The Healing of an Alcoholic

The Donkey has a secret.

She is was an alcoholic.

Now, I may lose a few friends with this post. Not because I believe that any of you would judge me for being an alcoholic, but rather because you may think I have finally gone overboard and am a chronic liar, an insane attention whore, a delusional freak, or all three.

Some of you know. (I never told you but I figured you had enough sense to realize it.) Others, reading what I post, and seeing the type of personality I have, have probably guessed.

The story of the IBS healing was pretty amazing. I am still living that miracle. But this may be a little too far fetched for some of you to believe. If you do not, I understand. But it needs telling.

I have exhibited red flags in the drinking area since I was a teenager. It just got worse over the years. The last couple years it has blown up.

I have been drinking at least 1 pint of Vodka every single night when I come home from work. Once in a while, more.

My mother and son have suffered tremendously.

My father is also an alcoholic. That is why I haven’t been kicked out of the house. What can he say? He has criticized me for everything under the sun over the years, but cannot bear to bring up this issue.

When my spiritual blossoming occurred as of late, I knew a day of reckoning would come. I have terrific power issues regarding what I consume, because I have a hungry hole the size of the Grand Canyon. It is rapidly closing.

I finally came to a decision. I was NOT going to stop. I was NOT going to AA. I was fulling admitting of my alcoholism, and chose to continue it. I dug in my jackass heels and told God, “Make me.” God said, “Fine. You can’t deal with. I’ll take care of it.” I said, “Goody!” and assily poured another drink.

(Uh, uh!! C’mon fat hippo! Ding! Noah!! Wuttt??? Those are both female! “You change one of ‘em!!)

I didn’t think God did that. Apparently he does, for stubborn jackass donkeys who won’t even try.

I drank my pint. Not much affect…huh.

So, I went out and bought some more. Then I stayed up UNTIL 3 AM DRINKING NON STOP UNTIL I KNEW IF I DIDN’T GO TO BED I’D MISS WORK. I was so wired and sober feeling and full of creative energy.

I went to bed, wondering why the hell I didn’t feel drunk.

The next day the desire was gone…I thought, huh. How odd, and poured a drink in the afternoon. Nothing. Continued to drink for the rest of the night. Nothing. I have never felt so sober in my life. Finally it got through my skull: He changed your metabolic process when he took away the IBS (I could feel it happening inside.) And now it is running through your system like water. I lay the bottle aside and didn’t take another drink. Why bother?

I called mom while out on the road the next day and told her I had been healed. The hungry hole is slowly closing, being filled by God and my friends and ICHC. She almost cried. Her voice sounded real soft and funny. I asked her to do me a favor and go through my room and throw all the bottles away, as a favor. She did.

Now I am typing and enjoying the smell of sausage she is cooking for the spaghetti, and enjoying a cup of decaf coffee with Pralines and Cream Coffee Mate Creamer, which never tasted so delicious. I don’t even miss that stinky ol cheap vodka.

Praise the Lord!

I used to hate that expression. Made me think of old annoying preachers giving you the hairy eyeball and judging you. Now I say it more and more.

And now I will go catch up on some letter writing to some friends who deserve my attention.

Life just gets more and more amazing.

I think I have lots of work to do, and I need to be sober.

I love you guys.

PS….yah, I’ll continue to dants for the furstees while you have ur martoonies! I’ll just be havin some new creative healthier choices than I used to!

PSS .,..maybe weight loss will come next? ….I’ll keep you posted!

Ripples in the Water

Have you ever been so blessed to have the experience doing something and then seeing the ever widening results, like ripples in the water? A tiny stone thrown into the stagnant water causes a ripple effect.

Our daily deeds are like that. The tiniest little actions that we never stop to give a thought to have great ripple effects we will never know. The ripples go out and touch others, causing them to touch others, an on and on it goes.

My first true and significant realization of how my actions really affect others, and how, as my mother would tell me, “People are always watching.” was when I married my first husband at eighteen. I was painfully ignorant and immature. I lived in a very small town (2,000) and everyone knew everyone else’s business. I received a card in the mail. It said, “The merchants of Orleans have contributed to a Family Bible for you as a wedding gift.” Now I was not particularly religious at that point in my life, or even that spiritual. I was an ostrich. But I was deeply touched at this lovely gesture, and I filled out the card and mailed it in.

I received a beautiful white Bible with our name in it. I was not about to read it, haha! But I appreciated the love, intention, concern, and other motivations behind it. I felt gratitude. Ignorant child that I was, my mother had instilled in me the necessity of writing thank you notes.

I wrote thank you letters to every single merchant that contributed to that Bible.

As you can imagine, that town had a depressed economy. It was tough to find a job. Our best market was run by a real go-getter who only employed the most winning personalities-kids from my high school-the ones that made everyone smile. I was a reserved, quiet child. I did not exude that charm. But I had put in my application anyway, and of course was not called.

Soon after the thank you letter went out, I was hired.

Just think about that. That simple little Thank You note. Now think about this: how many people do you think sent them a Thank You note for their Bible?

This really does not fit in with my subject today, but it feels like an important prelude. It made me aware of how my simple actions could touch others. Here are some more things I have picked up over time that I am aching to share with you, about kindness and affecting others.

In my senior yearbook, a girl I barely noticed from my art class wrote, “To the most considerate person I ever met.” I cried, and never forgot it. Later I realized her last name was that of the family who was friends with my mother’s side of the family.

When I moved from Indianpolis, from a huge school with many cruel children, to Orleans, a tiny school (my class had only 50) I noticed a stunning difference in the personalities of the children. They were not hateful to each other. They did not mock. They had “decent” upbringings and mores.

I made friends with a neighbor girl and her friend who rode the bus with me but were still in the lower school, a few grades behind. I gave them nicknames. “Sarah Hare” and “Joy Robin”…(as you can see I have not outgrown my connection with the significance of avatars…) One day on the bus they passed me a note. I had not received many notes as a child, being reserved, a little odd, and not given to being cheerful or very outwardly friendly, so I was titillated with joy! I rushed into the house and opened it. It was, really, my friends, a love letter. It was covered with stickers and said, “We like our names you gave us!” and “We’re glad you’re our friend!” and other things. I had never in my life received anything like that. I sat and cried.

I was a home health aide in southern Indiana years later. One man, Mr. L, loved his aides and was grateful for them. His words belied this, but his body and expressions did not. His body and affect were stiff. I do not know his diagnosis. He was like a stone. I knew much was going inside that prison of a body he was trapped in….

One day he expressed his angst at his predicament. He wondered of what use he was. Why was he even alive? Useless, useless…he thought. My heart almost broke for him. Oh, Mr. L! I told him, with great emotion. I am sure my whole, normally reserved, manner exploded with expression. You have no idea what plans are made for you! You have no idea what effect your tiny little actions might have upon the world! One tiny little thing that you think nothing of may cause a ripple effect that will spread out and cause a major effect that will change the world!!

His stiff, stone like body collapsed inwards, in a heap, and he howled! “HUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNHHHHH!”

I shook with the knowledge of what I had effected in his spirit. I will never forget, in a million years.

Other beauties: when I was eight months pregnant in August in Indianapolis, living in hell, my (second) husband got in trouble and was separated from me. I was alone. No airconditioning. No stove. No food. No brain. We were insane.

The next door neighbor of our duplex came and knocked on the door. He lived with his children and their mother. He was a nice man.

He took me to his home. He led me upstairs in their air-conditioned bedroom and told me to take a nap. When I awoke, he served me dinner in bed. Not long after my mom and cousin came up with the station wagon and moved me out of there and took me back home to Orleans.

Bob on Tacoma in Indianapolis in 1989, God Bless your soul. I hope you are happy wherever you are.

In San Francisco I managed a bakery (now closed) in Pacific Heights. A customer began to come, who acted strangely. I believe what he suffered from was similar to Tourette’s. I had the funniest intuition/imagination that when others came around, he would worry that he would have a “spell” and the nervousness would bring it on. I would save my coffee bean grinding for his visits. I would keep a peripheral eye on him, and when it seemed right, would turn on the loud grinding machine, and no one could hear any odd sounds, and no one could be embarrassed for making them. I do not know if he knew I was trying to work with him. I hope he did and that that was why he kept coming back. For a while. Then I suspect the owner, not much of a Donkee, spied him one day and it was all she rote.

I remember a lovely lady, a co-worker of sorts, that sadly left recently for Arizona recently. I guess I was not aware of the level of my affection for her. One day when calling her from one store to ‘clear’ before coming, she answered and I blurted out with uncharacteristic verbal enthusiasm, “Hello my sweet friend!”

Dead silence. My face burned.

When I got to the store, there was a piece of paper in my parts box. It had a childlike drawing of a smiley face -highlighters had been used to enhance it. My eyes began to sting a little.

I said without thinking, “Who did this?” and co-worker said, “I think she did.”

She was sitting in front of the computer. She would not look at me. We were stiff with our difficulty of expression and embarrassment of emotion. I said, “I have a special place at home I put things like this that people give me…letters and notes and things. It will go there.” She nodded stiffly with a smile. We both knew and understood what we meant to each other.

Isn’t it funny, the little things that happen that touch you so deeply?

The quality of your life can explode with intensity when you begin living to love. Just little acts can have such an impression, and you never know who is watching or being affected, and how they will go on and touch someone else.

I share these things that touch me so that I may touch you and that they will make a difference.

Live your life as though the people who matter to you are watching.

Laboring With Love

I was listening to NPR and they asked some people, “What makes for a good work ethic?” and I listened to the answers. There were some good answers. One lady said, “You either have it or you don’t.” I used to believe that, too.

The late Linda Goodman spoke of “laboring with love.”

To me, laboring with love is about finding what you do best, and love to do, and when you do, you will achieve happiness. You will experience what is called “flow,” that state that occurs when time is passing unnoticed, and you are in a kind of dreamy state-you are just cooking with gas!

When you labor with love you don’t have to be told to get out of bed-you WANT to go to work. You don’t have to be nagged or pressured. You don’t get a “turtle headache” on Saturdays because you are wallowing the bed. You are up, doing what you love!

This is what *I* love-writing. I don’t receive any money for it, so to contribute to the household I am a courier.

I love my courier job- I am in the car thinking all day of WRITING ideas, fantasies, conversations, good deeds, singing songs, etc.-all fodder for my writing. I take notes as things come to me. When I can afford it, I plan to look for a voice activated tape recorder and use that instead.

The sheer ecstasy this frame of mind puts me in is beginning to overflow into my driving job now. I am beginning to see it in other peoples’ reactions to me. It improves my mood and has changed the way I relate, and therefore the feedback I get. The things I write on ICHC site have blessed me exceedingly, too-I have received such wonderful letters and responses from the most loving and supportive people. Laboring with love has ENVELOPED me with love, and daily I ask my Maker to help me radiate that love out and touch others, and repel negativity.

I think I can pinpoint a major turning point of this transformation to around Valentine’s Day: I had found the most incredibly ethereally beautiful interactive Valentine’d Day card and sent it to my loved ones. The letter I received from my mother had “markers!” *smile* It was so loving, so kind and gentle, that tears came to my eyes. She had always been this way, but this was the penultimate, what she said to me about my soul.

She told me to pray and God’s will would be revealed to me.

Now, I share this with you. If you are not laboring with love, whether you meditate, or have a “higher power” or God or positive thinking or however you work these things, I recommend that you ask that your talents and your purpose be revealed to you.

You may have to do this repeatedly-things don’t always come at the doorstep when we hang up the phone.

My heart aches for all the people on earth who labor with no satisfaction, or perhaps have no job at all-who suffer and strive and plod.

I think of those who hate their job, their co-workers, their daily drudge, and let its negative feedback continue to define their worth. Day after day they drag out of bed and go to jobs they hate and their spirit suffers.

I ask for my reader that they be bestowed the blessing of the laboring with love, too. May all your dreams come true, my friend, and may you find your true purpose.

Markers

My beautiful, supportive cheezfrend, Romeow wrote me a wonderful letter yesterday.

(Long overdue note of explanation about this site and its inspired origins: “cheezfrend” is a friend-WHAT a friend!- made on the ICHC site that inspired MY blog…WordPress has an odd way of having me publish my website title: “Confessions of an ICHC addict” in tiny font to the left of my blog…the address of said site is http://www.icanhascheezburger.com Obviously, my name there is Kafleen and my avatar is the donkey you see above!)

Ahem.

Anyway, her long, kind, supportive, flattering, and heartwarming post reminded me of something I thought of the other day.

Wouldn’t it be interesting/beautiful/amazing if there were spiritual “Markers” put on certain messages we receive?

Oh, I’ve received a few. Sometimes in the quiet of my mind will come a message. Sometimes that message is BS, or just noise. Sometimes it is worthy of a second thought, or three. And sometimes it comes with such a je ne sais quoi (certain something) that you can NOT ignore it!

We all have phrases we have heard from as far back as we can no longer remember.

My father’s: “LISTEN! Learn to LISTEN! Pay ATTENTION! Foll-ow DIR-EC-SHUNS!”

and:

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELLLL YOU!!!”

(Mom says when I was little I would hold up fingers, and ask, inquisitively, “DEES meenee?”)\

Oh, It all just goes over your head.

Until one day. One fated day a certain phrase will come by and go SLAM! and it will hit you like a ton of bricks. Not because of anything happening in your life, but just oddly. It will stick. And you will say, HUH! and reflect on it!

For the first time, it makes sense to you.

Why?

I like to think that sometimes messages have a little spiritual “Marker” put on them. Sometimes someone will say something trite to you, that you have maybe heard before. But THIS time is goes deep inside. It flies within you into a special place, and settles there, vibrating magically, fluttering, like a butterfly, constantly reminding you. You cannot forget it. It is simple and you are embarrassed to share it, because your thrill, your emotion at its power, cannot be subdued and you do not understand why it is so powerful!

It is a special blessing, and it shines.

It seems magical…but it is scientific, I think…and we, as mortals, cannot understand that level of science. Our maker puts a ZING on the message and it blesses us, exceedingly.
Isn’t life full of extraordinary blessings?

The Prank

I have a very fond memory of a prank I pulled on my father many years ago. My father is quite the curmudgeon and not given much to many fun, jolly memories in my mind. This one, however, was just so much fun that I wanted to share it with you.

He is a retired hospital employee. He was on-call for years. I have memories of Thanksgivings and Christmases, dreading the phone. I wanted to strangle those poor patients…dad said they would get sick/hurt and put off getting help….and come to the hospital on the holiday.

One time, when I was in my twenties and at home with mom and dad, some weird freak of nature occurred….for once, he was not on call that weekend. ONE WHOLE WEEKEND….OFF.

His glee was unbelievable. He had plans of going to the living room with his Budweiser and television, and grooving. I was so happy for him.

Then came the immediate, dun-dun-dun moment.

His mother (a whole novel in her suffocating, disapproving self) was going to have a minor outpatient surgical procedure. Would he come up? (Two hours north in Indpls.) Her daughter and the rest of her family was up there and was able to be with her.

After much anguish, he decided, (Bless his brave heart!-perhaps my mom bolstered his decision? I do not know…) that he would stay, and that she would do fine with the family she had with her.

I know his guilt/glee over his decision was strong. He had made it, though, and survived without a thunderbolt. He was in the living room, shades drawn, Bud nearby, watching a game. The weekend was young, and he was delirious with his new freedom.

Forgive me, friends, for what I did next.

That was when/where(?) you could dial your own phone number and it would ring back.

*insert evil grin here*

And that is just what I did. Then I walked to the living room, and, not letting him see my face, called out, in a sad, pained, timid voice: “Dad? Grammas on the phone…”

Silence. Momentarily, from his lips, a high pitched, quiet, grieved word: S#!*

I ran off.

I watched as he shuffled, shoulders slumped, head down, countenance broken, to his little “office” next to the garage.

He stepped down into the little space, sat down in his oak swivel office chair. He sighed deeply, and picked up the phone.

In a high pitched, sweet voice, he said, “Hi Mama!”

I watched, from the step.

Silence, naturally, met him, cruelly(!) from the other end.

“Mama?” he asked.

Now, I must digress for a moment. Dad told me once that when he was young (in the 50’s?) he and his friends had a little expression. When they had pulled one over on someone, they would cry out, “OVUUUURRRRR!!!” with a Steve Martinish like wiggle, if I recall correctly.

Back to the phone call. He sat in his swivel chair, the phone to his ear. “Mama?” he asked, apprehensively.

I leapt…down the step….into the office! I landed not a foot behind him ! The stomp startled his ears! My cry made him spin around!

“OVUUURRRRR!!!”

I wish I had a video of him, spinning round in that chair, phone to his ear, his big brown button eyes popping out of his head with shock! It took him a moment to realize what had transpired.

He lay the phone back in his cradle and chased me down and tried to get me with a pillow.

Imagine, my friends, what a sweet, delicious weekend he had.

The Magical Blessing of a Grateful Heart

I have experienced a most wonderful thing in the last few days. Life handed me some rotten eggs, but something incredible also unfolded….

One of my favorite childhood books is The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom, about her experiences during WWII and in a concentration camp. This book touched something deep inside me, and as did particularly the following incident. Her sister, Betsy, was overflowing with positive energy and faith, and brought it right into that wicked place. Betsy told Corrie they were to thank God for ALL things. Corrie snarkily brought up the issue of the fleas in their living quarters and asked if they should thank Him for them, too.  My heart ached for her.  Betsy said YES! We will thank God for the fleas!

And that is exactly what they did. They joined hands and thanked God for those fleas!

Now, they had many miracles there, if I remember correctly, but my favorite was the fact that they had their contraband Bible hidden in that building, and that was their life boat. It brought them hope and courage. It was never seized. How could such a thing happen?

BECAUSE THE BARRACK WAS FULL OF PESKY FLEAS.

The guards/matrons/whatever you call those people would not go in there.

I was raised familiar with grace at the dinner table on special occasions, like Thanksgiving. I remember when staying with my aunt Judy my chubby little cousin Karlton, a gourmand like myself, would nightly say quickly, “God is great, God is good, hope ‘im bwess us for our food!” and then would attack it.

He, like I, knew the motion, but the spirit of the thing eluded us.

The other day it hit me like a tidal wave, and I am not sure why or how exactly in detail it happened.  I just recall a mental image of myself, looking down upon a beautiful plate of exciting food, with my usual glee and appreciation (toward my mother or the cook, of course) and suddenly thinking, or saying, (much like the adorable kitty in the ICHC site with its paws clasped,-not the famous one- asking for a cheeseburger, and I believe it was Duffy that said, “Oh, I CAN has cheeseburger!??? Oh, thank you!  It’s BEAUTIFUL!!!” and I was kind of overcome at that, and a little teary…) “Oh, God, it’s beautiful! Thank you! “and feeling this rush of appreciation for the gift, and the beauty of it, and its contribution/sacrifice to my life and health, and it all came pouring onto me at once and I understood, truly, for the first time in my life, the true blessing of a grateful heart to God! It seems so simple and trite, yet FEELS so magical and beautiful! I still appreciate and love my mother and the restaurant or whoever prepares it, but this magical new feeling was such a blessing!

Since then, I have been saying grace at every meal I partake in! In addition to sitting for a moment, at home, at the restaurant, or where ever I am, and looking at its beauty for a moment and savoring it, and thanking God for it, I then ask God to bless the food and to make my body only receive GOOD from it, and to be blessed by it, and not to receive any harm or ill effects from it.

You see, I have IBS. I won’t go into details, but for the unknowing, it makes the later food digestion experiences painful and unpleasant. It was a constant experience, everytime I ate, and every morning. Particularly when eating out or a lot of food.

Since I have begun my wonderful ritual, I have not had an episode. Boy, have I been taking advantage of THAT!

I don’t care what your faith is, or if you are an atheist, or whether you simply believe in the power of positive thinking/positive energy. Everyone is where they should be in their path.  I truly believe it is MY job to share this with you….and maybe, if YOU give this kind of positive thought to your gifts, perhaps miracles will happen for you, too.

I SENT YOU THREE RESCUERS!

Seems sometimes like I never have an original thought, LOL!  I went to Google to look up the joke apropos for the below article, and found the link was  a blog saying what I was planning on saying!

(WHAT HE SAID:

http://peterdavid.malibulist.com/archives/006119.html)

I had read the  article below,  and immediately thought of the joke about the man about to die, praying for help.  God sent him three different forms of help,  and he rejected each one.

What was he expecting?  Perhaps he thought an angel would appear and pull him up.  Or perhaps some magical sparkles would fly through the air and he would float away.

I am  amazed at how people think God works in some clownish, magician-like way.

I think about the hilarious Bill Cosby, in his Noah diatribe:

“C’mon fat hippo! ugh ugh”

“DING!”  “NOAH!”

“WUUUUT?”

God informs him they are the same sex and to fix it.

Noah, exasperated by earthly strain, grouses, “You CHANGE one of ‘em!”

“C’mon…..you KNOW I don’t work that way….”

Yeah.  All things must go through the proper channels.

Friends….God answers your prayers.  They might not come the way you expect.  They might be like the old lady crying for bread.

“Lawd, Lawd, send me some bread!”

She cried and prayed and howled….and presently, along came two boys by her hovel.

They heard her pleas. They stopped, listening, with smirky smiles. Suddenly , a novel idea came upon them!  Up the hovel they climbed, and threw the bread down the chimney.

They listened with glee at her screams of joy!

Presently, they knocked at the door, and upon her opening it, began to snarkily gloat that it was THEY, not the LORD, who had sent the bread.

Calmly, the faith-filled woman smiled at the children.  “Oh, the Lord DID send it, even if the devil DID fetch it.”

The Lord works in mysterious ways.

What are you waiting for?

I am horrified and saddened, as are many, by this story. The headline is misleading.  I don’t know what exactly it was they picked, but it was wrong. And their lesson is heartbreaking.
Parents pick prayer over docs; girl dies

By ROBERT IMRIE, Associated Press Writer 16 minutes ago

WESTON, Wis. – Police are investigating an 11-year-old girl’s death from an undiagnosed, treatable form of diabetes after her parents chose to pray for her rather than take her to a doctor.

An autopsy showed Madeline Neumann died Sunday of diabetic ketoacidosis, a condition that left too little insulin in her body, Everest Metro Police Chief Dan Vergin said.

She had probably been ill for about a month, suffering symptoms such as nausea, vomiting, excessive thirst, loss of appetite and weakness, the chief said Wednesday, noting that he expects to complete the investigation by Friday and forward the results to the district attorney.

The girl’s mother, Leilani Neumann, said that she and her family believe in the Bible and that healing comes from God, but that they do not belong to an organized religion or faith, are not fanatics and have nothing against doctors.

She insisted her youngest child, a wiry girl known to wear her straight brown hair in a ponytail, was in good health until recently.

“We just noticed a tiredness within the past two weeks,” she said Wednesday. “And then just the day before and that day (she died), it suddenly just went to a more serious situation. We stayed fast in prayer then. We believed that she would recover. We saw signs that to us, it looked like she was recovering.”

Her daughter — who hadn’t seen a doctor since she got some shots as a 3-year-old, according to Vergin — had no fever and there was warmth in her body, she said.

The girl’s father, Dale Neumann, a former police officer, said he started CPR “as soon as the breath of life left” his daughter’s body.

Family members elsewhere called authorities to seek help for the girl.

“My sister-in-law, she’s very religious, she believes in faith instead of doctors …,” the girl’s aunt told a sheriff’s dispatcher Sunday afternoon in a call from California. “And she called my mother-in-law today … and she explained to us that she believes her daughter’s in a coma now and she’s relying on faith.”

The dispatcher got more information from the caller and asked whether an ambulance should be sent.

“Please,” the woman replied. “I mean, she’s refusing. She’s going to fight it. … We’ve been trying to get her to take her to the hospital for a week, a few days now.”

The aunt called back with more information on the family’s location, emergency logs show. Family friends also made a 911 call from the home. Police and paramedics arrived within minutes and immediately called for an ambulance that took her to a hospital.

But less than an hour after authorities reached the home, Madeline — a bright student who left public school for home schooling this semester — was declared dead.

She is survived by her parents and three older siblings.

“We are remaining strong for our children,” Leilani Neumann said. “Only our faith in God is giving us strength at this time.”

The Neumanns said they moved from California to a modern, middle-class home in woodsy Weston, just outside Wassau in central Wisconsin, about two years ago to open a coffee shop and be closer to other relatives. A basketball hoop is set up in the driveway.

Leilani Neumann said she and her husband are not worried about the investigation because “our lives are in God’s hands. We know we did not do anything criminal. We know we did the best for our daughter we knew how to do.”

The Bracelet, Part II!

Since I have rededicated my interests to that of the spiritual realm as opposed to the earthly aggravations I tend to pointlessly dwell on, I have noticed many fabulous changes.

One of those is that regarding my tendency to analyze and discriminate. (No, not THAT kind of discrimination, silly!) This quality has both its good and bad points, but I have found that I have a shameful tendency to dwell on what I consider others’ flaws.

This could be as foolish as a model’s unusual facial features, (“Oh, look at that model’s skinny legs,” brayed the jackass while snarfing a whole bag of Cheetos…..) to other drivers’ bad behavior, to imagined slights and mild rudenesses. I fight it all the time. I am constantly reminding myself of the hypocrisy and ugliness of it.

But recently, since my update to Spirit version 2008, I have found my road rage has greatly diminished. I am focusing now on the beauties of nature, and the various gifts bestowed on us. My heart is amazed and grateful. However, today, I found myself easing through an intersection and suspiciously looking back at a car that appeared to be about to turn without a turn signal. This usually highly irks me because I so fear a collision, being a courier.

Then, the second I did it, the correctional thought occurred, and I looked down at my God Loves You bracelet. I took it and pulled it out and went, “SNAP!” Ha ha! Aversion Therapy! I thought, from now on, every time I have judgmental, rude, or hateful thought, I will go snap! with my little attitude adjuster!

What a time waster…hating on innocent people that forgot to switch their blinker, or stop all the way…what a damn shame to spend my energy thinking of that…and when I did, I ALMOST missed a most glorious, breathtaking bit of nature!! (hmmmm….does this get you thinking, or what? Ponder this a moment, my friends…)

My own little rubber band. What’s YOUR little rubber band?

My Mother, My Hero, My Angel

My mother is my hero.

She is the bravest, strongest, most shining soldier in God’s Army that I know, shining unconditional love, and she doesn’t even go to church anymore. She made me what I am today.

There is a psychic whose work she loves. This is one of our rare points of contention. This person does not set well with me-enough said.

She got tickets to see her and and won the “lottery” of being one of those called up on stage to speak to her!

My mother bounded up, exploding with happees, so overwhelmed to get to meet this person whom she felt was a friend. “I KNEW it! I KNEW it!” she cried with joy.

“You’re psychic,” durred the psychic.

This person, who previously had been leaning forward to communicate with the people called up, suddenly pulled back, wary, watching my mother.

My mother was dumbfounded. I was NOT. Her positive energy can be intimidating, but she did not expect it to happen here.

This incident inspired me to email our friends about this unexpected visit, but being the heels-kicking-up-Donkee I am, I had to further my excitement by saying what it made me think of.

I was for some reason reminded of Lord of the Rings, when the women and children hid in the tower, and cowered in fear.

I suddenly knew my mother would NOT have been cowering! She would have been leading the group, like Scarlett O’Hara, all eyes looking to her for guidance. (She’s fairly bossy, LOL!)

She would be leading them in songs, and games, and play! The children would not know about the outside threat, and she would bravely entertain them.

If evil came to the door, she would meet it there, just like Scarlett, and fight to the last bloody bone. She does not fear evil.

The bloody bone…

When my mother was five, she was shot in the leg by accident. Her father rushed her to the hospital. Her blood type was rare, and they had to go out on the street and appeal to strangers for help. Her leg was practically hanging by a sinew , and they wanted to remove it. She fought them and she kept it.

The gouge is deep to the ligaments, and a wound would be a frightening challenge-she protected it well over the years, and became a slow, deliberate mover because of it.

But one day, she was careless, and brushed it against a corner of a cardboard box. It tore the teensy bit of skin and made a hole.

One that would simply NOT heal.

My mother has many scars: one from falling in scalding water, one from cancer on her face, on her breast-she fought and beat cancer-her leg, her upper thighs, filled with buckshot (she sets off the airport alarms) . She watched TWO of her childhood homes burn to the ground. Her female organs were also not spared insult-this beautiful woman who should have had many children (she is the oldest of ten!) instead suffered miscarriages. Instead she became a day care mother for several years, a vessel from which to pour her love: the children cried when they had to go home- the parents stayed for cookies and became friends.

This wound did not heal for seven years. Then, one day, she got a message, “Brenda, your leg will heal.”

She told dad a couple of days later, and they talked about how there was no blood getting to that area.

Then he said, “Why don’t you PUT a little blood in it?” and she did. The hole healed almost immediately.

Another of life’s little miracles.

They happen to us all the time. She taught me how to listen to the messages, and how to love. I did not inherit her bravery, but I work at it. I remember a dream she told me of, that my cousins Greggy and Karlton were playing in her sewing room and came running to her, terrified. She went to the room. There was an evil spirit in it, terrorizing them. She became furious and told it <deleted>. It got the Hell out of there. I see her having this same courage in real life.

I am now fighting personal battles that require bravery that comes nothing close to hers. I don’t have it. So I use another tactic. I got it from “Defending Your Life” with Albert Brooks. One scene got me rather teary…on a game show in Judgment City, a man was asked if he was going to face his fear, and he said yes! The game show host got excited and said, “He’s facing his fear! He’s facing his fear!” I never forgot it.

Then, not long ago, something new came to me, “The angels cheer when you face your fear!”

My face warms with a thrill, just writing it!

Now, when I face a conflict, and I am trying hard, I say it to myself, sometimes like a mantra, and imagine them supporting me when I pass up my temptations, or try to be brave.

She has taught me so much.

The ICHC Miracle

A poster sits before the screen

His hunger deep, his count’nance mean

His soul craves what his tongue can’t ask

So fragile it must wear a mask.

Be careful what you say to him

Our new admirer

Our new cheezfrend

He sees the fun but feels alone

Greet him warmly to our home

Oh, cheezfrend, feed that hungry soul!

Bestow 5 burgers!

Fill that hole!

Encourage our friend to play and prance

When he is first, let’s throw a dance!

The world is full of rude and cold

It’s harsh out there!

We must be bold!

And reach out with a loving plate

Of human kindness…it’s ne’er too late.