Answered prayers~

It is so encouraging to hear about
answered prayer. I have lots, so this may become a novel...lol.

When my girls were little, I wanted a family photo taken and I told
the Lord that I wanted matching dresses for the girls. The very next
week at church 2 different women gave me a bag of girls clothes.
Believe it or not, in each of those bags was a darling little pink
dress...identical and one in each size to fit the girls!

Similar thing with my sons. They were low on shirts and shoes. I
prayed. The very next day, my neighbor knocked on my door carrying 2
huge bags of stuff. Said her friend was throwing them
away,but "something" told her to bring them to me. There were so
many shirts and shoes in there that my sons never got to wear them
all!

Last year for Christmas I got my son the game he wanted to play on
his computer. He was crushed when his dinosaur wouldnt play the
game...so I told the Lord I would love to have a new computer for
him. He contacted a family friend to see if he could modify his
computer to work and it was tooooo old. Two days later, Jim showed
up at my door to ask me if I minded if he gave my son a new
computer!!!

The stories go on and on...God is so good~

Hugs,

Phyl



Phyl~

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Answered prayers~

It is so encouraging to hear about
answered prayer. I have lots, so this may become a novel...lol.

When my girls were little, I wanted a family photo taken and I told
the Lord that I wanted matching dresses for the girls. The very next
week at church 2 different women gave me a bag of girls clothes.
Believe it or not, in each of those bags was a darling little pink
dress...identical and one in each size to fit the girls!

Similar thing with my sons. They were low on shirts and shoes. I
prayed. The very next day, my neighbor knocked on my door carrying 2
huge bags of stuff. Said her friend was throwing them
away,but "something" told her to bring them to me. There were so
many shirts and shoes in there that my sons never got to wear them
all!

Last year for Christmas I got my son the game he wanted to play on
his computer. He was crushed when his dinosaur wouldnt play the
game...so I told the Lord I would love to have a new computer for
him. He contacted a family friend to see if he could modify his
computer to work and it was tooooo old. Two days later, Jim showed
up at my door to ask me if I minded if he gave my son a new
computer!!!

The stories go on and on...God is so good~

Hugs,

Phyl



Phyl~

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Prayer for our troops

When you read this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our troops around the world. Please feel free to copy and send or post:).

"Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need... I ask this in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen."

Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Airman, Marine & others deployed in harm's way, prayer is the very best one.

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A different Christmas poem~Dedicated to Martail

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts...
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother.
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,

"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."





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What do you get from the relationship with your husband?

Response from Megan to the above question:

I don't think I've ever had to put that into words before.

I get balance and a partnership from my husband. Over the years we've
worked on our relationship and now we have a very healthy give and
take. I can rely on him to listen to me, to give me a helping hand in
figuring things out, or supporting me. When I'm stuck, or making bad
choices he's always there to help me get back on track. I offer the
same things: insight, support, accountability - to him when he's stuck.

Our personalities are very different, but because we take time to
explore who the other person is we have understanding for that, but also
we are very aware of the fact that he compensates for my weaknesses and
I compensate for his.

I get friendship; he really is my best friend. We talk about things
from what happened at work to how the universe works. I get
companionship and lots, and lots of laughter (he's a goof).

I also get security and safety - stability from him. (He gets love and
comfort - belief in who he is from me.) Not just financially, but
emotionally and physically too. I know he'll always be there to catch me.

He gives me someone to talk to, and keeps me company, but I also know he
believes in me and sees more in me than I see in myself. We are
literally climbing this mountain together, pushing and pulling each
other up as we go.

I will say we had to work very hard to get to this place in our marriage
(it didn't happen naturally), and that most people in marriage are
trying to get themselves higher and are either battling their spouse or
trying to manipulate them so they can climb up on them. It takes a lot
of work to be able to give that up and see how helping the other helps
ourselves. But, in my relationship we've really come to a point where
the verse that says "two become one" is true.

Phyl~

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Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marianne Williamson.

Phyl~

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The Secret Teachers
Give You Free Lessons on
The Law of Attraction



Phyl~

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The Secret

Phyl~

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Food For Thought

"Don't go through life, grow through life.
Eric Butterworth -

Phyl~

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I cried today

taken from my live journal (November 2005)

You know, the hardest part of being a parent is seeing your kids hurting and not being able to fix it.

I can't imagine how it must be for a parent to watch their terminally ill child painfully and valiantly fend off the inevitable.

While I have been blessed with four healthy children, I still hurt when they hurt.

I feel an overwhelming sense of powerlessness which borders on anger and compares to little else. There are life lessons to be learned, decisions to make, consequences to suffer and sometimes our children follow our footsteps through the school of hard knocks. There are natural disasters, situations beyond our control, and everyday life to be lived. You know the old adage, "Life is what happens when you are making plans." Or, how about this one: "If you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans."

There is also the simple fact that often times we must simply accept things we can't change. However, having not only said all of this, but hopefully instilling these simple realities into my children, sometimes something happens that just defies reason. All of my children are very special, loving, and sincere human beings. They also possess more wisdom than most adults I have had the pleasure of dealing with.

Recently, the parents of one of my children's friends decided that their child was to no longer have any contact what-so-ever with my child. They were quite verbal about the situation to their child, but have yet to contact me. The things that were said about my child were ugly and judgemental...not one single incident of bad behavior or disrespect....just opinions and the final ultimatim. Needless to say, my child was crushed by this...so was his friend. Unfortunately, for the other parents involved, my son has more wisdom in his pinky finger than they have accumulated in their 40 some odd years on this planet.

Since the ultimatim, the friend has repeatedly gone behind her parents' backs and contacted my son. While I would never, under any circumstances, condone a child blatantly disobeying a parent, I will not stop her from calling or writing to my son. She is a preciuos child, who cares deeply for him...they are quite close. They understand each other...and that is important to kids...to be understood by someone.

I feel pity for these adults who were unwilling to spend the time it takes to get to know my son; they are missing out.

Tonight, I took my son to the theater to meet his friend. She got away from her folks once again...what a shame that it has come to this. She sneaks around in order to spend moments with him. After the movie, while I waited for them to say their goodbyes, I cried. She clung to him...trying to squeeze in a few more forbidden seconds. These children are not lovers, please don't misunderstand. Just two kids who care about one another and it broke my heart. I wanted to put her in my pocket and keep her safe from the cold, uncaring words and actions of the two people on this planet who are supposed to care for her and tend to her. I am certain they provide for her physically...but emotionally? They are clueless.

I know this is not a modern Romeo and Juliett...but I cried today because two very special people I care about were hurting.

Phyl~

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Miracles

taken from my live journal(11/2005)

I look for miracles everyday. Oftentimes over the years I have uttered prayers in the course of everyday life.

When my girls were little(age 1 & 2) I was doing laundry and said, "Lord, I would love to have matching dressesfor them." The following week two women who did not know each other each gave me a bag of little girls clothes. In each bag was a little pink dress...both identical except for size!

When the boys were about that same age and I was doing laundry, I said, "Lord, I need shirts and shoes for the boys...size 2." The very next day a neighbor knocked on the door with 2 bags in hand. They were full of size 2 shirts and shoes for my little guys!

The other day, while piecing a quilt top, I said, "Lord, I wish I had more pink and green fabrics." Can you guess where this is going? Yup....the next day a dear lady gave me a bag of beautiful fabrics...all pinks and greens!

There is another miracle pressing, but I can't tell it till Saturday. It involves something I told the Lord I wanted for my youngest son who is now 16. God is good!!!

Phyl~

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Insanity?

taken from my live journal...Oct. 28th, 2006

there is sumfin wrong with me-NOT mentally...lol. I am freezing all the time and consuming anything with protein like a starving person.

i have not really slept in a week-i am all nervous energy and my poor brain will absolutley not slow down. its so bad that saturday i started writing down stuff cos the ideas just kept flooding over me-i wrote SIX pages of notes for every thing from our ebay venture, to Marcia's t-shirt business to groceries i need to changes i wanna make on my web site to a list of pix i want joyce to take for me. (That's exactly how my mind was running. INSANITY! mind you, the entire time i was taking notes i was making a quilt top! even drew out some designs i want to make into quilts.

today i took murphy out to potty, saw martail's carved pumpkins, came in to tell him he needed to trash them and forgot about my poor puppy. a few minutes later i went outside and here comes murphy trotting down the sidewalk-for the life of me, i couldn't figure out how the hell he got outside!!! I can't even focus long enuff to have a phone conversation and i can't begin to tell you how many times i forgot what I was talking about. (don't you hate it when that happens and no one else knows what you were talking about either!)

have i finally crossed the abyss into no-man's-land??? i really need a good nite's rest...OMG, the little mood icon for "restless" looks exactly like i feel...almost too funny.
Phyl~

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Road map of life

taken form my live journal...November 2000.

Here I go following yet another gentle swerve in the road. I have taken up quilting and I am absolutely loving it!

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am not happy unless I am creating something. I have, since the age of 10, crocheted, knitted, macrame'd, made clothing, cross-stitched, made way too many Christmas ornaments, caught the beading bug, designed web pages and sites, sewn, and now-for the second time-made blankies. As a little girl, I made Christmas trees out of Reader's Digests and wreaths out of everything from baggies to netting with my Mom. A few years ago, I had a blast learning pixel-art from Vikimouse.

However, I digress. I have joined a few online groups for quilters and have made some wonderful quilty friends. There are many opportunities there to sow into peoples' lives as a lot of the woman support different charities and always appreciate a helping hand.

I will complete a string quilt this morning that I made for Rhonda to give to the Lupus Foundation. It feels wonderful to do something that makes a difference in peoples' lives. This quilt will comfort an ill person, providing both warmth and security. God forbid, if the person passes on, the quilt will comfort those left behind as a gentle reminder of their lost one.

Creating makes me happy!

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Hate Hurts...Celebrate Diversity(2000)

In my opinion, the color of skin is not a reason for dissension, but instead it is a chance to celebrate diversity. As a peach/pink/beige/white parent to four beautiful brown/beige/tan/black children, I have seen racism rear its ugly head in our lives quite often. My children have been hurt by it...physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Hate Hurts is our families challenge to you. We challenge you to do more than spread the love. We challenge you to help stop hate and to celebrate diversity

Hate, in all forms, is ugly and it is wrong. I am raising my 4 bi-racial children in a neighborhood where my 2 sons get spit on, called racial names, beat up, and generally abused. My daughters were verbally abused, never physically. Moving is NOT an option. All children have a right to the better school systems and neighborhoods. All children have the right to walk to and from school without fearing for their safety....my sons do not enjoy this luxury. In order to protect them, I now have to drop them off and pick them up everyday. This is supposed to be one of the "better" neighborhoods.

When we first moved here, I decided to take over the newly vacated position of Brownie Troop leader for the 1st grade. I was not informed of it at the time, but the woman who was my "supervisor" received threats on her life and various other harrassing things from outraged parents. Several parents withdrew their kids from the troop. I then proceeded to run one of the most productive and fun troops this area had seen in a long time. The most exciting thing our Troop did during my two years of leadership was to host a multi-cultural event "Smiles Come in All Colors" where we invited people of diverse heritage to come, set up a booth and to share their rich history, customs, games, crafts, and foods with all of the Troops who attended. It was a wonderful evening for all. I stepped outside to cry half-way through the evening....tears of gratitude. At some point during all of this, the local paper printed a picture of me and my daughter, Phylicia, at another multi-cultural event on their FRONT page. Not a soul in this town could have missed our picture! Again, more tears of gratitude. (When the local paper printed a picture of a bi-racial couple who had made it as prom king and queen, they received bomb threats. How terribly disgusting.

Even as a child, prejudice was never an option to me...hating someone who was different than I was, simply failed to make sense to me. I didn't even realize that my own father was prejudice until I got a pen-pal from Ghana when I was 13. I was absolutely fascinated with life in Africa. My father, however, was not impressed with this new friendship. When he began making racial slurs against a popular black country singer whose voice and music my mother loved, I began to respond to his ignorance. We had many heated debates about the ignorance of a decision and behaviors based on fear. I could not change him, but at least he knew where I stood.

Last year, on the way home from school, my 8 year old son, Alijah, was chased down, beat up, and then urinated on all the while he was being called racial slurs. The oldest abuser in this situation was 10 years old. It does not naturally occur to a child to urinate on another.

One mother told my oldest son, Martail, in front of her own two children, "Tell your mother to take you back to the 'inner-city' where you belong

This behavior is taught, handed down from generation to generation, and it breaks my heart that these same kids will someday have to pay for what an adult has taught them. Hate can and must be stopped. I choose to show these abusive children love when I see them. The best I can hope for is that they see the love and it makes a difference.

I do, however, file legal charges when appropriate. Am I always satisfied with the results of filing these charges? Absolutely not. My family is not going to take the abuse lying down, although I do feel very limited in my choices to combat this situation. I also make it a point to contact the school principal when necessary. Somehow these actions have to make a difference, if in no other way than to show my children where my convictions lie.

It is very difficult to teach my own children to be accepting of the differences between themselves and others and that we must choose first to forgive and secondly to celebrate diversity when they suffer at the hands of children who were taught differently. It would be so easy to find bigger kids to beat up these abusive children. But, seriously, what would that teach my children? I never want them to think that violence is a viable solution.

HOW YOU CAN HELP:
In real life, do not wait until personal circumstances force you to take action. As a child, do not wait to be taught. Learn about the differences in yourself and others. Cultivate a hunger within yourself to know more and decide to celebrate diversity. The choice is yours. The U. S. Department of Justice has a wonderful site with ideas and resources to help you get actively involved in stopping the hate. You are never too young to help! Also, if you witness a hate motivated crime, tell an adult who will help. If you have the chance to be-friend someone different than you, by all means, do so. You will be richly rewarded. Be careful to avoid anti-hate groups who actually promote hate themselves. Hate, in all forms, is wrong.

As a parent, teach your children to appreciate the differences in all of us and to celebrate them. Children learn by example...so be certain to celebrate diversity yourself. If you have the chance to be-friend someone of a different race, or whose ethnic background, sexual persuasion, or religious preference is different than yours, by all means, seize the opportunity. You will be richly rewarded. Also, be prepared for questions! Children are by nature very curious. Keep the answers honest and simple. One little girl, walking behind my daughter, Phylicia, in kindergarten, leaned close and asked her, "Do you like being black?" Phylicia's reply: "Sure. Do you like being white?" Out of the mouths of babes!

Thank you so much for your help in stopping the hate. We can beat this evil, one person at a time

Sincerely,

Phyl~

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Tribute to Donnie(my brother who died in 1992)

Today, July 19, 2001, at precisely 3:19 p.m. I held in my arms a tiny male infant, only 2 months old. The time is important because at that very moment my brother, Donnie, had been dead 9 years.

Irony? I think not. Rather I think it quite fitting that I would be quietly celebrating life and all of its miracles as that dreaded time rolled around. Time unfortunately,or is it fortunately?,stops for no one.

Although I know Donnie is in a much better place, I find I still miss him. What I would give to feel his arms wrapped around me in a hug!

I have allowed myself permission to mourn...miss him. I allow myself the pain....sometimes sharp, sometimes dull, some times it sneaks me, sometimes I know it is coming.

Never once in the 32 years prior to Donnie's dying did I ever consider that I would live life minus a sibling. Not once did it occur to me what it must be like to bury someone birthed from the same womb, raised in the same house, as I was.

I do know that once faced with that horrid reality, I thought I would never draw another pain-free breath in this life time...I was convinced I would never live another "normal" day. Everyday life without Donnie in it just didn't seem a realistic possibility.

I hurt, I ached, I cried. Due to the nature of the wreck...it was on a motorcycle...his body was in such shape that it would have been easy for me to deny that it was in fact Donnie's. Somehow, though, even in the deep dispairs of my grief I KNEW that I had to find him in there. I knew the importance of my own healing and that healing began with acceptance of the most horrendous fact imaginable to me at that time.

Could I do it? Could I find my Donnie in that swollen excuse for a corpse? If so, then could I forgive God for taking him and Donnie for allowing himself to die? Could I work through this pain to any sense of healing? When I had originally heard the news my heart literally ripped...I screamed from the torturous pain. Could anything hurt this bad? Why my 23 year old brother? I reminded God of the fact that Daddy was older and that he would not be missed nearly as bad as Donnie...and then asked him why he let my Dad be here this long anyway. Why didn't he take Dad and leave Donnie here?

The next few days were a blur for a long time. I counted minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, then years...all relevant to the time and date that Donnie had left this planet. I thought time would never again not be related to that one event in my life.

I remember going to Mom's for 2 weeks afterwards and lying on her couch looking up at the pictures of all of us kids. Next thing I knew, I was sobbing as my Mom held me. I recognized the hand in the picture as the same one in that damned casket.

Later, Alan told me that the undertaker had shared concern that they would not be able to have any of Donnie's body out from under the cover, as he had suffered terrible road rash. Alan explained to him that having his hand and arm out were mandatory to those of us left behind. Our family has always been and will always be a great bunch of huggers...the guys always did the manly thing and shook hands before hugging. Sure enough with the help of the undertaker and a long sleeved white shirt, we were able to clutch Donnie's hand one final time.

I remember frantically-almost maniacally-searching through hundreds of photographs until I found one of just Donnie and I together. Try as I did, I couldn't remember his face before the wreck, couldn't feel his arms wrapped around me, couldn't see his smile, or hear his voice. I HAD to know that he HAD been and that he loved me. I found a picture finally-one of him with his arms wrapped around me-baby and all. He and I were giggling. It was wonderful to see...somehow soothing my ravaged heart.

I was so mad...angry that my brother had died, angry that Alan had had to identify his body, angry that we lost Donnie, angry that it hurt so deeply...I even considered that Donnie had committed suicide. I was just good and ole pissed off!

Fearing that I would never function again, I sought counseling through my church. I know that nothing short of God's love, comfort, grace and mercy that pulled me through that time. I also learned that screaming,"Why?!?!?!?!?" at the heavens may be therapeutic, but there isn't always an answer.

As the old adage goes--time heals all wounds. Lord knows, how I hated all of those polite, trite sayings that folks would spit out when they could think of nothing else to say instead of just sitting in the uncomfortable-ness with me. I can only hope that I was not rude. Thing is...no one could comfort me. I cried when I needed to cry, bitched when I needed to bitch, felt sorry for myself when I needed to, and screamed when I needed to scream. I also prayed constantly. I knew that I had to work through this. I do so appreciate those patient people who allowed me to share my pain with them...and those who carried it for me when it was too much to bear. I talked and talked and talked about Donnie...the gory details of the wreck, how horrendous his body looked, and constantly recounted as it came back to me the awful details of that horrible week.

By the time the third anniversary (is there an appropriate word???) rolled around, I noticed some healing. I was crying less often and for shorter periods of time. I was able to recall with a smile or giggle some of the times Donnie and I had shared. I could see his face, feel his hug, hear his voice. I knew I was getting better.

Today, as I write this, it has been 9 years...I don't know how many months, weeks, days, hours, or minutes. I have "normal" days....whatever the hell that is:)! I got to the point during that 3rd year, where I gave myself permission to not be miserable, to forgive God and Donnie, and to not feel quilty because I was still alive.

Even though my heart will never totally heal, it is now capable of having "Donnie" moments without ripping further and with time and age I have concluded that all is as it should be.

Our Mom never recovered from losing Donnie; it was not possible to focus on her "4 living children". She simply could not accept that Donnie was no longer here. Three years ago, she too left this planet. As I held her hand and she drew her final breath, I released her to go to Donnie. I miss her...but I know that she, too, is in a better place, at peace and whole again. What more could I wish for loved ones?

Within the first week of losing Donnie, everyone of of his siblings and our Mom heard this song-at separate times-and all of us immediately thought of him.

Jesus And Mom Will Always Love Me

Made a wish upon a star:
I could have a brand new car
Got tired of wishing, so
I stole one.
Twenty-three* and knew it all
My dreams were big but, my thoughts were small.
So many roads,
somehow, I chose the wrong one.

Jesus and Mom will always love me
even when the devil took control.
Jesus and Mom will always love me...
this I know.

I felt trapped most all my life
found new kinds of lows and highs
Never been a husband,
but I've had a lot of wives to hold me.
Headstrong, stubborn,
couldn't be told
like a wild horse that couldn't be rode...
a rainbow chaser hungry for gold
and still searching.

Jesus and Mom will always love me
even when the devil took control.
Jesus and Mom will always love me...
this I know.

I wish Mom could see me now,
how I've turned it all around...
lately I've been going down the right road.
Like a picture that you paint
with blues and grays and cans of paint.
Heaven knows,
I'm not a saint but I know...

Jesus and Mom will always love me
even when the devil took control.
Jesus and Mom will always love me...
this I know.
The song is by "Confederate Railroad" and
it reminds all of us of Donnie.
*I took the liberty of changing "17" to "23".

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Tribute to my Mom

This is the message the preacher gave at Mom's funeral. (1998)

As we remember Carol, let us call to mind the ways God's love triumphed in her life. I invite you to recall those precious memories of Carol that are special to you...to remember what was important to her. What were the themes of her life?

Carol was born March 12, 1940, in East Cleveland. This coming March, she would have celebrated her 58th birthday.

Carol was the daughter of Aaron Carl and Ruth (Stroud) Schuman. She was the seventh of 12 children. When she was 7 years old, her family moved form Bedford to the rural town of Jewitt in southern Ohio. Early in her life, she learned how to be a survivor. In a large and unashamedly poor family, she learned the importance of loving and caring for her brothers and sisters. She also learned how to "go on and be happy" when life dealt her a difficult hand.

Carol quit school in the ninth grade, but later returned to school to get her GED. What a proud moment that was for her.

In 1959, at the age of 18, Carol married Philip Hale Lough. Together they had five children: Phyllis, Scott, Alan, Donnie, and Danny. At its best,the marriage was rocky and Carol frequently found it necessary to pack up the children and move. The family had many homes... moving all over the eastern U.S. They spent time in the Oakland, Maryland, area and eventually Carol returned to Ohio with her kids...to start life over.

Carol knew the struggles and grief of 3 divorces. However, the deepest grief of her life was the sudden death of her son, Donnie, in 1992. The loss of her son literally took the wind out of her sails and she spoke frequently about wanting to be reunited with him.

In 1989,she recovered from 2 heart attacks. But in 1994 a series of strokes left her with one of the most serious challenges of her life. Remarkably, she came back a long way from the strokes...even learning to walk with only the assistance of a cane. In the midst of these struggles, Carol made it quite clear that the quality of life was very important to her. Under no circumstances was she to be kept alive by machines.

Following the onset of yet another heart attack and stroke, Carol was admitted to the hospital on February 12. This combination painfully took away all hope of recovery and Carol died on Sunday, February 15, 1998.

Some would say that Carol didn't have it easy...that she didn't get many breaks in her life. Yet through it all she kept her hope in a better day. She survived. She tried hard not to be vengeful. She kept her sense of humor regardless of what was going on and we can't really celebrate her life without saying that she was ornery. She was passionate in her love and in her opinions. This was part of the joy of knowing and loving Carol.

Her life, difficult as it was, still had it's pleasures. Without a doubt, the greatest joy in Carol's life was her children and grandchildren. The light in her soul just seemed to light up whenever she was with her family. She was a wonderful mother and grandmother.

As for pleasures...Carol loved her Doral Light 100 cigarettes and Mc Donald's coffee. No one was going to change this. She could have owned stock in the bubble gum and tootsie roll industries, in Pizza Hut and Mc Donald's. As a collector, she amassed quite the assortment of geese, angels, and Santa Claus'. She couldn't have lived without her telephone because that was how she stayed connected to her loved ones.

Two lessons came to mind as you described Carol's life. The first is to love one another and allow others to love you. The second lesson is to survive...to go on and be happy.

We give thanks to God for the many ways that his love and grace triumphed in her life. May God's light continue to shine in the world through us as we honor Carol. I invite you to honor Carol's memory. We learn about love and life from those who have gone on before us. If you have seen virtue and love in this woman's life, then the greatest tribute to Carol's life would be to pass onto others what you have received from her.

On February 18, 1998, we laid our Mother to rest beside her son, and our brother, Donnie Lough. It was as she wished.

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About my Daddy

taken from my live journal...written in approximately 2000.

My dear Auntie,

Here we are...almost to another Christmas holiday and it is long passed time for me to fulfill my promise of writing to you.

I send this letter with the hope and prayer that all is well with you. All is well, or as it should be, for us:).

I could bore you to tears with the daily joys and trials of raising 4 children, all of whom are-thankfully-as full of vim, vinegar, and love as healthy children can be. I am sure you remember well those days of your own. Suffice it to say that I am one very blessed woman and enjoy parenting very much.

Truth is that when you asked me to write and bring you up-to-date on my Dad, I panicked. So I did what I always do when I feel the need to write...I let it all churn inside until the right time came to pour it out on paper.

Daddy and I have a strange yet workable relationship at this point in our lives. I don't know him very well and that tugs at my heart from time to time. I am most willing to share with you what I do know and I understand that you miss your brother very much. As you know, he has broken contact with all of his siblings and quite frankly any contact with his children is initiated by us.

He currently lives above the VFW in a small West Virginia town. I suppose that he has been there almost 15 years.

I left home at 18...returned there briefly, and then married, but that is another story:). I had limited contact with Daddy and it seems the fellow I married enjoyed alcohol as much as Dad did...go figure! I did what I had begged Mom to do for years...I divorced the lush, stopped the cycle...at least temporarily.

The year I was pregnant for my first child, Alana, Daddy fell on New Year's Eve and cracked a few ribs, one of which punctured his lung. I went immediately to be with him, staying with his girlfriend during the nights and spending the days with Daddy in the hospital. True to his nature, the first thing he asked me to do was shampoo his hair...and yes, he is still a good looking man! He may not be quite as sure of it as he used to be, but he is handsome none-the-less.

I knew him well enough to know that he would have an absolute fit over that fact that my baby had a black father. I was afraid of his reaction to the extent that I only told him half of the truth...her Daddy is half Comanche. The day Dad was to be released from the hospital, I had his girlfriend put me on a home-bound bus on her way to pick him up.

I did, of course, tell him the truth once the baby was born, but did it safely over the telephone. Every little girl wants to be the "apple of Daddy's eye" and to know that he accepts her for who she is. I had always looked forward to the days when I would take my kids to see Gramma and Papa and there would be hugs, kisses, and giggles. He has yet to accept my children as his grandchildren and although I missed him and the child-like dream I had held onto for so many years, I had a life to live and children to raise. Life and time goes on.

I had three more wonderful babies and it was 8 years later when Donnie was killed in the motorcycle wreck. Daddy had been here in Ohio, working and living with Alan. Amazing how God works, it blesses me to know that Daddy was able to spend time with Donnie before losing him. Daddy isn't one to travel at all and I am convinced it was the good Lord that touched his heart and brought him to Ohio.

Prior to the wreck, I had gone to visit with Daddy at Alan's...even taking him on a beer run. It was on that beer run that Daddy opened up and talked with me. He told me that he just couldn't accept the fact that I had black children and that he just wasn't like my Mom or brothers who had all accepted the kids. He also told me that he will always love me, but that was as far as he could go. My brothers had told him things about me and my life and he said he was very proud to know that I am a great Mom and that I am very obviously one brave woman. I informed him that I could not effectively raise my children while burying my head in the sand. He chuckled. I am still not sure how we made it through that terrible week when we had to bury our 23 year old brother and son, but the grace of God is sufficient and ever present. Much to our disdain, Daddy returned to West Virginia the following week.

A few years ago, Alan took me to see Daddy...it was time. I had determined that as his daughter I deserved to know he loved me, that I mattered to him, that he still remembered the little girl he had played with and held so dear. Not to fear...God is SO good. When Daddy saw me his face lit up, he grabbed me and hugged me close, and said, "Baby Girl, I love you!" I don't know who had the most tears in their eyes, Dad, Alan, Barb, or me.

He looks old and that was hard on me. It was so difficult to realize that he no longer hunts and fishes, that there are no more beagle puppies. I stayed with him while Alan and Barb made a trip to the Laundro-Mat with his clothes and bedding. He was always so meticulous about his appearance, his home, his car. Now here he was, no longer able to keep up with these things and it troubled him greatly. He was embarrassed and fussed about the fact that his apartment wasn't spic-and-span, then combed his hair, and made us coffee.

I set about the business of tidying up. Daddy's feet and legs have horrid circulation and he can't trust them to hold him up for long periods of time. He resents that very much. With his guidance and assistance, it wasn't long before the apartment made him smile!

We wanted to take him out to dinner, but he refused. According to Alan, Dad would only go to the bar and until recently, a little restaurant across the street. His friends take care of his banking and shopping needs, so he goes no where.

My brother, Scott retired from the military this spring and he and his wife, Tonya purchased a home within a reasonable distance of Dad's apartment. They now stop by and check on Dad every day...make sure all is well and he has everything he needs.

His typical day goes like this...He rises around 11 a.m. (can this be the same man who woke me at 7 a.m. daily so that I wouldn't waste my day away???), and drinks 1 1/2 cups of instant coffee with cream...tosses the last half of the second cup down the drain, rinses the cup, places it in the dish drainer, and reaches into the fridge for a beer. To his 3 or 4 Milwaukee Bests he adds salt...and then he heads to the bar. Thank God he lives upstairs...this forces him to walk down the steps and is the only exercise he gets. He hangs out at the bar, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer till the wee hours of the night. He climbs the stairs, goes to bed, and then does it all over again. Basically the only change in this routine is if one of us kids show up or he is ill.

He is an odd man, although he has certainly mellowed with age. I am no longer afraid of him-physically or verbally. In fact, I am a pretty good match for his crabby ass when he starts running his mouth. He can only blame himself...we kids learned the art of smart-assed-ness from 2 pros...Dad and Mom!

Growing up with Dad was not fun or easy as he drank and Mom was a lunatic due to it. I am sure that he did the best he could with what he had, but the one who ultimately lost out in the end is Daddy himself. Mom divorced him in 1985.

For whatever reason, he is not close to any of the grandchildren and doesn't particularly persue relationships with his own kids or grandchildren. His mind is still sharp as a tack-remembering all the grandkids birthdays and ages. I have 4 children...ages 17, 16, 12, and 11. Scott has 1...Philip, 16, and one on the way! Alan has a daughter, Shauna, 8, and says he is done for this lifetime. Donnie had no children. Danny is the proud Papa of 3...Daniel, 11, Samantha, 9, and Taylor, who just turned 2 in November. All in all, that's 10 grandchildren who would keep him young and full of joy, but he doesn't show interest. It's a shame, but chances are he won't change at this point. My daughter, Phylicia, calls him from time to time-whether he likes it or not! She even cries because he is alone...she is such a tender-hearted child.

Daddy now has Rheumatoid Arthritis in his back:(. It bothers him terribly. Since he is still quite stubborn, he refuses to come and live with us. I would take care of him for the rest of his days...and he would leave this planet among family.

I have grown and matured and healed over the years...guess I am mellowing with age, too. I have forgiven him and love him very much. He is often in my prayers. That day when I went to him and he hugged me and said he loved me was the catalyst in my healing. Now I teach my own children about the power of forgiveness.

Our Mom died in February of 1998. She had heart and circulation problems and had had 2 surgeries on veins in her leg. She refused to have more surgeries to prolong her life, but I accepted that and supported her. She left this planet smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee just as she said she would. She had lived with me for a year and had gotten her own place in '97. Phylicia spent most weekend with her...drinking coffee, swearing, and making prank phone calls! Gramma had an ornery streak in her that we have all inherited and her wake was actually full of wonderful stories about her and her sense of humor. We laid her to rest beside Donnie.

She had never recovered from losing him. It wasn't that she didn't love the rest of us...she truly did very much...she simply never made it passed the fact that one of her kids was gone. To this day, there are still times when I will pick up the phone to call her and realize, again, that she is no longer here.

All in all, though, life is good. I am a firm believer in, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." Turning 40 was wonderful for me. Suddenly, things just fell into perspective for me. I giggle a lot more now and love the sound of my own laughter. I am married to the same fellow now for 13 years and it looks as though he has finally puts drugs and alcohol behind him. He is-in so many ways-a black version of my Daddy!

Speaking of my Daddy...he never was one to talk to me and I have always wished he had. I still would love to hear about his life, childhood, meeting Mom...etc. Except for him telling me about a pet raccoon he had and getting bitten when he grabbed and pulled on the wrong end of a snake, the only things I do know I learned in an odd way.

Not long after Grandma Lough left this planet, I rode to the bank with Daddy. I was 10. I waited in the car for him and while he was inside, I noticed an envelope with Grandma's handwriting in the visor. I knew he was 'weird' about his stuff and would have likely belted me if he caught me looking. Curiosity got the best of me! It seems that Grandma Lough had mailed him a letter and some momentoes she had saved over the years. His blond baby curl was there as well as newspaper clippings about his military days. I never knew my Dad was in the military, let alone that he was a Sarge...I was SO proud. To this day, Daddy doesn't know that I snooped.

Aunt Barb would tell me things from time...how Grandma would go for weekends to her mothers home and how Grandpa and John tortured Daddy because he prefered to be in the kitchen cooking with the two of you girls. For what its worth, he is still an awesome cook!

I would enjoy any information you would care to give me concerning not only Dad but all of you. I also hope we keep in touch. Thanks so very much for writing and asking about Daddy...I have needed to write these things for a long time now.

My love and many prayers,

Phyllis Ann

P.S. Whew! In reading over this, it seems so bleak...so depressing, but then Daddy and his life are quite dismal. My life is no longer like that. Accepting the things I could not change has been a wonderful tool for me. If you like, the next letter can be a look at a typical day around here:)!

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Because people need to know how we feel about them while they are living.

Because people need to know how we feel about them while they are living.

Of course, Alan and I grew up together. I am the oldest of 5 and Alan is the third child and second son.

When he was born, Alan had palorix-denosis...which prevented his food from going from the small intestine to the large one. Well, I was seven years old and wanted the baby to wake up and play. So, having no concept of hurting the baby, I wiggled him in an attempt to wake him as he slept in his bassinet. Unknown to me, my father had witnessed this little scene. When he demanded to know what was I doing, I was scared and I lied. Well, let's just say that my little brother began teaching me life lessons at a very young age. I got spanked twice...once for disturbing the baby and once for lying. (To this day, I believe Alan took notes because he grew up to be the most honest human being I have ever met!)

Even as a young child, Alan always wanted to be an individual. He often told Mom that just because he got a popsicle didn't mean everybody had to have one.

Alan rarely, if ever, experienced difficulty expressing himself. When he contracted Kawasaki's Disease and was hospitalized, our neighbor, Dr. Thomas, stopped in to check on him. When the good doctor asked Alan if there was anything he could do to help, Alan confided in him that he would love to have some chicken noodle soup. On his way home, Dr. Thomas stopped at the store and purchased fresh chicken, veggies, and some noodles. His wife then proceeded to make a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup. Well, the Alan Lough we all know and love, took one bite of the soup and said, "Hey! This isn't Campbell's!"

As we grew up, things changed. I married and moved out; Scott went into the Army. Our parents relationship, which had always been rocky, finally ended in divorce. Suddenly, Alan became the oldest child. At the age of 15, he worked after school. Mom often told me of how on payday, Alan would cash his check, buy each of them a carton of cigarettes,and then left the remainder of his pay for her to use in the support of himself, Donnie, and Danny. Due to the circumstances of life, Alan quickly became a father-figure to the two younger boys.

At the age of 17, he decided that no woman, and especially not HIS sister, should go through childbirth alone. He became my labor coach. Throughout the entire pregnancy, Alan took excellent care of me...defended me in a nasty family argument, rubbed my back when it ached, took me to the doctor and to our childbirth classes. Let's not forget my personal favorite: whenever I would be washing dishes, he would walk up behind me and wrap his arms around me and the baby to make sure I knew I was loved. He hung in there till the end. On June 10, 1984, Alan stood by my side and coached me through the delivery of Alana Lenise. He was the first person to hold her and to this day, holds a very special place in both of our hearts.


Needless to tell you, Alan and I became very good friends. I learned very quickly that he says what he means and means what he says. Immense respect for this man came naturally.

I can (and do) tell him my deepest innermost feelings, fears, and deeds. He has never judged me or stopped loving me. Whenever I need him, he is here. Our family was always physically affectionate, and somehow one "Alan Lough" hug can make things look better.

Once when I was the victim of domestic violence, he risked his own life by coming to get the children and me and taking us to a battered women's shelter. How could I ever repay that?

In 1992, the sudden death of our brother, Donnie, affected him very deeply. Having been like a father to the boys, this was in many ways like losing a son. However, over time, Alan was able to carry on, keeping with him the memories of someone very precious to him.

When my third child was one month old, Alan married Ginger(&Josh). Our brother, Danny, took the opportunity afforded him as Alan's best man to pay tribute to the contribution Alan had made in his life. "I know that Alan and Ginger will be great parents. I have seen her with Josh and Alan has always been like a father to me." There was hardly a dry eye in the place.

Alan and Ginger wanted to have a child and went to great lengths with no success. Finally, I told him, "You do your part and I am going to stand on the scripture where God promises that we can be fruitful and multiply." He agreed!

Some time later, he called and said that Ginger was on the extension and that I had better sit down because they had something to tell me. I was so frightened I couldn't breathe. Instead of bad news, Alan had wonderful news: Ginger was pregnant!!! I laughed, I cried, I screamed, I jumped up and down, I dropped the phone. It was all I could do to say, "Thank you, Jesus."

On March 31, 1994, another phone call came...more good news: the baby was coming! They allowed me to be at the hospital and be one of the first people to see the proud Daddy as he held his daughter for the very first time. I then got to hold Shauna Lea and take pictures of her very first moments. What an incredible honor this was .

Alan Lough is a man who is unashamedly himself. Although I have mercilessly teased him about never having developed the art of using tact, I have never had to wonder where I stood with him. More than once we have confronted one another saying, "Okay. We have a problem. Do you love me enough to work this out?" We have always worked it out. If he is wrong, he admits it. If I am wrong, he graciously accepts my apology, and maybe more importantly, he never brings the subject up again. (I am not so polite...I never miss the chance to harrass him about the time he jumped up and popped me in the mouth...hehe.)

On February 12, 1998, I had the unfortunate task of calling him to inform him that our mother was being rushed to the hospital. Even through the sheer insanity of the next week, Alan took care of me. While we camped out at the hospital, he made sure I ate and forced me to rest. He also gave me constant permission to do whatever I needed to do in the way of grieving, reminding me that I was not obligated to do what other people expected of me, but should instead do what was necessary for myself. When it came time to walk away from our mother's casket for the very last time, it was Alan who gave me the strength to do so.

Alan is a passionate man who has the ability to face life on life's terms. He is a deeply spiritual man. His deep convictions are what have made him the man he is today...a rock of Gibralter with a heart of gold.

Over the years, I have done my brothers a great injustice. Although I knew they loved me, I never felt it. I apologize for my blindness. To you, Alan Lough, I have this to say, " I apologize. You have always loved me and loved me well. Any woman would be proud to call you "Brother". I am grateful to God that He gave you to me. Thank you for being not only my brother, but also my dearest friend.

I love you, Siss."

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Answered prayers

It is so wonderful to have friends who will pray for me at a moments
notice. I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart!

This time I have a prayer that's being answered to tell you about.
All of my children's lives I have asked God to heal their hearts. I
pick the wrong guy and their father's have not been USDA Prime
Choice. Right now I am living witness to the healing that God is
doing in each and everyone of them and I am uber-excited.

I woke up yesterday to my youngest kissing my cheek and telling me
what I wonderful mom I am and that he loves me. The rest of us spent
the day mending hurts that have been around for years. Forgiveness
and restoration are powerful things.

God has bestowed me with the gift of wisdom and my kids not only seek
me out for counseling...they bring their friends:).

I have wonderful kids who now will be whole individuals...God amazes
me every single day.

Hugs and prayers and thanks!


Phyl~

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Forgiveness

taken from my live journal...

A friend asked me if she should invite her MIL to a candle party at her house. The MIL had just pitched a hysterical fit in which my friend was emotionally wounded.

Here is my response:

My answer to your question is this: Absolutely not! Here is why...you are having the party for fun. She obviously is having a tough time right now and you do not have to set yourself up for her coming over and possibly embarrassing you in front of other people. It is enough that she did behave the way she did towards you in front of hubby and kids.

I suggest that since God tells us to pray for our enemies, that you pray for her...now I am not calling her ur enemy. Its just that this situation could cause a rift in the family and praying for her will do two things. One it will keep you not sinning-and I can only imagine how good it would feel to rip on her. Two, God will bless her. I would suggest that you only ask God to heal her heart. Pray that every time you think of her. We may never know what pain she is operating out of.

Tell God that you forgive her. In his sence of fairness forgiveness is something we do for ourselves. It keeps the root of bitterness takin hold in our soul.

Please know that forgiving does not in any way condone her inappropriate behavior...just keeps you clean and healthy spiritually. Forgiveness does not make door mats out of us. Jesus was not ever a wimp, sissy, or door mat. He is the ultimate example of forgiveness. He actually healed an ear that Peter cut off of one of the men who came to take Him to be killed. He knew who and what the guy was and healed him anyway. Forgiveness is also not stupidity-it is a positive action and not a reaction.

Neither you or your husband would be wrong in limiting the amount of time you spend with her-feel free to wait until God soothes hurt feelings and egos. When He said we had to honor our parents, he knew that the 2 of you were gonna have to deal with her. Remember that she is a wounded person and prone to attack if she feels threatened. The key is to not take her actions personal. You just happened to be the poor souls she took her frustration out on. I imagine that when she felt confronted, she attacked out of instinct. I also imagine that she loves both of you dearly and may even feel bad for biting your heads off.

I have found that sometimes I am better off telling God about things that people do to injure me (or piss me off) than to talk them about it. Most people take the course of being offended and then have the option of thinking what a jerk so-and-so is instead of looking at their own behavior and taking responsibility for it. It is always easier to blame some one other than ourselves...even when we know we are wrong. Unfortunately, even when our motives are pure and we have a valid need, most people will not look to themselves as the source of the problem. Telling God on them does 2 things....it keeps us from choking folks and He can/will only work in situations where we totally stay out of His way.

There are, actually, very few relationships in my life that I am willing to take the time and energy to confront situations that arise. I tell God on them, forgive them, and leave the rest to Him:). How sweet is it that He takes care of our yucky business for us?

Wow...I am rambling on and on. Told you I have opinions...lol.

The other thing I can offer you is this...you can always pray this way: Lord, please change my M-I-L's behavior or help me to deal with her and not take her behaviors personally. Do you know the Serenity Prayer? I wear that puppy out!

All of these suggestions come from my heart and 46 years of real life. They are all subject to the approval-or not- of your hubby:).

I will be praying for you and please feel free to ask me anything. It is my sincere pleasure to minister to you.

Love ya kiddo...Phyl

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State-of-the-union

taken from my live journal...02/07

All my life I have believed that I would have a ministry to women and that God allowed the hell I lived thru to happen so that I could minister to women who are there also.

In the last 2 days, there are 3 women who have discussed depression with me. Last week, 2 more. I am so encouraged!

During this same time, there has been insanity in my life from a human point of view. I have 4 kids. The girls moved out some time ago but we still battle things together.

So here we were...a family of hurting and broken people. For the last 3 days, I have been able to minister intensely to all my kids and even one friend of theirs.

My children have always lovingly embraced who-or whatever I brought home...and even brought people themselves. Ours is a safe-house so to speak. God is healing hearts and mending relationships and giving hope to the hopeless. It is such a wondrous miracle for all of us and especially me since I have prayed healing for my kids since their births.

I wanted to discuss depression with you, but I felt lead to share this with you. I will be back later on and will write more then.

Be encouraged, dear one, our Lord is in the blessing business

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2nd letter to a friend...

Taken from my live journal...02/07

God has been uber-busy in blessing my home, my life, my family, and my friends.

It is so exciting that He has called me to the ministry that I always knew to be a part of my life someday. I am having a wonderful time watching Him heal hearts in the people I cherish most. He never ceases to amaze me...from wee little things to huge ones...I stay in awe of Him and this is one place I love being in.

The world is full of broken people. He has always enabled me to see past a persons behavior and then see what is really underlying it. This is a gift I treasure. I get so encouraged because I know that everything He gives me is available to any one who wants it, too. When we hurt, it is so hard to see past that hurt. Seeing past the current behavior to the cause allows me to minister to people's hearts. Can it ever get anymore exciting than that?

Many times over the years, I have whined to God that He sent way too many people to my home and I got frustrated cause I felt like I should do more for them than I was. He is so wise! I needed to be in relationship with all of those people so that when He was ready to heal them, He could.

Not once in all my life have I appreciated the way God chooses to do things...He even says His ways are not our ways...wow...now that's an understatement. I even tell Him how I appreciate his twisted sence of humor...lol. Only He is capable of doing His job and I am so relieved that I finally understand what is-or is not- my responsibilty. I LOVE reminding Him of His:). It is so freeing for me to just take care of my job and let God handle all the rest.

I am considering adding a spot on my website where I will share my experiences and pearls of wisdom gleaned from them. I may even post some emails I get and the responses I sent. What do you think? (My kids call me Dr. Phyl:).

Wow...for someone who was gonna rip off a quick note to you, it seems I can ramble...lol. I think of you often and you are always in my prayers. I count you among the blessings in my life. I felt an immediate connection to you and now I know why. We love the same God:).

Love and hugs,

Phyl~

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Sharing the love...gratitude

Taken from my live journal...02/14/07

To my children: Roger, Aaron, Alana, Phylicia, Martail, Heather, Candace, and Alijah...

I love all of you with all of my heart. You are the light in my life, the perk in my step, the twinkle in my eye, and the joy in each day.

If I birthed you, I thank God for giving me the pleasure of watching you grow into the wonderful person that you are.

If you are heart-adopted, I thank God that in all His wisdom He saw fit to bless me with your presence in my life.

I count all of you among the many blessings in my life! I hope your day is filled with loads of chocolate and lots of love!

With much love, many hugs, and tons of gratitude,


Mom, momma, madre, min

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I am so tired...

From my live journal...04/02/07

I think I am cracking under the pressure...seems like everyone in my family is catching hell and cant get a break. I am fighting off depression but I am wearing thin.

I have 4 kids...ages: 23, 22, 18, and 17. The older 3 all got cars in the same 2 days...within the next 2 days all of them broke down. They are now fixed. My son's car failed state inspection today.

My oldest broke up with her boyfriend and he is suicidal.

Both couples(daughters) are having housing issues and now so am I. I live on gov't subsidized housing and the inspector dislikes me immensely. (I have, however, learned that her behavior is not personal...she hates everyone.) I have failed 2 inspections in 2 weeks.

This time it was because there is a mattress and box-springs on my porch(CLUTTER). They are from Freecycle and were delivered last night.

I primed the wall in the kitchen above the stove. Although I have plans to paint the entire room, I have no paint. (SPOT-PAINTING). She even brought a camera to document things.

According to her, my house is cluttered. Everything is put away and cleaned. I have been here for 16 years and we have a lot of stuff...but the house is really nice. One of the kids friends said it is "magazine beautiful."

I am physically exhausted-due to arthritis....constant pain wears me out. Cleaning and painting were torturous. I did what I could, got mad,cried, and had all of the kids come help. We have practically remodeled the place in the last 2 weeks.

Just between me and you-my messages are now being moderated on the online group I am in because of the post about selling my quilts. Apparently I misunderstood what I was told when I asked permission to post it in the first place.

I am mentally exhausted...not so much from trying to solve all the problems, but trying my damnedest to patiently wait on God.

I am even lagging spiritually today. I don't want you to feel sorry for me and I know that my life today is the direct result of the choices I have made up to this point. I also know that God promised not to give me anything I can't handle. Apparently, He didnt hear me the other day when I told Him that we need to discuss that promise, because there is a communication problem. His idea of what I can handle and my idea of what I can handle are no where near the same.

I am so sorry to dump on you. Normally, I can handle the blinding shit storms...but when they are physically and mentally at the same time. Just pray for us, please.

Hugs,

Phyl




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Mom, I'm going home.

So, it finally happened. My 18 year old son moved out this evening. What a rush of mixed emotions. I am proud of him and the choices he has made, scared for all ou us cause he has flown from the nest, excited for him and all the possibilities that exist for him, and yet sad to see him go.

I know he is a big boy...almost a man...but he is still my baby. He is the third one to grow up on me. Seems like the day babies are born, we are at odds with them. By virtue of the fact that they are human and temporary gifts from God, they begin growing up and away from us rather quickly.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

                                           -Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself. They came through you but not from you and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

                                           -Kahlil Gibran

Even knowing that it is inevitable, I don't find it easy to let them go; my heart rips.

And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

                                           -Kahlil Gibran

I wish you the best from the bottom of my heart, Son,
Mom~

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Graphic gifts for fellow meme hosts

While visiting The Daily Meme, I learned that Tom was looking for graphic buttons for sites he links to.

To that end, and also to the joys of networking, I offer these gifts to you. Please save these and upload them to your own site.

A link to my blog/meme would be appreciated, but is not mandatory. Linking to me, would do two things. First it would allow others the option of receiving a graphic for their use and,secondly, would help gain exposure for my blog/meme. I will be linking to your site/blog from mine, unless you e-mail me and ask that I don't. Thank you for your meme, your time, and consideration. By all means, enjoy the graphics whether you link back or not.

~Phyl~

Please note: If you would like a graphic to link to me with, please grab one from the bottom of gifts page.

The code is : <a href="http://reflections-of-us.blogspot.com"><img src="IMAGE NAME DOT FILE TYPE GOES HERE" title="Inner Reflections" alt="Inner Reflections" border="0"></a>

A text link is fine, also.

Love Story...from January 2007

Picture a young, beautiful woman just 23 years of age. Having left a bad marriage and moving out of state she finds herself managing the breakfast shift of a fast food restaurant.

Being accustomed to working long hours, she was not surprised when her boss approached her with a proposition. “Our supervisor has mandated that we now have a hostess during lunch hours to refill drinks and assist the customers in any way. He wants to make things a little cozier. Since you are my prettiest girl, I’d like that hostess to be you.” Flattery got him every where and she eagerly took on the new responsibility.

More...

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I miss my friend~

I am recovering from a pretty devastating blow that happened in June. My oldest daughter has a different father than the other kids. Her father was the love of my life. There is, obviously, more to the story. That is posted here.

After 22 years apart we started talking again...almost every day for an entire year. He was to come here in July for 10 days. He bought his plane ticket...gave me verification info and I checked. Three days later he called and confessed that he had an addiction and could not come here. I have not heard a peep from him since. Now, I know in my head that it's best that he didn't come. My heart aches.

Jeffrey and I always had a special bond...we could go for years without talking, then one of us would make a call, and it was like we were never apart.

It was wonderful getting to know him again-as best as can be done on the phone-and I truly looked forward to being with him and seeing if we might be good together. He was so good for me...he adored me, he challenged me, he believed in me, he inspired me to be a better person. He quickly became my best friend. I looked forward to his calls and we talked about everything.

Even though I suspected something was awry, the last phone call was, short of burying my brother, the most horrific experience I have ever had. I remained in shock for 2 weeks. I was finally able to cry; the ache still lingers. Thing is....I MISS MY FRIEND~.

Phyl~

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Quiet Reflections

Why I do memes and such~

I have been doing a lot of soul searching...trying to find out why my inner being is so off-kilter, why I am so miserable, and how to begin laughing again. Laughter is my favorite sound!

A tool that is proving useful is memes...those questions that are posted on the net that you copy and pasted into your own html, change the answers to your own, and then publish. Oftentimes in my depression, I have a hard time articulating just what the hell is going on in my deepest parts. Talking to others, prayer, and quiet time are invaluable in the search. Surprisingly enough, so are memes. They give me a guided path to follow, cause me to contemplate, and ultimately help me find some piece of the missing puzzle. I also do a lot of those "tests"...ie...what your favorite color says about you, etc. Obviously, some of them are just for the sheer fun of it-you know... simple minds, simple pleasures. More often than not there is something that clicks inside of me and gives me one of those "Aha~" moments that I hold so dear.

One such aha came this way lately: Some place one of the answers stated: You need quiet time. Oh, really??? That may be the understatement of the century. I soak up moods and feelings from who ever is around. Since I am "the statue of liberty...give me your tired, your poor, your hurting masses" in my heart, I am exposed to many hurting people on a constant and consistent basis. I love to minister to folks, share my God-given wisdom, and give God's love and acceptance to hurting people. It is mandatory for my survival and ability to continue to function in this ministry that I get time to unwind and be restored.

Unfortunately, this taking on of others' pain that I do makes it very dangerous for me to spend long periods of time with truly negative people. Even though I firmly believe that the name of the Lord is a strong tower the righteous run into and they are saved, I also need physical/tangible safe places...people I can go to for nurturing, restoring of my soul, some positive feedback, even words of affirmation.

In a perfect world, my partner would be one of the safe places that I retreat to in order to gain some restoration. I do not have this luxury.

Phyl~

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