Today I had a revelation. Change is constant. I went to my book study this morning. We are studying the book, The Gift of Years by Joan Chittister. Some of the things that Joan mentions is so true to my life and its hitting me like a lead balloon. I’m realizing this age is the new age. Time to turn the page and move on. Time to make new friends, make new stories. Tell old stories to new friends in a new place.
I’ve been in mom’s house approximately 3 years since her passing and it would be so easy to cling to security and old friends, but things have changed now and I know that.
Another year gone past and again, Fathers Day There is so much I’d like to say It could be an essay, but you have gone away To the Heavenly Broadway.
Many barbecues at beaches and celebrations Many alterations to our family generation We haven’t forgotten the loving and caring While you were here.
We have not forgotten the loving and caring we learned for each other now that you are gone from earth We know you are there with our Heavenly Father Who celebrates Fathers Day every day!
Fathers lead and surround the family clutch Fathers are line judges, coaches and sometimes crutches They bring home the pay check, put food on the table, hug their children Go to little league ball games but most of all, Fathers Love.
Thank you Dad! Will Meet Again on the Heavenly boardwalk!
Ever have days where we can’t get a grip on ANYTHING? I mean anything!
You know it’s that type of day when finding the floor is almost impossible upon arising, until you trip over your slippers and you’ve landed. Parading to the bathroom and taking care of priorities, you look down and on your shirt or jammies there is a toothpaste blob that didn’t make it to the mouth. Then it goes on from there, can’t find the car keys; can’t find your glasses that you need to drive with; while getting into the car one bangs there nape;Ouch!One of the neighbor kids left a trike at the end of the driveway. Soooo it goes kinda like this……
Rosanne, Rosanne, Rosanne! You did it again! Opened mouth and insert foot. Its been numerous times now Rosanne that you have mis-spoke. This last time, I feel you have taken responsibility for inserting.
Looking back at all the tweeters including the biggest of all, Mr. Trump, there seems to be 3 R’s missing. Restraint, Respect and Responsibility. Restraint can be difficult but its an absolute. Respect comes easy especially if you want it in return. Finally, taking responsibility and not just by saying I’m sorry. It means taking it and owning it and not allowing it to happen again.
It certainly has been awhile since being here. Didn’t mean to take such a long hiatus, but during the process it was time for a change. Sometimes we all need time to just step back and maybe not smell the roses, but just sit among them and look up in hopes we don’t sit on a thorn. That for sure would disrupt any meditative thoughts one might have.
During the time away, I’ve had time to reflect on many things. Let me say, I wasn’t away as in far away or a vacation. Just away from my corner of the writing world and computer. It was getting so I was having a long drawn out empty relationship with my computer in which neither was getting positive vibes. It was time for a divorce.
So many people, places and things that we hang on to for the sake of security which only turns out to be false security. Ugh! Sometimes it takes some of us longer to realize the pseudo comfort until it starts to smell. Like a swamp drenched blanket. That is what was happening to me. It’s dreadfully painful to even have to admit it that narcissism has many faces. Not that I have to tell any of you besides, but I choose to. It took me a long while before I realized the smell of this relationship (not my computer) was suffocating me and was becoming time-consuming along with getting entwined in another person’s narcissism. It was cunning, baffling and unforeseeable to me.
Once I realized the feeling of being duped as being uncomfortable, like sitting on a thorn, it was time to rise above and over. My head is out of the sand and/or out of other orifices, that now I can breathe again and smell the real roses through the bramble. Please don’t ask why it took me so long.