Reflections

I have been reflecting.

I’m ready to change…to be changed…

…To hone my talents and use the gifts

God gave me to my fullest ability.

It’s not an easy task, this thing called change.

Neither is it easy to discern what it is that

I can change, and what God must change.

Even more difficult is letting go and letting Him.

All photographs are Deibert Park, June, 2010

 

No Defense Here

We have a local blogging team called Shoalanda Speaks, who recently posted this blog, which elicited this response and this rebuttal.

In my own rebuttal to the woman who sent the anonymous communication, I have a story to tell.

Many years ago, I married a man whom I hadn’t known very long. To my great surprise and dismay, four days into the marriage, he viciously beat me because I took too long at the store, where he’d sent me to get him ice cream. At the time, I had never heard the term “domestic violence,” but it certainly is not a phenomenon that started with me.

The writer of the anonymous communication stated that pain has no color. It certainly does. It came in the colors of black and blue bruises left around my neck where my former husband picked me up in a chokehold and threw me into a wall. It was more bruises and red marks where he beat me with a belt. It was yet more colorful black, blue, green and yellow bruises where I suffered various punches and slaps for such offenses as his inability to program the TV like he wanted it. Fear, perhaps, has no color; pain does. Pain’s color comes in the form of marks, cuts, and scratches left on a victim of domestic violence. I was also told that I had no place to go, because he would burn down the house of anyone who tried to help me. Incidentally, I was pregnant with his child while he was doing this to me.

The writer commented that it “pained her that simple minded people choose not to open their minds to change.” What change, exactly, should “simple-minded” people make? Should they ignore the noise and not call the police, as my neighbors chose to do, when I was being shoved into walls, screamed at, slapped, and having my neck jabbed at with a large, two-pronged grilling utensil in the middle of the night? Or, again as my neighbor did, not answer the door when I came to borrow her phone because I didn’t have one, when my tormentor finally left the apartment in the only vehicle I had? There are definitely changes that need to be made in how society deals with domestic violence, though I’m not certain that the changes the anonymous communicator deems necessary line up at all with the changes victims think are needed.

(I'm not sure how things are now, but when I filed for a divorce, I met with Judge Edward Tease in his chambers.   I showed him some of my bruises, including the ones on my neck.   The judge refused to do anything with my divorce until my baby was born because, in his words, he found that most women went back to their husbands in these situations.   It was almost a year before I got to readdress my divorce.  But I digress....)

The writer correctly points out that God is love, and as such, I am certain He does not want any of us to suffer as victims of domestic violence! Thankfully, I got out of my situation a long time ago. Unfortunately, there are people who still suffer repeatedly at the hands of another, and yet more unfortunate is the fact that there are people who will defend those who abuse.

Six Word Saturday

::::Exercise::::

It's Done for the Week!!

And I couldn't be more happy!

This make 4 weeks of walking; Sunday being the only day I take off.   At least 4 of those days I walk twice, once outside around the neighborhood starting around 5:15, and then on the ol' dreadmill after supper.    I weigh tomorrow, so we will see how much I have lost!   

My angels spent the night with me last night...the two older boys and Ole Boy's grandson as well.   It was a noisy night!   I finally got two of them to sleep before midnight, but the youngest one was up until at least 1:30.   I put them on the couch bed in the living room, but they both ended up in my bed, so I got on the couch bed and immediately realized why they came and got in bed with me!   But I stayed there...and I tossed and turned a little bit.  

So because of all the excitement, I slept in...til 6, and it was 6:15 before I left for my walk and I was hot, hot, hot!   I mean that in a sweatiest way possible, not sexy.   Usually on Saturdays I walk further in the mornings, as I did today.   I called it my "last chance workout" taken from The Biggest Loser, of course, because I weigh tomorrow.   My intention is to get on the dreadmill at some point today, but even if I don't...I've done enough. 

This is my Six Word Saturday contribution,

a weekly fun thing hosted by Cate at Show My Face

Walking to....Where-ever!

I’ve been early-morning walking for exercise.   I’m slow, but I go.

I notice things around the neighborhood at 5:30 a.m. are a little different than they are at 5:30 p.m.   I now have new nicknames for some of my earlier rising counterparts…there’s “Mr. I’ll-Chase-The-Dogs-Away-For-You!” who, being a little on the…er..older side, came running out of nowhere after some little mutts that were yapping at my heels one morning…chased them away with a stick.   I don’t go on that street anymore.   It’s the same street where a growling boxer lives, and I’ve found a very nice substitute for that hill, thank him very little.    The boxer liked to watch me until I got close, then he would start to growl…then as I passed him, he would start following me, barking like he was hungry for a bite of me.   :::Shudder::::

Then there’s “Mr. I-Am-Not-Nice-So-Don’t-Even-Look-My-Way.”   There’s a house on my street that I thought was largely adult-less until I started this early walking.   It just looked like a group of teenaged boys and/or young men in their early 20’s.    Apparently, there are adults who live there and they leave around 5:40 a.m. every morning.    Mr. Unfriendly gets in his little van (which I had never noticed before) and starts it up…and waits and waits….and waits until the other adults finally come out.   I try to smile and wave to all the neighbors who live right on my street…you know…if I can see their house from my house, perhaps I should be friendly.   These folks don’t like to smile and wave back.  Seriously.   The kids are usually nicer.    I only smile and wave to folks until I get hot and sweaty and want to be finished with my walk…then I am like Mr. Unfriendly, and don’t want anyone to even look at me!

I didn’t realize how many folks are up and going by 5:30.   There are two other neighbors who always leave around 5:30.   One of them always throws his hand up at me as he’s going by, which is an old southern tradition.    You wave.   Folks just wave to anybody here.   If you pass them, they wave.   Well…this guy waves, but he always has a look on his face like, “Why are we waving?”   I figure he must be a misplaced Yankee, because a nice southern gentleman would know Southerners just wave. 

There’s another man on my street, whom I do not know at all, but he leaves at 5:30 ish.   However, for 20 minutes before he leaves, he talks.   I mean, I can hear him in his house, when I am out on the street.   He’s Mr. Loud.   I never hear anyone answer back, but I know what he’s feeling at the moment.   (I am now hoping he’s not just talking to himself.)

I’m probably not making any new friends on my morning walk.   It doesn’t happen every morning, but some mornings…one dog starts to bark, and must be shouting to the neighborhood, “She’s coming, Boys, she’s coming!  Get your bark on!”   Because suddenly every dog for two ‘hoods is barking!   Most of them, thankfully, are behind fences…but one or two roam free, one of which is a pit bull, who, mercifully when I see him, never even bothers to spare me a glance.  

So..anyway, this is starting my fourth week of walking.  Go me!

A Day of Wishes and Regrets...But There is Hope

Sometimes I look back on my life with a twinge of sadness because of all that I have taken for granted; all that I’ve had and never appreciated. The opportunities I let slide by because I was too wrapped up in doing my own thing to recognize a good thing when I had it in my grasp. 


Age does funny things to a person. I now see things so differently than I did as a youth, and I’ve begun to wish that I had seen clearly way back when. I wish I’d known what a special person my Dad is when I was growing up. I wish I’d realized what an enormous and awesome responsibility it was for him to be the sole provider for five children and a wife. Had I known about his choleric temperament, then perhaps I would have realized that he was showing us how much he loved us by working the graveyard shift in a hot factory, then coming home and keeping up at least one other business, and sometimes one or two other money making ventures as well. I wish I had appreciated his faith, his perseverance, his wishes for his children to serve the Lord, instead of being resentful that he took me to church twice on Sunday, on Wednesday night, and every day of revival. In order to get our allowance, we had to memorize a Bible verse. I wish I’d tried harder to memorize more, and to get it deep into my heart and soul. I wish I knew the scripture like he does.


I’ve never known my parents to lie, cheat, or steal. Never, ever. I can look anyone in the eye and tell them the persons you see at church, in public, or anywhere else are the very same people you would see if you spied on them at home. I am blessed beyond measure, and I’ve always had this special blessing in my parents, but I wasted many years not appreciating it. It’s one of my regrets. 


My mother is one of a kind. I wish I’d realized what depth the woman has when I was living at home, and even when I finally moved out after graduating college. What a help she has been to me over the years. She is so selfless and giving. Had I followed her guidance instead of rebelling, I would have saved myself a world of heartache. She is the best example I could ever give of what a true Christian woman should be; and the fact that she would vehemently deny that statement only proves it more. She is fiercely loyal to her God and to her family. She is the one person that I trust more than anyone else in this old world. (Though I must say that I also fully trust my dad.) 


I wish I had appreciated my brothers and sisters more…though some of them were hard to appreciate!! lol But I wish I’d tried harder to be a better sibling to them all. I still lack in that department. I have the two most wonderful sisters that anyone could ever ask for…I don’t always appreciate them like I should. I wish I were closer to my brothers, but life often gets in the way. Perhaps one day. I am blessed that they are all in my life.  


I wish my daughter had as good a mother as I have, and I regret that I have not been able to be a better parent. I love her so much more than I can express. 


Above all…I wish I’d served my Lord and Savior from my childhood. This is my greatest regret. I wish I had not turned my back on Him for those many years. How I wish I were able to, on Judgment Day, stand before His throne and say, “Lord, I’ve served you since my youth. I have loved You always.” I made a promise to Him yesterday that I would live the rest of my days walking closer to Him. I intend to keep that promise.

Introducing.....

Meet Olivia Claire...my newest Angel

Samara meets her "widdle sister, Owivia"

She is a perfect little thing! 

Obviously, it's been an exciting week!   I had a great weekend, and will post pictures and details in a later blog...but for now, I must work.