Reality-a-la-carte. All you can eat sweet and sour moments.

April 19th I found out that after 15 years of no contact, my father died of prostate cancer. The news was something I had already played over several times in my head in that 15 years and my heart had somewhat accepted. The possibility of him being dead was more likely to accept then the pain of his silence for so long and moving on with his life. WRONG!
Cause when reality dealt that card, I didn’t want to hear that he was dead and I wasn’t angry that he had stayed away so long. The only thing I felt was sadness that he had been so sick and I wasn’t given the opportunity to care for him or help in any way. In the 2 years that he knew about his cancer, he had decided not to do chemotherapy and let the cancer take it’s natural course. But when I went on to hear how he spent his days, I just broke down and cried. Releasing my deep routed tears was accompanied by an overwhelming pride for how my dad chose to spend his time. I was so proud of him. He had found purpose in his life and was reaching out to those less fortunate, coordinating meals for the elderly and needy. He had been taken under the "spiritual" protective wing of a Christian couple in Little Rock. Arkansas. They gave him shelter, a place to work and became his family. I found comfort looking at the pictures my sister took of his surrounding home and work areas. Knowing that his atmosphere/space was just a transference of something I grew to love as a child. There was no 2 ton question mark over my head. He was still the father I knew and loved. I live true to what he taught me. Being true to expression of oneself, be creative, appreciate family, celebrate life, the outdoors and God's creation, find strength and trust in my own inner voice, don't waste precious moments (watching tv) and always keep a sense of humor for your own sanity.
After a childhood of disappointment in how my parents dealt with each other, their resentments or regrets while struggling with the stresses of life, I couldn't rationalize the bitter taste left in my mouth that I carried into my own adult life. Through personal growth, true love and acceptance of my own reality, sweet and sour would have to be my taste of preference in general. Taking the bad with the good concept. Which I would like to follow in my fathers foot steps and find a way to help others while I process my own troubles. But even if my good semariton career doesn't come through, I know that my good deeds and best efforts as a decent human being will be a daily occurance in everything I do. Thank you Dad, for who you are inside of me. Much love to you! 

My belief in God

I believe that he is merciful
I believe he is in all of us
I believe that he is wanting our love
I believe he needs our help to save others
I believe that he resides with Dad and Chris but is everywhere all the time through all of us
I believe he disagrees with a lot of what is being protrayed in Christianity
That we have put our own ingredients and interpretations into it and it's so far gone to try and filter it all out
Spirituality can not be defined by anyone but you
But in all religions I find it hard to leave the concept of God and all his creation out of it. It's impossible
The Bible is a guide for DUMMIES who need an excuse to back up their own insane inner mumbling
I don't need a bible or followers to tell me how spiritual I am or define my worth in the eyes of God.
He does that everyday and the day will come when I will face him and he will accept me with his eyes and I will know I did good by him and myself
That's what I believe

We all have what it takes............

................to make a difference a little or a lot.
I can't believe those that give so much of themselves, with little acknowledgement for their generosity. It's upsetting to see some taken advantage of, for being nice. Some people may say their co-dependent, gullible, or driven by guilt. Whatever the reason the record will set you straight. In my opinion, it takes a special person with a huge heart to sacrifice their needs and schedule. They have the free will, like anyone else to do so many other things, yet they choose to help others. When the record shows the time they commit to, the effort they put in, the energy it takes to do, the care that shines and/or money they invest, they are truly a breed of their own. People I am thinking of now have different walks of life but their hearts beat with the same purpose. It put's my faith back in humanity to witness these self-less acts. And whether their profession/obligation requires this sort of protocol or not, we should all want to be heroes to our children, save our parents from themselves, doctor our relationships, guard our bodies, regard ourselves, teach our friends that their not alone and those around us that "we all have what it takes" to make a difference no matter how big or small the cause. Compassion goes along way, in so many lives.

Policy or expectancy?

My husband is complaining that he is tired and stressed. Most of it is work related. He thought being a manager of a facility meant a lot of paper work and telling others what to do. But this company threw him a fast ball. I think it is also the fact that he is 50 and expects to take it easy. This is the point where men start getting really lazy mentally and physically. This was justified by the remark my aunt made the other day about men after 50. I am in trouble if this is so. I tried empathizing with him but I'm at a different port with my working out, building strength and stamina for my son, wanting to look and feel my best. I think this is more about self-worth.
When Peter came back into my life I was working for a printing company doing deliveries and quality control. I didn't mind the physical demands of the job or the 100 miles I drove almost daily. Eight to ten hours of lifting and dealing with traffic, did challenge me, test my patience on my bad days. I did this kind of work full term. The pregnancy became a source of worry for me, am I pushing myself too hard. I resented it towards the end. It was wrong in my eyes to have a pregnant woman doing deliveries. I kept thinking why don't they just give me something else to do and have someone else do the lifting. But they just paid for more boxes and made them 20 pounds and lighter. My expecting my concerns to be shared by my employer became a source of daily stress and I started to wonder why I was there. With much complaining and refusing to do certain deliveries finally got some attention. The last few weeks of my time there they had someone fill in where I wouldn't. But that is the only way I could relate to my husband for his stress and lack of energy. When I shared this with him, he got real quiet.