found a fantastic counselor and thus began my long journey to find out if I liked me.  First, I asked myself what really makes me happy?  I had to dig deep to see if I was actually telling the truth too.  At times I would just sort of do things because I felt that's the way life is "supposed" to be, that's what I'm "supposed" to want, and this is the way I am "supposed" to live.  The list goes on.  





But one day, I realized it wasn't working.  I still disliked people, (I would always go for prayer at church so God would give me the ability to love people.  They annoyed me constantly!) I found out that all the stuff that I "thought" was supposed to make me happy really didn't, and I began believing that I could never be the person I really wanted to be.



I would look at beautiful women and think to myself that I was "once" like that, but I'm older, and it's okay, I will never be thin and beautiful again.  I would reason that I had other qualities that were just as attractive.  And I sort of did, but I always fought the idea of my desire to be beautiful because I felt it was very vain, and not very virtuous. So I gained weight, a lot of weight.  The downhill slide was going faster as the years went by and I was getting increasingly unhappier.  


Fortunately my life blew up in my face.  When it happened though, you wouldn't have been able to convince me that anything would turn out okay, let alone good.  It was one of the most painful things I've ever been through. The good news is that when I'm upset, really upset, like "feeling threatened" upset, I can't, for the life of me, eat.  Needless to say, I lost a lot of weight and began to enjoy my tiny new body even though my world was still pretty screwed up. 




I read so many self help books that I probably could have written my own.  And they all helped, they helped tremendously.  I started with a book by John Eldredge called "Sacred Romance".  My journey began and as I read, the light started to shine on my soul; I would learn  a little more about myself every time I read. 

The more I searched for peace, the more of myself I found.  




Some parts were very difficult to accept; but I knew I needed to accept even those parts of me, just as I was.  I had to learn to be my own best friend.  My amazing counselor gave me a great idea;  she told me to console myself when I felt down, alone and trapped in pain.  To talk to myself, or talk to the woman, young girl, or little girl that is hurting inside.  






That was an awkward idea for me to put my mind around.  Wise as she is, suggested that I talk to my hurting self the way I would one of my students, or my own children or grandchildren.  So I did....guess what????  Yep, you guessed it!  it worked.  


Sometimes I would get gobsmacked by an emotional uproar my husband and I would have and it was difficult to do, difficult to get in the role.  But I did, and I found out that I was, indeed, my own best friend.  


Another thing that really helped me was trying to see myself as others saw me when I was most insecure: a young girl.  It was interesting how it began.  Of course I would go over pictures of myself and see this young, vivacious, sassy girl and realize that she wasn't really that happy with herself.  She couldn't get outside of her own skin to even imagine how strong and beautiful she really was.




 Funny thing though, things have a way of happening just when you need them to happen.  A friend I had when I was twelve or thirteen found me via the internet.  










We started to connect again and began to reminisce.  She wrote once, in an email that I was the coolest friend she ever had and didn't know why she didn't let me know at the time.  But she always remembered me like that; "one of the coolest".  I actually was surprised at first that she had that opinion of me. I began realizing who I really was.  I started to see the sassiness I had and I liked it!

My family noticed this new "self interest" and frankly, didn't get it.  We'd  be having a conversation and I'd say something about me, or contribute to the subject with my feelings. Many times I would hear, "It's not about you".  Of course I wasn't so good at letting myself be heard and I made many mistakes.  The mistakes I made affected my family as they noticed my changes, but in the end, their patience and love for me helped me figure things out 



It's been twelve years since I first began the quest to find out who I really am.  It's been a good journey filled with all sorts of twists and turns. It hasn't turned out how I thought it would when I would pray for my emotional wounds to be healed.  It's turned out much better.  I never thought I'd be saying that.



I did a fantastic zumbathon today and saw a friend I haven't seen for while.  She is probably one of the most genuine, beautiful women I have ever known. 






 She's the type of friend that I can cut the small talk with, and get to the heart of the matter in a short amount of time.  She has started this journey of knowing herself, loving herself  and being her own best friend early; she's only in her mid thirties.  How fortunate is that??? I can tell she's totally on her way to what Carl Jung called "self actualization.




My advice to young women is never give up seeking truth; about the world, others, and themselves.  And when you find out who you are, the good the bad, the beautiful and the ugly......love yourself anyway, accept yourself just as you are.  That's what God does...God loves us just as we are and never, ever rejects any of our efforts to love and know him.  





I don't feel the need for prayer that I can love people anymore.  Now when I look at people, I see a reflection of myself.  Whether it's something not so easy to see, or whether it's a beautiful image of who I reall am; I have more compassion on others, on myself. So,with God's grace, we all will have a happy, peaceful ending to our story.