What a send off. There was standing room only. At the back of the church people were standing two upon two. I went up to the front to view the body. He was lying there with a green t-shirt that says "love is everything", a qoutation from First Corinthians. I don't care what people say, he may have looked good but he didn't look like the pictue that was on three screens around the auditorium's stage. He was simply a shell. The sourse of his beauty was his spirit and that was gone.
There were many flower arrangements, some with photos, some with memorabilia hung to them. I could have set up shop with all the blooms lining the platform. God help anyone with allergies. Beside him was a podium with his bible and some batman paraphanalia. He was a batman fan. Some of the attendees to this event wore their batman t-shirts in his honor. Others wore the identical green t-shirt he had on.
The occasion got initiated with six youth walking down the aisle, wearing shorts, sandals, jeans and tennis shoes, carrying huge drums. After they played cadence they marched off stage to the right.
Then began the slide show that filled in the past fifteen years. Some pictures made us laugh, especially the one with him tackling a super huge pizza by himself. We saw him standing next to the roped off batmobile when he was younger. We saw him hugging his mother, friends, cousins. We saw him semi-naked as a infant. How would he have responded to that?
The eulogies came next. Given by his father and grandfather. We laughed at their memories. It was appropriate. We reflected on his mission. His mission was to follow the Lord. If no one was saved during this time at least a seed was planted to grow latter. That would have meant everything to him.
Why did God take him so soon,especially since he was committed to be a minister for him? Did God see something in his future that he would be spared from? What must he have thought as he was running with his pals that Thursday and suddenly found himself running through the clouds to the pearly gates. No time to suffer. What jubilation. He got a first hand experience of all he'd learned about heaven. No warning. Isn't that what we'd wish for all our relatives and loved ones? If he'd been asked he might have said, "Not now, my family needs me and I have people to save and messages to preach." We're never consulted by the big guy. He knows what's best. None of us would want to pick the time of our departure. No matter we know the outcome, we don't want that power. Its done best by the one who knows all. Wait a minute. This was an sermon unequaled. How else to get so many teenagers together in one place? To hear about the young man's faith and hopes. To show each and everyone of them of the urgency of accepting Jesus. There may not be a tomorrow for them, either. If it hit one of them suddenly whose to say whose next? What a wonderful plan. God used him to preach to these teenagers in need of salvation! When they get saved the word will spread faster than it would by the actions of one! God is all knowing an all loving! His ways and thoughts are still higher than mine! He still gives answers to seekers.
After all was said a group of thirty or so youth stood. They lifted their brass instruments to their lips and emitted a touching instrumental. It was loud. It was emotional. This is where my eyes misted. The service was timed so his band could attend. He had played with them. Now their ranks were down one because he was off somewhere learning the harp.
We all walked by his coffin to say good bye. Outside numerous students were hugging an crying and being instructed in time management, getting ready for their time. We only have today,and we're not guaranteed the full twenty four hours. Behold, now is the day of salvation. Don't let his passing be without purpose. Let the seed grow into a Mighty oak planted by the waters of life. That would have pleased him.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
owen wilson
Apparently I should be expected to commit suicide. At least that’s the data my micro brain processed after I heard an educated person claim that Owen Wilson’s suicide attempt was uncalled for since he was rich and famous. Of course I’m only assuming the registered nurse I heard say this was educated because I had to go to school for five years to get my nursing degree. In that education I learned that suicide affects all races, ages, sexes and economic levels. I also learned to not be judgmental, an attitude supplemented by my relationship to a higher source, (Yes I mean God, the one and only God, no other God so help me God).
I’m sorry that Owen Wilson attempted suicide but it brought the issue to public attention again. I’m very grateful he has supportive family and friends who won’t let journalists make a profit from elaborating on the why-fors, it’s not our business. Those close to him are preventing this from becoming another tabloid sensation, their “no comment” means just that. I’m just delighted to hear he’s attempting to recover and getting help. I don’t think his attempt was a publicity trick since his brother found him with slashed wrists and overdosed. That’s a double whammy, one you don’t ordinarily just walk away from. As in Owen’s case an ambulance was necessary. My sympathies are also with the brother who discovered him in such a devastated condition, I can see counseling for post traumatic stress involved in the future. I, myself, was hit between the eyes when I found my husband crawling on the floor from a sodium deficiency produced from an increased prescription of diuretics. The trauma was just as real for me as for my nearly departed husband! I relived his drama frequently in the ensuing months.
Suicide can be fatal. If it isn’t successful it’s a call for help. I’m thankful that Owen is getting that help and in private with an apparently fantastic support system. Making it a spectator sport will add to his pain and esteem issues and generate unfounded gossip and /or myths. Something in his life is missing and I hope he finds it and it’s not something that can be bought contrary to the belief of the above mentioned nurse. The pain that leads to sudden death is so excruciating it can’t be captured on paper or in someone else’s psyche,. It is heart wrenching. I remember many times when I was younger, falling to my knees after emotionally traumatic events with pain so intense that stabbing my heart out with a dull butter knife would have been more tolerable. But I was poor and unpopular so if I had killed myself it would have been expected, even understandable according to Compassionate Nurse’s theory, fortunately she doesn‘t work in mental health. And I wouldn’t be here to share Owen’s pain and support him with the prayers of a soul sister, someone whose been through the fires before him and lived to tell about it, yes Owen, you can live also. It may not seem like it at the moment but the light at the end of the tunnel isn‘t a train, it‘s another day with new promise. I’m glad just enough information leaked out to the public to make us aware of his pain and to offer spiritual support to him and his family, via prayer.
In my chemistry class, yes I still remember chemistry after 30 years, I recall learning that all flesh is created equal, with the exception of course of inherent DNA which is totally outside of our control. We have the same beginnings, body chemistry, neurological wiring, vascular system, same potential for malfunction. The rich and famous and the destitute and unknown. We all pretty much have the same original schematics; therefore the potential for depression is pretty evenly distributed.
One myth that clearly got debunked is that happy, funny people are immune from self destructive thoughts. I’ve heard so often Owen played the funny guy that lived next store, carefree and fun loving, how could he do this to himself. Well, still waters run deep! Owen will help me to realize that the person sitting next to me laughing may only be covering up pain behind a mask (false front, fake bravado) created over a life time, I myself have many mask. That the laughter we hear coming from strangers, or friends, may be hiding a soul besieged with grief they are too proud to share or seek help for. Or maybe they really are happy. Flip a coin. It’s safer to treat everyone the way we’d want to be treated, don’t you think, than to deal with the guilt of pushing someone over the edge. Oh, sorry, I’m assuming, we all have feelings of guilt, I guess that’s a judgment call: Guilty!
Suicide Warning Signs:
Appearing depressed or sad most of the time.(Untreated depression is the number one cause for suicide.)
Feeling hopeless.
Expressing hopelessness.
Withdrawing from family and friends.
Sleeping too much or too little.
Feeling tired most of the time.
Gaining or losing a significant amount of weight.
Making statements such as these:
"I can't go on any longer."
"I hate this life."
"There's no point to this stupid life."
"Everyone would be better off without me."
"Life is not worth living."
"Nothing matters anymore."
"I don't care about anything anymore."
"I want to die."
--And any mention of suicide--
Writing notes or poems about suicide or death.
Acting compulsively.
Losing interest in most activities.
Giving away prized possessions.
Writing a will.
No sense of humor.
Facing a perceived "humiliating" situation.
Facing a perceived "failure."
Feeling excessive guilt or shame.
Acting irrationally.
Being preoccupied with death or dying.
Behaving recklessly.
Irritability
Frequently complaining about headaches, stomachaches, etc.
Neglecting personal appearance.
A dramatic change in personal appearance.
A dramatic change in personality.
Performing poorly at work or in school.
Abusing alcohol or drugs.
Inability to concentrate.
It should be noted that some people who die by suicide do not show any suicide warning signs. Many people hide their depression because there is still a strong social stigma against mental illness. Also, many people believe that they will be perceived as weak, so they also hide their depression.
But most people do show suicide warning signs, so we need to be aware of what the suicide warning signs are, and try to spot them in people. If we do see someone exhibiting suicide warning signs, we need to do everything that we can to help them.
If you or someone you know exhibits several of the suicide warning signs listed above, immediate action is required. Always take suicide warning signs seriously.
I’m sorry that Owen Wilson attempted suicide but it brought the issue to public attention again. I’m very grateful he has supportive family and friends who won’t let journalists make a profit from elaborating on the why-fors, it’s not our business. Those close to him are preventing this from becoming another tabloid sensation, their “no comment” means just that. I’m just delighted to hear he’s attempting to recover and getting help. I don’t think his attempt was a publicity trick since his brother found him with slashed wrists and overdosed. That’s a double whammy, one you don’t ordinarily just walk away from. As in Owen’s case an ambulance was necessary. My sympathies are also with the brother who discovered him in such a devastated condition, I can see counseling for post traumatic stress involved in the future. I, myself, was hit between the eyes when I found my husband crawling on the floor from a sodium deficiency produced from an increased prescription of diuretics. The trauma was just as real for me as for my nearly departed husband! I relived his drama frequently in the ensuing months.
Suicide can be fatal. If it isn’t successful it’s a call for help. I’m thankful that Owen is getting that help and in private with an apparently fantastic support system. Making it a spectator sport will add to his pain and esteem issues and generate unfounded gossip and /or myths. Something in his life is missing and I hope he finds it and it’s not something that can be bought contrary to the belief of the above mentioned nurse. The pain that leads to sudden death is so excruciating it can’t be captured on paper or in someone else’s psyche,. It is heart wrenching. I remember many times when I was younger, falling to my knees after emotionally traumatic events with pain so intense that stabbing my heart out with a dull butter knife would have been more tolerable. But I was poor and unpopular so if I had killed myself it would have been expected, even understandable according to Compassionate Nurse’s theory, fortunately she doesn‘t work in mental health. And I wouldn’t be here to share Owen’s pain and support him with the prayers of a soul sister, someone whose been through the fires before him and lived to tell about it, yes Owen, you can live also. It may not seem like it at the moment but the light at the end of the tunnel isn‘t a train, it‘s another day with new promise. I’m glad just enough information leaked out to the public to make us aware of his pain and to offer spiritual support to him and his family, via prayer.
In my chemistry class, yes I still remember chemistry after 30 years, I recall learning that all flesh is created equal, with the exception of course of inherent DNA which is totally outside of our control. We have the same beginnings, body chemistry, neurological wiring, vascular system, same potential for malfunction. The rich and famous and the destitute and unknown. We all pretty much have the same original schematics; therefore the potential for depression is pretty evenly distributed.
One myth that clearly got debunked is that happy, funny people are immune from self destructive thoughts. I’ve heard so often Owen played the funny guy that lived next store, carefree and fun loving, how could he do this to himself. Well, still waters run deep! Owen will help me to realize that the person sitting next to me laughing may only be covering up pain behind a mask (false front, fake bravado) created over a life time, I myself have many mask. That the laughter we hear coming from strangers, or friends, may be hiding a soul besieged with grief they are too proud to share or seek help for. Or maybe they really are happy. Flip a coin. It’s safer to treat everyone the way we’d want to be treated, don’t you think, than to deal with the guilt of pushing someone over the edge. Oh, sorry, I’m assuming, we all have feelings of guilt, I guess that’s a judgment call: Guilty!
Suicide Warning Signs:
Appearing depressed or sad most of the time.(Untreated depression is the number one cause for suicide.)
Feeling hopeless.
Expressing hopelessness.
Withdrawing from family and friends.
Sleeping too much or too little.
Feeling tired most of the time.
Gaining or losing a significant amount of weight.
Making statements such as these:
"I can't go on any longer."
"I hate this life."
"There's no point to this stupid life."
"Everyone would be better off without me."
"Life is not worth living."
"Nothing matters anymore."
"I don't care about anything anymore."
"I want to die."
--And any mention of suicide--
Writing notes or poems about suicide or death.
Acting compulsively.
Losing interest in most activities.
Giving away prized possessions.
Writing a will.
No sense of humor.
Facing a perceived "humiliating" situation.
Facing a perceived "failure."
Feeling excessive guilt or shame.
Acting irrationally.
Being preoccupied with death or dying.
Behaving recklessly.
Irritability
Frequently complaining about headaches, stomachaches, etc.
Neglecting personal appearance.
A dramatic change in personal appearance.
A dramatic change in personality.
Performing poorly at work or in school.
Abusing alcohol or drugs.
Inability to concentrate.
It should be noted that some people who die by suicide do not show any suicide warning signs. Many people hide their depression because there is still a strong social stigma against mental illness. Also, many people believe that they will be perceived as weak, so they also hide their depression.
But most people do show suicide warning signs, so we need to be aware of what the suicide warning signs are, and try to spot them in people. If we do see someone exhibiting suicide warning signs, we need to do everything that we can to help them.
If you or someone you know exhibits several of the suicide warning signs listed above, immediate action is required. Always take suicide warning signs seriously.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
The Married Jesus
I guess we can be thankful that Mr. Brown made Jesus a married man instead of
an adulterer or fornicator. If he had children they weren't bastards. Jesus’
claim to fame was his sinless ness making it possible to be a perfect sacrifice
for our sins. Marriage and having children in wedlock were honorable. At least
he wasn't shacking up with Mary Magdalene. This made her following him and a
group of men more respectable. So if he was married he was sinless, (unless of
course, Mr. Brown's line of reasoning is that giving into the temptation of
marriage was a sin, making us all sinners, if so I'm ready to repent)
Apparently Mary and Jesus agreed
on everything. There didn't seem to be any marital discord. No spousal
arguments over finances or sex are mentioned. These things would have been
under public scrutiny. She didn't ask Jesus if she could have the check book,
she let Judas carry it. He didn't fuss at her about wasting money on expensive
oils to wash his feet. He wasn't stingy. No fights about toilet seats left up,
or bras over the shower stall. She didn't whine about not having a permanent
home or him not getting a steady job.” You’re a carpenter, can't you just preach
on weekends like everyone else!" She supported his campaign to announce the
kingdom of God. Unlike Job's wife she didn't tell him to stop praising God for
his upcoming death. She didn't say, things like, "Think about me, don't go.
Sinners aren't worth your dying for when you have me". Or, "I can't raise a kid
by myself!" She stood behind her man(or knelt in front of him when she had to
wash his feet). She didn't complain about his staying out late all night with
the boys in prayer,(she didn't say, "Sure, that's all you did last night, I
smell wine on your breath!). She let him go on his fishing trips without
grumbling. He didn't accuse her of cheating on him with one of the twelve and
she wasn't jealous of his friendship with Mary and Martha(apparently two
unmarried women living with their brother, they must have been awfully
ugly).They didn't have in-law problems, she had the perfect mother-in -law and
she wouldn't dare complain about her father-in-law! He didn't quiz her about
her activities when he came back to the camp ground. They didn't talk about
each other, (this is obvious from the lack of information about them in the
bible) He didn't expect her to cook for all his friends. The last supper was
prepared by the disciples(Luke 22:12-13). They obviously weren't Baptists
because she was sitting at the table with him. (p.s. The painting wasn't taken
from a photo.) Baptist women serve the men first and eat in the kitchen
afterwards. She stayed with him as he died. Most men whine when they have a
cold and drive us wives from the room. He didn't. She referred to her husband
as "Lord", (John 20:13) when looking for him on that first Easter Sunday so she
had the right perspective of who wore the pants in marriage. He looked for her
after he rose so he wouldn't be in the dog house for going to see the guys
first (dog houses back then looked like caves with stones rolled in front of
them) . Great love there. She was number one in his life, (after God and the
rest of the world.) And her love for him was so great she never remarried. How
could she find someone better than Jesus. Oh, wait, you couldn't remarry as
long as your spouse was still living or does a three day intermission null and
void a contract?
So if Jesus was married it was a perfect marriage. Thanks Mr. Brown for not
trying to look for the marital dirt.
an adulterer or fornicator. If he had children they weren't bastards. Jesus’
claim to fame was his sinless ness making it possible to be a perfect sacrifice
for our sins. Marriage and having children in wedlock were honorable. At least
he wasn't shacking up with Mary Magdalene. This made her following him and a
group of men more respectable. So if he was married he was sinless, (unless of
course, Mr. Brown's line of reasoning is that giving into the temptation of
marriage was a sin, making us all sinners, if so I'm ready to repent)
Apparently Mary and Jesus agreed
on everything. There didn't seem to be any marital discord. No spousal
arguments over finances or sex are mentioned. These things would have been
under public scrutiny. She didn't ask Jesus if she could have the check book,
she let Judas carry it. He didn't fuss at her about wasting money on expensive
oils to wash his feet. He wasn't stingy. No fights about toilet seats left up,
or bras over the shower stall. She didn't whine about not having a permanent
home or him not getting a steady job.” You’re a carpenter, can't you just preach
on weekends like everyone else!" She supported his campaign to announce the
kingdom of God. Unlike Job's wife she didn't tell him to stop praising God for
his upcoming death. She didn't say, things like, "Think about me, don't go.
Sinners aren't worth your dying for when you have me". Or, "I can't raise a kid
by myself!" She stood behind her man(or knelt in front of him when she had to
wash his feet). She didn't complain about his staying out late all night with
the boys in prayer,(she didn't say, "Sure, that's all you did last night, I
smell wine on your breath!). She let him go on his fishing trips without
grumbling. He didn't accuse her of cheating on him with one of the twelve and
she wasn't jealous of his friendship with Mary and Martha(apparently two
unmarried women living with their brother, they must have been awfully
ugly).They didn't have in-law problems, she had the perfect mother-in -law and
she wouldn't dare complain about her father-in-law! He didn't quiz her about
her activities when he came back to the camp ground. They didn't talk about
each other, (this is obvious from the lack of information about them in the
bible) He didn't expect her to cook for all his friends. The last supper was
prepared by the disciples(Luke 22:12-13). They obviously weren't Baptists
because she was sitting at the table with him. (p.s. The painting wasn't taken
from a photo.) Baptist women serve the men first and eat in the kitchen
afterwards. She stayed with him as he died. Most men whine when they have a
cold and drive us wives from the room. He didn't. She referred to her husband
as "Lord", (John 20:13) when looking for him on that first Easter Sunday so she
had the right perspective of who wore the pants in marriage. He looked for her
after he rose so he wouldn't be in the dog house for going to see the guys
first (dog houses back then looked like caves with stones rolled in front of
them) . Great love there. She was number one in his life, (after God and the
rest of the world.) And her love for him was so great she never remarried. How
could she find someone better than Jesus. Oh, wait, you couldn't remarry as
long as your spouse was still living or does a three day intermission null and
void a contract?
So if Jesus was married it was a perfect marriage. Thanks Mr. Brown for not
trying to look for the marital dirt.
The Jones'
Does anyone know the Jones'? I've been looking for them diligently. I've
googled them, people searched them, sent up smoke signals for them. My next
step is to hire a private detective. I've got to find them. I've reached my mid
life crisis and I need to get some first hand advice. By all accounts
something has to be missing. I have to find out what the Jones have that I
want. I'm out of the loop. What new gadget have I missed out on. I'm too
content with what I have. I have a T.V in everyroom(some no bigger than my
head, okay, maybe that comparison isn't the best), a pool that I blow up,(I'm
not a terrorist in training, it's a pool you fill with air) a car to get me
places, (it should have a taxi sign on the roof as many people as I tote
around), I have a house that is two years from being completely mine.(Yippee,
I'm going to have an old fashion morgage burning), My two kids are grown and on
their (well at least not under my roof). I have a cell phone, computer,
pda.ect. ect. ect. I have a wonderful job, I'm satisfied with my paycheck, it
pays the bills with something left over (I usually buy gum with the change) I
have all the clothes I require,(I'm never naked, my friends take up a
collection to assure this never happens) The clothes in my closet cover all my
weight ranges. The outfits for my thin self are being eaten by moths however,
when I get back down to those sizes I'll probably have to tell people they are
crocheted one of a kind items. What is missing? I must have a deficiency of
something. I'm always hearing that I have to keep up with these Jones'. If they
set the standard I desperately want to locate them. (I want to have standards,
that is all I seem to be lacking).I hear they have the perfect house (one that
doesn't need repairs and has room for everything,) perfect job (one that they
are indespensable at), perfect husband,(looks like Fabian so be careful, all
the other women want him too), perfect kids(always say yes m'am, no sir and
never ask for money), perfect car(never needs maintaince and never gets a
speeding ticket), perfect boats (accomadates all their friends they want to
impress), perfect bodies (these are bodies they hire to train them to have
perfect bodies!) None of the Jones' I've encountered yet fit the content
category, they aren't satisfied with what they have. Perfect is never good
enough for them. They keep leaning out of the carosal to reach for the
unattainable gold ring. They are trying to keep up with someone else, another
Jones. So there must be an ultimate Jones I haven't run across yet. Please,
step forward if you're the perfect, at the top of the heap Jones'.
As for me,I'm convinced I'm delusional. I feel perfectly content with what I
have and only replace things as they wear out. My husband had better be
careful.
googled them, people searched them, sent up smoke signals for them. My next
step is to hire a private detective. I've got to find them. I've reached my mid
life crisis and I need to get some first hand advice. By all accounts
something has to be missing. I have to find out what the Jones have that I
want. I'm out of the loop. What new gadget have I missed out on. I'm too
content with what I have. I have a T.V in everyroom(some no bigger than my
head, okay, maybe that comparison isn't the best), a pool that I blow up,(I'm
not a terrorist in training, it's a pool you fill with air) a car to get me
places, (it should have a taxi sign on the roof as many people as I tote
around), I have a house that is two years from being completely mine.(Yippee,
I'm going to have an old fashion morgage burning), My two kids are grown and on
their (well at least not under my roof). I have a cell phone, computer,
pda.ect. ect. ect. I have a wonderful job, I'm satisfied with my paycheck, it
pays the bills with something left over (I usually buy gum with the change) I
have all the clothes I require,(I'm never naked, my friends take up a
collection to assure this never happens) The clothes in my closet cover all my
weight ranges. The outfits for my thin self are being eaten by moths however,
when I get back down to those sizes I'll probably have to tell people they are
crocheted one of a kind items. What is missing? I must have a deficiency of
something. I'm always hearing that I have to keep up with these Jones'. If they
set the standard I desperately want to locate them. (I want to have standards,
that is all I seem to be lacking).I hear they have the perfect house (one that
doesn't need repairs and has room for everything,) perfect job (one that they
are indespensable at), perfect husband,(looks like Fabian so be careful, all
the other women want him too), perfect kids(always say yes m'am, no sir and
never ask for money), perfect car(never needs maintaince and never gets a
speeding ticket), perfect boats (accomadates all their friends they want to
impress), perfect bodies (these are bodies they hire to train them to have
perfect bodies!) None of the Jones' I've encountered yet fit the content
category, they aren't satisfied with what they have. Perfect is never good
enough for them. They keep leaning out of the carosal to reach for the
unattainable gold ring. They are trying to keep up with someone else, another
Jones. So there must be an ultimate Jones I haven't run across yet. Please,
step forward if you're the perfect, at the top of the heap Jones'.
As for me,I'm convinced I'm delusional. I feel perfectly content with what I
have and only replace things as they wear out. My husband had better be
careful.
cancer
As a medical professional I'm not allowed to judge my patients but still as a
person I'm allowed to have opinions, and here's mine....I had a patient
recently with breast cancer that had spread throughout her body landing in her
lungs. Why? She felt the lump in her breast a few years ago but didn't want to
worry her family because of their history of breast cancer. That makes sense
to me. Don't get treated so they can watch you die slowly. No worry there. They
would much rather yell at her for not seeking early treatment that could have
halted the progression of the illness. Let them be angry at you, that's much
better than worry. Anger is active, worry is passive. Don't listen to the
warning signs from those that went on before you. Let their lives mean nothing.
Don't learn from them. When you meet them on the other side I'm sure they'll be
glad to see you. You'll be close enough for them to kick your angelic little
butt. If my daughter ignores signs of breast cancer to alleviate my anxietry
and I get to watch her gradually be eaten alive with cancerous cells I'll
surely thank her for considering my emotions, (after I kill her).
So many people beat the disease now with early detection. It's not the last word. My
mother died of breast cancer after a six year battle and I refuse to pass my
annual breast exam, I learned from her to be watchful. She didn't keep her
discovery a secret. She wanted us to be there for her. If her's had been caught
earlier she might still be with me today, (but she'd be pretty darn old). It's
to late for my patient but I hope the rest of her family has learned to listen
to their bodies and get annual check ups.
I work in a female laden profession and I've seen many develop various cancers
from breast, colon, pancreas and ovaries. We have many five year survivors and
lots more in the race. In case you didn't know, that's good. In fact I can't
think of a single cancer death! There are approximately eight breast cancer
survivors in the department, one of which is a man, yes men have breasts under
that chest hair. The lady with ovarian cancer was pushed by her significant
other to get examined. She is over one year post op and engaged, and boy, did she get a big rock, and it's not over her grave! She can hold her head up with pride but I'm surprised she can
hold her hand up. He stood by her the whole way. Her only concern was loosing
her hair. Get over it. Hair grows back. Life doesn't.(It may be eternal but not
eternally carnal) There are many fashion statements to be made with short hair,
and bandanas. We were jealous of her scarve wearing talents. I told her I was
going to get my head shaved in honor of her but she wouldn't let me be a copy
cat. She wanted to hoard all the compliments and attention! Her boyfriend was
more worried about her not getting treated. Ask him how he would have felt if
she wanted to spare him worry!
The colon cancer colleague was in her mid 60's, retirement age, when she received her diagnosis. She had her surgery and worked another 10 years till we forced her to retire so she could enjoy life. She is still alive.
There are success stories. Listen to them. Don't waste the lives
of those that warned you of your family history. Let your family and friends
worry about you, then let them rejoice with you when your battle is won!! I
work with a lady that is one year past pancreatic cancer. That is significant.
My own father is 15 years past a radical head and neck procedure done for
tonsil and tongue cancer, most die the first year.
Again, I can't stress it enough. Worry your family. Let them badger you all the way to the survivor celebration banquet. They'll be glad you did and no one will be waiting to kick
your butt on the other side. This is just my opinion though, ask your families
what theirs is.
person I'm allowed to have opinions, and here's mine....I had a patient
recently with breast cancer that had spread throughout her body landing in her
lungs. Why? She felt the lump in her breast a few years ago but didn't want to
worry her family because of their history of breast cancer. That makes sense
to me. Don't get treated so they can watch you die slowly. No worry there. They
would much rather yell at her for not seeking early treatment that could have
halted the progression of the illness. Let them be angry at you, that's much
better than worry. Anger is active, worry is passive. Don't listen to the
warning signs from those that went on before you. Let their lives mean nothing.
Don't learn from them. When you meet them on the other side I'm sure they'll be
glad to see you. You'll be close enough for them to kick your angelic little
butt. If my daughter ignores signs of breast cancer to alleviate my anxietry
and I get to watch her gradually be eaten alive with cancerous cells I'll
surely thank her for considering my emotions, (after I kill her).
So many people beat the disease now with early detection. It's not the last word. My
mother died of breast cancer after a six year battle and I refuse to pass my
annual breast exam, I learned from her to be watchful. She didn't keep her
discovery a secret. She wanted us to be there for her. If her's had been caught
earlier she might still be with me today, (but she'd be pretty darn old). It's
to late for my patient but I hope the rest of her family has learned to listen
to their bodies and get annual check ups.
I work in a female laden profession and I've seen many develop various cancers
from breast, colon, pancreas and ovaries. We have many five year survivors and
lots more in the race. In case you didn't know, that's good. In fact I can't
think of a single cancer death! There are approximately eight breast cancer
survivors in the department, one of which is a man, yes men have breasts under
that chest hair. The lady with ovarian cancer was pushed by her significant
other to get examined. She is over one year post op and engaged, and boy, did she get a big rock, and it's not over her grave! She can hold her head up with pride but I'm surprised she can
hold her hand up. He stood by her the whole way. Her only concern was loosing
her hair. Get over it. Hair grows back. Life doesn't.(It may be eternal but not
eternally carnal) There are many fashion statements to be made with short hair,
and bandanas. We were jealous of her scarve wearing talents. I told her I was
going to get my head shaved in honor of her but she wouldn't let me be a copy
cat. She wanted to hoard all the compliments and attention! Her boyfriend was
more worried about her not getting treated. Ask him how he would have felt if
she wanted to spare him worry!
The colon cancer colleague was in her mid 60's, retirement age, when she received her diagnosis. She had her surgery and worked another 10 years till we forced her to retire so she could enjoy life. She is still alive.
There are success stories. Listen to them. Don't waste the lives
of those that warned you of your family history. Let your family and friends
worry about you, then let them rejoice with you when your battle is won!! I
work with a lady that is one year past pancreatic cancer. That is significant.
My own father is 15 years past a radical head and neck procedure done for
tonsil and tongue cancer, most die the first year.
Again, I can't stress it enough. Worry your family. Let them badger you all the way to the survivor celebration banquet. They'll be glad you did and no one will be waiting to kick
your butt on the other side. This is just my opinion though, ask your families
what theirs is.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
lax parenting
More and more kids are vanishing from under our noses. I'm not the least bit
surprised. As I walk my dogs past a neighborhood park I observe many kids at
play there, unchaperoned by adults. I must look suspicious glancing around
looking for invincible grown-ups. Their only guardians are kids just slightly
older than they are, I'm not talking sixteen to eighteen, I'm talking two and
four to six. They run up to meet my canines and no parent pokes their head out
of any house to warn them about strangers. If I wanted to bring a innocent home
with me it would be easy, just use my dog as bait. (Not that I have any need
for more kids).
It's possible I'm wrong, there could be scores of armed policemen in every domicile waiting for me to fall into temptation and snatch a decoy, these are probably little robatrons. If I grab one I could be instantly surrounded with rifles pointed at my chest, or the robatron could simply
implode in my arms eliminating me altogether, reducing the pervert pool. Doubt it, this isn't a plot written by Stephen King.
There are hundreds of unattended children at play outside right now free for the taking. They aren't being kidnapped, they are being offered on the alter. It's a virtual supermarket for
perverts. Go around any corner and take your pick, Latino, white, black, boy or
girl, one or two, infant, toddler, preadolescent. It's like the parents are
begging you to relieve them of their duties.(Wouldn't it be nice to be foot
loose and fancy free again?) Then they go crying to the authorities that junior
or princess is missing. Why weren't they watching them if they cared so much?
How could they let a person with a single digit age walk home from a friend's
house three blocks away at night. Hell, it's dangerous in the day light. Crime
isn't a night time profession. The hours are lenient and worker friendly, crime
can be worked around any schedule: school, day care, playtime, any location:
bus stop, school yard, library, mall, street corner.
Creeps don't even have to have wheels to nab a kid. They get delivery service when kids ring their doorbells selling for the school band. I've looked out to the curb and no one
is walking with these mini-merchants when I answer my door, and worse yet, they
walk right in. I give them the lecture that their parents should have
delivered, "It's not smart to go into a stranger's house, you could get hurt!"
They either don't blink an eye or run out screaming, (maybe I should change my
approach but just maybe it taught them a lesson). I need to have paintings on
my walls of tortured kids, maybe this would deter them from crossing my
threshold, but if one shows up missing and searchers knocked at my portal I
would probably be the first carted of for questioning.
Yes, I know you can't watch kids every minute of the day. They have wandering minds and are escape artists. I caught my own twelve year old daughter about to crawl in the back
seat of a car she was being lured into by a kid with a snake.(and she'd had the
lecture many times, it just hadn't taken) The driver looked like something from
the night of the dead. After I gave him (and her) a piece of my mind I towed
her home by the ears. She claimed I embarrassed her in front of her friends.
When I asked how long she knew them, one hour counted as a long term
relationship. Kids make friends real fast. Now that I look back on it, the kid
in the back of the car could have been a victim himself. My daughter also had
the habit of going for midnight walks. I installed a home alarm system so that
when the front door opened at night I would know it, so would the security
company! She has made it to thirty two, and still not concerned about night
time escapades but she's on her own now.
It's not safe for adults out in this world, why do we leave our children unsupervised.
I wouldn't let my kid any where near a person I hadn't met. There are people I know
I wouldn't go near! Yet most parents, not all parents, let their kids sleep over with unmet parents of other kids.
When I was in my twenties riding a bike for exercise a guy in a
pick up asked if I needed a ride. I politely said, "No thanks, I'm on a ride,
you --- -- - -----". How often does this occur with youngsters where they
actually accept the offer. On my way home from middle school once, I was stopped
by a middle aged, well dressed guy in a car with a rack of clothes in the back seat. He claimed he was looking for new models and I had potential. I believe he was telling the truth,(I was
kind of cute) but I don't believe my pictures would have been seen by a audience
larger than one. At the time I feel like I had let opportunity pass me by, but
now I realize I had actually listened to my parents' warnings that had
penetrated my subconscious. I lucked out. Too many other kids have lost.
Maybe if we had tougher laws on lax parents more kids would survive. I know the
government is getting too in-our-face with laws on the home front but something
has to be done to assure our kids will stay on the home front or be placed where
they are in less danger of neglect. We need to make sure our playgrounds,
schools and malls aren't buffet tables for freaks. Personally I don't mind
being a Mrs. Cravetz (think Bewitched) when it comes to being nosey about our
nations youth. I don't understand why police cars on patrol don't park next to
play areas when they see adult-less children at play, follow the kids home and
give a list of known pedophiles in the area to the parents. Boy would they be
surprised, I certainly was when I researched it on the internet, and that only
divulged the "known" pedophiles. Remember every criminal hasn't been caught or
started their life of crime yet. This might prevent some disappearances. Known
sex offenders can't be anywhere near a place kids gather, Chuckie-cheeses, the
mall, schools, children’s hospitals, apartment complexes, family reunions ect.
It is hard for them to find residences and employment. I think an excellent
solution to this is to build them their own communities, self sufficient and
enclosed so we don't have to worry about them, oh yeah, these places do exit,
they're called jails.
surprised. As I walk my dogs past a neighborhood park I observe many kids at
play there, unchaperoned by adults. I must look suspicious glancing around
looking for invincible grown-ups. Their only guardians are kids just slightly
older than they are, I'm not talking sixteen to eighteen, I'm talking two and
four to six. They run up to meet my canines and no parent pokes their head out
of any house to warn them about strangers. If I wanted to bring a innocent home
with me it would be easy, just use my dog as bait. (Not that I have any need
for more kids).
It's possible I'm wrong, there could be scores of armed policemen in every domicile waiting for me to fall into temptation and snatch a decoy, these are probably little robatrons. If I grab one I could be instantly surrounded with rifles pointed at my chest, or the robatron could simply
implode in my arms eliminating me altogether, reducing the pervert pool. Doubt it, this isn't a plot written by Stephen King.
There are hundreds of unattended children at play outside right now free for the taking. They aren't being kidnapped, they are being offered on the alter. It's a virtual supermarket for
perverts. Go around any corner and take your pick, Latino, white, black, boy or
girl, one or two, infant, toddler, preadolescent. It's like the parents are
begging you to relieve them of their duties.(Wouldn't it be nice to be foot
loose and fancy free again?) Then they go crying to the authorities that junior
or princess is missing. Why weren't they watching them if they cared so much?
How could they let a person with a single digit age walk home from a friend's
house three blocks away at night. Hell, it's dangerous in the day light. Crime
isn't a night time profession. The hours are lenient and worker friendly, crime
can be worked around any schedule: school, day care, playtime, any location:
bus stop, school yard, library, mall, street corner.
Creeps don't even have to have wheels to nab a kid. They get delivery service when kids ring their doorbells selling for the school band. I've looked out to the curb and no one
is walking with these mini-merchants when I answer my door, and worse yet, they
walk right in. I give them the lecture that their parents should have
delivered, "It's not smart to go into a stranger's house, you could get hurt!"
They either don't blink an eye or run out screaming, (maybe I should change my
approach but just maybe it taught them a lesson). I need to have paintings on
my walls of tortured kids, maybe this would deter them from crossing my
threshold, but if one shows up missing and searchers knocked at my portal I
would probably be the first carted of for questioning.
Yes, I know you can't watch kids every minute of the day. They have wandering minds and are escape artists. I caught my own twelve year old daughter about to crawl in the back
seat of a car she was being lured into by a kid with a snake.(and she'd had the
lecture many times, it just hadn't taken) The driver looked like something from
the night of the dead. After I gave him (and her) a piece of my mind I towed
her home by the ears. She claimed I embarrassed her in front of her friends.
When I asked how long she knew them, one hour counted as a long term
relationship. Kids make friends real fast. Now that I look back on it, the kid
in the back of the car could have been a victim himself. My daughter also had
the habit of going for midnight walks. I installed a home alarm system so that
when the front door opened at night I would know it, so would the security
company! She has made it to thirty two, and still not concerned about night
time escapades but she's on her own now.
It's not safe for adults out in this world, why do we leave our children unsupervised.
I wouldn't let my kid any where near a person I hadn't met. There are people I know
I wouldn't go near! Yet most parents, not all parents, let their kids sleep over with unmet parents of other kids.
When I was in my twenties riding a bike for exercise a guy in a
pick up asked if I needed a ride. I politely said, "No thanks, I'm on a ride,
you --- -- - -----". How often does this occur with youngsters where they
actually accept the offer. On my way home from middle school once, I was stopped
by a middle aged, well dressed guy in a car with a rack of clothes in the back seat. He claimed he was looking for new models and I had potential. I believe he was telling the truth,(I was
kind of cute) but I don't believe my pictures would have been seen by a audience
larger than one. At the time I feel like I had let opportunity pass me by, but
now I realize I had actually listened to my parents' warnings that had
penetrated my subconscious. I lucked out. Too many other kids have lost.
Maybe if we had tougher laws on lax parents more kids would survive. I know the
government is getting too in-our-face with laws on the home front but something
has to be done to assure our kids will stay on the home front or be placed where
they are in less danger of neglect. We need to make sure our playgrounds,
schools and malls aren't buffet tables for freaks. Personally I don't mind
being a Mrs. Cravetz (think Bewitched) when it comes to being nosey about our
nations youth. I don't understand why police cars on patrol don't park next to
play areas when they see adult-less children at play, follow the kids home and
give a list of known pedophiles in the area to the parents. Boy would they be
surprised, I certainly was when I researched it on the internet, and that only
divulged the "known" pedophiles. Remember every criminal hasn't been caught or
started their life of crime yet. This might prevent some disappearances. Known
sex offenders can't be anywhere near a place kids gather, Chuckie-cheeses, the
mall, schools, children’s hospitals, apartment complexes, family reunions ect.
It is hard for them to find residences and employment. I think an excellent
solution to this is to build them their own communities, self sufficient and
enclosed so we don't have to worry about them, oh yeah, these places do exit,
they're called jails.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
slander
The Department of Aging and Disability services is a regulatory agency that looks out for the best interest of assisted living and nursing home residents. It works with paid staff and volunteer ombudsmen who have gone through background checks and intensive training. Criminal checks are also run on applicants for the protection of the agency's reputation and of course the residents safety. Volunteers come from all walks of life: ministers, sales persons, social workers, ect. I'm one of those volunteers an I happen to be a nurse.
I loved going to my assigned nursing home and making friends of the residents. Sometimes it was like a first meeting every time! I really fell in love with them, the ninety five year old lady whose response every time I asked her how she was doing was, "I'm fit as a fiddle!" The little lady who sat in the hallway watching the goings-on like it was her front porch, the couple whose wife had Alzheimer’s and he was there daily to care for his bride of sixty something years. The couple whose husband is on hospice, dying. I've come to think of them as family.
Yes. I loved these people.Unfortunately the staff was nervous about my unpredictable visits. The activity director complained I followed her around and made her nervous. I've only seen her three times in five months, I go mostly in the evenings and weekends. Boy, the stress I've placed her under. I hope she seeks counseling. I explained I was the new kid on the block and I was learning the ropes. If walking and talking with someone who's had their job for several years made her nervous, I wonder why? I kept informing her what a wonderful job she was doing, maybe she had a reason to not believe me? There really wasn't much variety on her activities list.
If questioning the week end charge nurse about a residents chest pains made her uneasy, imagine how the resident with the chest pains felt. If suggesting they put names and pictures on the doors so staff and confused residents could find their rooms was wrong; oh, well. Or better yet, if they would just put a door up on a bathroom that opened into the hallway so residents could use it without making it a spectator sport.
So if a nursing home doesn't want to be regulated what can they do? Nothing, they can't interfere with an ombudsman's job. Oh, wait, yes they can. They can lie. New invention? Nope. It started in a garden years ago by a slippery little fella named Satan. The nursing home administrator can call the paid ombudsman and tell her that the volunteer, who came too often and asked to many questions, was seen taking pictures right and left with a camera, violating resident's privacy. Once again, did I mention I was a registered nurse? That means I have HIPPA and patient confidentiality imprinted on my brain. I think I know not to bring a camera and go to town in a nursing home like a tourist.
Can you spell s l a n d e r. In case you can't spell it, here's the definition:
slan·der (slndr)n.
1. Law: Oral communication of false statements injurious to a person's reputation.
2. A false and malicious statement or report about someone.
Oh, yeah, that is right, the nursing home had me removed without so much as a trial. I've never even met the administrator to defend myself. No. He just went on hearsay. Lies, no soft soaping it: Lies, lies lies. I've lost my little family of residents that I've come to admire. I've lost my good name. I've almost lost my desire to help the helpless. Volunteer work doesn't pay enough for this heart ache. You must really love what you do to put up with this kind of abuse. My boss believed me;I hope. She offered me a choice of other nursing homes that need a volunteer. Homes that are actually closer to mine, convenient for me to make more spontaneous appearances. Homes with more problems. Oh, great, so if they don't like me pointing these problems out what will they do? And there is always the possibility of a shadow of a doubt now existing in my boss's mind because of slander: " false statements injurious to a person's reputation."
I want to suggest filing a complaint that if it was true, that I was photographing residents, the nursing home should have had me escorted out by their security guards, and this should be on record somewhere: evidence! It seems they should be guilty of neglect. I could ask them to produce witnesses, but they could do as Jesus' accusers did, ask the staff they pay to lie also? It's against the law to hinder ombudsmen in their work, but it seems if you don't want to be regulated it's entirely acceptable to slander, i.e. to lie, about whoever it is that happens to be regulating you. If the word gets out, all the nursing home administrators will be looking for tall tales to tell,(excuse me, I mean fabricating tall tales!). It should be easy, they don't seem to have to provide proof of their allegations. This could be the beginning of the end for regulatory agencies.
I loved going to my assigned nursing home and making friends of the residents. Sometimes it was like a first meeting every time! I really fell in love with them, the ninety five year old lady whose response every time I asked her how she was doing was, "I'm fit as a fiddle!" The little lady who sat in the hallway watching the goings-on like it was her front porch, the couple whose wife had Alzheimer’s and he was there daily to care for his bride of sixty something years. The couple whose husband is on hospice, dying. I've come to think of them as family.
Yes. I loved these people.Unfortunately the staff was nervous about my unpredictable visits. The activity director complained I followed her around and made her nervous. I've only seen her three times in five months, I go mostly in the evenings and weekends. Boy, the stress I've placed her under. I hope she seeks counseling. I explained I was the new kid on the block and I was learning the ropes. If walking and talking with someone who's had their job for several years made her nervous, I wonder why? I kept informing her what a wonderful job she was doing, maybe she had a reason to not believe me? There really wasn't much variety on her activities list.
If questioning the week end charge nurse about a residents chest pains made her uneasy, imagine how the resident with the chest pains felt. If suggesting they put names and pictures on the doors so staff and confused residents could find their rooms was wrong; oh, well. Or better yet, if they would just put a door up on a bathroom that opened into the hallway so residents could use it without making it a spectator sport.
So if a nursing home doesn't want to be regulated what can they do? Nothing, they can't interfere with an ombudsman's job. Oh, wait, yes they can. They can lie. New invention? Nope. It started in a garden years ago by a slippery little fella named Satan. The nursing home administrator can call the paid ombudsman and tell her that the volunteer, who came too often and asked to many questions, was seen taking pictures right and left with a camera, violating resident's privacy. Once again, did I mention I was a registered nurse? That means I have HIPPA and patient confidentiality imprinted on my brain. I think I know not to bring a camera and go to town in a nursing home like a tourist.
Can you spell s l a n d e r. In case you can't spell it, here's the definition:
slan·der (slndr)n.
1. Law: Oral communication of false statements injurious to a person's reputation.
2. A false and malicious statement or report about someone.
Oh, yeah, that is right, the nursing home had me removed without so much as a trial. I've never even met the administrator to defend myself. No. He just went on hearsay. Lies, no soft soaping it: Lies, lies lies. I've lost my little family of residents that I've come to admire. I've lost my good name. I've almost lost my desire to help the helpless. Volunteer work doesn't pay enough for this heart ache. You must really love what you do to put up with this kind of abuse. My boss believed me;I hope. She offered me a choice of other nursing homes that need a volunteer. Homes that are actually closer to mine, convenient for me to make more spontaneous appearances. Homes with more problems. Oh, great, so if they don't like me pointing these problems out what will they do? And there is always the possibility of a shadow of a doubt now existing in my boss's mind because of slander: " false statements injurious to a person's reputation."
I want to suggest filing a complaint that if it was true, that I was photographing residents, the nursing home should have had me escorted out by their security guards, and this should be on record somewhere: evidence! It seems they should be guilty of neglect. I could ask them to produce witnesses, but they could do as Jesus' accusers did, ask the staff they pay to lie also? It's against the law to hinder ombudsmen in their work, but it seems if you don't want to be regulated it's entirely acceptable to slander, i.e. to lie, about whoever it is that happens to be regulating you. If the word gets out, all the nursing home administrators will be looking for tall tales to tell,(excuse me, I mean fabricating tall tales!). It should be easy, they don't seem to have to provide proof of their allegations. This could be the beginning of the end for regulatory agencies.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
untouchables
When we think of untouchables we invision India and her caste system and are
repulsed by the brutality of it. Yet we have our own untouchables. Ours come
from different stratospheres of society. It's not heridary or class distinct.
It is ill defined and can attack anyone. One day you'll be on the top of the
world, invited anywhere, respected by all.Then you slowly find it hard to get
out of bed every day and suddenly you'll be torn from your home by people
doing it for your best interests. You'll be taken to a strange building and
placed in a small room. It will have windows but the curtains will never be
opened, there may be electricity but you'll never know for sure because no one
turns the lights on. There may be someone else in the other bed but you can't
hear them breathing due to the machine whirling loudly at their bed side.People
will walk down the hallways talking and laughing with each other. You'll try to
get their attention but your words have become indistinguishable. They'll come
get you sometimes and sit you in front of a large screen television with others
who are slumped over and drooling. Around you will be people standing upright
eating cake and wearing colorful scrubs visiting with each other and ignoring
you. They don't notice you sliding out of your chair, practically on the floor,
your back all bent out of shape and your chin hanging on the safty strap.You've
become an non being. You've become old, wrinkled, unsightly. No one wants to be
associated with you.Your family can't tolerate the smells around you so they
won't come. You're dirty and sweaty and smell foul so they wouldn't touch you
even if they did visit. They are ashamed to tell your friends they placed you
here so no one can find you. Your friends wouldn't know what to say to you
anyway, you have nothing in common anymore. You can't converse about world
topics, the lattest fashions, recent movies and the news means nothing to
you... Who's the president now? The building your in is nothing more than the
lobby to the morgue,a pre registration area for the funeral home. My opinion
is time will be saved if these nursing homes were built next to the cemetaries,
there would be less travel time disposing of our untouchables.
But the good news is this can be changed. We can visit these untouchables every
day, talk to them, encourage them and make things better for them by gettting
involved and writing letters to our congressman and the newspapers so when it
comes time for our families to dispossess us things may have improved. We all
deny it will happen to us. Our families are close. We care for each other.
Don't count on it buddy. Our families have lives outside of the home, they
can't be with us all the time. When we become a burden and can't get out of bed
we'll become untouchable, and suddenly you'll be torn from your
bed...................
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Lets go shopping
It's the holiday season, time to shop till you drop. First trip is to the toy store, bring your kids to help and let them go wild, picking out anything they would want. Cute cuddly bears, dogs, and cats, stuffed animals to snuggle up to at night and be comforted by, educational toys to divert attention from the daily routine, fun toys that teach togetherness, interactive toys, sport toys, CD players to listen to good audio books, oh, yeah, get some audio books while you're at it. Don't pass the roller blades, they'll get the kids out of the house for hours, good exercise for detouring obesity, along with the skate boards a must for every kid. Get it all to the cash register and pack in in the trunk, real good and secure. Then it's off to the mall.
Tons of warm socks, mittens, hats, scarves, and flannel PJ’s with Scotty dogs running across the borders, to lighten the mood and warm old digits. So much to buy, so much catches the eye. We need to get it all, books with large print, magnifying glasses- for the regular print books, and look at all the radio CD players, gadgets and gimmicks, and just plain old decks of cards. Lotions and potions to soothe and pamper the skin. Go to the check out counter and don't flinch at the cost.
Last stop, the grocery store. Fill the cart up with pie fillings, and pie crusts, canned meats, sugar plums are a must, cranberry sauces, stuffing mixes; things to fix in a jiff. Things for kids, snacks and treats, fruit galore, and don't forget nuts, they're so good for you. Don't leave anything off the list, use two carts if you must. Get things to stuff in the stockings that will be hung by the chimney with care. You may finally need to use your credit card here, just sign the receipt and get out before you think of something else to buy.
Now our shopping is done, but before we go home to our family gathering, our good hot meals, and soft cozy beds, we have three more stops to make. The first is to Toys for Tots to unload a third of the trunk. These toys for children in foster care and hospitals. The stuffed animals will go to a toddler who has been abused yet still misses his mom. The CD player will go to a teenage girl living with her mom in the women's shelter, along with her other Christmas wish, the Bible on CD. The football gear will go to a young boy whose father was sent to jail for breaking an entering, thank heavens he's in the big brother program, hopefully junior will have a better male role model.
The next stop will be the salvation army to donate gifts for long term residences, women's havens and homeless shelters. The scarves will go to a ninety year old lady who still remembers her mother was born on a ship immigrating to America, she has seen her whole family pass on. The flannel PJ’s will go to a young man of eighty with Parkinson’s and a daughter who spends his money and doesn't make payments to the nursing facility, they're having to consider dismissing him. The mittens will warm many cold arthritic fingers this winter, but senior citizens are known to wear mittens through out the year!!!
The final stop is at the food bank, that fills a great many pantries. Those coming to the soup kitchens these season haven't been eating well throughout the year. They'll bag some food stuff up for the young mother of three whose husband was killed by a drunken driver. Some more groceries will go to the schools to feed children whose parents don't make enough money working two jobs to keep the table adequately supplied because the cost of health insurance doesn't cover all the treatment for their youngest child's leukemia. They've already had to sell their house and most of their posseccions to finance the care, the doctor, refuses to take his co-pay, settling only for the insurance re-inbursement! There are a few kind hearted doctors out there, some actually went in for patient care, not to buy Mercedes!
Now, home at last, worn out from a day of fast and furious shopping, you can sit to eat. In the house where domestic violence has been held at bay, your husband is home and sitting in the arm chair reading a magazine, (Guideposts, not Playboy); the kids, healthy and happy, all gather around the turkey to hear the blessing.” Thank you lord, for our health that lets us shop; our abundance you give us to share. Thanks for giving us bread to spread on the waters, and the heart to return the love you have given us to others in need. Thanks for caring, dear Lord about all the sparrows that have fallen and giving us the opportunity to pick them up."
Look closely at the baby lying in the manager over the fireplace, if you're observant you might see a tear roll down his cheek even as he smiles.
Prov. 28:27Eccl 11:1-22 Cor 8:13-15Gal 2:10
Tons of warm socks, mittens, hats, scarves, and flannel PJ’s with Scotty dogs running across the borders, to lighten the mood and warm old digits. So much to buy, so much catches the eye. We need to get it all, books with large print, magnifying glasses- for the regular print books, and look at all the radio CD players, gadgets and gimmicks, and just plain old decks of cards. Lotions and potions to soothe and pamper the skin. Go to the check out counter and don't flinch at the cost.
Last stop, the grocery store. Fill the cart up with pie fillings, and pie crusts, canned meats, sugar plums are a must, cranberry sauces, stuffing mixes; things to fix in a jiff. Things for kids, snacks and treats, fruit galore, and don't forget nuts, they're so good for you. Don't leave anything off the list, use two carts if you must. Get things to stuff in the stockings that will be hung by the chimney with care. You may finally need to use your credit card here, just sign the receipt and get out before you think of something else to buy.
Now our shopping is done, but before we go home to our family gathering, our good hot meals, and soft cozy beds, we have three more stops to make. The first is to Toys for Tots to unload a third of the trunk. These toys for children in foster care and hospitals. The stuffed animals will go to a toddler who has been abused yet still misses his mom. The CD player will go to a teenage girl living with her mom in the women's shelter, along with her other Christmas wish, the Bible on CD. The football gear will go to a young boy whose father was sent to jail for breaking an entering, thank heavens he's in the big brother program, hopefully junior will have a better male role model.
The next stop will be the salvation army to donate gifts for long term residences, women's havens and homeless shelters. The scarves will go to a ninety year old lady who still remembers her mother was born on a ship immigrating to America, she has seen her whole family pass on. The flannel PJ’s will go to a young man of eighty with Parkinson’s and a daughter who spends his money and doesn't make payments to the nursing facility, they're having to consider dismissing him. The mittens will warm many cold arthritic fingers this winter, but senior citizens are known to wear mittens through out the year!!!
The final stop is at the food bank, that fills a great many pantries. Those coming to the soup kitchens these season haven't been eating well throughout the year. They'll bag some food stuff up for the young mother of three whose husband was killed by a drunken driver. Some more groceries will go to the schools to feed children whose parents don't make enough money working two jobs to keep the table adequately supplied because the cost of health insurance doesn't cover all the treatment for their youngest child's leukemia. They've already had to sell their house and most of their posseccions to finance the care, the doctor, refuses to take his co-pay, settling only for the insurance re-inbursement! There are a few kind hearted doctors out there, some actually went in for patient care, not to buy Mercedes!
Now, home at last, worn out from a day of fast and furious shopping, you can sit to eat. In the house where domestic violence has been held at bay, your husband is home and sitting in the arm chair reading a magazine, (Guideposts, not Playboy); the kids, healthy and happy, all gather around the turkey to hear the blessing.” Thank you lord, for our health that lets us shop; our abundance you give us to share. Thanks for giving us bread to spread on the waters, and the heart to return the love you have given us to others in need. Thanks for caring, dear Lord about all the sparrows that have fallen and giving us the opportunity to pick them up."
Look closely at the baby lying in the manager over the fireplace, if you're observant you might see a tear roll down his cheek even as he smiles.
Prov. 28:27Eccl 11:1-22 Cor 8:13-15Gal 2:10
dogs
Before I ever thought of bringing them home, male and female, I prepared a fantastic oasis for them. They would have lots of room to romp and play in a nice fenced in backyard.. They would be sheltered in the house at night, during the days I was at work and in bad weather. They would have full range of my home. I purchased the food, toys,and bedding they would require. They would not have to work, hunt for food or shelter. Every thing was safe, they would not be savaged by neighboring coyotes. They were never in danger. I read extensively about their care. Then I brought them home. I never felt I made a mistake. They showered me with love and devotion. When I came home in the evenings they greeted me with joy. No complaints. Never mind they were in the house while their friends were scavaging through the alley trash cans scattering garbage in their wake.(This sounds bad to us, but it's doggy gourmet dining.) They followed me around the house like waves behind a boat. Their eyes never left me. Whenever I looked down at them, they were looking up to me. In sickness they trusted me to have the answers. They thanked me for their health. They laid down at me feet and I scratched their backs and rubbed their bellies. We were always in sync. They could predict from my actions what would come next in their schedules. Whenever I left them they knew I would return, I would never abandon them, I would be there every night to cuddle and love them. I only had one rule, don't chew my shoes. I never put them up. Shoes were all over the house. By the back door, by the bathroom, by the dressers ect. Oh, my, I came home one day and my favorite dress shoes were newly converted sandals. I was broken hearted. They had chew toys galore, why ruin my favorite,(actually only) pair of dress foot wear? I looked all over for the culprits. They would not come out of hiding. They could hear the pain and disappointment in my voice. They were ashamed. Slowly I coaxed them out from under the bed. They had the evidence still in their teeth. They hung their heads low. Yes, I was mad. From now on they would have restrictions to my bed room. They could no longer come in unless my closet was closed with all my shoes tucked safely away. I worried about my remaining shoes. If they shredded one pair would this cascade into standard procedure. Would more shoes meet a dental demise? The bond of trust was broken. A rule was broken. I sent them outside now during the day. What else would they destroy if I allowed them free access to the house. I still loved them and cared for them but things changed slightly. They had a haunted hurt look about them. They tried desperately to make it up to me with extra works, giving me bed baths and doing comedy routines, rolling an tumbling around. I still was without my best shoes. Now I knew what God went through in the beginning. This totally reminds me of the story of Adam and Eve and how they let God down. Odd, History does repeat itself...except I'm not about to sacrifice one of my kids to make atonement, and I have more than one child. God must really have love us.
mom
If she were still here things would be different. I would walk into a clean, uncluttered house. As it is now it looks like someone picked the wooden structure up and tipped it upside down. The only evidence of dirt would be the dust that settled on the furniture, as neat as mom was she was blind to dust. I would mark certain items with my stubby finger, "Dust me." No, I wouldn't do the chore for her, she didn't work outside the home and I had lots to do,ride my bike, visit friends, roam the nieghborhood for mischief,ect. When she died dad placed her ashes (in a box of course) on his dresser. Dust layered this box almost instantly. I let it stay there as a reminder of mom's inefficiency and occassionally spelled "dust me" on her remains! It seems kind of ironic that a non duster should "become" dust!
If she were still here there wouldn't be cat food dishes by the toaster or microwave. No cats would be above floor level in her home, unless of coarse, they were in the custody of a human lap. All food dishes would be discarded when animal feeding time was over, they would not accumalate on the floors or counters. The words cats and dogs would not exist. One cat, one dog. The limit. No argument. No discussion. As it is now, three dogs and cats too numerous to tally exist in this house.
If she were still here there would be no locked doors on any room in her house. There would also be no one to lock the doors. My son and his wife would be forced to own or rent their own domicile instead of inhabiting a room with a deadbolt on it for their privacy. Plus if they wanted to continue smoking they would be led to the back door. My dad is a push over. They are there right now to keep him company and make sure he doesn't fall. Mom would see to to his safety if she were still here.. He was her world. She would safe guard him like precious metal. She never let me move in for extended times. I couldn't handle her that long any way. The two of us in one house, not a plesant sight or sound. I'd only be there long enough to get my feet back on the ground. (She would put cement in my shoes so my feet wouldn't leave the ground!!)
If she were still here Holiday meals would be on her,or at least displayed on her apron which served as a sample course. She loved to cook,even if she didn't know how. She learned rapidly after she said "I do." at the ripe age of 36, but she was a simple cook. Holiday meals never varied, the same recipes reserved for the two main holidays, X-mas and Thanksgiving. She would invite "homeless" people to join us along with all the extended family members that travelled to town. It took me years after she passed to realize I could use the same food items any time during the twelve month cycle. There were always home baked treats in the freezer that were continuously in demand, and Sunday meals were nostalgic. There was a daily menu. You knew what each day would bring to the table. She learned what she could cook and seldom deviated from it, this kept our digestive tract quiet.
If she were still here she would revolve her days around cleaning, baking and ironing. I have not seen an ironing board in 19 years, do they still manufacture them? She ironed everything, hankies, dad's boxers, the bed sheets. I think it justified her standing for hours in front of her favorite soaps (that's short for soap operas not detergent.) Nothing was left undone though because of T.V viewing,(except of coarse the afore mentioned dusting!)Bed making was first priority after breakfast,always homecooked, not warmed up pop tarts or cold cereal. Dad got up one morning to use the men's room and came back to a made bed. "I didn't know you were up." Mom said. Dad looked from her to the made bed an back again with a quizical expression. "Oh, never mind, It's time to be up anyway." She stated.
If you weren't up by 6 a.m you'd open your eyes to the underside of a bedspread and have to call for help to be excavated from your sleeping palette. If she couldn't stay in bed neither could you, she had a tight schedule and no interfering with it.( I suspect she got to take a nap every day though, but I was never able to catch her in the act because that would mean skipping school.)
If she were still here dad would never have to go anywhere by himself. She was a faithful buddy. His time was her time. She was honored to be his wife. He supported her, took her away from a lonely life, got her out of the workforce and out of her mother's home and gave her children,(well that was the down side). She would attend every doctor's visit, sports game, veteran's of foreign war meeting and social event he went too without complaining. She even enrolled them in senior citizen activities. She had anticipated retirement with great eagerness for this type of diversion. No, dad wouldn't be sitting around the house for hours on end if mom were still here. There would be places to go, things to see, people to meet.
If she were still here I'm sure dad would be eating again. He had head and neck surgury 14 years ago and has a permanent feeding tube. I bet under her supervision and relentlessness he'd have relearned to swallow safely. Mom was hard core ignorant of medical advice. She followed her own instincts. Dad would be sitting down now to three squares a day instead of liquid being poured into a stomach tube. She didn't learn to cook for nothing. She would not waste her time in the kitchen to see canned food replace her efforts!(I must admit though, the canned foods probably have more seasoning.)
Yeah,(long sigh) if she were still here things would be differnent, or at least the same as they were before she left. The main thing though would be there would be no pain at Christmas time (she went to see Jesus the day before his birthday) as we are reminded another 365 days have gone on without her. It's true, life does go on, but it doesn't go on as smoothly.
Mom, we miss you, if you were still here I wouldn't have to say that.
Where is it written
Certain things have a predictable outcome. You miss handle your body, develop
heart disease, diabetes, lung cancer, alcoholism and we don't expect you to
live long. You've abused your body with bad diets, too much sugar, nicotine and
alcohol and you pay the price to the grim reaper. But you go to school at
fifteen and, falling down a flight of stairs, you break your neck and die, this
we don't anticipate. This isn't fair. You're 90 years old and die in your sleep
tranquilly in your bed, this is a blessing, but you're 6 weeks old lying in
your crib and cease to inhale, (unfair but a painless demise) or snoozing in
the back of your parent's car and die of heat exhaustion (horrible way to go!)
because they forgot to deposit you at day care, this is out of harmony with
natural law, we don't forget our kids. A young Christian man dies at 42 with Lou
Gering’s disease, an obnoxious Satanist lives into his 90's serving Satan.
Psalm 37:1 "Fret not because of evildoers, nor be envious of the workers of
iniquity, for they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the
green herb." A plane crashes and kills all but 5 people. What made them the
lucky ones? Luke 13:2 "do you suppose that these Galileans were worse sinners
than all other Galileans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, no,
but unless you repent you will all likewise perish."
Things just happen. It's called chance, not justice, not fair, just old fashioned since-the-beginning of time, chance. People have time to prepare for the death of aging parents or
relatives with chronic illnesses, but it's a heavy blow when a kid goes to
school to get and education and is shot by a strung out peer on a thrill
seeking tour. Some things we can recover from, we can retrieve our balance,
we've had time to prepare, it was expected. But how do you regain equilibrium
when someone goes without saying goodbye. When something isn't fair. What's
fair? What book or contract promises we'll die old and "healthy". Where is it
written, please, I want to know. It must be written somewhere or people
couldn't proclaim early deaths as unfair, unjust or against nature.
People used to have lots of kids hoping that a few would live long enough to care for them
in their old age, so obviously the early termination of life isn't new. There
is no good time to die, no correct age to hang it up, just magical numbers
called by some game master in the sky. He calls your number and bingo, you're
gone. He's the only one that knows what's fair. Only he knows we don't die, that
sudden departure from here is a sudden entrance into eternity.
What's fair? It's fair we give him credit for knowing what he's doing, sure we can question
him, he allows that, but we have to place our trust in him. We are all part of
a long line of unfair circumstances going back generations too numerous to
count to the beginning of time. Was it fair that the first couple were evicted
from their home because of a lousy piece of fruit. Was it fair the first
murder victim was because of an acceptable sacrifice. Was it fair that hundreds
of people felt the water rise up over their heads while eight people floated
off on a zoological raft. Was it fair that a child died because his parents
committed adultery (David and Bathsheba) or that a mother watch her son die
spread eagle on a cross after being spit on and beaten? Was it fair that Jesus
didn't raise everyone to life that died while he was on earth, just a select
recorded few? Was it fair to God that he made us to love him and we look for
gods under rocks, rivers and valleys. We look every where but up. Life is
unpredictable. Death is predictable, we'll all die unless we're here at the
Lord's return then who gives a toot.
Treat everyone like you'll never see them again...in this life. Expect the unexpected and rejoice when it doesn't happen.
Isaiah 57:1-2 says, "The righteous perishes, and no man takes it to heart:
merciful men are taken away, while no one considers that the righteous is
taken away from evil, He shall enter into peace, they shall rest in their beds,
each one walking in his uprightness." Now, that's justice.
We're all born with life time guarantees, just no guarantee of the life time. It is written,
however, that once we shed this building (our body )all unpredictability will
vanish. That contract is sign sealed and delivered in writing. Rev 21:4 "And
God will wipe away every tear from their eyes, there shall be NO MORE DEATH,
nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain for the former things have
passed away."
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About Me
- collette
- I'm an operating room nurse whose done several different voluneer jobs. I just recently re-enlisted for Hospice volunteering again after a few years off .I took care of my disabled dad for 19 years till he passed on. I have three dogs right now that I love dearly.