It is quite a site to watch my backyard turn into a bird paradise. I wish you could hear the sounds of the seeds dropping in my yard as more than 100 birds converge onto my trees berries! Amazing! Open the photos to get a closer look!
Poor Fred. What’s his story?
The river water was dirty. To see the bottom would be impossible. The enticing stone’s glistening blue hues was lost after dropping it into the muddy water. Those hues reminded me in some retrospective way to the eloquent characteristics we find in the people we surround ourselves with. They are not the flaws, although they do exist. Rather the parts in the human spirit we long for in someone we know dearly. Some of our friends and family brighten up in ways that individually we can not attain. Maybe this is what attracts each of us to one another.
The water with all its mucky and slimy attributes can cover the bottom’s rich colors of what has been lost such as the brilliant blue stone. The same goes for life itself. We find differing colors in others. It is a good thing to separate the mucky waters from the jewels at times. Such is the life of a story-teller. Even the dirt can show humanity, but underneath this is a real human being. We must sublimely tell the story. Perhaps it is our own to tell, of which the path can be dark, yet slowly we can find our way.
Story tellers and their storytelling is a true art. There are those that do it well. My grandmother was such a person. She took the good out of the bad situation and “forgot” the negative. Is it correct to do so? Good question. It depends. The truth is not always pretty. At times though, if we tell the stories doesn’t it seem better to honor the good in someone than the bad? I am conflicted with this. I then think perhaps my grandmother was onto something. Maybe she was showing just a tiny glimpse by taking out the bad what awaits us in heaven. It is said there will be no more darkness like the murky river water, rather a Light will shine for our path. That is the real story.
Dedicated to those who have died way too young. Go to my genealogy on the home page for topics about interesting story telling.
Awhile ago I shared a heartwarming story about my WWII VET step-dad Roy and his celebration of his 90th birthday ( http://wp.me/p2rYD1-o8 ). Roy grew up very poor and his parents divorced while he was a boy. Roy never knew when his real dad had passed away. One day he asked me if I could find this information out because of the release of the 1940 census. I was able to give Roy his father’s death date and burial location, but the biggest surprise was that we found out he had a half-brother, and a half-sister he did not know about. When you think you have heard it all life throws you a few new curve balls! We were fortunate to contact them both and plans were made for a reunion.
This reunion finally took place. Roy greeted his new found family today at his home with my mom. It was a joyous occasion . Seven family members came to meet Roy. Since this reunion occurred in Alabama , I was unable to attend, but I did receive a phone call from them thanking me for making their reunion possible. Below is a photo of Roy in the middle who is 90, George- 78, and June – 72. The second photo is Roy working with Governor George Wallace. The third photo is Roy during WW II and the fourth photo is Roy with my mother, sister, and her husband. Life never ceases to amaze me!
Writing Tip: Be comfortable blogger while you writing.
Walls are a part of our lives in one way or another. There are the walls of your home and then there are the invisible walls people put up to close off the world. Both have the same distinction to protect a person from intruders.
When I was 14 years old, there was an enclosed tunnel made out of cement that I had to walk through everyday to get to school. The typical teenage writing was on it’s walls with some girl writing her undying love for some guy. It was a mystery to me that someone would want to be writing about love on a cold, damp wild wall. Yet here I was captured each day by its graffiti. There was no way to walk around it. It was the only way to school.
Reminded by my conscience that writing on a wall is destroying someone’s property, I never engaged in this activity. I did not want to wrangle with words that someone else would read anyway. It seemed pointless and leads to someone reading useless crap. Yet I wanted to write something, but not empty chatter as was the case with 90% of what was written on those stone walls.
One particular day I stopped as I was exiting the tunnel and said to the walls, “Give me 14 more years and I will show you something!” I then turned away from that tunnel to never walk through it again. It was my last day of junior high school.
As I have aged my childhood now holds some sacred truths. I learned that writing is good even if it is graffiti. Here I was a lonely girl holding on so long ago to those walls. They became a part of me without even understanding their impact. Every 14 years in fact I have taken stock of what I could show those walls.
Local newspaper clipping from my teenage years playing softball. Childhood memories are so important to who we become later in life.
As the old saying goes, birds of a feather flock together. This proverb is as old as time practically and has a connotation of referring that we enjoy safety with others that are like minded.
What about friendship? Do we tend to migrate to those that are similar to us? My husband likes to say I make friends easily. I actually think what he is really saying is I have good communication skills. Part of me says that there is truth in that, but most healthy life long friendships take a very long time to cultivate. They are worth it, but they are risky at times. When you make yourself vulnerable to another, you are saying to that friend that they are worth the investment. Most of these kind of investments will reap you rewards. As a financial friend of mine would say a good friendship will be full of big dividends for a lifetime.
As I have studied the wonder of friendship this past week, I have seen my son lose his best friend. It made me realize how short of time we have on this earth and we better make each moment count. I have of late not been the best of friends and have come to a place that I needed to work on being more honest in my conversations and also reaching out and asking for help.
What I think I have been learning is to accept that the human spirit has flaws , defects, and blemishes. In all reality I was actually identifying these issues in my own person. Now that is heavy.
So today I am relearning a big lesson about myself. I need help and at times this comes straight from the Divine who is our best friend. It is easy to think all we need are good human friendships to share all our problems with. The truth is friendships will suffer if we place too much on our friends to bear. This is for God alone.
In reality healthy friendships will grow and not short circuit when we learn the gift of how friendship shouId really look like. If God forgives us, we should learn to forgive our friends. We should not take our friendships for granted. I love Proverbs 17:9 which reminds us love grows when we choose to forgive, but if we dwell on it the best of friends will become separated.
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