"At the end of the day"....

It’s the last day of 2012. There is always the wonder of what the next year will bring. We wonder especially about a year ending in 13. That can’t be good, right? So, I thought it was a great time to share my philosophy of daily life. It can work for everyone regardless of your faith or circumstances. It has been one of my most powerful tools through the last few years.


It is this- “At the end of the day, all that really matters is that I was the kind of person I wanted to be that day.” It’s deceptively simple. But simple does not always mean easy. At the beginning this can be very hard. Step one is to know what kind of person you want to be. That can be the hardest step for some. Look to who you admire, people who have traits you wish you have. Look at your list of regrets- the “wish I hadn’t done that’s” in your life. Choose to do the opposite in the future.

This step was probably the easiest for me because I want to be a true follower of Jesus Christ. I am lucky enough to have a guidebook and many examples to learn from. In the beginning, many circumstances found me chanting my mantra, “At the end of the day, all that really matters is that I am the kind of person I want to be.” Like when my ex or his wife made choices that hurt me deeply, did I want to lash back and hurt them to ease my pain, oh, yes, I did! But at the end of the day would I be happy with that choice? Nope. So I chose to act as kindly and graciously as I possibly could. The amazing thing is the power I felt over myself and how each time became easier. I was in charge of me- nobody had the power to change who I am anymore because I wasn’t giving them that power.

Part of the reason this works is the already proven method of taking one day at a time. This breaks it down to one event at a time, one moment at a time. I stay in the moment or event and remember who I want to be at the end of the day. It has taken many reactions out of my life and turned them into actions. And I REALLY needed a tool to help me with that.

On my first Greyhound bus trip to Texas last year, I had many opportunities to test this theory. Perhaps the toughest was a confrontation with a young “street” tough woman who got really pissed when my handbag bumped her as I walked down the aisle. Boy, she was PISSED and I really thought she was going to hit me. She stood up and took a stance. I didn’t need my mantra to apologize, that came naturally but I was chanting it in my head as I thought out my choices if she did swing. I was truly ready to stand there while she hit me and do nothing back. Anyone who knew me way back when would know how huge a step that was for me. I didn’t want to fight and nobody was going make me. I didn’t even get angry back. I kept apologizing and talking kindly. She backed down and sat down and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was only later that I realized how amazing this moment had been.

There is not room in my blog to share all the experiences I have had with my “philosophy”. They have all been good. I would love to start a movement like the “pay it forward” thing. “At the end of the day” could change the world but I’m satisfied that it has changed me. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Littlest Angel

One of my favorite Christmas stories is the story of The Littlest Angel. Until this year I had assumed that everyone in the world knew about The Littlest Angel but its not so. My husband is one of the unfortunates who had never heard the story. This year I obtained a dvd of one of its many versions. This particular one was the TV special I remembered from my childhood. I’ll tell the story just in case there are others who have never heard this lovely story.


Back in the days just before Jesus was born, a small shepherd boy died. He went to Heaven but he felt so lost. He had loved his Earth life and Heaven was nothing like earth. He felt out of place and although he tried very hard to fit in, he just kept getting in everyone’s way. He was sad and lonely. He especially missed his “treasure” box. It was an old wooden box filled with things a little boy would treasure. It had a bird’s feather, a blue robin’s egg, some unusual stones and a few other things. He loved it with all his heart.

He was very persistent about wanting to go back to earth to get his precious box. A kind angel who knew how hard the young boy had been trying let him go back to retrieve his treasure. He was happier now that he had his box but a new dilemma presented itself. The Son of God was about to be born. Everyone in Heaven was busy preparing special gifts for the Christ child.

The littlest angel was in despair. What could he give? He had nothing good enough to give to God. As he watched the others give their gifts, he thought hard. The only thing he had was his treasure box. He loved it but it wasn’t good enough for God’s son, was it? It was what he loved the best…..it was all he had….yes…he would give the baby his box….the thought made him happier but as he waited for his turn he began to doubt. The other gifts were so glorious. All he had was his old wooden box.

His turn finally came. He held out his small box. God took it, raised it up so that all could see and said, “This is the best gift of all. Our littlest angel gave the things he loved the most, things that my Son will love, too, as a little boy.” And then He placed the simple wooden box filled with treasure and given with love high in the sky. It became the North Star…..the guiding star…the star of Jesus.

I love this story!! I think that we all feel like the littlest angel at times. Nothing we have to give to God is good enough. We don’t fit in. We compare our worst to others best and always fall short and yet……God takes what we have to offer, adds to it and suddenly something amazing happens, something glorious. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Peace Amid the Storm

This is a blog that I have long wanted to write but wasn’t really sure how. When the worst things you can imagine actually happen in your life there is a gift that comes from the experience. It may not even be recognizable until you are well past the survival stages of grief. I don’t think it comes to those who get stuck in the anger and bitterness phase. It comes slowly side by side with the gentle healing of a broken heart. It seems to accompany the acceptance stage of grief. It is a gift given to survivors of all sorts of trauma. It is simply put…a gift of peace.


I will try to explain a little better. You know the expression- “Don’t sweat the small stuff”? After surviving a major trauma everything is small stuff. The daily frustrations of living disappear. You see clearly how trite they are. You have lived through something that required you to take not just one day at a time but one minute. Time changes for you. Each day races by but each minute drags on forever. You are so sure that you can never survive this……..and then you do.

After such a soul shaping experience you look around and realize how silly your fears are, how petty your worries have become and how precious each moment truly is. This gift does not go away as long as we hang on to it. Life has become very dear and time is something to treasure not waste.

Robert Fulghum wrote of a conversation he had while still a very young man with a Holocaust survivor. The older man was trying to teach him the same thing. Fulghum writes that he didn’t really get it until he was much older. He said that he had finally learned that “a lump in your oatmeal, a lump in your throat or a lump in your breast were totally different things and that only the last one was worth spending energy on.”

My worst’s have happened. I don’t doubt for a moment that more will come but I know that it is possible to survive them. I also know that in the meantime all the rest is small stuff. It is something that I have often wished I could give to someone else. I see and hear people every day caught up in the meaningless things of the world. I wish I could put the peace I feel into their hearts. Sometimes I just wish I could shake them, slap their face and say, “Snap out of it!” And that’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Driving Lessons

My teenage daughter has been getting ready to get her license. This has meant several hours a week of us riding in the car practicing. I have always thought that the best defense is a good offense so I have tried to think of all the situations she might have to drive in and had her do it with me. I felt that this was the best way to insure her safety and my peace of mind.


We drove in several different weather conditions including the high wind that our area is well known for. We have driven on the freeway, in the city, in the country, in small towns and in large ones. We drove on new blacktop, gravel and a number of old, narrow, broken roads.

We drove along the river and up to the mountains. We drove up Cabbage, a steep, twisty, scary climb and back down again. Down was even scarier! We drove through Pendleton, a labyrinth of one way streets.

We shopped, which required parking of all kinds, parking lot, curb and even parallel. We went through drive thrus, ate while driving and even answered a cell phone. I knew she was likely to do it anyway and I wanted her to see how distracting it could be.

As we drove, we talked about everything under the sun- dreams, fears, boys, friends, etc. It was great!

After a few weeks she started to tell me about her friends that already had licenses. Imagine my surprise when I realized that she was telling me how envious they were of her. Apparently many of them are not allowed to drive at night or in the city or on the freeway. One of her friends has had her license for two years and still has not done these things.

My daughter’s friends are still scared to drive and they are jealous of her growing confidence. But that is exactly what I wanted for her. I didn’t want her to get her license until both of us could feel relaxed with her behind the wheel.

I understand that there are many different ways to parent children but I have always felt that a parent’s greatest role is that of teacher. I remember reading once that a mother’s job is teaching her children to live without her starting at birth. It’s the one job that if done well puts you out of work. I believe that!

In all areas of life, we should be preparing them for the world they will find themselves in someday. Teaching skills to our children help their confidence grow. It gives them security. I am blown away by how many teens leaving home can’t do laundry or cook or make appointments or balance a checkbook. We might think we are protecting them but in truth, we aren’t doing them any favors. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

A Broken Hearted Christmas

On Friday (Dec. 14th), I laid in bed awhile thinking about my blog for the day. Feeling that I had a good handle on what I wanted to write I crawled out of my warm bed and headed for my computer. I wanted to write about the idea that God has messed up the world. I was planning to ask how we can feel that way when He has clearly laid out the guidelines for happiness and we keep ignoring them. If we run the red light and get caught, is it our fault or the cops?


But as soon as my computer warmed up I saw the breaking news and learned of the tragic shooting/killing of a classroom full of first graders and their teachers. Can a reaction to such tragic news even be described in mere words? I began to sob and cried unto the Lord, “O God, we can’t keep living like this! Our babies, our babies, our babies…… we can’t keep doing this! Please bring an end to it all soon. How much more wicked can the world get? How much more must happen?”

I know some of the pain that these families are experiencing. Again there is no language available to describe emotional pain that cuts to your very core and leaves you unable to breathe. It is pain so intense that you are sure your body can not possibly survive it. But broken hearts don’t stop beating even when you wish they would.

And our hearts break with them. What kind of hate and hurt would cause someone to slaughter these innocent children? They have just barely entered society and have only begun to learn its ways. While all of this countries shootings have saddened, this one devastates.

This is the time of year when our minds are on children’s joys and surprises. We share secrets and talk of Santa, Rudolph, Frosty and other childhood delights. We remember our own childhood Christmas traditions. It is a time of family, fun and even worship. And now it is a time of mourning…..not just for a few but for all who have ever loved a child.

Christmas as we usually know it has been destroyed this year. But the true meaning of Christmas…the birth of that beautiful baby so many years ago….has not changed. “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.” That babe was born to bear our burdens and our pain. He was born that healing would be possible. He was born that we might live again. He was born that love might always conquer evil. It always does. It always will.

Even just one day after the horrific event, the outpouring of love is tremendous. We hear of heroes, we hear of sacrifices, we hear of love and caring in every shape and form. The entire country is “mourning with those who mourn.” Evil abounds but so does goodness. So does love. And that’s what Christmas is all about. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Living With PTSD

Thirty years ago this week my first husband died. I still think of it every Christmas season. I have written about it before. But this year is different. My entire being is filled with the fear…no, make that terror that it will happen again this year. I am convinced each time that I send my husband off to work that he will not return home.


No amount of prayer, self talk or reassurances from him are alleviating my dread. The phone ringing paralyzes me. Thoughts of what it might be like are sending to me to the bathroom to be sick. My hands are shaking even as I am typing this.

I have planned out all the steps I might have to take. I know who I’ll call first, who I’ll ask others to call and how I will handle other details. This brings a little relief but not much. The real problem is that I have been through this before and I know how completely devastating it is.

The other problem is I don’t know if this is a premonition (something I have experienced before) or my post traumatic stress disorder acting up. It has been 3 years since a huge “bad” thing has happened. Daily life has been “normal” for quite sometime. I haven’t had to move for three years. That might be a record. We have daily, weekly and seasonal routines in place. That is something I’ve never been able to say before.

And it scares me….life being sweet, peaceful and happy. That is one of the drawbacks to a traumatic life. Peace is something I can’t believe in. I wait for the other shoe to drop because it always does. Is it because I don’t believe I deserve to be happy? I don’t know. Is it because I’ve never before experienced prolonged peace? I don’t know.

What I do know is that as each day passes bringing me closer to Christmas- my anxiety increases. I wonder, is it today? Each night that my husband returns to me I am relieved and terrorized at the same time. Yes, he is home but what about tomorrow?

I know how sick and crazy this all sounds but try living it. It is making me crazy!! I should say…crazier!! But on the bright side (yes, there is a bright side) I have shared much of my deepest gratitude and love for my husband. I wasn’t able to say goodbye to my first husband. I am making up for that in spades now. I am telling him all the things I want him to know if we never see each other alive again.

He thinks that’s great and I guess maybe he’s right. We should be saying those things to each other anyway, don’t you think? That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Heroes

A few weeks ago on one of our weekends with my daughters we found ourselves at an impasse over what to watch on TV. Our choices are limited to a dvd from our collection or streaming live from Netflix. My husband was home for the night. He wanted action, I wanted Christmas classics, and the girls, ages 11 and 14 were only sure they didn’t want any of our choices.


We settled on the TV series, “Heroes”. We asked the girls to watch one episode. If they didn’t like it, we wouldn’t watch anymore. Well, they liked it. Actually, they loved it so much that we had to make a promise to each other to only watch it when we are together so everybody can keep up with its many twists and turns.

A short intro for those of you who don’t know the show: people discover that they have “abilities” or “powers” and basically face the challenge of choosing what they will do with them. Will they use them for good or for evil? I’ve been thinking of the fascination we humans have with “powers”. Super hero movies are all the rage. Batman, X-men, Spiderman, etc. the list is endless. Even the Star Trek and Twilight franchises show people with extraordinary talents. And we mustn’t forget Harry Potter and his friends!

We are so obsessed with the idea that ordinary humans could have “abilities” that we overlook the fact that we already do. There are so many “gifts” out there that it is impossible to find someone who does not have one if you look hard enough. “For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God. To some is given one, and to some is given another, that ALL may be profited thereby.”

The scriptures go on to list some gifts, healing, faith, wisdom, knowledge, discerning of spirits, leadership, testimony and speaking / understanding languages. I want to share others I have observed. There are the gifts of gentleness, compassion, creativity, respect, graciousness, forgiveness, happiness, enthusiasm, kindness, just to mention a few.

There are the gifts of abilities, being artistic or musical or organized or disciplined or mechanical or good with animals or children. Some people learn quickly, some teach well, some are intuitive, some have the gift of integrity or the gift of decisiveness. There are those who are amazing athletes, they work well with their bodies. And others do amazing things with their minds.

There are people who have an incredible drive to do something and yet others who have the ability to be content. There are some of us that always say the right thing. There are others who always do the right thing. I know people who have been given the capacity to love with all their hearts. Often these gifted people might not have many of the other gifts of the world and struggle to fit in. They are celestial beings trying to live in a telestial world. I think they have been given the best of all gifts!

This is the season of giving. We are celebrating the greatest gift of all- a Father’s beloved Son’s birth to bring healing to a broken world. Will you join me in looking at the people in your life as He does? Look for the “abilities” they might not even recognize themselves. And instead of a gift card or present…..maybe you could share what you see in them. With so many in today’s world feeling hopeless, worthless and unloved, the gift of a kind word could truly give some healing. Isn’t that what heroes do, after all? Save the world? That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

"Wrapped up like a Douche".....

A random click of the mouse led me on an interesting journey yesterday. I’ll share but with hopes that my readers will be tolerant of my wanderings. That first little click was to see a short video that featured song lyrics that are often misheard. It was fun.


Until the lyrics for “Blinded by the light came up”, particularly the line “wrapped up like a douche”. What?? That IS the lyric!! I’ve sung it that way for decades. So I had to check it out myself. I have sung it wrong.The true line is “revved up like a deuce”. It is referring to the hot little cars called Deuce Coupes. And the song was written by Bruce Springsteen! No way did I know that. (Now that I’ve seen his version I think that letting Manfred Mann do it their way was a good choice.)

But now I’m checking out the Manfred Mann band and am blown away to realize that some of my favorite songs have been done by them over the decades. They started back when the Beatles did! Two of their popular songs back then were “Do Wah Diddy Do” (you know- “here she comes just a walking down the street……..”) The next hit was “Quinn the Eskimo”( come all without, come all within, you’ve not seen nothing like the Mighty Quinn’’).

The next revelation was that “Quinn” was written by Bob Dylan (again, his version sucks in comparison). They also recorded his “Just like a Woman”. His version definitely gets my vote as the best way to do this song.

Another click crossed paths with the band Queen. I thought I knew everything there was to know about Queen. Not so. I have never known that they sang the song “Fat bottomed girls” (“you make the rocking world go round”). I’ve sung that a zillion times with my husband in his truck. No clue it was a Queen song!

I realize that knowing this trivia will not change my life but there was something oddly comforting about seeing lives and talents intertwine. It reminded me that success comes in many forms. It takes many people coming together to ensure that the end result is great. In a world saturated with people looking for their fifteen minutes of fame and not caring who they trample in the process, it was good to be reminded that the ladder to true success is still climbed one rung at a time and never without help. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Welfare or illfare?

I have needed assistance from government welfare programs several times in my life. I received food stamps and medical for my children. While I was grateful for the help it was easy to see why the system fails to be a helping hand and instead becomes a way of life. The program itself is set up to keep you at the receiving end.


Its first major flaw is the fact that there is no transition program in place. Let me explain because this is huge! The income guidelines are set up so that if you make only $5 more than the limit set, you lose your benefits. That extra five dollars does not make up for the hundreds of dollars of assistance you are receiving. It’s not rocket science- take the pay raise by being promoted and lose all your benefits or stay in the dead end position and keep them? I would like to see a transition type program in place. As the income increased gradually so would the benefits decrease gradually in equal proportion. Not only would this be fair- it doesn’t kill incentive.

Not only is the program set up to destroy any incentive or problem solving, it is set up to make you lie. Yes, I know we choose to lie but the system is set up in a way that punishes those who tell the truth. Here are two true stories from my experience: my young family is limping along trying to put dad through school as well as his working fulltime. His daily commute was a three hour round trip. We were receiving food stamps. We planned to be off them as soon as he had the better job promised him as soon as school was over.

Our very old commuter car died on us. Our only other vehicle was a 15 passenger gas guzzling van. He drove that for a week and we were broke. So we went car shopping that weekend. We looked at everything available. At the time, interest on new cars was extremely low while interest on used cars was high. Buying a new car (last years model) was going to cost us nothing down and half the monthly payment of any of the used cars. We bought a Geo Metro (remember them?) a three cylinder no frills, commuter car. Problem solved or so we thought.

This choice lost us our food stamps because the car was too new making it too valuable. I argued that we lost 1/3 of the value when we drove off the lot, that it was impossible to sell it for what we owed and that we didn’t even own it- the bank did. Nope!

When I was getting divorced I applied for help. My income from child support was $500 a month. I had no job and due to the lack of work experience (I had been a stay at home mother for 25 years) it didn’t look like I was going to be getting one. I started my own cleaning business. This disqualified me for assistance because I had no way to prove my income. Bank statements are not acceptable.

In both cases if I had stuck to the time honored method of using the system by lying I would have been alright. But that’s not who I am. I did begin to understand why others do however.

The third obstacle is the fact that benefits are easy, free money. I had more cash money when I was on benefits than at any other time in my life. Medical coverage with no co-pays, food stamps that at one point were $800 a month, (I had never, ever had that much to spend on food before or since I might add) and other added perks. How does someone say no to that, especially when they have had the benefits for an extended period of time? It can be addictive and as with any addiction a clean break is what is needed. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

It's the Yankee way!

A few minutes after talking to a new person I inevitably get asked, “Where are you from?” Apparently I have an accent. I was even asked this by a deaf man who was reading my lips!!!! Since my accent is a medley of all the New England states I grew up in, I reply, “I’m from the New England area.”


Last week, this scenario repeated itself while we were at the car dealership buying our car. A man from the upstairs office was walking through the showroom. He heard me telling a story and came over to listen. As soon as I finished, the question came, “You aren’t from around here, are you? Where are you from?” I gave my usual reply.

It was what happened next that rocked my world (in a good way). He went on to explain that the best friend he had ever had was from New England. My accent, fast talking, and use of my hands while I talk reminded him so much of his friend, he told me. And then, he said, “I really like people from that area. They say it like it is. They hate phony, fake, insincere anything. Yep, you always know where you stand with a New Englander! “

My husband laughed and replied (his usual comment), “My wife, people either love her or they hate her- there is no in between.” And we all laughed as I agreed with him. I have had sooooo many problems with people since I moved west. The judgments that have been passed on my words and actions have confused and overwhelmed me time and time again.

When I was working as an apartment manager, my supervisor mentioned several times that if I didn’t stop doing what I was doing I would lose my job. I would ask her to tell me what I was doing. Her reply was you know. No, I didn’t know. The main office told me that my e-mails were rude. I thought they were short, to the point and professional. After I did get fired I realized that they had expected me to lie, falsify records and NOT do the things I was told to do. They only told me to do those things to cover their butts. I wasn’t really supposed to comply.

But being direct, honest, hard working and not knowing how to play games is in my blood!!! It comes from generations of New Englanders, that chance conversation reminded me that I am a blue blooded Yankee and proud of it. We are direct and honest but we can be because we have no ulterior motives! We say exactly the way we see a situation and expect others to do the same.

I remembered my last visit home. I felt so comfortable again. I no longer had the sense of dread and unease I often have among people here where I feel like a bull in the proverbial china shop and I have to figure out what someone REALLY means.

Here is a conversation that took place with some friends in Maine- they asked about my ex-husband. I mentioned that I don’t actually see him face to face very often. Most of our interactions are done on the phone. I said that on the few times I see him, my first thought is how old and fat he looks. My friends took one good look at me and replied, “Who are you to talk?”

At this point, I started laughing and said, “Yep, that’s always my second thought!” We laughed together and moved on to another subject. It was an open, honest interaction with no offense meant and none taken. That’s the Yankee way. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

"Perhaps Love....."

“Perhaps love is like a resting place…A shelter from the storm…It exists to give you comfort…It is there to keep you warm…And in those times of trouble…When you are most alone….The memory of love will bring you home.


Perhaps love is like a window…perhaps an open door…It invites you to come closer…It wants to show you more…And even if you lose yourself …And don’t know what to do…The memory of love will see you through.

Love to some is like a cloud…To some as strong as steel…For some a way of living…For some a way to feel…And some say love is holding on…And some say letting go…And some say love is everything…And some say they don’t know.

Perhaps love is like the ocean…Full of conflict, full of pain…Like a fire when it’s cold outside…Thunder when it rains…If I should live forever…And all my dreams come true…my memories of love will be of you.”

I heard this song for the first time in years when I came across an old John Denver tape a few weeks ago. It was a favorite of mine many years ago. A friend sang it at my first husband’s funeral. It seemed so appropriate at the time. It still does. Love is eternal. It surpasses the boundaries of distance, (physical and emotional), it survives death, it is one of the few things we can actually take with us when we leave this existence.

It is also one of the few things that get bigger the more we use it. As much as we may wish it, you can’t say that about money or possessions. So during this upcoming holiday season- see how much love you can give away. That’s what Christmas is all about anyway, isn’t it? Even the Grinch knows that!

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Giving Thanks......?

Over eight years ago I started a new Thanksgiving tradition for myself. Each year I choose people in my life that I am feeling grateful to or for and send them a Thank You card. I write why I am thankful for them (it can be actions or attributes) and I always end the note with something like- “This Thanksgiving you are one of the blessings I am grateful for”.


Over the years I have seen the reactions to these notes change. In the beginning there were tears and gratitude was expressed. I heard things like “Wow, you usually have to wait until you’re dead to hear things like this.” Or “You have no idea how much I needed to hear these things right now.”

Then for awhile, there was no feedback. The notes seemed to embarrass the receivers and so no mention was made of them. I wasn’t doing it for the feedback so it didn’t really matter to me. I didn’t recognize it as a trend.

Because my notes last year just plain pissed the recipients off! I was caught off guard on that one. How could expressing thanks piss someone off? They were furious!

I still don’t truly understand it although others have tried to explain. I see it as a growing trend. There are more and more people that get angry at whatever happens - even when someone is trying to be nice. They suspect ulterior motives or condescending behavior or who knows what?

So here’s a clue for those who need one- some of us are really trying just to be nice! We answer to a higher power and walk in a different path. When we say thank you- we mean it. When we say we’re sorry- we mean it. When we say we love you- we mean it. When we say we forgive you- we mean it.

I am still keeping my tradition alive but the joy has gone out of it. What started as a way to uplift my fellow beings now leaves me with concern that I am causing pain and discomfort. I think it’s a sign of the times. If I was sending nasty letters people would be more comfortable. How sad is that?

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Operating Principles and marriage

I once had neighbors who after 40 years of marriage decided that they didn’t have anything in common and became divorced. They had raised 4 children and ran their own chicken farm together. After divorcing, she took a job as hostess at a roadside café near home. He moved to another part of the state and opened his own roadside café. He said it had been a life long dream. Nothing in common? Really??


I used to tell this story as a joke – it seemed to us that they had a lot more in common than they thought! I’m not so sure it is a joke anymore. Over the past few months, several of my daughters have made remarks indicating that they think their father and I are more like each other than we are with our present spouses. I have laughed and explained that we were married for 18 years. Some of us had to rub off on the other.

But I began to ponder the situation because I feet that the exact opposite is true. I and my present husband are much more alike as are he and his wife. So what are others seeing? As I started to come to a better understanding, I spent time talking to and thinking about other couples I knew. I think I may have something here.

It has to do with what I call “operating principles”. It is something more than liking the same food, books, music, activities and so forth. Those are the things that my girls see- the outside likes and dislikes. Simply looking at those things they are right. My ex- husband and I are very similar in these areas. Neither of our spouses have the same tastes (greatly due to the fact that we grew up in New England and are true New Englanders and our spouses are true Westerners).

But my present husband and I share the same “operating principles”. We are the same on the inside. We feel the same about religion, politics, family, friendships, etc. We have the same attitudes about work, honesty, commitment and loyalty. Our priorities are similar. We are both practical, pragmatic people.

This makes for a pleasant, peaceful relationship. Outside things such as our dissimilar tastes in food, movies, books, activities, etc. are so much easier to compromise on. We don’t have to compromise on who we REALLY are- our inside selves understand one another.

I am not saying that the other type of relationships can’t work. People make it work all the time. But it does seem to be a lot of work. It’s like the difference between a new pair of jeans and an old pair of pajamas. The jeans are exciting, new, good looking but the pajamas are soooo comfortable. Having experienced both types of relationships I choose the pj’s every time! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

I STLL can't believe this!!

OMGosh! I’d thought that I have seen or heard pretty much everything. Wrong! Yesterday, I stumbled upon an advice column that left me speechless (no small feat)! A woman had just discovered that her husband of 14 years was sleeping with her mother whenever business took him that way. I will pause for a moment so you can get past all the “ewwwws” I mean, this is so wrong on so many levels, right??……………..O.K. so this woman writing in is concerned that something might be wrong with her because knowing this fact does not bother her! REALLY???


But the answer is what really got to me…..I still can’t believe it……the helpful hint lady wrote back, “Congratulations, you are one of the few people on the planet that have actually attained unconditional love. You love your beloved enough to let him be free!!” She went on to expound on unconditional love and its merits. She also shared the merits of letting your man service your mother according to some tribal customs of a remote tribe in the dark woods of “who knows where”. I repeat….OMGosh!!!!! Is this really what we’ve come to????

I reread the letter- here was a line that really hit me- the writer had said, “I don’t seem to have the energy to react to this.” Sweetie, that’s not unconditional love. That’s grief and shock! The first step of grief work is denial and numbness. You are sitting squarely in the middle of step #1. The pain and anger will be following soon (I hope).

Not to mention that the kind of guy that would do this has probably been using you as his doormat for some time. He probably told you that this is natural and an extension of his love for you, didn’t he? I’ll bet he even told you that it helped him to be a better lover to you and made him feel so much closer to you. That’s not love….it is manipulation.

The truth is he is a bum, get rid of him! You deserve better. And as for a mother who would do that to a daughter…….sorry to be the one to tell you….that’s not love either!

When did we start defining unconditional love as total acceptance? You can love someone and not like what they are doing. You can love the person they are or the child you knew or even the influence they have had in your life WITHOUT having to put up with their addiction or abuse or immoral or illegal issues. BECAUSE the person you must unconditionally love the most is yourself. YOU are the person you have to live with 24/7. Are you truly loving yourself if you allow someone else’s issues change who you are?

Some of us confuse forgiveness with allowance- you can forgive someone their trespasses but you don’t have to allow them to trespass again and again and again. That’s called codependence.

God loves us because we are His creations…His children…..even He has set guidelines for behavior. He doesn’t love us in our sins but in spite of them. He knows we can be better and He expects it. He refuses to “ look upon sin with the least degree of allowance”.

And to the helpful hint lady, I wonder what your views would be if it was your man doing your mother? I highly doubt the words “unconditional love” would be the first ones to pop into your mind. I can think of a whole bunch of others that would be more appropriate! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

"Plain Jane" people

If you are a regular reader you know that we have had car problems for the last 5 months, (see ME? A Recluse?). We thought that this past weekend would see an end to the situation. It did but not in the way we expected. We did something we never thought we’d do. We bought a car.


Here’s what happened: I picked up the new computer brain we had ordered last week. I found out that although we could easily install this part it had to be “reflashed” by the service department so the car would recognize its new brain. Friday found us loading our broken car on a trailer (no easy task) and driving it to the big city to get fixed. Since we had a few hours to kill we thought we would walk around the various car dealerships on that particular street and check things out.

A young salesman joined us at one of the car lots and started to “do his thing”. We allowed him to show us some cars and humored him as he continued his sales talk. We could tell he was new at this so we allowed him to practice on us. He showed us a number of cars (we were looking for good gas mileage above all else). Each car seemed to get fancier than the last. I’m sure that most people are impressed by all the bells and whistles but we are not most people.

We were trying to tell him this. I explained that we lived on a long gravel road, that my husband works at a potato processing plant where the parking lot is dirt and gravel and that we were farmers. He didn’t really get it. Finally we said, “We need a car we can USE not a living room on wheels.” He laughed but we still didn’t think he got it.

Meanwhile we get the call saying our car had been fixed. We headed over to pick it up. This decision caused much grief in the sales office ( I think sales class #1 teaches “Don’t ever let them out of your sight after negotiations have begun) but we promised we would be back. Once away from the pressure, we decided that even if they met our impossible offer we would decline. We just didn’t feel ready.

So we are picking up our now running Sentra but before he hands us the keys, the service manager wanted us to see under the car. Basically, they had found several very serious problems. One problem left us unsure of it even making it home. We drove it back to the sales lot and added a new request- what will you give us for trade in value?

At this point, I decide to get some fresh air and walk around the lot a little more. And there it was- our car! I knew it the minute I saw it. I ran in to ask about it. The sales people called it a “plain Jane” type of car. They were surprised that we were interested. We were surprised that such a car is still being made. We assured them that we are “plain Jane” kind of people.

They met all our requests AND gave us $1200 trade in for the car we couldn’t have sold for $500. We said yes. It is our dream car- it has roll down windows, manual locks, non electric car seat adjustments and a non cloth interior! It is also great on gas. The very best part is it won’t take us 3 years to figure out what all the buttons are for. Like I said- we are “plain Jane” people and don’t have any plans to change much in the future. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Stand up and be counted!

Tomorrow is Election Day. Deciding who will run our country for the next few years has rarely been more important than the choices that lay before us today. Not only is the race for president hairline close, the race for both branches of Congress is tight, also. It is time to stand up and be counted!


It is also our chance to stand up and be counted for numerous issues in each of our home states. Here in Oregon the issues include measures to shutdown commercial salmon fishing, legalize marijuana and privately owned casinos (not on Indian land). Not being “plugged in”, some of these came as a big surprise to me, especially because the wording of each measure is misleading. Big surprise there, right?

One thing that I have appreciated about the Oregon voting process is the comprehensive voters pamphlets that we receive. Each measure is laid out, explained, assigned a for and against paragraph by committees and then arguments for both sides are included. These spots are paid for and represent individuals and groups. In short, it gives the voter a chance to understand the issue. It works well IF the voter will read it.

Let me tell you what the voting process looks like for me. I have not seen a single commercial. They are usually misleading and emotionally charged anyway. I don’t miss it. Oh, wait there was the one little sound bite on my computer- Morgan Freeman’s voice saying “few presidents have had to deal with as much as this president”. It popped up several times and I was annoyed. I wondered what Lincoln, Truman, Kennedy, Washington, and others would have to say about that. Being president of the United States has never been easy.

So…..no TV commercials to tell me how to vote…….no newspapers……oh, no………how could I possibly make an informed decision? Let me tell you. I watched all four debates on my computer. I love the debates because they are live..can’t call for a retake or cover something up you wish hadn’t been said. It’s a chance to see candidates as they will come across to others all over the world. It’s a chance to see them relate to each others and the audience.

I read about the candidates on many different computer sites. I get the views of those who are for and against. I find getting both sides to be very helpful whether it’s candidates or issues I’m checking on. I think both sides over and vote with the one that I believe to be right.

Over the years making these choices has become easier because I stand firm on social issues. I will never support gambling, drug use, abortions or choices I feel put my countries values or safety at risk. Choices that may strip us of religious freedom or choices that I feel will harm the basic family structure will also always find me standing firmly against them.

Today is the 100th anniversary of women’s right to vote in my adopted state. I’m grateful for the women who fought hard for that right. We women have the Divine privilege of taking care of home and family. We must keep that in mind as we head to the polls tomorrow. Stand up and be counted! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

ME? A Recluse?

My husband and I have been operating with just one vehicle for awhile. The computer brain in our car went haywire and is very expensive to fix. My husband has been taking our old pickup to work and back. Gas prices here have been close to or over $4 a gallon for some time. This truck is a gas hog. His commute has cost us close to $200 a week further impairing our financial health.


We didn’t realize how long things have been this way- we’ve been saving what little we could each week to get the car fixed but weeks stretched into months. I have found many things to keep me busy at home. Brent’s one day off has seen us madly running errands to get everything done.

I’ve received concerned calls from friends wondering where I have been. For me to have use of the truck we would have to make double trips (expensive) and I realized soon that wasn’t really an option. There weren’t too many things important enough to make it worth it. So I have become a home body. How much of one I didn’t realize until recently.

We came home on one of our errand days to find a notice from our church inviting us back. We were being considered “inactive”. I have made it several times a month but not every week. This kind of brought us up short.

But the clincher came yesterday when I tried to order something online and my card was denied. I received an automated message on my phone telling me that the card was frozen due to unusual activity. I was scared to death that someone had stolen my card number so I returned the call immediately. Turns out that they were concerned because I had not used it at all for several months and suddenly had 3 charges- Wal- Mart, Big Lots and a gas station! MY activity was suspicious!

That’s pathetic! I really am a recluse! Maybe in a few more months I can get my own reality show! I can see it now- “Weird Choices People Make in Hard Times”. Actually, they will have to do that one without me. Today’s check gave us enough money. The part has been ordered. In about 3 days we will be back to two vehicles. My lifestyle won’t change too much though- I get stuck with the gas hogging beast- there still won’t be very many places worth using it but we will be able to stop spending $200 a week for gas. I feel rich already! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Halloween Hater

I hate Halloween! I absolutely, positively hate it! I didn’t always hate it. As a child I remember loving it. I think I began hating it after I had children of my own. I had more children than money and even buying candy to give out was a budget buster.


What was especially hard for me was the fact that I was trying to teach my children to be giving people. Halloween is so selfish! Give me, give me, give me and I got more than you did. I hated the bargaining that always took place over the next few days- “I’ll give you my Almond Joy for three of your blow pops.”

Thank goodness costumes weren’t as big of a deal as they are today. Zero money was spent on costumes at my house. My children usually made their own from the dress up basket we always had. At least the lucky ones did. Those who did not got stuck with my creations.

Considering that I am not a sewer and the fact that I waited till the last minute because I was hoping everyone would have chicken pox or something, I thought I did pretty darn good. Besides, I reasoned, they are not going to remember what they wore to a Halloween party when they were four. I forgot about pictures and an older brother with the memory of an elephant!

So one year I wrapped a couple of small boxes with gift wrap and bows. I cut a whole for head and arms. I slid my 18 month old and his 2 ½ yr. old brother into them. Then I taped a sign on each gift that read, “Good things come in small packages.” I thought it was cute!

Another year I was attending our church’s party without my significant other, (he had to work). That meant me, four children under the age of six and lots of SUGAR. I was frantic until I came up with the idea to go to the party as a pumpkin patch. We all put on various sizes of pumpkin lawn bags. We stuffed them with newspaper and we were all tied together with green twine. I thought it was brilliant!

My all time high (or low if you’re talking to my kids) was the year I messed up weekends. I realized the party was that night about 2 hours before we were supposed to be there. I tried fervently, to talk my children out of going but I had no luck. I was out voted.

I wracked my brain for something- anything to use for costumes. While doing chores in the barn I noticed a stack of empty bags that were waiting to be thrown away. They were large dog food bags. I took them in, cut arm and leg holes, stuck each of my children in one and stapled the top. And yes, we went to the party as dog food.

It might not have been so bad but for the first time ever there was a costume judging contest. The children circled the gym while everyone else watched. One family came as Robin Hood and his merry men. She said she made the costumes but I KNOW that she got the costumes from Hollywood. And then, right behind them came five bags of dog food. I wanted to die!

If my younger children ever complain about their costumes my older ones look at each other and their siblings with disgust. “At least Mom has never made you be a bag of dog food.”

I told you- I hate Halloween! That’s the view from my side of the street. What’s yours?

Yes, sir, that's my baby!! (part 1)

I think it’s a good time to tell Baby’s story. It began last April. My husband and I were headed back towards the house after doing our farm chores when we heard a strange noise about six feet to the side of us. We looked over to see a tiny gray fur ball moving sporadically and crying in a pathetic squeaky way. We noticed that the dogs were keeping a healthy distance from the creature as they tried to check it out. Our first thought was that it must be some type of rodent that one of the cats had hunted but not killed. We decided to check it out.


Boy, were we surprised to discover it was a tiny, newborn kitten! We couldn’t figure out where it had come from. Yes, we knew some of the barn cats had kittens but this kitten was far from any of the usual birthing places. It was, however, close to an irrigation ditch and we had just irrigated yesterday. This process takes place every two weeks. More than enough time we thought for a cat to think it was a good place to raise a family. We expected to find its siblings drowned bodies all over the place.

We scooped it up and hurried to the house to warm the tiny cold thing. I was not sure it was even going to make it. I found an eyedropper and began feeding it warm milk. It learned quickly to suck the dropper. After a few days we began to believe it would live so we obtained some kitty formula and a bottle.

It was a good thing I knew that kittens can not go to the bathroom until mom licks its potty place. I draw the line at some things and that was definitely one of them. I discovered that a warm rag or baby wipe worked just as well. I was very concerned about its aloneness and how that might affect its development so I dug up a fluffy fleece hat to use as a baby carrier. It went EVERYWHERE with me for at least six weeks. I also carried a small “diaper” bag with wipes, formula, bottle and a spare hat.

At night it slept in its hat, in our bed, right between us. We finally figured out that it was a she and we named her Baby. There are several reasons for that name. Some are rather obvious but the main reason is that a few weeks before we found her, I had seen the cutest new baby at the store, I had turned to my husband and remarked, “Oh, I wish we had a baby.” About a week after she showed up, he had walked in to see me on the floor “changing her diapers”. He said, “Well, guess God heard you, you’ve got your baby now.” I sure did.

A few weeks after we adopted her we figured out where she came from. Her mother had given birth in a bird’s nest, high above the very spot we found her at. She had to have fallen out. It was a miracle she wasn’t killed!

So Baby became part of our life- a very big part! It has been incredibly fascinating to watch a kitten who can’t decide if she is a bird, a dog, a cat or a human grow up. But more about that in part two. What we do know is life with her will never be dull. And that’s a good thing. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Illegal Immigrant Problem

My little town has an incredibly beautiful marina park and campground on the Columbia River. It is truly an oasis in the desert. Over the years it has become a favorite with the Canadian geese. They stop here during their migration. Many have chosen to stay. At first, this was exciting, it was so cool to walk there during the winter and watch the flock. Some even chose to stay year round. In spring we’d walk around looking at the families showing off their new additions.


Slowly, the numbers grew. The entire park was filled with these loud, noisy, big birds. Even worse, it became impossible to walk anywhere due to big yucky goose poop. The beach was covered with birds and their droppings. No one could swim because the geese felt it was their territory. In short, it became a nightmare for people and geese.

A year ago, the town decided it had to take action and measures were taken to reduce the number of birds. The other day I went for a walk along the river side and appreciated the reclaiming that had taken place. A small flock was there, enjoyable to watch, but the best part was being able to walk around the poop and not through it.

We have the same problem with Hispanic immigrants, most of who are illegal. In the beginning it wasn’t much of a problem. They added color and flavor to the area. We were willing to offer help and programs. We welcomed them.

But they kept coming…….and the damage on the community has been great. Before I go on, please understand that I am not prejudiced. But I am pragmatic and I’d like to share the results of “an open door” policy.

Our classrooms are ninety percent Hispanic. This doesn’t matter in the higher grades but in the K-3 classes it matters very much. These children start school not knowing any English. The teachers have to spend most of their time helping them to understand what is going on. The English speaking children get very little. I have known parents who were unable to get their developmentally disabled children into summer school because it had been filled with the immigrant children.

The immigrants believe that working the system and getting everything you are “entitled” to is the correct way of life. They lie to get food stamps and health care. Since most of the workers are working under the table there is nothing to prove that they indeed have an income. So they are treated as non-income families and able to access all the “helping” programs out there.

When they do have the “correct” paperwork it has been bought and usually belongs to someone else. I dealt with this a lot as an apartment manager. Having denied one young man because of false documentation, he asked (through an interpreter) if he could try again with another social security card. I explained the best I could about false ID’s when suddenly the interpreter’s eyes grew big and she gasped, “Are you talking about identity theft?” Yes, that’s exactly what it is.

He tried again anyway. This time the number belonged to a 65 year old woman in Ohio. I had to turn him in and he was deported. But he was not a bad young man. Most of them are not bad. I’m not sure that they even know that these things are illegal. It’s all part of the lifestyle. They think everyone does it this way because in their world everyone does.

It sucks for them too. I took a farm worker to the hospital when he almost cut his thumb off at work. His employer paid under the table. It was less than minimum wage, no benefits and you were screwed if you were hurt on the job. The boss wouldn’t even give him a ride. Because we were neighbors and had become friendly, his frantic wife ran over to beg for help. I was furious at the “boss man”.

Just like the geese, this situation is out of control. And I haven’t said a word about the gang and drug activity that has invaded our peaceful town of less than 5000 residents. Not ALL Hispanics belong to a gang but let me tell you, they pay huge consequences if they don’t. A fourteen year old boy was shot and killed in his front yard a few years back because he didn’t want any part of gang life. Who’s going to say no after that?

Plans need to be made and carried out that will change all this. Making employers accountable if they hire illegals is a great start. I think it’s in the best interest of everyone involved. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

The Road Less Traveled

My husband and I have chosen to live without regular television for quite some time now. We have for years limited our TV to DVD’s but the arrival of Netflix opened a whole new vista for us. We could watch some of the TV shows we were interested in whenever we wanted and without commercials. We could recapture old memories by watching the series of years long past as well as keeping up with newer ones.


There is a catch- when you can watch a whole season one episode after another without having to wait the customary week it can take some real discipline to turn it off. When we were introduced to the series “24”, we missed a lot of sleep!

I have also found that unlike the variety you are naturally exposed to on regular television, it was more likely that I found myself watching shows to match my moods. I spent one dark dreary winter watching dark dreary shows. I watched a number of seasons of Intervention and Hoarders. Finding myself fascinated with the human psyche I delved even deeper.

I turned to Deadly Women, Wicked Attraction, Real Interrogations and a number of other true life crime series. I started putting the patterns together as I watched the destruction of human beings. I found myself more interested in the perpetrators than the victims. I felt that the question I had always asked, “How did they get that way?” was being answered as I pieced puzzle pieces together.

The formula seems to be the same- horrific childhoods + neglected teens = twisted adults. Deeply hurt children turn to drugs and alcohol to ease the pain. They need more and more to get the same high. They turn to petty crimes to support their habit. They fall deeper and deeper into the abyss until nothing is off limits anymore.

Or the formula leads them to sex as their drug. As with other drugs, they need more and more to get their “fix”. The acts become more and more depraved until torture and murder is all that excites them.
There is another formula- violence begets violence, unresolved anger begets rage and another generation of abusers up the ante. It spills out and spreads like a virus.

But there is something I know that few of the shows talked about. I know that regardless of the formula of our lives, we still had choices to make and it was those choices that determined the road we took. Are these choices harder for those who have never known another way? Absolutely yes!!! But is it impossible? Were those choices removed from us because of the traumas in our lives? I say NO.

I say no because I have read the life stories of people who managed to change the formulas they were stuck in. I say no because of the people caught in war torn countries all over the world and throughout time that held on to their humanity and refused to be caught by the formulas. I say no because of the numbers of people I have met personally, through media and in the pages of books who were raised in homes and circumstances that make our skins crawl and yet, they refused to stay stuck in the pattern.

I say no because as I watched these shows I saw myself. I realized that at different times in my life I was on the edge of that abyss and ready to become a statistic. I say no because my life followed the formulas but I chose to break them. I came to the understanding that truly but for the grace of God I could have ended up like anyone I was watching. I want others to know that we do not have to be defined by the things that have happened to us. We can be more than that. Take the road less traveled. The views are spectacular!That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Nothing Else Matters

As my regular readers know, my husband is not very romantic. At least he’s not on the outside. I’m beginning to really suspect that down deep is very different. Not too long ago, he did an amazingly romantic, emotionally supportive act. He gave me a love song!


There seems to be a wide spread belief that all truckers love country music. Not so. In today’s world, truckers are as diverse as the rest of the population. And their tastes in music reflect that. My husband’s music of choice is heavy metal. He listens to bands that I had never heard of before so when he tried to tell me about a Metallica song he really liked, I was no help.

Regular readers also know that contact between both of our families is very limited. This has been more difficult for me this past year. My sweet husband has developed the habit of pulling me close and whispering in my ear, “It’s just you and me, baby, just you and me.”

He also started trying to tell me about this song….he may listen to music but he really has a hard time remembering much about it. He does remember how it made him feel so he kept trying to explain about “our song” as he called it. He told me that this song described perfectly how he felt about us.

He couldn’t even remember the song’s title so looking it up was difficult. But one day, I was looking up the lyrics to another song (for something I was writing) when he asked me if I could find Metallica for him. We did and presented with a long list of titles and videos, he found it. We watched the video (several times) and printed the words. He presented the printout to me with a shy little grin, (I swear he looked like a fourteen year old boy) and said, “It’s just you and me, baby, just you and me” and left for work.

Here is MY love song- I’m sharing it for all you out there who find yourselves in similar situations- it is called “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica.

“So close no matter how far, couldn’t be much more from the heart, forever trusting who we are and nothing else matters. Never opened myself up this way, life is ours, we live it our way, all these words I don’t just say and nothing else matters. Trust I seek and find in you, every day for us something new, open mind for a different view and nothing else matters

Never cared for what they say, never cared for games they play, never cared for what they do, never cared for what they know and I know……….nothing else matters.”

He’s a keeper!!! And nothing else matters! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Love your enemies. Really????

Jesus taught us, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good for them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” Yeah right! Really? In today’s world? You’ve got to be kidding!


We watch TV shows and movies that glorify revenge and getting even. We watch realty shows that depict going behind one’s back as a much to be desired skill. We even listen to music (in whatever genre you prefer) in which that time honored tradition of not letting “them” get away with it is praised.

We’ve coined new phrases and words to attack and humiliate. We’ve raised old hand signals (pun intended) to new heights of worldwide acceptance. Making someone pay for what they’ve done has become an international pastime. Jesus didn’t live in today’s world so He really didn’t know what it was going to be like. If we turn the other cheek today, we are sure to have them both slapped, or much worse! Am I right?

Actually, I am very wrong. Over the past few years I have taken this counsel very much to heart. I have attempted to live it as closely as a mere human can. Finding myself with enemies who hate and despitefully use me, it became a survival tactic. I had to find my “peace amidst the storm” and living this scripture has done exactly that.

I have been trying to live this principle with those near and not so dear to me, namely exes and their spouses. My ex and his wife despise me and everything I stand for. She and I couldn’t be farther apart when it comes to core values. She fought tooth and nail to get my children away from the woman that would ruin their lives- me. In many ways, she still feels that way since our parenting skills and views on the world are so dissimilar.

But I try to love her, I pray daily for her, and I back her up with the children. I have tried to treat her like a friend. It’s been a long road but recently, payoff. There was a sister melt down at their house. No parents were home. I was the only one that could be reached, so I tried my best to deal with the situation over the phone. She returned, grabbed the phone and proceeded to rip me a new one. How dare I interfere with things happening at her house, etc. I listened as calmly as I could. I stated what had happened when she finally took a breath and tried to let her know that I was on her side in this situation. Not only did she eventually calm down, she apologized twice for blowing up and felt ready to deal when she got off the phone. This was HUGE!! And I believe a direct effect of my loving my enemy and doing good to those who despitefully use you. Thank you, Jesus.

Is it easy? No!!! It has taken years to get to this place. We have to overcome our “natural” selves. It is natural to want to lash out or fight back when we feel attacked. If we can get past that, however, there is an indescribable sweetness that accompanies peaceful thoughts and actions. And I have learned once more that it is possible to love someone you may not really like.

No, it is definitely not easy but ask me if it’s worth it and I’ll answer with a big “hell, yeah”! Oops, maybe I’d better start working on my language next. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Suicide- Today's Epidemic

I am suicidal. I’m writing this blog in hopes that some will gain a better understanding of the suicidal mind. The rate of suicides is higher than ever before especially among those under eighteen. It is an act that leaves so many asking why or what could I have done? I hope that sharing my experiences might lift those who suffer whether as a victim or as one left holding the pieces.


I am not actively suicidal. I am not planning it or writing my farewell notes or thinking about it constantly. I am under a doctor’s care and take daily medication to fend off depression. You could say I’m on the wagon. A little known fact about suicide is that once you have actually let the idea in long enough to seriously plan for it, you have opened a door that you may never be able to close. Just as a recovering alcoholic or drug addict must always fight to stay sober especially during the dark, difficult days so will suicide remain open as a solution or way out of whatever it is overwhelming you at the time.

I have learned to be aware of the signs that I might be heading for the sinkhole. I have learned to keep my life as balanced as possible. I have employed certain coping techniques that keep me safe. But mostly I have learned to ask for help. I have tried to keep safe people around me and to reach out to them when I need to.

This is huge because for a long time I felt (as many others do) that I was being weak when I felt this way. I shouldn’t burden others with my problems. I was the strong caretaker person- I didn’t need help…I just had to shake it off….stop being so pathetic……positive thinking would help……… There are so many reasons we don’t ask for help when we need it. It takes real strength to admit you need help and to seek it.

It is more than emotional pain that puts us in that dark place. It is the soul crushing sense of aloneness that takes most of us over the edge. I have studied a variety of theories. I have talked to professionals, families and the suicidal themselves. My conclusion is that we have broken love receivers. We experience our loving feelings for others but we are unable to feel their love for us.

When someone tells us they love us, we feel nothing. Our minds can take it in and try to tell us they mean it but our hearts feels nothing. We don’t know what the feeling of being loved is. That feeling is non existent for us. And so we always feel alone and isolated within ourselves, no matter how hard others are sending the love signals because our receivers are just not receiving them.

If you have times of despair and think the world would be better of without you or you are so tired of hurting that making it just stop is all you can think about, tell someone. It’s okay to say “I hurt, can you help me?” And please believe me when I say it will get better if you give it time. I promise you that!

If someone you know is reaching out- reach back- please don’t judge- you may never truly understand- you don’t have to. You only need to know that these feelings are very real to the person sharing them. And sometimes whatever you do it will not be enough to stop them. It’s not your fault!

Suicide is today’s epidemic- we are only as strong as the weakest among us. Can’t we stop the needless tragedy of so many lost lives? That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Bargaining with God

A good friend of mine is preparing her home and life for a teenage grandson to join. His dad is deploying to Afghanistan and the grandson wants to live with his grandparents during this time. He wants it very, very much! He has wanted it so much over the past year that he has insisted that his grandmother plead with God to set it up for them. He has begged God, his father and his grandparents. He has uttered those words so familiar to many of us-“If you let me do this, (God, Dad or Grandma), I’ll do anything you want me to!! I promise!!”


And so his wish was granted. The miracle he thought would never happen did. Oh, what a happy boy! He is coming as soon as school lets out. BUT as the months have passed and he has become accustomed to his “miracle”, he has begun the “bargaining” stage. “Grandma, I’ll pick up the dog poop outside but I won’t do the catbox.” “Grandma, I’ll mow the lawn and use the weed eater but I won’t pull weeds, I hate that.” We can only guess at his “bargains” with God.

As she shared this story with me, we both chuckled and remembered some of our childhood “bargains” with parents and God. On the way home, however, I thought of our adult “bargains”. We may not express them in the same way but we have all had things in our lives that we have thought “if only this would happen, I’ll be so happy.”

We have ALL had prayers answered and miracles take place even if we don’t recognize them as such. Before the particular event takes place, it seems so unattainable, so marvelous an occurrence that we think it can never happen. But then it does. At the moment, it is mind blowing and awesome. As time goes by, it is less and less so. We become accustomed to it. It is part of our everyday and as such loses some of its “miracle” shine.

And at that point, we forget our promises back when we wanted it so much. We begin to “bargain” or much more likely in our today’s world- justify. That raise wasn’t because I asked for it- it was just time for it. The new job or baby or home or friend or living room set or the list of things we want and don’t think we can get is endless. The child or husband or father or sister that overcame that illness or personal crisis just did so. Begging on their behalf had nothing to do with it.

We miss so much when we forget from whence our blessings flow. We miss so much when we don’t see the day to day “miracles” in our lives. We miss the joy of knowing we are loved and cared about. We lose sight of that which brings so much happiness to our lives- gratitude. Be thankful for today and all that it brings- today is a miracle that you will never experience again. Enjoy every moment -even poop duty.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

What is your self-worth based on?

I’ve been helping a woman with her fall cleaning. She works full time and runs her husband’s business. It’s harvest and she is working overtime in both jobs. And yet she feels the need to apologize for needing help and for the fact that her house is dirty. The other day she told me that she got up early just to do the dishes before I came over. She asked, “Why do I do that?”


I replied, “You are a woman. Part of you thinks that your self- worth is all about how you keep your house- you probably think I will judge the type of person you are by how clean or dirty your home is.” She thought about it for a few minutes and decided I was right. This began an interesting conversation about the ways we judge our own self-worth.

I realized as we talked that most of the things we base our self worth on are so transitional. Our looks, size, positions, jobs, families, complexions, etc. are all things that change throughout life. Why do we base who we are on such fluid, uncontrollable things?

Some base their identity on things that have happened to them whether these events have been good or bad. We are more than the things that have been done to us. We are more than the awards that have been given to us. We stop our development if this is what we use to define ourselves.

Our roles in life will all change as life progresses. We are more than spouse, parent or child. We are more than boss, employee, manager, clerk, or any other jobs we might hold.

It is a guarantee in life that we will not always be young. Growing old is inevitable no matter how much plastic surgery you have. If your sense of worth and beauty are based in youth, what will happen when time marches on?

So many people today are hurting deeply because they don’t know who they are beyond these worldly labels and limits. When these are stripped from them by circumstances beyond their control, they are lost and soul naked. It is vulnerability beyond description.

Who are we……….? We are children of a loving Father in Heaven who knows each one of us and cherishes each one of us. This is often beyond our human understanding but ask any mother about a child she has not seen for years and you will see this kind of love in action. Talk to a parent about a wayward child and you will see this kind of love in action. If we as mere humans can love this much, how much more can God?

He has assured us that the hairs of our head are numbered. He tells us that the each sparrow is known and we are of more value than many sparrows. With divinity as our parentage, are we not so much more than whatever limitations the world may put upon us?

Don’t listen to the voices around you that tell you what you cannot do. Don’t listen to the voices around you that tell you what you cannot be. Instead, listen to the voice inside of you that says you can be or do anything good that you want to. You are a child of God and as such have the rights to all things good. It’s up to you to claim them.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Real life survivor- me

I’m going to share with you a real life survivor story. It’s mine. I share it with much reluctance. I am in hopes that readers will see a survivor not a victim. I am also laying a foundation for some future blogs that will have more meaning if this story is known.


My birth father left the picture before I turned a year old. I have never met him. I was being raised as an only child by a single mom back in the sixties when single parents and only children were still a rarity. When I was about 8, a single dad with two daughters moved into our neighborhood. I thought it was a dream come true when our parents were married, instant family to a heart hungry little girl. It was more like a nightmare.

Our parents drank…a lot and fought….a lot. My stepfather turned out to be a predator of the worst kind. No little girl escaped his clutch, his own daughters, me, cousins, friends, all were fair game to him. This continued for years.

I started drinking at the age of 11. Easy to do when you have alcoholic parents, they never missed it. I was an alcoholic myself by age 16. My sisters had both been kicked out of the family by then but a younger brother and sister had been born.

I experimented with some drugs. It was the 70’s after all but mostly I drank as much and as often as I could. Those years weren’t pretty. I left home two days after I graduated and tried to build a life but my addiction kept sucking me in until I had my first child and joined the church.

I have been married four times. My first husband died during our ninth year together. I left my second (abusive) husband after 18 years. My third was a rebound that lasted about 9 months and my fourth marriage looks like it just might be forever.

I have given birth to 9 living children. I had two stillbirths and two miscarriages. I have contact with only three of those children, (their choice not mine). I haven’t seen or talked to some of my sons for over six years. I have grandchildren I will probably never see or know.

I gave up custody of my youngest children to end a destructive court battle. I have my two youngest daughters for four days a month. They live in a home with a very different belief system than mine.

I have been diagnosed with depression and post traumatic stress disorder. Go figure, right? Also, I’ve been told that I have borderline personality disorder although I’m told that I keep it under control pretty well.

I have thyroid problems as well as fibromyalgia. I have bad dreams. So between the fibro and PTSD, sleep isn’t something I get much of. Again, I’m just sharing this to lay the foundation for some future blogs. As I share some of my life’s lessons, I want you to know that I have indeed been there, done that.

And on top of all of this I want to say that it’s all good! Life is good! It’s what we make of it that counts. Each day is a new one with no mistakes in it yet…what will you do with yours? Me? I’m going out to enjoy the October sky. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Budgets- yours, mine and ours

Living within our means seems to be a lost skill whether it’s newlyweds just starting out, elderly trying to live on fixed incomes, a large family, a college student or a government. Simply put, it is spending less than you take in. Businesses know that if they fail to follow this precept they will fail –period.


To budget means to set aside monies for assigned purposes. There are many good books written to help but I am going to outline the easiest way I’ve ever found. All the things that would take your money can be put into one of three categories- needs, wants, and wishes.

A person, family or government would be wise to make sure that needs are filled first. If there is still money in the till, a few wants might be fulfilled. If you persevere, there may come a time when some wishes can be filled.

In the crazy mixed up world of today, many are filling wants and wishes first, leaving no money left for needs. This creates financial crisis. To get back on our feet whether as individuals or governments, we must stop putting the cart before the horse. We must forsake our wants and wishes. We must focus on our needs until the time comes that they are all being met easily and then, only then, start working on some wants.

Of course, this plan depends on having the ability to truly be able to tell the difference between needs, wants and wishes. Here’s an example- I’m fat and need to get in shape, I wish I could hire a personal trainer, I want to join a gym, I can’t afford either one so I filled my need with a couple of workout DVD’s and a pair of walking shoes.

Here’s another- I have an old washer/ dryer set. They work but I’d really like a more updated set. I’d LOVE to get one of the fancy front loader sets that do everything but the dishes. I don’t need a new washer /dryer set right now. I just want one. If the ones I have stop working, my want will have jumped to the need spot but unless I’m better off when that happens, I won’t get my wish of the fancy front loader. I’ll get the best I can for what money I have at the time. Are you following me?

So despite all the jokes and memes that popped up after the presidential debate pitting Mitt Romney against Big Bird, I knew exactly what he meant when he said he would stop federal funding for PBS. In our overtaxed budget (pun intended) we must cut out our wants and wishes until such a time that the needs are all being filled.

He was saying that in a stressed financial situation, government funding of PBS and things like it must go. He’s right! I was pleased to hear someone who wasn’t afraid to say the hard stuff. Too many make promises they can’t keep because that’s what the people want to hear.

By the way, he didn’t say he was going to get rid of PBS, he said that he would cut government funding. It will still continue thanks to grants, corporations and viewers like you. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

"I see faces..."

I love being married for many reasons and the following conversation is one of them. My husband comes out of the bathroom. He is still zipping up his pants when he gets to my desk. “Come here, I have something to show you” he says.


Me: “You usually say that when you are unzipping your pants.”

Him: “No, really, I have something to show you.” He heads back towards the bedroom. I’m still a little suspicious of his motive when he says, “I don’t know if I should show you this. You’ll think I’m crazy.” I assure him that boat already sailed. He turns to me very seriously and says, “I see faces in linoleum.”

I burst out laughing, “You what?!”

Again, in all seriousness, he says, “I see faces in linoleum. I’ll show you.” We enter our bathroom where he proceeds to show me several different “face” patterns. “But this one is the most obvious…anyone could see that!”

I look at it a number of ways and then employ a technique honed by work with numerous children. “Oh, yes”, I say, “Tell me exactly what you see.”

He outlines the shape of a head with eyes, nose, and mouth. I still can’t see it. He shows me where the face has been repeated in the floor pattern. Okay, this is going to take all the tact of a very loving wife. I turn to face him….put my hands on his shoulders……look deep into his eyes………..and say, “Buddy, you spend too much time on the toilet. Get a book!”

After all, isn’t that wives are for? And that’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Sh..t Happens

Just over three years ago I did the unthinkable. I gave up custody of my children. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. We had been going through an ugly, prolonged custody battle that was decimating what little was left of my family. My youngest children were being torn apart. I felt as if we were cutting the babies in half. There was no sign of it ending anytime soon. I did the only thing I could. I gave up and stopped it.


I will not attempt to describe the pain that living with such a choice has brought. I will tell you that eventually I learned to breathe again although there are still times I forget. It is said that time heals all wounds. Not so. A broken heart, empty arms and lost moments last forever.

This past Sunday, a very dear friend lost her eldest son unexpectedly and tragically. Once again I was reminded of how quickly life can change. And of how deeply a mother’s heart can be cut to pieces.

But would we have it any other way? And can it truly be any other way? If we open ourselves to love deeply, we are also opening ourselves to the possibility of great pain. Shakespeare said, “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I agreed with this when I was twelve. I still do even after having been put to the test.

Another much beloved passage comes from Kahlil Gibran’s, “The Prophet”. It is an excerpt from the section entitled, On Joy and Sorrow – “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain…………….When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful, look again into your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.”

It is almost impossible to live past forty and not have had some life changing loss. It is said that which does not kill us makes us stronger. This is true only if you let it be. Loss can help our hearts and souls grow larger if we allow it to. We can ride out the wave of pain, reaching out to others for love and support. We can turn to God and ask for His strong arms to carry us.

Or we can became small, hard, and bitter. We can close ourselves off to both our fellowmen and God. This course leads to hate and revenge rather than compassion and understanding. Sh*t happens. What we do about it is up to us. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

DIY

My husband loves cake. It is his favorite dessert. My daughters love to bake his cakes for him. They have made him many. Recently we decided to save the expense of mixes and bake them from scratch. We also thought that homemade ones would be healthier since we use fresh wheat flour.


My daughter, Sarah, was okay with this. She made her first ever “cookbook” cake a few weeks ago. There was no problem until she came running outside in a big panic because she couldn’t find any frosting in the pantry. I told her we would make some. Her eyes grew big with wonder- “you mean we can MAKE frosting?’’ she asked. “COOL!”

At the beginning of the summer, I was at a beauty supply store buying my favorite nail polish. A small conversation with the twenty-something sales clerk surprised me. She asked where I went to get my pedicures. When I answered my living room couch she was shocked. Apparently, she had never heard of anyone doing their nails themselves!

So here is a small list of things that many of us still do ourselves at home: pedicures, manicures, haircuts ( ours, children’s and friends), cookies, fried chicken, salads, cinnamon rolls, biscuits, carpet shampooing, learning activities with our pre- school aged children, some of us make candles, mittens, hats, scarves, quilts and other craft type things, we make our own gifts, mixes, french fries, donuts, bread, soup, gravy, pies, puddings, jello, candy, popcorn with a number of flavors (and not in the microwave),pancakes, oatmeal, pretzels, decorating, painting…..the list is endless. The truth is that almost anything you buy or have others do can be made or done by you.

Why do we still do these things at home? The quality is superior as are the health benefits- no additives, we know exactly what has been put in and we can substitute healthier ingredients anytime we want. It is also much cheaper to do it ourselves. But I think the most important reason for me is we make memories that are lasting……the smell of bread rising, the tastes of warm cookies, the sight of a child covered in flour holding up a grubby wad of dough filled with pride, the giggles you share with daughters as you do each other nails. But most of all, the time that doing these things ourselves takes gives us precious moments for sharing thoughts and feelings with each other. My best times with family members have come during “making” moments.

And of course, the best perk of all is making your own fun! It comes in all shapes and sizes but is best when it is homemade!

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Election Day Choices

I heard a recitation of this poem many years ago. I recently researched it and was very surprised to find that it had been written by Joseph Malins in 1895! It is so apropos to today’s issues. You’ll see what I mean.


The Ambulance Down in the Valley-

“Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed, though to walk near its crest was so pleasant. But over its terrible edge there had slipped A duke and full many a peasant. So the people said something would have to be done, But their projects did not at all tally; Some said, “Put a fence ‘round the edge of the cliff,” Some, “An ambulance down in the valley.”

But the cry for the ambulance carried the day, For it spread through the neighboring city; A fence may be useful or not, it is true, But each heart became full of pity For those who slipped over the dangerous cliff; And the dwellers in highway and alley Gave pounds and gave pence, not to put up a fence, But an ambulance down in the valley.

“For the cliff is all right, if you’re careful,” they said, And, if folks even slip and are dropping, It isn’t the slipping that hurts them so much as the shock down below when they’re stopping.” So day after day, as these mishaps occurred, Quick forth would those rescuers sally To pick up the victims who fell from the cliff, With their ambulance down in the valley.

Then an old sage remarked, “It’s a marvel to me That people give far more attention To repairing results than to stopping the cause, When they’d much better aim at prevention. Let us stop at its source all this mischief,” cried he, “Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally; If the cliff we will fence, we might almost dispense With the ambulance down in the valley.”

“Oh, he’s a fanatic,” the others rejoined, “Dispense with the ambulance? Never! He’d dispense with all charities, too, is he could; No! No! We’ll support them forever. Aren’t we picking up folks just as fast as they fall? And shall this man dictate to us? Shall he? Why should people of sense stop to put up a fence, While the ambulance works in the valley?”

But the sensible few, who are practical too, Will not bear with such nonsense much longer; They believe that prevention is better than cure, And their party will soon be the stronger. Encourage them then, with your purse, voice, and pen, And while other philanthropists dally, They will scorn all pretense, and put up a stout fence On the cliff that hangs over the valley.

Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old, For the voice of true wisdom is calling. “To rescue the fallen is good, but ‘tis best To prevent other people from falling.” Better close up the source of temptation and crime Than deliver from dungeon or galley; Better put a strong fence ‘round the top of the cliff Than an ambulance down in the valley.

This election day, maybe more than any other, have choices that clearly delineate those who would put up a fence and those who want the ambulance down in the valley. Each vote can make a difference to what our future will look like. Search your heart, decide if you are a fence or ambulance person and vote accordingly. May the “force” be with you. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

D-I-V-O-R-C-E

D-I-V-O-R-C-E—remember the time when we used to spell it? It was a drastic measure, only to be used in times of abuse or addictions. It was a last hope measure to be used when all other efforts had been attempted. Marriage and family was a serious commitment.


I remember reading an interview that took place between a couple celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary. The wife was asked if she had ever thought about divorce during those many years. She was shocked and replied, “Divorce? NO! Never!........murder a few times but never divorce!”

We seem to have the attitude today that marriage is like a store purchase. If we don’t like it, we can take it back. Maybe the fit is wrong or we don’t like that color anymore or it looked better hanging in the window than it did when we got it home.

The legalities of divorce are simple, fast and inexpensive lending to the illusion that it’s convenient and painless. We live in a time when millions are spent on lavish weddings. Attention is paid to every little detail…..nothing goes unnoticed. There are even people who make it their career to see that all goes well. I think that one detail is being overlooked- the importance of the wedding vows.

To vow is “to promise solemnly, esp. to God”. They are not just words spoken in a performance. The wedding vows are the most important promises we will ever make. I’ve read over numerous marriage vows. They differ in context but I have never found any of the following words:

I promise to love you as long as you always do what I want you to.

I promise to love you as long as you can keep me living in the style I want.

I promise to love you as long as you stay young, or attractive or fun or perfect.

An elderly couple at church recently received the devastating news that she had a fast acting disease. This couple had been together for decades rarely even spending the night apart. One Sunday, she became overwhelmed and needed to leave. As she was being helped out, I saw that she had become confused and lost. She simply reached her hand out as if searching for him. He immediately saw her need and placed his hand in hers. There are no words to describe the look of peace and safety that came upon her face. She couldn’t even see him but that didn’t matter, she knew he was there and she was fine. She knew because of a lifetime of his always being there.

Do I believe in divorce? Yes, I have been divorced. There are times when safety and other issues make it a necessary evil. But it should NEVER be taken lightly. It is devastating especially to children. It affects areas of your life in ways you can’t even imagine. If you are thinking about taking such an action, please think hard and long and carefully. It is my experience that divorce is rarely worth the cost.

That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?