I might have blogged about this already, but I don’t remember. Regardless, this is going to be a stream of consciousness typing thing, so if I get redundant I apologize.
In August of 2014, I remember being at church and someone was preaching and hearing very clearly in my head “you should not be here”. I don’t know if it was God speaking straight to me or what, but it freaked me out.
I flipped to the back of the notebook I was using to take notes, and tried to figure out what it meant. Was I not supposed to be there that day? Was I not supposed to be at that service? Was I not supposed to be at that church at all?
Again, it freaked me out.
Granted, I had been feeling a bit adrift at my church then. Our senior pastor was on the verge of retirement, and I do not feel that I got much out of his sermons for the last few years he was active. We were blessed to have a regular rotating staff of those that preached, and the one that was preaching that Sunday is one that I used to get so much out of but lately had found that I got nothing. I was tired of stories of his kids, his broken childhood home, and sports. E.v.e.r.y. sermon was comprised of these things.
Slowly, however, the others that preached regularly moved on to other things/places. Leaving us with the one preaching that sunday and the senior pastor.
So now fast forward to today, when the senior pastor has retired.
So guess who the new one is? Continue reading
I want to blog more, I abandoned it in 2015, and I have missed the outlet for my opinions and ramblings. Unsure of the frequency, however. Maybe once a week? Twice a month? Don’t want to set completely unrealistic goals seeing as how I posted a grand total of once in 2015.
I want to eat more salad.
I want to finish these @$)$*!% tests for work and PASS them this year.
I want to get rid of clutter.
I want to pick up stuff in the house. Always take something and put it away as I move from room to room.
I want to be more thrifty with spending.
What about you? Will you be resolute in 2016?
Linking up with today’s Daily Prompt to chronicle three unforgettable moments in my life. In no particular order, here are three of the ones that I thought of right off the bat. 1. The day my father told us that he was leaving our mother. I found out later that mom had told him that he if wanted to leave, he had to tell us himself, she wasn’t to going to do it for him. I was ten, and it was the night of the last day of school. Dad put us in the car and we were going to go play Putt Putt and see Empire Strikes Back. We were so excited, as we hadn’t seen dad much over the past several years in general, and six months in particular, and this was a night out with just dad. JUST dad. How cool was that? On the way to the golf park, dad said that he should have never been a parent and he wasn’t very good at it, and that he was moving to Washington, DC. He was moving out on June 17th. It was Father’s Day. D and I were, of course, crying, as back then people didn’t get divorced. And if you happened to be a child of one of the rare divorced people, you were then ostracized by your friends as their parents didn’t want you them to play with kids from broken homes. (My own included until she became the head of a broken home herself.) We played golf, and went to the movie, and barely remember much about that night we were so upset. Continue reading
So I have had this blog for six years or more. And I love it. It’s totally random when I post, I don’t really promote it much (if ever), and I do it for me. In January 2013 I discovered Link parties. I loved them. It encouraged me to post on a weekly (okay, 3 or 4 times weekly) basis. Different questions picked each week, and different topics. But it was all fluff. It was nothing of substance. And I found myself looking for motivation to write on a more meaningful basis rather than answering what my three favorite pins were from Pinterest or what the contents of my wallet happened to be.
Tonight I discovered the Daily Writing Challenge. It looks like it might be the thing I am looking for. I don’t know if I will participate daily or just a few times a month. But I’m going to give it a try. Let’s see how it goes!
The challenge is named Three times Three. You can choose to write a post inspired by a response to the “Threes” photo challenge, or you can write your post based on three photos you supply. I chose some of the photos that were provided by the post and the memory that these pictures evoked in me.
Three Views Along the Shore by Sue Nash
I started this blog umpteen years ago (okay, six) with the thought that it would be a bunch of ramblings from my busy brain. And at times it has been. I have gone through blogging challenges where you have to blog something every day for forty days. I have had months where I haven’t posted much of anything. I discovered the world of linkups last year (how had I not found those before???) and figured that posting three days a week, even if it was mundane facts and thoughts, at least had me writing.
But lately that hasn’t been enough. I would like to get away from the superficial, list facts about yourself posts and get back to the meatier posts of substance that I used to do. Not that I don’t like the linkups–I love them. Sunday Social, the Monday Listicles, the now-defunct Tuesday Topics (which was probably my favorite), and the Wednesday Hodgepodge. I did them for a majority of last year, but then they started to feel like a chore or something that I was obligated to do and not something I enjoyed doing.
And for lack of a better term, they felt like fluff. Continue reading
Three days ago, on Thursday, a violent storm through my town knocked loose a branch from a tree in my back yard. This limb fell on a wire that leads to my house, pulling it loose from the house. The strain of that wire hanging in the air snapped one of the wires in the bundle. That wire was my cable source.
I was gone all day Friday with my mother for her surgical procedure then babysitting my ‘nephews’ while their mother was at her schools’ graduations. Saturday was my Father’s Day celebration out of town, so today, Sunday, is really the first chance I’ve been at home with nothing on TV to watch for the afternoon.
I realize this should be a blessing, and an opportunity to clean my house. But after the week that I have had (working 40 hours in three days, volunteering for a golf tournament, and then the aforementioned Friday and Saturday activities), about all I was able to manage after church and a few hours at the playground with the same nephews was to veg out on the couch. So I’m going through old items on the Tivo.
There are movies that I had recorded, some almost two years ago, and am now able to watch because the ‘new’ stuff is not recording. One of the shows that I have been meaning to watch and never had the time was The Freedom Riders: An American Experience.
I was a triple major in college. One of my majors was American History. I even focused on the history of the South. I was aware of Jim Crow laws. I remember my elder family members speaking of them, though not often. I remember my mother talking about desegregation of her schools, and how that was a huge upheaval here in Virginia. I had heard of the Freedom Riders.
It’s oh so humbling to say, but here is the basic truth: I am ashamed. I am ashamed that I would answer, when asked, that yes I knew about the Freedom Riders. I knew that blacks and whites rode the bus together.
I am ashamed because I knew nothing. Continue reading
Several years ago, a friend of mine had a headache. Who knew that it was the beginning of the end.
Over the years, she and I developed a friendship. A single mom who was struggling with the idea of ending her marriage, she knew that the best thing for her two daughters was to part from the father, as he was a bit too fond of his vices, and try to make a go of it on her own. She was just a few years older than I, and throughout the phenomenon known as ‘nap time’ during the GCN Saturday shows I found out she used to live around the corner from my Aunt and Uncle, and babysat my two younger cousins. We were not exceptionally close–we didn’t go to the movies or hang out outside of church. But I did consider her a friend. And a true soul at that.
She was a beautiful woman, with two beautiful daughters. She raised her daughters in the church, and the three of them had an organic and true love for God. She had a younger brother who was a surrogate father to them, for they loved their Uncle.
Then there came a day that she was having a headache. Her father, after two days, forced her to go to the hospital. No simple migraine, it turns out that she actually had MDS–myelodysplastic syndrome. Once known as preleukemia, it is a blood disorder. Most commonly found in people who have had chemotherapy for other conditions, it sometimes hits people for no reason at all. That was my friend.
For the next year and a half, we watched her sail through blood transfusions, treatments, etc. Her daughters were amazing. Her test results came back with fantastic results. Then there was the day that her results were not so fantastic. She had a setback. And then she had another. And then it went from just a setback to full-blown leukemia.
Then came chemo. Again, Continue reading