A Mothers Hero

"You are my hero. You know that don't you?"

"Im not a hero"

"Oh yes you are. You even have super powers!"

"Oh yeah. Like what?"

"You make me smile when I dont want to. When my heart hurts, you make it all better. Thats superpower"

*touches my face with his little hands*

"I love you Mom"

"I love you and thank God everynight for you"

Serendipity

Spend all your time waitingFor that second chanceFor a break that would make it okayTheres always one reasonTo feel not good enoughAnd its hard at the end of the dayI need some distractionOh beautiful releaseMemory seeps from my veinsLet me be emptyAnd weightless and maybeIll find some peace tonight In the arms of an angelFly away from hereFrom this dark cold hotel roomAnd the endlessness that you fearYou are pulled from the wreckageOf your silent reverieYoure in the arms of the angelMay you find some comfort thereYoure in the arms of the angelMay you find some comfort here
Sarah McLaughlin

Jonathan: If fate didn't want us to be together, then why did we meet tonight? Got you!Sara: I don't know, it's not an exact science. It's a feeling.Jonathan: What if you're wrong? Huh? What if it's all in our hands and you just walk away? No names, no phone numbers, what do you think's gonna happen? Do you think good ol' fate is gonna deliver my information to your doorstep?Sara: You know, that's the best idea you've had all night.

Dean: What's wrong? You all right? Jonathan: Her name's Sara Thomas. [Jonathan hands Dean the book] Dean: How? Jonathan: Halley gave it to me as a wedding present.

Dean: Jonathan Trager, prominent television producer for ESPN, died last night from complications of losing his soul mate and his fiancee. He was 35 years old. Soft-spoken and obsessive, Trager never looked the part of a hopeless romantic. But, in the final days of his life, he revealed an unknown side of his psyche. This hidden quasi-Jungian persona surfaced during the Agatha Christie-like pursuit of his long reputed soul mate, a woman whom he only spent a few precious hours with. Sadly, the protracted search ended late Saturday night in complete and utter failure. Yet even in certain defeat, the courageous Trager secretly clung to the belief that life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences. Uh-uh. But rather, its a tapestry of events that culminate in an exquisite, sublime plan. Asked about the loss of his dear friend, Dean Kansky, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and executive editor of the New York Times, described Jonathan as a changed man in the last days of his life. "Things were clearer for him," Kansky noted. Ultimately Jonathan concluded that if we are to live life in harmony with the universe, we must all possess a powerful faith in what the ancients used to call "fatum", what we currently refer to as destiny.
Serendipity

BUT GOD

This weekend wasnt easy. My life is changing quick. Sometimes I feel its too much at once. Ok, it is almost always that way and I know you can relate. This weekend something big happened. I was called on something that really made me think. I am a child of God, a daughter of the most high, so why do I cringe and become a coward when certain people speak or get close. Who are they to me and who are they to God? They have walked on me, hurt me, abused me, and at times tortured me. They have fed off of anger, deceit, hurt and pride. They have overeaten and taken there shortcomings out on me. No more. They weakened me and kept me down. Spoke ill things and wished bad things. No more. They maniplulated and twisted to be "right". They lied, cursed and yelled over my life, my body, my life for too long. No more. This weekend a man, a true man, said this to me... "but God". You may face him in a court room BUT GOD will judge. You may argue BUT GOD will fight. You may be scared BUT GOD will protect you. You may fear BUT GOD will reign. You may be a woman BUT GOD sees you as a child of the most high. You may be angry BUT GOD will punish. You may have to see him BUT GOD will deal with him. You may be nervous BUT GOD has a plan. BUT GOD. This week after I state my opinion or my thought I than take a moment to think, but God...What will God do? What does the bible tell us He will do? I must remember that no matter how many thoughts I have, no matter what thoughts I have, God also has a response and an answer. I must hold onto his response and let go of mine. I cannot get through today BUT GOD will get me through. I cannot do this alone BUT GOD will provide. I cannot handle one more thing BUT GOD tells me I dont have to. I cannot be full of fear BUT GOD tells us fear is not from God.

I CANNOT BUT GOD CAN

"One night a man had a dream. He dreamed He was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from His life. For each scene He noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. One belonging to Him and the other to the LORD.When the last scene of His life flashed before Him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of His life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of His life.This really bothered Him and He questioned the LORD about it. LORD you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.The LORD replied, my precious, precious child, I Love you and I would never leave you! During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."
Carolyn Carty, 1963

Found love. Will travel.

A year ago you could have asked me how many times I had been to NYC. I could have counted on one hand. I could have told you that I never rode the subway, only took a train a few times in my life and that I had never hailed a taxi. My world changed. I met a man. Its quite a love story I assure you and in due time you will be able to read it as papers bound in book form but for now a screen will tell a story, or perhaps my heart.

A NYC boy and COUNTRY girl met 13 years ago at college. Oh but I was not the college girl, I was the highschool girl. Oooo drama! No. It was simple. I painted him silver for a play. He colored my world and many years later we somehow crossed paths, well, webpages. His picture. Wow! I mean seriously, this man is beautiful, chizzled, deep complexion, sparkling eyes and a smile to die for, live for.

While NYC is not far from me it seemed like the worlds longest journey. Although, as time passed any distance between him and I seemed like a great travel. Too far. Much too far. Inside a parking lot after midnight he handed me his heart and I held it in tears and in great appreciation for what this man truly was. An angel, to me.

His world and my world seemed very different. From color to location, we varied greatly but inside my life, inside my heart, in all my thoughts and my endless prayers, I did not let him into my world, rather he became my world.

Just days before I met him I turned down a relatinship with a man because I was not ready for one. I quickly realized I simply wasnt ready for one with *him* but my heart craved to find the eyes that saw inside me, to hear the voice that spoke life into me, and to hold the heart of the one that would complete me.

I had the Lord, I had my son, I have a father but one man was missing. There he was, all these years wondering NYC wondering what God was doing in life. Wondering when it would be his turn. Wondering when happiness would be his. I too wondered the same things. Day in and day out. We both married and we both divorced. We both came to a screaching halt in our lives at the exact same moment. I assure you Gods hand was in this. Timing is not something us humans or angels are good at. Many times we wonder if even God himself is good at timing, lord knows many days we doubt his skill on time frames for our lives, but this man appeared at what seemed the worst of times and it was. Yet there he was. Right infront of me.

I couldnt let him walk away. I could not let regrets pile higher in his life. I could not turn away such beauty, such innocent love, such care, such passion, such love as what this man brought to me. I loved him the moment my eyes first saw him 13 years ago but I fell in love with him the moment I first looked into his opened eyes, that night, in August, in a dark parking lot. His eyes illuminated my being. I was his.

As nearly 8 months has passed I awake daily wondering if it was all just a dream. Than i glance to my cell to read "good morning my beautiful angel..." and my heart flutters knowing that he continues to bring me to life and into life, with a vibrancy and vivacious spirit to face the day. He ignites me, drives me, creates me, one I love you at a time.

He is my harmony. My heart changes its rythm when he is close. My eyes change their focus and my thoughts become his. I often look at him and wonder how he has truly become a part of me. He is nothing that I knew but everything I wanted. As a little girl, I never imagined my dream man. I didnt desire a hair and color to please my eye but this man, oh this man, he pleases my eye, my soul, my everything. My dream man was nothing that could be created by even me and my inagination, he is true evidence that he was created by God.

It always take alot of effort for me to get to him or him to I. Time once stood in the way, than situation, than circumstance, than distance and now, well nothing stands in the way but ourselves. God has brought us this far, grace has carried us and the rest, well, its up to planes, trains, automobiles, and patience.

NYC may be filled with lights and magic but his soul is filled with illumination and promise. The scenery along the road may be filled with beauty but the view when I arrive at my destination is breath taking. I would do anything for him. Travel any length, go any distance, fight any battle, and go through any fire. If this man awaits me at the end of every hard journey, every rough day, every hardship and every disapointment, I would go through anything to look into those eyes at the end of every circumstance, every scenario, as long as I have those eyes. Those eyes. they sooth me, feed, nourish me.

So tonight, I will pack a small bag, and in the morning begin my travels. It doesnt matter how I get there, just as long as my destination continues to be him.

3 LETTERS

It was the second day of 10th garde. I was a student at a private "christian" school. I had been there since 3rd grade. Into my early days there I was sick alot. I had active mono three times in 2 years. We didnt live close to the school either, we had a 45 minute drive and that is a very long time when you get car sick, especially when your older brother yells "shot gun".

Students began making fun of me. Alot. I spent many mornings vomiting on my way to school, having to stop and brush my teeth, pull chunks out of my hair and fix myself up before I walked through the school doors. I also had panic attacks. I remember my first panick attack when I was around 5 years old. A thunder storm was rolling in while we were visiting my grandmothers. I felt like I was going to die. My little heart was racing, my palms sweaty, and my body trembling. Well, every since that day, when my childhood mind would see clouds rolling in my heart would begin to pound just like it did that one day. Many days when storms were approaching during class I would head to the school nurse and lie there waiting to vomit and tremble.

While all these "little" epsiodes were difficult as a child, dealing with my classmates was much worse. I was made fun of for being late, for being sick when none of it was within my control. It really was an awful feeling. Before long I dreaded the long car ride to school. I wondered what would be said today. I worried about how much they would laugh at me this day and the worries of my own health combined with the worries of what others thought left me to be only more sick than I already was. Nerves now had me hunched over on the side of the highway on my way to school. Fear now had me shaking and my anxiety soaring.

Mondays were always the worst. It was as if these kids had all weekend to think of ways to hurt me. I knew that "kids will be kids" but one day stands out clear in my mind. I was late, very typical for me. I began walking with my head down to the middle school principles office. He was a large man, a very large man, with an even louder voice. His body barely fit into his chair but boy did his words fit into my mind.

I sat infront of his desk and he asked "why are you late?" I wondered how many times he was going to ask this over the years. I responded "I was sick" He would than begin to yell, literally. The walls shook and you could hear him from the classrooms. I never listened to what he said. His shouting drowned out all information. If he didnt respect me, why should I respect him?

He would slam my locker door shut while he watched me, ensuring I was going to class. As my locker slammed shut and spit flew from his mouth he walked away angry and frustrated. I turned with my head down and headed to math class. I was just feel away from the door when I overheard the math teacher commenting to the class that

""she" was late again. "she" is always late. I cannot believe "she" actually made it to school on a monday. What a miracle. Arent we lucky?""

I stood in the door to see the sorry ass look on her face. A slight grin. She looked at me and chuckled. I held the tears of hurt in and walked to my seat. I began to unload my backpack to start my work when I she approached my desk. Her thick rolling ankles starred me in the face.

"your shirt doesnt have enough of a collar on it. go to the spanish class and pick out a new shirt from the bin" she grinned and walked away. Enjoying every moment she made my life hell.

Was she serious? I actually made it to class and now my shirt needed MORE of a collar than I needed math? I walked out the door and strolled through campus waiting for God to speak. Tears of anger began to pour. Here I was at a "christian" school and was being treated like this. if these were "christians" than I didnt want to be one. I walked taller back into math class and took my seat.

"where is your shirt?"

"on my back..."

"did you go to the spanish class"

"yeah, I went but I didnt go in... you didnt say I had to go in..."

The buzzer rang and I now grinned at her.

"oh you think this is funny? how about a demerit?"

"sounds good to me.."

"oh, oh, ok, well how about 5 demerits? do you like that?"

"why dont you just give me 10 and we will call it a day? better yet, give me 20 so I get suspended and get to miss class, again..."

I headed to gym class. As I was walking into gym I was excited to hit the floor, take out some aggression and anger, sweat it out. My gym teacher stopped me and told me my shoes didnt have laces so I would be getting a demerit. I walked away from her and headed to the pay phone.

"hey, hey, where do you think you are going?"

I kept walking. She walked into the little hallway and saw me on the pay phone but the bell rang and class was starting. I hung up the phone and headed into the gym. My bags on my back, I began to walk through the middle of the girls warmup. I got closer and closer to the door and her manly voice began to pierce through my brain.

"where do you think you are going?"

"anywhere but here"

I walked to the principles office. A man I truly admire and respect. He is retiring this year and I wonder how the school will survive without him. I walked in, placed all my books on his desk and told him I was done. He listened to me sob and cry explaining what my 8 years had been like. Hell. He promised me he would talk to the teachers, students, and end the troubles. I knew he was sincere, I knew he wanted to help but we all knew it was him against many.

This school always had an unwritten rule. If you were in sports and contributed to the schools winnings, teachers would overloook the things that caused ones to get demerits. If you were not part of the "team" than you would be looked at under a microscope and picked apart thread by thread.

I wasnt the nerdy girl, the goth girl, but I also wasnt the jock girl. I was me. The girl who was wearing high heels at 13, the girl who was a cheerleader that no one liked becasue I was prettier than them, I was the 8th grade girl on the highschool team. Insecurity, they couldnt handle. They knew I was a threat to their ego and to their dating life so they made sure they kept me far away through gossip and chatter. It worked.

My mother pulled up to the school about an hour after my phone call to her. I got in the car and told her I was never going back. Tears pouring from my eyes. She could see that 8 years of hurt had added up. I never went back. Never going back allowed me to go forward. I thank God for the obese man, the ignorant students, the woman with big ankles and the woman with a manly voice. You see, if it wasnt for their weeknesses, I never would have gotten so strong. "People too weak to follow their own dreams will always find a way to discourage yours"

The few months following my exit from that school werent good. I had alot of healing that needed to take place, alot of anger to shed and alot of searching to do. I should have never picked up a bible again after what they put me through but in my heart I knew that it wasnt God or His word that failed, it was their ignorance that did. I knew that being a "christian" was not a title but an action. They could call themselves anything they wanted but I knew the truth would come in action and in spoken word.

I set out on my own journey to find God. Not who "they" said he was but who HE really was. I found Him. I drive past the school grounds some days with tears in my eyes. Memories of hurt and disapointment, than I look down at my arms and read the words and smile. You see, I didnt need a varsity jacket, or a cheerleading uniform to validate my importance. I didnt need for teachers to really care about me, and I didnt need any of them. I just needed the Lord and more importantly I needed Him to hold them accountable for their actions under the title of being His children.

There were a small handful of students that didnt leave me hurt. Many of them were not the same color as me. Many did not have the same interests as me and many were "weird" like me. Perhaps they knew they didnt belong with the others either. Maybe they knew exactly what I did. Maybe I was just the only one strong enough to say and do something about it. Maybe I wasnt the rebel, maybe I was just honest.

The moral of this story is to choose your words wisely. School is the blink of an eye. The words you speak are powerful. You have the power to destroy or build someone with them. Many destroyed me. Time and time again until little of me was left. They thought it was funny and that is was cool but it wasnt, it was just plain stupid. They were some of the weakest human beings I have ever met but I refuse to let others weakness affect my strength, my faith and my hope.

They hated me because I was beautiful, they laughed because I was sick, they grinned because they had power, or so they thought. I now stand a vision of beauty, a woman of faith, a child of God, a woman so full of strength it seeps from my veins. Joy that radiates from my soul and compassion that pours from my heart. Thank you Timothy, for being weak and making me strong. Thank you Mr K for being one of the few people there that truly lived as an example of a "christian" man. I am forever grateful that your light never dimmed among the darkness.

"All that is gold does not glitter and all those who wonder are not lost"

"You shouldnt be scared that you wont fit in, you should be terrified that you wont stand out."

Found

Beauty astounding. He stands tall like the endless dreams of my heart, reaching towards the heaven, branching towards the sun like a life craving branch of blossoms waiting anxiously for spring’s arrival

Hope unlimited. He speaks like the silent prayers of my heart, floating towards the answers found, dispersing into the sea of desires whispered from my soul like an oceans wave following the natural tides waiting to grace the shore of golden sands

Love unselfish. He touches me like the morning sun, carrying the rays of warmth to my innermost regrets, renewing the broken hearted like medicine to my blemished dreams waiting for one spoken word to penetrate the wound and make me new

Peace abundant. He moves within me like the gentle winds, soothing my veins and pains to the core of my existence, caressing the curves of life with a soothing spoken word strong enough to move a mountain within the valleys of my heart

Joy overflowing. He gives to me like the fertile spring grounds, restoring winter’s loss, spreading roots of smiles within the muddy soils to carry vibrancy, color and life to the surface where all can stop and gaze at the beauty once so hidden

Faith restored. He holds my very being cradled in his arms, making my heart believe in the power of love, returning to my life what had been taken while giving all that I have silently pleaded for

Beauty astounding, he stands. Hope unlimited, he speaks. Love unselfish, he touches. Peace abundant, he moves. Joy overflowing, he gives. Faith restored, he holds.

Delicate like the flutter of an angels wing, soft like the skin of a ripened peach, graceful like the swaying tides, strong like the deep rooted oaks, beautiful like the horizon after a storm, unique like a rainbows curve, distinct like a fingerprint, remarkable like the mysteries of life.

This is what I see when I look into his eyes. I do not get lost, I get found.

Just a thought...

"Murders, sinners, homeless, gang members, beauty queens, all American girls and cheerleaders. The truth isn’t always pretty and pretty things aren’t always true. True beauty lies within the soul, gracing the spirit and glows through the flesh. We must always show compassion. Not just to the ones that look beautiful, but to everyone. We never truly know who we are speaking to until we listen to their story. If you avoid the ones seen as ugly, you may miss some of the most beauty you have ever seen. The lives and circumstances people are in may not reflect who they are. Many have been masked by circumstance and hardship. Many have been repainted with regret and depression. We must look through the layers and see the beauty that God saw when He created them..." ~Angel Alyson

Hidden Treasure

My mind often thinks in pictures. My job as a writer is to paint that picture with words. Today I feel very little words. I see an antique dresser. Nicks and scrapes etched into the dark grain, like wrinkles upon our old faces. It is plain, sturdy, and worn. My mind wants to know what is inside the drawers. I take my hand and open the draw. A loud creek, lots of dust and a million memories coming rising up into the air around me. I begin to push aside drab lace, musty silk and a few trinkets that barely remain intact. At the bottom of the draw is laquard box about the size of a hearty book. My eyes are drawn to this rectangle with an undenialble force of curiosity. My fingers quickly feel for the opening and with one flick of the latch its contents are about to be revealed. It is glorious. So glorious. My fingers begin to drag through through the strings of pearls intertwined, the gold in small knots and the jewels, oh the jewels. The colors jump from one to the next blending in my eyes like watercolors waiting to be swirled and stroked into something more than just a color. A form, a shape, an object, something with meaning and depth. My hands emersed in glamour find themselves unable to move. It is as if my hands just found the most glorious prize of all. Right there, in the plam of my hand is a ring of gold and ruby. The circle has no beginning and no end much like my promises to the ones I love. The ruby is deep is color, so deep it almost appears black. This is my heart. It bleeds with crimson love but it is beautiful, so beautiful. Circled around the ruby gem are specks of diamonds. Glittering, sparkling, full of life, depth and color it is drenched with enough beauty to cover the earth. Here it is, hidden beneath the daily finding of ones life. It isn’t fair. Something this gorgeous, this rare and unique cannot lay hidden among common things. It was made to shine. It was designed to stand apart. It craves to stand out. It demands attention as it so rightfully should. Its designers hands worked tedious hours to create this masterpiece. It is priceless.

I now see the owner standing next to the dresser on a monday morning. He walks past the dresser and can feel the jewelry glimmering through the wood grain. He stops in for a peak. One look, one glance, one feel and when he senses are filled and his eyes are pleased he closes the box and walks away. He steps out the door into his nine to five life never telling or showing of what he has. No one knows what he posseses. No one knows the beauty he has captured within a box. No one knows the mans wealth and no one sees what makes him smile one last time before he starts his day. No one knows that this rare gem is claimed and kept. Many will see photos of this rare piece of art. Many will seek a cost on such an item. It cannot be found and yet it cannot be taken. It is merely a living piece of beauty waiting to be released into the world. It does not seek credit for what it is not, it just wants others to see it upon the finest like it was intended to be. Worn, carried along, able to sparkle in the sun. How long must it sit in the box. Will anyone ever be willing to step out of fear and show the world what they hold? Maybe its beauty is just too bright. Maybe beautiful things were meant to be secrets. If that is the case, than I no longer want to be beautiful. what good is being found if no one knows that you are taken?

Angel Wings

My wings have been clipped not by God but by myself

It is time for me to fly and find my value outside the wealth

A angelic being trapped in human flesh

This world, this life, nothing more than a mortal mess

They see the gold and glitter dusted across this porcelian face

but do they see the pain that cannot hide, for my heart is more sheer than the finest lace

Watch in awe as I glide and fly high above the clouds horizon

do you even see all the things that the tiny lies hide in

Is it really worth it, to feel the wind upon my cheek

Is it really worth it to never find and always seek

All for the title of an angel living in this human existance

I can no longer fight, I am loosing all resistance

Its time to jump and never look away

Do not try to change me or get my decison to sway

Perhaps I was meant to be an angel but that is not what I am choosing

Maybe it is time to toughen up and start getting used to loosing

So look at me once more, this glorious angelic being

For when tomorrow morning comes, no longer is it you will be seeing

When the sun rises in the baby blue skies

You will see all my sorrows and I will see all the lies

There will be no more pretending to be what I cannot

This thing called love, it seems to be what I long forgot

Take these vibrant colors from my soul and all my being

open my eyes and show me all that I have not been seeing

I know it may not be all beautiful and glistening bright

I know I will now be held responsible for all the wrong and all the right

Sometimes even the most beautiful will have their days

craving to find an answer among others tangled ways

Goodbye wings, goodbye flying, goodbye gold and glitter

It has been a beautiful spring but now it is time to face the bitter winter

Do not wish me luck, do not wish me happiness, do not say a thing

Just take these to another hopeful little girl, who could use a new wing

Dirty Laundry

"It was the best of times and the worst of times..." a wise man named Charles Dickens once said. He must have been in a time such at this. What time is it do you ask? The time of change. The tearing down and rebuilding. The blessings and the curses. I have seen the best of times and well, this time is not it.

At this particular moment I am watching my problems, failures and flaws pile up in a massive heap of impending disaster. My dirty laundry is about to unfold and well, its not all pretty like me.

The truth is, while I may have resembled Barbie in my early days and now stand as a beautiful strong woman in my forever 29 days, I am far from perfect. I am a real human being, at least when my wings are not visible.

While my closet may be filled with Guess, Louis Vioutton and Gucci, my laundry is not nearly as elegant and you can forget dry cleaning only, the dirt will be forced to endure alot of hot water and so will I.

Dirty laundry, never any fun to clean up. Perhaps its just time for a new...wardrobe?

I am standing here with soap in one hand and hopes in the other staring into a machine spinning all my problems in a vicious circle. The bottle of soap is not labeled and I fear it may be dishsoap. While I know I can the overflow and the bubbles, can I handle it all in these demands, in this cirumstance? Maybe my heels are too high, even for me. Maybe my expectations and dreams really are too big to survive the rinse cycle.

Maybe my tag should have said "Dry clean only"

Worth Overflowing

Worth. Can you recall the moments in your life where you truly felt worth something, truly Worth it?

Imagine life an overflowing fountain of abundance being warmed by the mid afternoon sun. The rays hit the water and the ripples reflect a gleaming luminocity of life that has been dispersed in every drop.

Life stands still at times. Nothing to make it wave or make it sway. It is calm and all is well. Other times life pulls like a tide changing its textures and its entire makeup. It is wild and nothing is for sure.

People will stand at the edge and watch how the waters rise you up or pull you under. They will stop and stare at boundaries that hold the waters in and they will arise in fury when the crystal blue spills over, whether in joy or in anger and floods at their feet.

Children will dance in the puddles and many older will frown. Fun or an inconvenience? One simple decision that only you have the power to make.

Other will not stand in awe at so much life flowing in one space. Unafraid to overflow from its comfort zone, almost hoping to spill itself onto others. The few that appreciate what you hold and how you move will take a shiny coin of worth from their pockets and tie it with a wish. It will glide from the palm of their anxious hands, filled with hopes from their endless dreams and be tossed into your waters adding value not in the coin but in the time and dreams now invested in you.

Some will have so much silver laying at the bottom of the structure feeling that they have earned a right to be above others. They will see the piles and mistake amount with worth.

Others will have just a few scattered copper spots sitting softly beneath the waters reflections of lifes surroundings. But the heart behind these few has made this fountain, priceless.

If I were filled with AMOUNT I would have no room for my water to freely flow and move as they desire but if I am filled with WORTH I am given the space I need to be as i was designed to be. Overflowing.

AMOUNT and WORTH is the difference between a pool of water and a fountain. I want to be WORTH something and OVERFLOW.

Do the people standing at your structure add AMOUNT or WORTH? Because baby, you are WORTH it all.

The Mattress Man

Some things need to be thrown into the dumpster much like the sign that once hung over my bed...

I have no slept well since I left the state that houses the man that I will no longer allow to haunt my mind. I began "cleaning house" both literally and spiritually. I found myself throwing out everything that held a negative thought, a bad memory or a demon from the past. The chains that were placed on me were no longer welcome nor would they be tolerated.

The first place I started was photos, letters, than I came to a screaching halt at my mattress. The mattress that was the enemies battleground for my weaknesses. The place where my mind tried to find comfort, where my body fought during pain, and where my tears of being "taken" saturated the cotton cover. I look back at the endless times that mattress was rolled down streets, driveways, pushed upstairs, wherever I had to escape to it came with me. Perhaps it was time it stopped following me. It was piled ontip on my car along with the expensive wood that encased it. It all had to go.

I found myself sleeping on my couch that had many dips and spots where you could feel the wood pressing through. I tried the beanbag chair. I began praying for a mattress. Where my body could rest, my soul could rest and my mind and heart could begin to repair.

With a little help from my hero I walked into a store with little money compared to the cost of the average mattress. But I believed God would make a way. After my son bounced from bed to bed and my mind bounced from price tag to price tag I was left feeling a little hopeless. I wasnt looking to buy new cloths (that I need) or new shoes (that I need) or some decorative items for my home (that I want) I was looking for a neccesity and frustrated I didnt have the means to meet my basic needs.

The salesmen. Somehow I ended up smiling and laughing right before tears broke through. Gods joy comes JUST when we need it. I had to look at the endless trials I have face BUT look more so at the endless trials I have overcome. As the man sat working numbers on his computer I began to wonder, what does this man need? What is a neccesity that he needs, that he does not have the means to get?

Of course we got talking and my life story began to spill out. Bits and pieces and somehow as my story of pain poured out, joy from within him began to emerge. His mind got lighter, his heart saw a new perspective, he smiled and shook his head while he listened to me. Than he got to the price I needed to have a place to sleep. He blessed more than me, he blessed a daughter of God and in return I believe the Lord will bless him.

You see, a good price isnt what I truly needed. I needed to inspire him. I needed to show him that you do not need a GOOD circumstance to have JOY, you just need God, in any circumstance.

I went to church last night and proceeded to add to my debt my giving away the last bills my purse held. Maybe the church didnt need the MONEY maybe they just needed to see that GIVING was not dead.

We never know who we will meet that will influence, inspire us, encourage us, or change our lives. We never know who will bless us and while this man blessed me, I felt blessed in knowing he had smiled for the first time, in a very long time. Who says you cannot smile over suffering? The joy of the Lord is not limited. The Lord is not limited. His works are not limited. His blessings are not limited and I praise God that some people, like this salesmen, still had a heart and eyes to see the Lord, in me.

I continue to pray for him by name that he begins a journey to find out who God is and who God desires him to be, what God has in store for him, what God can offer him, and I mostly pray that this man feels joy and smiles everyday because he deserves it. God bless you Mattress Man.

Mother,

I watch the lilacs petals drift off into the summer air. The scent of floral greets the sandy beach air. A hint of coconut slathers the skin in emollients. The sun has a smell, purity, life, a new season.

Honeysuckle grows wild between the emerald leaves. Intertwining each leaf with a fragrance so delicate, so sweet, almost intoxicating. A new day is near and new memories about to unfold.

Homemade chocolate chip cookies are baking. They house smells warm, sweet and safe. Everything is what it claims to be and security is found in every corner.

Your freckles have deepened over the years along with the lines. Your beauty has surfaced through wisdom, patience and most of all triumph. A new woman unfolds with each new smile.

The past melts like a burning candle, slowly fading into the night where our dreams meet reality. By morning the past is gone but the reminders are found in the puddles of overflowed wax.

Giggles and small voices fill your days and curiosity and wonder speak loudly throughout the restless nights. Your children have grown but youth has found itself among your childrens children. It is bliss.

On your left hand the diamond and gold are long gone yet the skin holds an indentation of what once was. A single tear falls as you see the smile he had when he fed you cake and many more fall as you see the love that choose to leave.

Love and patience has been sewn into your childrens lives, strength and wisdom have been sewn into you. God has become your only companion. You are a woman of beauty, wisdom, and courageous strength.

You have held your family together with your time and hospitality. You have mended broken hearts when lifes disapointements tore us. But your prayers mother, your prayers have not gone unheard. It is there, in that quiet place before God, that your heart can cry. It is there, that you have always handed the Lord what you could not control. Thank you mother for fixing what you could and handing to God what you could not. That is not only the example of an amazing mother but that of an amazing woman.

Break the Glass

A beautiful display of art stands behind the tempered glass. A museum of beauty showcasing the rare forms once seen. The subject stands posed in a familiar scene for that era, that season, that life. People line up at the ticket booth to stroll through the hallways adorned with captiviating extinction.

One window, one scene catches their eye. They stop and stare. Their hand covers their jaw dropped mouth in awe of beauty captured behind glass. So flawless, untouchable...

People begin to crowd behind, all waiting for one look. They are pushed along to see the other sights but even as they look away they glance over their shoulders for one more peek. One more vision. The next group comes along.

Treasured, unique and rare this delicate creature and its habitat has been frozen and preserved behind the finger print filled glass. The beauty stands their waiting day after day for one person not to just stop and stare but to break the glass and set it free.

Alive or a memory that lies behind the illusion of safety wants to be set free. It no longer wants to be looked at, it wants to be experienced, touched. It wants to no longer remain in its "original" habitat. It wants to see itself in new light, in new circumstance, in love.

The timeless beauty stands still watching so many gaze in awe, she doesnt want to be watched, she wants to be taken. Her heart screams "I need HIM, to break the glass"

Sleeping with the Enemy

As I was about to take my first steps into a prison, he got out of his car at the gates and looked at me...

Your not really going to do this are you?"

"I have to.."

"Whatever, fine, go get raped, have fun with that"

"Ya know what? You have already violated me for years, there is nothing more they could take, YOU took it all"

He sped off, tires screaching, wheels spinning.

That was the first day I stepped into prison ministry and into the annointing the Lord had placed on my life. It was also the first day I stood up to the abuse. Somehow, someway, the inmates saved my life. If they could treat me with respect, why couldnt he? It made me think, all these years I thought the enemies were behind bars, turned out, I was sleeping with the real enemy.

Too often the ones that hurt the most are the ones in our families, our spouses, our friends, decorated in society, supported by family and found living "normal", lives. They do not appear harmful, angry, and rarely do they wear a shirt that says "I abuse woman". Instead they blend in, talk quite the talk, act so charming, fool many but one woman knows the truth.

"Decoding the truth from lies is hard, decoding the people that speak the lies, that is the hard part." ~Angel Alyson

Educate yourselves and others about rape, sexual assault, battery, emotional abuse and learn the warning signs so that neither you, nor your daughter finds themselves sleeping with the enemy.

There are ways to set yourself free from the torment, the negativity, the abuse, the lies and begin to heal. Heal. Heal. Heal.

Reality for a Dreamer

I am usually not a morning or afternoon writer and today I will not attempt to be. Maybe writing is for dreamers. Maybe writing isnt for me. Maybe I need to crawl out of a dream world and enter this thing called reality?

What is real? How do you know it is real? Generally I would say, follow what you feel. Your feelings are never wrong. Your hearts cries are real but today, I dont know if that is even true. Today all I know is that I am a dreamer and even in a dream world pain creeps in. Reality hurts. Dreaming hurts. So what does one dare to do?

Dreaming is nothing more than masking reality with false hope and it appears that it hurts and pierces through the soul just as reality, only dreaming takes longer and wastes time. Why dream? Why hope?

A man once said

"Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone, you may still exist, but you have ceased to live." ~Mark Twain

I believe in life one should live with passion, putting their heart behind every word and every action. Speaking without fear and worry of judgement. Being comfortable in your skin and in your thoughts and being transparent. Being an open book.

A not so wise (apparently) young woman said

"Having to decode lies is hard but having to decode the people that speak them, is harder." ~Angel Alyson

"So, in my promise to be true to myself, I will remain transparent, no matter how ugly, how truthful, how disapointing life may get. If anything, at the end of the day I will have at least the truth beside me. I cannot say truth eases all pains or puts ones mind at rest but it grows in the soul and truth is contagious. This world will always offer pain but at least something good can pour from it, truth..."

So here I am. I am hoping that my sons smiley face french fries will put a smile on my face as well. He is pretty sure they will make his day all better, I wish I could think like him. He may be labeled as "disabled" but perhaps we are disabled in expecting that in which we cannot obtain. Maybe we need to dream smaller so that we have more of an opportunity to meet them eye to eye, with a smile rather than tears.

Marry me?

Where does my heart begin? Putting emotions into words can seem near impossible at times. This leaves a writer in a very awkward position. To take any experience, any emotion and place it into words is our job. Perhaps it isn’t the emotions I find hard to describe but the effect the emotions have on my heart and on my mind.

I asked a simple question last night. It involved 2 words. It could have been answered in one word. Sounds simple right? The timing of the question would leave many who know the situation baffled at why I would ask such a question at such a time. However, in my life I have learned that we should speak what our heart speaks. Maybe timing isn’t ideal. Maybe timing is just plain bad. Maybe the timing is appropriate but I am a firm believer to speak with my heart, when it moves me to speak. I lived too long waiting for the “right” moments that I missed out on the “real” moments.

“Marry me?” I asked wide eyed staring into his soul. I did not say today or tomorrow or when the time is more appropriate. I did not say asap or when I had the “right” to ask. I simply said “Marry me?”….

I didn’t have a ring or a plan or a date. I simply had a heart over flowing with love that poured itself into words that came out as such. I knew the moment I first saw his smile and his anointing that he was the man I wanted to spend my life with and to grow old with. To have children with, watch grandchildren with…

While the thought of a wedding is exciting to nearly every young woman, especially one who knows the value of true love, it is not the wedding that is what I am most interested in. You see, walking into a room with him near me is a blessing unlike any other. He is attractive, kind, generous, sincere, gifted, anointed, beautiful, smart, funny, well educated, he is everything anyone could ever want and much more than anyone deserves and while introducing him to my family as “mine” feels so wonderful, I think that only one opinion matters. Gods.

The place we are currently in is not all pleasing to God. I pray for Gods grace and speed to get us to a place where we are in the right ALL the time. “Marry me?” I ask this because one day, I want to stand before the Lord and be seen as “his”, in the eyes of God. Little girls worry about boys home to meet daddy but I eagerly await the day I can bring him before God and a blessing be given for him to take His daughter, her heart and her hand. I want my heavenly fathers approval. I want to be his in every sense of the word.

Is it wrong that such a question was posed now, at this time? I don’t know. I just know that my love for him is everlasting. Just like a ring, it has no beginning and no end, just like God. I love him. So I know you all are wondering, what was his answer? I met him 12 years ago, I have been with him now for 6 months. Every day I love him more. Maybe answers don’t really matter…maybe he is simply my answer. Maybe words do not always answer such questions.

“Marry me?”

Grace like Rain

The billowing clouds drifted through the baby blue abyss of painted water colors spread across the new spring skies. Faith sat upon the tailend of every gentle breeze and hope itself warmed the soul like the beaming mid afternoon sun glaring with life and promises within its dispersed radiance.

But the rain, oh the glorious rain, it was not water droplets that fell from the skies but grace itself overflowed from the eyes of emotions and I was saturated with grace like rain.

The colors of the sky melted as the dampness fell upon the vivid colors, washing them until they muted. The colors were long gone but somehow the vibrancy remained. With every rustle of the cool breeze between the fallen willow branches hope whispered through the whistling of the wild winds.

Peace was at my feet, pressed against my bare flesh with every step, peace as abundant and as plush emerald green blades of grass tickling my toes. When my eyes looked twards the heaven and the gems met the vast universe above. That is when I first saw love. Looking to the throne He sat in a midst of glorious angels in song.

Every last breath pushed a breeze of faith. Every tears shed poured out grace like rain. Every broken branch allowed hope to whisper through the bark, and every time my feet could go not one more step it was peace that got them home.

The cross stands reaching twards the heavens just as my prayers. In the silence, my answer will be whispered as softly as the wind through my golden locks. For now I will kneel on peace, breath in faith, warm with hope, soak in grace and love with all I have.

Sands of Time

It is a damp and noisy nearly night in NJ. The year 2009. I am sitting in a room that is mostly silence with small accents of crickets and unpolished nails tapping away at a keyboard and looking at a nearly blank page. An antique piano graces my vision with its alluring, timeless, classic beauty. Before it is even heard, its raw passion and notes of elegance come rushing forth as if there were tomorrow. Tonight, I think of all the things I have never seen yet have known to be true without vision as my companion. I reflect deep within my stunning flesh and travel to the bone of Gods grace within this tattered shell. I pull from deep within this bestowing glow all that I have to love just once more. The greatest of all loves stories are not those that held the most adventure, the ones that handed the most happiness, nor the ones that held a fairy tale ending. The great loves of our lives are the ones that too often slip away. The ones that come along at a seemingly bad time, or on a night where our mind dictates our actions before our hearts even get a chance to respond. This scenario is one I have found myself in before. The love of my life arriving moments too late. How stupid we are in our youth and in being so nieve to think that anyone, anything but ourselves has any right to say no to love. “Life isn’t always a dress rehearsal” we do not always get second chances and sometimes it seems as if our lives have gone wrong. So wrong. So, here I am. Myself and my piano and my words, all of which will eventually fade into the distance just like the hope this aching heart once had, a long long time ago. I want so badly to be the piano. Sitting in confidence and in tune waiting to be played in such a way that it would touch peoples ears and souls and even the finger tips of those who played. Waiting for the one who can tie all the keys of different sounds and octaves and place them into a natural harmony and rythem. The wood is polished and gleaming, its beauty is noticed even in its endless nicks and scrapes. It is in those flaws that history and memories have been stored and beneath the wax polish that they are preserved. Timeless memories among the beauty and the pain. The crickets tell me that is a very hot and humid night sky. There chirps rflect the motions of the wild fireflies that illuminate the summer air around me. At the tip of my nose a single glow lies hovering just beneath the horizon of the setting sun. My hand reaches out to touch this intricate creature in hoping that a dash of its brightness will rub off on my weary hands. It flies off into the pelican pink abyss and I am left standing in the dark. I can feel the wind rustle through my darkened locks like waves of faith crashing at the shoreline. My emerald green eyes wish so badly they could make my ruby shoes tap three times and wish that I was home. You see, he is home but he is not here. So, where does that leave me? That I just don’t know. I pray that his heart searches past the lies of this world and limitations of today, I pray that his soul and heart push him to find his way into my arms. Throw the hourglass and let the sand return the shores, tear apart the papers that hold you down and let the ink dry up like the dew in the morning sun. In this life I know that we can never go back but I am learning too quickly that we must not let today interfere with our hopes and dreams of tomorrow. Some say I am a dreamer and that I may be but if loving him is wrong than I don’t need to be right. Isnt it funny how life always plays a familiar tune? I close my eyes and my lashes dance upon my rosey cheeks. The tears fall down upon my chest and run to the ground where the soil will consume them. My arms rise out to my side as if they were wings of white and gold, eager to feel the wind and life beneath them in thinking they would carry me to the clouds of contentment and serenity. As nothing holds me but my own two feet I can imagine the arms of the man that one day will. I fall to my knees slumped in the green plush grass and wonder when my time will come. When will love find me? Growing tired from absorbing the world floating around me I lay down on my back to gaze at the endless span of wonder that the Lord placed right above me. I have been so busy looking forward that perhaps I forgot to see what has been placed directly before me. The dreams were not taken away, the past robbed me of nothing, the stars never vanished and the love never ceased. All Gods blessings have been before me and upon me I was just too busy thinking of the things I wanted to see and forgot about those that I could only feel.

Missing Pieces

Gods word tell us that... “Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one. Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude; never selfish, not quick to take offense. There is nothing love cannot face; there is no limit to its faith, its hope, and endurance. In a word, there are three things that last forever: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of them all is love.”

Just over one month ago I cried out to the Lord in agony, in confusion, in despair. I laughed at the meaning of my name, Mandee which means "loveable". Hearing my name seemed like a cruel reminder of the many short comings in my 29 years. Every time my name was spoken I felt another piece of my fragile heart break off and vanish into a sea of self pitty.

At age 17 I was diagnosed with a life threatening heart condition. I was labeled with a heart of gold. No known cure, may be fatal and may lead to rude awakenings. In the early hours just before the sun peaked over the horizon with a glow of amber, my heart mocked my names meaning one last time. I looked out the window with tears pouring silently from my eyes.

My soul overflowed with past regrets and broken promises. I couldn't speak, I couldn't talk, I couldn't even pray. All I could do was hope that the silent pleas buried beneath the clutter of my heart would somehow fly to meet God in a place where my desires could be heard with urgency and answered with His grace. I rolled my eyes as my lips quivered wondering how God could be so cruel.

I looked at the 14 raised flesh marks drapped down my abdomain, I ran my finger across my once split lip, I held my belly as a grieving mother of angels I never got to hold, and looked at my empty ring finger. I clenched my teeth and touched the scar upon my neck. I heard the tapes of demeaning words and saw a clenched fist starring at my porcelain face. I stretched my neck that was once torn from wrestling a man who tried to take what was not his.

How much must one human being endure before they can experience Gods grace? How long must one suffer before they can experience healing? How long can one person love without being loved in return? How much? How long? I fell asleep around 5:30am. I was awakened around 7:00am by an incoming text message that read "You are loveable. More than you know." My phone had never seen this number before yet when I read it I knew the face behind these life saving words. This is where I, Mandee, fell in love for what I consider, the first time and what I believe to be the last time.

Did God send me an angel to love? Or did God send me a man who loved me as if I were an angel? Or was it both? This man has mended my tattered heart. He has helped restore my soul. He has renewed my hope and triggered an over all healing. He has given without asking to receive. He has showered me in a love so pure, that it could only be from God. He has brought me to life. He has colored my world. He has awakened my spirit and brought joy to my heart. His smile flows through me like a flash of lightening. His embrace warms me like the summer sun. I can hear his prayers and feel his sincerity rush through my veins. As his love fills me, the pain and past is pushed out. I am renewed. I am restored. I am rested. Peaceful in his arms, safe in his hands, and content in his eyes. Enlightened my his words, moved by his thoughts and driven by his ambitions.

Love at first sight, my soul mate, my companion, my missing piece, a part of me, the better part of me, my everything, my breath, my reason for living, one thing I'd die for...he has things I never knew I needed and is more than I could ever want. Cliche perhaps and over used, these words grace many famous novels and speak on many big screens yet they never had meaning until I looked into his eyes. Truth happened in his eyes. The gray all became black and white. The worry vanished. The fear withdrew. The anger was extinguished. The pain was eased and time stopped. For a brief moment after our first embrace I wished I could go back in time to when I first stood before him. Than I realized that if I had gone back to that moment, I would not be the woman that stands before him today.

What am I today that I was not than? What am I today that I was not yesterday? None of that matters. All that matters is that I am finally who I was designed by God to be, who I have strived and dared to be, and a woman I am proud and honored to be. Somehow, in finding him, I also found myself. You see the tin man wasn't born without a heart, I was just keeping it safe until he was strong enough to hold it. He is too precious, too beautiful and too rare to just be wondering the city streets with a heart of gold. I don't know how I will ever thank God enough for the undeserved blessings in my life. I don't know how I will ever thank this mortal man for being my saving grace.

I don't know how he found me beneath this pile of rubble. I don't know how he reached down and pulled me up. I don't know how he sees me as he does and I will never know how I lived a single day without him by my side. I sit here now with tears of joy and appreciation trailing down my rosy cheeks. I am smiling and my eyes are closed. I see his smiling face, I hear his reassuring words, I feel his gentle embrace and I know without a doubt, that I am his. There is very little I am sure of in life but I am sure of him just as God is sure of love. He knows what it is and what it is not and after all is said and done, it is still the greatest of all things. L-O-V-E