~Thought For the Day~ United We Stood, Sept.11 ©

This is a piece I wrote two years ago but I felt it still holds power today and my feelings have not changed on this topic. 

 As I was scrolling through the news feed this morning I saw many posts about September 11. I read each one, I read the accounts of many friends who knew exactly where they were when the attack on our country happened. I don't think any of us could forget that aspect. It is burned in our minds and hearts and even this many years later we view the photos or see the news feed, and that sick, scary feeling consumes us once again.

I do however think that we Americans have forgotten a few things along the journey to rebuild, remember ,and move forward as a country.

Before writing this, I looked at the photos again, I saw the terror in the eyes of our people, the fearless gleam of determination in the eyes of our police officers, firefighters and medical personnel and the sheer panic that surged through every single human being who ran through the chaotic streets, those who jumped from a building to escape, the people hurt screaming out for help, the look of hopelessness among every single soul that saw the image of a burned and wounded child being carried to an unknown location, people clawing for survival. It seemed surreal,and we almost watched hoping that the credits would run at the end and this sickening nightmare would be something of a farce, but instead, among the ashes, the smoke, the bodies, the wounded, we were facing reality.

Our great nation had been invaded and raped in the most devastating way possible. The home of the free didn't feel like home anymore, it felt as if we were all holding our breath, too scared to exhale because we didn't know what the next moment would bring. This country has never known such invasion until 9-11. We felt broken, unsure what to do, how to live, and if we ever could.

People around the nation began to reach out to one another. Everyday people who normally didn't speak or show kindness began showing compassion for their fellow Americans. We had a common bond, we were united, attacked, but still united.

As I scrolled down even further, and began reading other posts, I see things that still make me sick, and it is my sincere hope that every person who reads this will seriously think about what I am about to say.

On that tragic day, and the days that followed we didn't judge one another, we didn't hate, we were not capable, we wanted to embrace our nation of people, we wanted to heal, and in doing so we didn't care who we hugged or reached out to. Our fellow Americans were not judged by their race, their religious belief, their political party,their sexual preference or social class. We saw each other stripped down, we saw a person, a person who was just as scared as we were, and we loved them because they were our people.

Now look at us. This many years later and the hate seems to have risen to an even greater level, we fight among ourselves and no good comes from it.

Have we learned nothing?

How could we be so giving, so loving and so kind to other people and then over time take it all back and resume bashing people for how they chose to live. Doesn't that defeat the whole standard by which this nation is built?

We are the land of freedom, the melting pot, and I see so much hate and so many people pointing fingers, whispering behind the backs of others because they aren't of the same belief or creed and it makes me ashamed. Our people are gay, straight, black, white, Asian, native American, and the list goes on, we are democrats,republicans, independents, rich, poor, middle class, able bodied, disabled, sick, well, female, male. We all have a past, we have all made mistakes, we are sinners, winners, people with jobs, hungry, well fed, you see what I am saying. At one point after September 11, we as a country felt the most united we had ever known, and now we stand divided once again.

Aren't we to love one another, without passing judgment? That is the one feeling I took from 9-11, the incredible strength I saw in us all. Instead of looking down on one another, we were reaching down to lend a hand to those who had fallen, we smiled through our tears, we went out of our way to be kind and compassionate to all people, not just those who were standing in NYC, PA or DC, we embraced our brothers and sisters, every man, woman and child looking past our differences. Our nation was invaded, our safety violated, and in that happening we remembered to love, care and look out for our fellow man. Why can't we now?

I also think we often forget the daily courage that our law enforcement, our firefighters, our medical personnel and military face. They get up every single day and they don't go to work for just a check, they report in their field of work so that we might be safer, rescued, and that we might be allowed to indulge in the many freedoms we stand for. While we are surfing the net, reading a book at our leisure, holding our children, traveling to a sporting event or just sitting at home pondering what's for dinner, they are protecting us, serving us, and defending everything we hold dear.

They have taken a sworn oath to put their lives on the line for us daily and in doing so, shouldn't we give them our respect, love and honor? Until we feel threatened, we often forget they are there. They are the police officers who keep our streets safe, they are the medical team who rushes to our side in times of tragedy, they are the firefighters who brave the flames to restore our hopes, they are our military who fight our battles, they reach around our great nation, bound together, shoulder to shoulder, working to form a human chain of amazing men and women who believe in what this country should be. One Nation, free, safe and hopeful.

I thank you all sincerely for risking your life daily so that my family and friends may be shielded from the horrendous acts of terror, violence and horror that we are so fearful of. You go above and beyond, and thank you isn’t enough, we should honor and respect your chosen path, helping any way we can and stopping to thank you often for what you do without thought for your own life to give to us.

I think we as Americans should stand together, take a sworn oath, not just those in uniform to do our part to help. Reflect today, go back and view the photos, watch the videos of the day our world came crashing down, and remember how much love we had for our fellow man as we rebuilt, giving no thought to who they were, what they believed or what you didn't like about them. They are just like you whether you agree or not, they are citizens of the United States of America and if we can stand united once again, we can once more feel the surge of compassion and love for all people that we clung so tightly to that fateful day in September.

God Bless America.

Here are my thoughts.

 ©

Teresa

~Thought for the Day~ To Forgive ©

     I wasn't planning on writing this morning but something keeps nagging at my gut and I had to purge if you will and let it out.

I have some things on my mind, topics of various nature, some good, some not so pleasant.

One in particular keeps weighing on my shoulders and pulling at my heart.

I don't know if I have ever addressed this topic or not but it is a major virtue in my life.

Forgiveness, absorb that word. Seriously ponder it for a moment, what comes to mind?

Forgiveness.

In the grand scheme of life ours is but a short time here on Earth.

If we glance backwards we notice that the years roll by swiftly, we can’t stop time, and we can't prevent the days from flying into the wind as the calendar blows rapidly in the time of our lives.

Now think back to being a child, it seems so long ago sometimes, and then again if we concentrate it seems that only yesterday we were children, with little care.

I am sitting here imagining my childhood, my friends, my family, the love, the laughs, the heart break, the ups, downs and turnarounds that have taken place in my existence.

I remember back to a time when I held a grudge, in my early adulthood, I was very angry with a dear friend. I let that anger consume me, I wrote that person off and swore I never would speak to them again because of the wrongs I felt they had brought to me.

I was going to hold on to that hurt and never let it happen again, and then I forgave them.

I am not sure how or why I did, but I knew something was missing in my life and it was that person.

They had faults, yes, but so do I.

They had done me wrong, or so I thought in my own mind and in doing that I came very close to becoming bitter and hard.

I am so happy that way back then I forgave that person because ahead in my life I saw the big picture.

I think back to the times when that person was one of the only people I had on many a dark day. If they had not been there, I could have easily slipped into my own shadow and never returned, but thankfully, oh so thankfully, I had opened my heart to them again and I was able to see, hear and feel the true love of a friend when I didn't think I had anything in this world.

When my kids were small and they would get in trouble, they were told what they had done; they were given a strong talking to and sent on their way to ponder what they had done. Many times sitting in their rooms to “think” about what they had done.

I recall many times after whatever incident  had occurred, they would come to me, shoulders drooping, head down, and in a meek and humble voice they would say, “Mama, are you mad at me?” And sometimes I even heard, ‘Mom, do you hate me?”

I would hug them up and tell them no, I could never hate them, I wasn't happy with them but hate wasn't even possible. Sometimes we would shed tears together and our hearts would mend.

We put it behind us and moved on.

I didn’t write off my children when they did wrong or something I thought wasn't correct.

I am a huge Andy Griffith Show fan, and I think back to an episode that impacted me greatly. Opie was a little boy, his Dad had asked him to donate part of his meager allowance to a charity for underprivileged children and Opie only gave a very small amount.

His father punished him, he was irate, he was steaming mad at the thought of his own son being so greedy. He didn't talk to his son about actions, he ASSUMED and in his assumption he thought he had all the answers.

In the end, Opie had been saving his money to buy a coat for a little girl who knew who was braving the cold in a tattered old rag, and he wanted to help, he saw a need and took it upon himself to help. Even when his father punished him he didn't speak up and tell his “Pa” his reasoning. Only after his dad smacked down his reprimand and started to talk to his boy did he come to see the real truth.

Needless to say Andy Taylor felt like a big ol' jack ass for not looking into the matter further and also for not trusting that this boy had good morals and values and trusting his choice.

So many times we assume we know what the whole picture is, and in reality we can only see a corner piece of the puzzle, we can't grasp the entire view if we don’t look closer or attempt to try and angle for a better view.

I have learned in my life that we are given such a short stay here, and if we carry around hard feelings and negativity, well, in the end that is all we really have. We have a bitter attitude and arrogance of better than thou and to me, that isn't all that pretty to think about.

I have mentioned it many times, but I have survived a horrific take down when I lost my Mother. It was a huge blow to my gut, but every day, I get back up, I face it, I deal with it and along the way I have lost some important people, I suppose because I had to practice some self perseveration for the first time in my life. I had to put myself first to survive what I saw, what I felt and try to emerge a better woman.

I wasn't forgiven. I am ok with that, people have their reasons and their lives aren’t mine to live. I wish them nothing but joy and happiness. I do however wish that when people choose to remove you that they take a lesson from Andy Taylor, investigate, and get informed, because we never know what is happening beyond what we can see. 

We need not hand down an exile before we give thought to the other human being involved.

To live with negative feelings towards others is to hurt yourself, not the other person.

Forgiveness.

It takes courage to forgive; it takes strength to admit that you too are just the same, a flawed person.

Let love in, free yourself from the darkness that is clouding your world when you hold on to resentment and hatred.

I am not saying you welcome someone back into your life that hurt you, but before you completely throw them away, give thought to your own flaws, and see if you ever stumbled along the way.

Forgiveness.

It is a choice, a choice to free your heart, mind and soul.

To forgive is to truly live bravely.

As I am writing a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. comes to mind and I ask that in closing you take it in, ponder it and see if it speaks to you.

‘We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this we are less prone to hate our enemies.” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Here are my thoughts.

©

Teresa 

~Thought for the Day~ Behind Blue Eyes ©

     I felt compelled to write this after the sad passing of Robin Williams. I was almost hesitant, and then I decided, no, don’t hold back, put it out there, because it might touch one heart, one soul, and make them feel differently. If we stand silent we can never make a change.

I have been sitting back reading many articles, Facebook posts, comments, and various other media about Robin’s passing. I have taken it all in and it makes my heart hurt and it makes me cry.

Depression is no joke. Mental illness is no joke.

I know a good number of people who feel that if you suffer from any type of mental illness that you are “faking” or you are looking for sympathy. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Mental illness is one of the loneliest places you can reside. You are trapped within your own thoughts and can’t surface at times.

I have never publicly spoken out on this topic, and I have recently written a chapter in my new book about it, but I feel it is time to remove the dark cloth covering myself and come out and speak up.

I am not doing it for attention, I am not doing it for people to love me, I am doing it in hopes that we won’t lose another beautiful soul like Robin Williams, and I can make someone feel they aren’t alone.

I have watched the debilitating aftermath of depression, my Mother suffered for as long as I can remember.

I remember her crying, sobbing at times, and when I would talk to her; she couldn’t tell me what was wrong. I didn’t understand as a child, I thought it was life, or money; something had to make her cry. It was depression. She told me many times that she could be in a room full of people with millions of dollars in the bank and she would still feel alone and down.

Money, cars, people, material possessions don’t cure depression.

Here is where I am stepping out, and I must tell you, my hands are shaking, my face feels flushed but I am going to write this anyway.

I, Teresa, have bouts of mental illness. There, I said it.

You see, I identify with Robin Williams so very much, as so do many others. I have always been the class clown, the funny girl, that goof who always let everyone laugh at them in order to bring smiles to others. I know that lonely feeling; I know it all too well. When the laughter is quiet, and the crowd goes home, you are left standing all alone, and with nobody really to reach for. You feel like the floor will fall out from beneath you and you wonder if anyone will even notice.

I suffer from severe anxiety issues and PTSD. If you aren’t familiar with PTSD, it is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My entire adult life has been given a life sentence of agony as I wrestle this sick beast.

I have seen many things in my life, and been through some pure hell, and because of it, I am here, with issues, and all the while I never wanted anyone to know.

I wanted to make people laugh, smile and think I was the village idiot because it is easier that way and because of the stigma attached with any form of mental illness.

I am still human, I am still funny, I am still ridiculous at times, but my insides are broken and it has taken many years for me to figure out how to put my pieces together and resume living a seemingly normal life.

I have panic attacks, I have some intense nightmares from a violent rape from many years ago, but, still, I am me. Many of you may look at me differently from here on out, and I am used to that. I have lost many people along this road and had many bail on me, and I understand it. Some people just can’t grasp the concept and think it isn't real.

I promise you that it is very real. Just because you can’t see a wound doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Those of us who suffer wear our battle scars and bruises on the inside, and we don’t put them out there for people to see.

I am writing this to raise awareness and if it means me coming under fire, then so be it.

We lost an amazing person yesterday because he couldn't carry the weight any longer, he tried, and he tried, and he couldn't do it anymore.

I think what angers me most is that people think it is something we can just get over. OK, great, you have a broken leg or a long standing illness. Just get over it, right? It isn't real? You can't just simply get over it.

It hurts my heart to know people feel so alone and isolated that they feel they must exit this world because they have lost so much in life.

A few months ago I lost a very dear friend, Janay to this horrible sadness and I feel so hurt and sad for her, her family and all of us who knew her, because we couldn't stop her, we didn't reach her, and she felt she had no other way out.

I miss her so much, and I wish I could go back in time to our last conversations, and remind her of the joy and love she brought to so many. I don't know if it would have changed her in any way, but she would have known how I felt.

This is a wake up call, people. I preach this sermon almost every day. We don't know a person’s inner struggle, we haven’t walked in their shoes, and we must NOT look down upon another because they aren’t like us, but instead, without hesitation and reservation, reach down and stay down with them until you can lift them up and help them rise to the light once again.

Robin Williams was a brilliant man, he touched us all so much, his laughter, his impromptu lines, his wit, his courage, his amazing ability, and in the end of his life, this beloved person felt so alone and so isolated that he felt there was no other way to end his suffering.

Stop judging people, stop being mean, stop pretending you know it all. Take a stand, take a stand for life, for those who are surrounded by darkness and just need a hand to hold.

Life is hard, and sometimes we are dealt a tough hand to play, but if we put all this bull crap aside and learn to love, I mean really love our fellow human beings; we will see a rise, a rise of hope, a rise of living among us all.

So there you have my thoughts, my personal information, and I am willing to put it out there if it makes at least one person feel not so alone and that someone does understand the struggle.

Be kind, love each other, stop fighting, stop hating, embrace one another and let love in.

Rest in peace Robin Williams, you will live in our hearts always and your memory will not be in vain.Fly free at last. 

Here are my thoughts.

© 

Teresa 

~Thought for the Day~Breaking News:Sherlock Hardister Discovers The Meaning of Love ©

      Over the weekend, I had many thoughts and remembrances. Today, as I was processing that information, I had a very life altering moment. I finally found an answer to something I have been seeking for many years; from my childhood, to my years as a teen, and now, in my adulthood, and I feel I must share it with you, my readers. I feel a boulder has been removed from my back, and my mind at last feels a sense of peace as I unveil a most mysterious question. Some of you may agree with what I have come up with, and other may just have another answer. Either way, this is my interpretation. I have been looking for this secret to be revealed, and much to my happiness, I, at long last have my answer.

What is love?

I have wondered, written it down on countless pieces of paper, and never felt satisfied with what I came up with. I have said it out loud, I have asked others, and in a quiet moment on Sunday morning, I began to see the path in my mind I must take to answer this lingering question that has nagged at me for such a time.

As I was standing in my dining room on Sunday morning I began to just look into the other room, and as the light filtered through the curtains and kissed my cheeks, it was the most profound revelation that glistened within me, that I haven’t encountered in such a long time.

I felt my face burn with tears as they trickled down my slightly sun touched face and a memory began to surface.

For as far back as I can recall, there was an old beat up blue, matchbox car sitting on the kitchen windowsill. It looked like it had seen better days, but this little toys served an amazing purpose.

I could hear Mama in the kitchen, I could smell breakfast, and I knew in just a few seconds what was about to happen. I would hear her “rev” up that tiny car, making “VROOM VROOM” sounds and getting closer to my bedroom. I sometimes pretended to be asleep but more often I just waited in bed smiling.

She would make a tire squalling noise at the entrance of my door and round the corner. Always in an upbeat tone, and with a smile on her face and that old blue clunker in hand, she would say, “Hop in; breakfast is ready, get in!”

I would grab the tail of her shirt and play right along. We rolled into the kitchen; of course all the way through the house she would make motor noises and slam on the imaginary brakes.

She would stop with a sudden halt at the kitchen table, and then carefully park that old blue toy back in the window, so it would be gassed and ready for the next morning.

She did this for my entire childhood, and yes, she even did it right up until I left home as an adult. It was just something she did, and I loved her for it. I had forgotten it, and on Sunday that memory came flooding back.

I began thinking of what it meant and I came up with some very good answers and other instances that were related.

This is love.

Simply, just love.

It didn’t cost her a dime, and I am sure some mornings she didn’t feel like doing it, but she did. Why?

Because she loved me, she wanted me to know it, and instead of just saying it, she showed me in her own way. This is one of many things she did in my life, but its simplistic joy is what led me to my answer.

I thought back today of acts of pure love, and I came up with so many.

Love is singing in the kitchen while each little boy takes turns standing on your feet as you sing “Once upon a Dream”, swirling and twirling like we were in an enchanted ballroom. Those boys grew up, but I still sing it to them.

Love is the ‘Good Morning Dance” that makes my almost grown children more than likely shudder at the sight of me, but it is their send off every single school morning. I’ve got new dance moves every fall, and it is just something I do to show them I love them.

It is doing the Soul Train line dance with Luke, and looking really ridiculous, but not caring because of the joy on his face and the honest sound of his laughter as I boogie down.

This doesn’t just apply to mothers and children.

Love is a hand written letter.

Love is hug from behind.

Love is a hand picked bouquet of flowers that could easily pass as weeds.

Love is simply.

Love is action.

Love is showing, love is taking the time to prove it.

Love is a dance, no matter where you are.

Love is committing yourself to trying and following through with pure honest actions that cost nothing, but take effort and time.

Love is making a fool out of yourself for the sake of loving another human being, love is simple.

Love is work, but not back breaking work, love is just trying. Love is so pure and selfless.

It can happen with parents, children, spouses, significant others, friends, family. It knows no limits.

Love is simple, I find that people make it hard because they don’t put forth an effort or equate love with a dollar amount, and in my life, that means nothing. Give me a letter, a song, a dance, a hug, a genuine simple gesture and love will be found there and it the memories that is creates will reside in your being for all of your days.

I found out what love is, and I totally get it now. I now can finally move on to other questions that have been hanging around in my mind left unanswered, because I now get what love truly means.

Love is a little, beat up blue matchbox car.

Here are my thoughts.

 ©

Teresa ;) 

~Thought For The Day~ Rooted ©

     At nine o'clock this morning marks the last time I heard my Mom’s voice. We had a beautiful, life changing conversation. She was so on her game that morning. I think in her heart that she knew she would be leaving this world the following day. I guess a Mother’s intuition one last time.

I think she knew that she would be unable to speak again, or communicate in our normal way, so she packed our conversation full of her insight, love and most of all her strength. I sometimes wonder how in the world she had so much faith in me, I do not posses the type of strength she did, but I am seeing that three later, I am still here, still fighting the fight and I am living.

I am unsure where I am going with this Thought for the Day today so I will keep writing and see where we end up.

I miss her, but I wouldn't wish her back for anything in this world, to the pain, the struggle to the brawl that this world so often gives us. I know at last she is at peace, and that brings so much comfort to me.

I have said all along this journey that I wasn't crying for her, I was crying for me, me missing her; I was grieving for myself at such a loss.

I have been wrestling with what it is that nags at me so much, and yesterday I finally realized what it is that hurts so much. I miss every single aspect of her, but what I miss the most and what I long for is her touch.

It is as simple as that.

 I miss her touch.

For as far back as I remember, there was the simple communication of touch. She needless to say was very affectionate with me. My mind is filled with memories of hugs, kisses, holding my hand, pats on the back, brushing my hair out of my face and even the smack to the back of the head.

So this morning I am thinking of the amazing power of touch. It amazes me at what it can do. It can heal, it can guide, it can remind you that you are not alone, it can make you realize a mistake, and I could go on forever.

A few weeks ago my cousin gave me two plants that looked like they had seen better days. Poor things had dangly leaves, faded flowers that were nearing the end and the roots were knotted, pitiful and nearly dried up.

I didn't know what I could do with them but I gave it a go.

I replanted them carefully, and yes, talking to them and encouraging them to grow, grow, grow!

Carefully taking m y time with them, handling them, watching them and guiding them to rise.

I looked at them this morning and they are standing tall, regal and proud. They have grown taller, and their blooms even though slightly crooked are bursting with color and show.

I compare this to the power of the human touch. If I had just stuck those plants in a pot and called them mine, walking away, thinking I did enough but just sticking them somewhere I would now have a couple of pots of dust with a pile of roots that were once struggling to develop and stretch.

If we lack touch, we become withered, we lose the will to flourish and eventually any roots we once had will dry up and there will be no feeling left.

I was thankfully showered with affection as a child and even as an adult. Mom made sure to always touch. My forehead, my arm, whatever, she taught me to use that power that needs no words to communicate my love, care and hope through touch.

My children will be the first to attest to this, I am sure they sometimes get very tired of me constantly hugging them, kissing their now almost grown cheeks, and sometimes just simply reaching over to feel their arm beneath my fingertips. I just want them to feel, and to know what it means and to remember me as someone who always showed them a gesture of love without words. I think that memory will stay with them longer than any other.

If you live a life without human contact, you will wither, you will withdraw and just like those roots, the feelings will dry up and become numb.

Now imagine if you touch, hug, kiss, a person you love, they will grow, they will reach out to reach new heights of life, their roots will strengthen and search for a deeper level of residence in the earth.

People are just the same.

Don’t be afraid to reach out, to let someone you love know it, a hug, a kiss, hold them near to you and let them feel the surge of so many emotions. Fear of affection can make you very alone and very deprived.

The last few days I was allowed to spend with my Mother were mostly us holding hands; we didn't need to say anything. I remember her looking up at me, as I had looked to her so many times, and I simply leaned down and kissed her pretty forehead. She smiled and cried, I could feel the connection, I could feel a lifetime of love between us and even in the last of days it was still growing, and it is has taken root in my soul and it a huge part of who I am.

Yesterday my life long best friend Teresa stopped by, and before she left, she pulled me to her. That familiar hug, no words, just pure love.

What she doesn’t know is that after she left, I just stood there with tears, because it felt so good to just feel again, to feel touched, and to feel loved. I adore her for that. She just knows.

At 9am this morning I will shed a few tears as I recall the last conversation with Mom, and even as my tears flow, I will treasure every single word, and do just what she told me to do, keep fighting, keep living and make her proud and most of all I will pass along the lessons of love she taught me.

I miss you pretty girl, and don't worry, I am showering the boys with all those hugs you would be giving them.

The power of touch is amazing, try it. You will be overwhelmed at the always budding results.

Here are my thoughts.

 © 

Teresa 

~Thought For The Day~Descent ©

     It is late into the night. From inside, I hear it softly beckoning me.

As I slowly wrap my legs around the railing of the front porch, I can feel it gently, but so steadily, dancing upon my bare feet.

It is a cleansing, not just of the body, but of the heart and mind.

The wind sways, and as the wind chimes so delicately move in rhythm, I feel the light brush on my legs as the heavens are pouring down to me.

The sky is dark, but so vibrant. The world is seemingly asleep, the crickets singing all around. Did they perhaps do a united dance?

Did they feel my inner self summon to be purged?

They sound merry and filled with complete joy. I wish I could sing along, because in some strange way I feel them. I understand, and we connect.

The light from the porch serves as a beacon, and as it shines I see sweet glimpses of illumination into this darkness.

A once gray rock now glistens like a treasured jewel, the petals of the evergreen now dampened and with a majestic glow.

The choir continues to chirp, the breeze tickling my face and my hair begins to spiral in its soothing sway.

Ah, hello, Mr. Frog, this is your kind of weather, indeed. I can’t see him, but he lets me know he is near.

The pitter patter begins to drum louder, the wind serving as its faithful conductor.

My bare feet and soul are drenched, and I feel my body relax, giving into this remedy being served to me.

In the distance, I hear the faint call of the hoot owl, how does he fare?

Does he bare his ankles and resolve to find himself in a better state?

I should think so.

I feel alive, I feel at home.

I must leave my seat and parade into the feathery grass.

I want to drink it all in.

The night, the rain, everything so beautifully is becoming one.

This is the cleansing of my soul, as far back as my youth, a renewal of the girl, the calming of the woman.

Finding my position again, nestled upon the overhang, I feel in awe. It’s the perfect smell, the tingle of my skin, and the washing away of every care, every sin, at last.

In the morning when I rise, I will be new, I will be clean, and I will be me.

Good night to the choir as they huddle in to rest.

I bid you adieu hoot owl, warm wishes to you. Mr. Frog, I blow to you a tender kiss as I depart.

Throwing open my window before I casually cover my moistened skin, drifting off to a cozy slumber as the rain sings me softly to sleep.

It’s one of my favorite things in this world, the simple act of rain.

 It is a part of me. 

© 

Teresa Hardister

~Thought For The Day~ I Have Changed ©

     At our moment of birth we enter this world with a clean heart, a pure spirit and an untarnished perspective of the world. Everything we encounter is new, an awe struck wonder.

As we grow and learn we begin to form opinions, likes, dislikes and over the course of time we begin to form into who we are. The internal growing never stops, and that to me is such a gift. We mature, we watch and we digest the ways and workings of this world.

I remember when I was a little girl, I used to try on Mom’s high heels and clack them all over the floor, my tiny toes shoved all the way to the tip, wobbling with every step and I used to beg her to tell me when they would fit me. She always would smile and tell that it wouldn’t be long and I would be a grown up just like her and I could clack those shoes all I wanted to.

I do believe I outgrew her petite feet by age 10 and was blessed with rather large clodhoppers, but even so, I still remember slipping into heels and always remembering the giggles and falls of trying to balance the once little me into those shoes of hers.

Along the path of life we are dealt some pretty gruesome happenings and occurrences, we are also tested, challenged, and given days of unrelenting joy and happiness. People walk, stumble or fall into our lives and some stay and some go, but they all have something in common, they become woven into the fabric of our soul, our heart and that fabric is ever changing, the hues of happiness shine, the dark colors are steadfast and the brilliant tones of our beginning existence still blaze with radiance.

I have done so much thinking lately, I have been taking into thought about some things people have said to me, about me and taken notice as to where they are in my life now. Some have performed actions that they will never know how deeply they cut and I will never name them but it happens. Are they a color in my fabric or did they become faded?

The words have become a source for some much needed digging, no not of the vegetable planting kind, but some really deep holes that needed to be cleared out and looked into.

The resounding statement that keeps playing in my mind and I hear so often is “You’ve changed.”

Some mean it in a good way, some in a rather negative way I feel from the context in which it was said but what takes me to the core of my center is when I hear with disappointment that I have changed.

I will clear it up right here, I have changed.

I have changed.

I HAVE changed.

I have been beaten, broken down, scarred, hurt, put down, judged, criticized, scolded, shamed, left, and I have been happy, a silly heart, funny, joyful, proud, carefree, delightful and genuinely just content.

All of the mentioned will change you. It is how you take those things in and process them as to what your results will be.

I am human; I can be bitter, hateful, ugly, and isolated. But, deep down inside is still that silly hearted little girl who snorts when she laughs, who dances without care and worries about people beyond my own self.

I feel that those who have judged me, criticized me, scolded me or perhaps looked down upon me when I was in a phase of not so pretty have their own issues to deal with. Perhaps they are the bitter ones, not seeing the good in people or believing in them.

I have been knocked down so many times, and I don’t seek pity, in fact I hate sympathy, I can do this, I can manage, but remember I am still me, yes I have changed, but in order for the butterfly to ever become full of its beauty it must first be a caterpillar, and those are far less attractive at times. I have been in my own personal cocoon for a phase of time but as the binding begins to fall away, I can catch a glimpse of what awaits me, and I like it.

I HAVE changed.

I can never go back, nor should I ever try, I should just keep a steady pace of moving on in a forward motion, and I will stumble, trip over something but it won’t stop me.

I have changed.

Did you ever stop to think of why someone had changed, did you assist in that change? Did you extend your hand down to offer aid, did you pass on by and just spit harmful words, did you glance in that direction and assume, did you stand there and wait, knowing that this strong willed woman will eventually get up and when she does she will be a woman like she never was before.

I have changed.

I have lost, I have won, I overcome things everyday, and we all do.

I may not be back up to my fighting stance just yet, but I am close, and when I do, here I come. I will remember those who waited, who had faith in me and those that spit on me, and for those people, I wish you a farewell and a gesture of something not so nice. I will keep getting up, and up and up and the day will come when I am victorious and I will show those who didn’t see the light in my eyes, who never took the time to understand, that passed judgment, I will flutter by your head as the newly birthed butterfly and keep on flying, only landing upon those who waited, who just knew and stood by me without budging.

I have changed.

I HAVE changed.

My point today, life is nasty, unfair and ugly at times, but don’t let that define you, rise above it, know deep down in your guts who you are, and show them what ya got! Keep getting back up, and eventually you will soar, you have to keep trying, and if you don’t, you will one day look in the mirror, standing in the world alone, and the reflection that is cast back to you is that of a bitter, arrogant ass that found it much easier to be better than others instead of getting down on your knees and humbling yourself unto the world in order to survive and you will have no understanding of what life or real hard living is. I feel sorry for those. I am grateful for the struggle sometimes, it makes me get up even stronger and I feel the burn, but by God I get up, maybe not to the liking of others, but who cares. I will keep getting up.

I have changed.

Here are my thoughts.

©

Teresa  ;)