The start of each day begins in my office. There is a window I look out as I plan my day. Watching and listening in the office is one of my favorite times of the day. From this window I watch the weather for the day. I can tell how strong and what direction the wind is blowing from a rope hanging from the tree. I love watching the various birds as they fly in to rest on a branch or twig, sing a song and fly off once more. Each season has a different group of birds who visit the trees in my front yard.
Today I heard what I have been waiting for a couple of weeks to hear, the song of the mockingbird. The shirl melodious mating song of the mockingbird is the sign that spring has arrived in the area I live. I can not plant my vegetable and flower plants outside without worry of freezing frost.
I have learned to listen. Also experience has taught me to listen for the mockingbird song. I enjoy the festy birds who will sing all hours of the day and night. Several pairs of mockingbirds will set up their nest and raise their young in the trees outside my front door. When the mockingbirds leave, the cold north winds will arrive with winter.
Sleeping Ute Mountain, Colorado photo by Anne McWilliams
Every area has indicators of spring or when it is time to plant. When I lived in Colorado, the time to plant was when the winter blanket came off of Sleeping Ute Mountain. The “wives’ tales” or myths concerning planting time are an area vary depending on whom you talk with about gardening.
Nature shows us many things, if we will listen with simplicity, not science or others options.
Today, I could not plant as the rain arrive this afternoon, but tomorrow I will be busy in my garden area putting seeds in the ground with hopes of summer and fall harvest. Nothing tastes better on the plate than vegetables you assisted in growing.
Life sometimes hits us with a mixture. This past week we have had a mixture of emotions. We are going through the “Circle of Life”. We are saying good-bye to one family member and prepping for the birth of another.
My husband’s sister is living her last few days. We have known for a few months she is diagnosed with cancer. He has visited her, they have talked. She knows he loves her, and he knows she loves him. She is ready to go to the place of peace, and be with their mother in heaven. Later this month or the beginning of next month the family will have a Celebration of Life for his sister.
A week or so back, we also learned one of my daughters is pregnant. When one of my children or their spouse is pregnant, we as a family celebrate. Only she is pregnant with triplets. “WOW” and “OH MY GOSH” are the first phases spoken when we tell someone she is carrying triplets. Then the next words are “Is she on fertility drugs?” The answer is no. Our family is being blessed with triplets.
My family loves babies and children. We as a family have always been excited and happy to welcome a new baby into the circle. We have had one set of identical twins, although one twin did not live long after birth due to complications during the pregnancy, twin to twin transfusion was the reason for the twin’s early death. We are excited about triplets being a part of our family.
Triplets equal three times everything. Three bassinets/cribs, three high chairs, three times the diapers and wipes, three times the formula as my daughter will not be able to breastfeed three babies. As a family we are talking, planning and purchasing the furniture items needed to start raising three children the same age.
Our lives revolve around the “Circle of Life”. Everyone goes through birth, growth and death. In the movie “Broken Trail”, Robert Duval is acting a character who says a line twice in the movie, “from birth to death, we travel between the eternities.” Our live is very short when compared to the time before our birth and the time after our death.
Photo by Download a pic Donate a buck! ^ on Pexels.com
This week we have faced death and birth and all the emotions they bring to us. Both are a celebration.
“Spark of Joy” comes from Marie Kondo. I was introduced to Marie Kondo and “Spark of Joy” through a Netflix series named “Tidying Up”. In the series Marie Kondo assisted people in “Tidying Up” their homes. These people sought her help to make changes in their homes. During the visits to assist them, Marie Kondo talked about joy and harmony being created in the home. One example stated was when we come home from a busy day at work, we are seeking a happy place, a place with harmony away from the chaos we were in. The things that surround us as we come home should give us a “Spark of Joy”. I watched the entire series, and even viewed some of the youtube videos of her assisting others or teaching how to fold clothes and organize.
I do not travel to work, but I do enjoy a quiet harmonious place to relax at the end of the day. I have post traumatic stress disorder with the main symptoms of depression, anxiety, flashbacks and nightmares. I fight the depression daily. After watching this series, I decided to surround myself in my home with only those items that “spark joy” when I look at them.
I spent months sorting through each item, taking one room at a time. How does this item make me feel? Does this item create joy in my heart or dread? Sorting through took time and energy. Sometimes I would touch an item and get a flashback, quick answer, no joy there. Some items brought back a flood of pleasant memories, those items earned a front position of my eyesight. As the appearance of my home changed, I changed.
The process of going through everything in order to create a home of joy, harmony and peace, I decluttered my home and my life. There were things I had kept because someone gave them to me, feeling like I was unappreciative of their gift if I gave it away or disposed of it. Most of those items given that did not have pleasant feelings, the giver no longer is in my life. How would they know I had gotten rid of the gift? I was keeping things out of fear of offending someone that no longer came around. I had to change my thinking.
As I surrounded myself in my home with only items that brought joy, my depression lessened. I was not fighting a hard battle everyday to keep moving forward, the depression became an inconvenience that was easily moved aside as I went about my day.
Up until the time of watching the series on Netflix and changing my home, I had not thought I had to fight to keep my joy. I was of the thinking that you have joy or you do not. I learned to fight for the joy in my life and to keep it. I still fight depression, but the joy wins over most days. There is no cure for post traumatic stress disorder. But there are ways to lessen the impact and control this disorder has in my life, I just have to fight for it, and do some tidying up.
I took the tidying up step a little further than organizing a house and where I work in the barns and buildings. I applied it to activities I would do for others. I am a person who likes to help others. Sometimes when helping others there was no joy in what I was doing. I was good at the job, but there was no joy in helping the person. An example of one activity I stopped doing was making music cds for a friend who would lead the song services at church. I would copy their pre recorded song music in the order of the songs for the church service they were singing for each Sunday. This was very time consuming and I did not enjoy the work. I decided to really be helping a person as a gift, there should be joy in giving the gift, not what I was feeling. I gave my notice to the person that I was no longer going to do this for them. A huge weight came off my shoulders.
I still have to activities around the home that I do not much care for such as laundry. When I do the laundry, I am still looking for the “Spark of joy” as I fold each item of clothing and put them away.
Look for the “Spark of Joy” in your home and life.
Today was sheep auction day. Twice a month there is a sheep and goat auction I attend. I look forward to the auctions. My one consistent social event. The time to gather with those who I have met over the past seven years learning how to raise sheep and make money doing so. I have several friends who attend regularly. The auction meets twice a month, twice a month we visit and catch up as we buy and/or sell sheep and goats. The auction provides us a place to meet and talk about our sheep and goats. Sheep and goats are a source of income for me and my friends. Today’s first question was “Were you hit by the tornados?” instead of “How are you doing?”.
The auction had record numbers of sheep and goats to sell, due to the tornados that hit the area a few days ago. How does tornadoes affect the number of sheep and goats selling in the auction?
Today’s auction was very large, almost 3,000 animals went through the sale. There really was not much room for that many animals. The animals are kept in pens waiting to be sold, once they are sold, the animals are moved to the sold pens. Problem today there were so many animals there for the sale, there was not enough sold pens. The large buyers, those who by fifty or more sheep at every auction get their own pen. During the first part of the auction, there were not enough large pens to group the animals the large buyers had purchased. Why were there so many sheep and goats at the auction today?
People’s barns and pens were destroyed, removing any place to keep their animals. They brought all of their animals to the auction to be sold. Others needed money and sold their animals for the monetary value in order to replace items lost or find somewhere to live until their homes are repaired or replaced.
One friend of mine, lost all his sheep, except three ewes and a one lamb. He sold the ewes, lamb and the only livestock guard dog he could find at the auction today. His barns and pens are heaps of rubble, he has no place to keep the surviving sheep.
My heart goes out to those who lost animals, have injured and maimed animals from the tornados. I also feel for those who are left with the only choice to sell everything and start over after they rebuild their homes, barns and pens. Sheep and goats are a source of income for most of us who gather at the sheep and goat auction twice a month.
I spent six years building my sheep flock to the quality and numbers I have today. I put forth hard work and sweat in the care of my animals. To have to rebuild would be emotional heart wrenching.
Yes, these strong people are going to rebuild what was destroyed. They will buy and restock their the flocks of sheep and herds of goats. The number of total dispersment sale animals was saddening. But the past seven years has showed me these people are strong, they are determined and they have always had sheep and goats and will continue to have sheep and goats.
The past week has been emotional for me. Mostly depression and anger have ruled the days. I do not like depression or anger to occupy my thoughts and especially my days. I thought I learned ample skills to stop or at least not let the depression get so bad. I had not had an episode of depression for three years, why now? But, there are triggers to this depression I do not know.
A phone call this past week set the gears in motion for depression. During these depression times I do not feel I am worthy of anyone’s love, there is shame, no self-worth.
The nightmares returned. Dreams in one night included snakes. I really do not like snakes. I was trying to get them out of my house. There were several dreams as I would wake up, then finally go back to sleep to dream about snakes in the house and me trying to get them out. The last dream my husband was trying to get them out with me.
That morning, during prayers, I was really wanting to know why the bad dreams, how to get rid of my depression episode and what had triggered everything. The thought that popped in my mind was “Spark of Joy”.
Two years ago I watched on Netflix Marie Kondo demonstrating “Spark of Joy”. I went through my house using her methods and cleaned a lot of things out. The biggest change was photos. If a picture of someone or something did not bring me joy, that photo went in a box. I did not destroy any, only stored them in a box for other family members to take if they choose.
The next was to only surround myself with people who brought me joy. But how can you not be around people who are family? One family member treats me with extreme disrespect as well is not truthful with us. My husband made a decision. My husband does not make many decisions, he trusts me to make most of the decisions. He is not in the dark, as I am a verbal thinker, so he knows all the information before I make a decision. But when he does make a decision, as he puts it “his vote is the only one that counts”. He made the decision if this family member does not change the way they treat me and others, they are not allowed on our place and into our home. His reasoning is we work hard to have and keep joy in our home, and for others to experience the joy and harmony of our home when they visit. No one deserves to be treated in the fashion this particular family member treats everyone.
“Spark of Joy”, the dreams were trying to tell me to get rid of the snakes stealing my “spark of joy” in my life. It is very clear the phone call stole my joy. Today, my loving husband decided to vote. He loves his wife and does not like to see her in the state she has been in for almost a week. His vote, do not answer the phone calls or text messages anymore.
There are some relationships with people that are toxic to our self being. They take away our joy and replace that joy with shame, self worthlessness, feelings of stupidity and other negative feelings. The exposure to toxic people should be short. For my health, it is not good to be around toxic people, even if they are family.
I have found another trigger. Hopefully the next time I have an episode, I will recognize the trigger sooner, and remove the snakes from the house.
The past claws me back to a place I do not want to be. The time of sorrows, unhappy joy, lies and deceit. Be quiet, you do not know what you say. Your stories are untrue, and there is no need to say. Yet, the cloud of depression roles, I struggle to be free. To the hem of a garment I cling to heal me from this curse. No freedom in sight, no light I see, where can my life be.
A childhood of lies, deceit and stories untold. When asked, the answer I give is truth. Then I am told, to be quiet, not tell the truth but believe the lie, You do not know what you see. The truth you share is only your imagination. Children are seen and not heard, their stories are lies, Their eyes are ignorant. How could they possibly know? Stay in your corner, do not say, for your words are foolishness. I have heard their words, I did as told, yet, I am the one alone.
Years go by, I call once a week or more. Yet the lies continue and stories untold. After desperate search, the truth revealed, Moved to Arboles, to Texas or back home. My struggle would have been easier if I was told up front. But no, do not let me know. Without the truth, the lies can be told. Keep the truth in the closet, then no one will know.
The lies, deceit and stories untold. Death arrives, no more maker of lies. Rest In Peace Now be still and let my sunshine glow.
I think I have finally gained ground, the sun I do see. Years of silence, I am alone, The company of spouse and children occupy time and space. Only the claws reach forth again and plunged back into the dark sea. I saw light and now the night. Reaching forth to be free. Like parrots learn for the master’s lips, so comes the words again, Be quiet, do not speak, your stories are untold. Why do you call? Why do you ask? Yet you do not want to hear.
Years of silence, then the call. No time to talk, no time to share. Only do not tell your stories untold. We do not want to hear of lies, deceit and stories untold.
Why can I not be left alone? Alone I have the light. Alone I have the joy. Alone I live in truth and light. Loneliness does occupy, yet peace also abides. The peace with self and universe. Not childhood pain and torture.
Past stay away, and say no more. Silence your cries of woe. I do not want you to stay. I am tired of lies, deceit and stories untold. For peace of mind and soul rest felt, I tell my stories true fold. Leave me alone, to you I am no more. The blame of a curse not mine. Out of the closet I want to stay.
I have always watched the weather around me. Not the weatherman or the weather app on a cell phone. The daily weather as it occurs around me. Where I live most of the days have sunshine and wind.
I do not like wind really, it blows my hair into my face causing an obstruction to my view of what I am working on at the time. The wind blows dirt and dust through the house. I have given up on dusting. What is the point, the dust will be there in the morning. But the science on the creation of wind is very fascinating. The release and capture of energy creating a force so powerful to take down a house, and carve monuments from solid stone. Wind is energy, but very unpredictable.
I love lighting storms. Electricity streaking through a clouded sky at random and without control. Lightening comes is some awesome colors. I was in St. Louis, Missouri on a visit. A storm moved in one night, and for the first time I saw colored lighting. The display of colored lighting was exhilarated me to behold. The lighting would start out a neon blue and change colors, bright green to yellow. There was neon pink, orange, fluorescent green and bright purple. Much better than any man made fireworks I had witnessed. I had to leave this beautifully awesome natural fireworks show for the basement of the place we were staying. The phenomenal lighting show I was experiencing is around tornados. At night you can watch a tornado, by watching the path of the colored lightening.
The rain on the roof top is a lullaby, I relax and want to sleep when the rain is falling. Rain is life, as rain brings the water every living thing requires. I welcome the rain. Rain washes off the dust and dirt revealing colors more vibrant when the sun shines after a rain cloud goes by. Rain washes and renews what is around us. I love to watch and listen to the rain. One day while fishing on a nice sunny day, a single rain cloud came over. There was no wind, the lake was still like a mirror, when the large droplets of water began to fall. Not a thick number of droplets, but evenly timed large droplets hitting the lake and making circular designs. I sat and watched this natural wonder show of beauty. The cloud moved on, the shadow disappeared, and I was soaked. I eventually dried in the warm sunshine, the memory of the droplets on the lake is with me always.
Weather can show us awesome and beautiful scenes of nature, better created than what man could ever accomplish. When wind, lighting and rain are combined in Texas, it usually means tornado. March thru June is tornado season in Texas.
Tornado photo taken by Brian Osborn south of Decatur, TX on 3/21/2022
Tornados have been labeled ” the hand of God”. The visit to St. Louis and seeing the colored lighting, that was a major tornado at night. I went inside when I heard the “train engine” roar. A tornado is very noisy. Tornados the work of naturally created energy creating force so strong to wipe out sections of homes and buildings, and yet leave somethings in middle of the chaos untouched.
My husband went to Cheyenne, Wyoming to check on family after a tornado hit there many years ago. A house located a few houses from where his mother lived had drawn a lot of attention. The house looked fine. But looking through a window, there was a large tree trunk occupying the whole house. The tree trunk was larger than a foot in diameter, every wall inside the home was no longer there, being destroyed by the tree trunk. The only indication on the outside of the hone that something strange had occurred at this resident was the window curtains protruding from the walls under the roof. The tornado had picked the roof up whole, place a tree trunk inside, spinning the tree trunk to destroy the inside walls of the home, then placing the roof back on the house in the same position as before, only forgetting to tuck the window drapes back inside. There was not broken windows, the doors were in place. Some professors from the nearby university did data collection on this particular house. “The hand of God” had definitely touched this home and boggled the minds of educated men.
Yesterday, two tornados hit within thirty miles of my home. One took off half the roof of a large high school, took roofs off of the homes across the street, with the exception of one roof. This home surrounded by homes turned to rumble with twisted trees and debris, was left untouched. Another home had the roof removed, but all the contents still neatly in place. Looking from the sky I was reminded of the models I created in home economics class of placing carpet and furniture in a home created from cardboard. The pathway of debris for this tornado was two miles wide. Another location near us, a mobile home was picked up and placed across the road. Like some giant playing with toys, and decided to move the mobile home to block the road.
As of midnight last night, there were no deaths associated with the two tornados, some injuries and some hospitalizations. But they were still locating and rescuing some who were still entrapped in their destroyed home.
Man tries to control so much around them, yet the most powerful forces on earth are beyond their reach and comprehension.
Photo by Download a pic Donate a buck! ^ on Pexels.com
I am a late discovery adoptee. What does it mean to be a late discovery adoptee? Very simple, you learned you were an adopted child after you became an adult. I suppose learning beyond a shadow of doubt at the age of 48 years I was indeed adopted, I would be considered a late discovery adoptee or LAD.
I had strong suspensions I was adopted during various times of my life. Although every time I would ask my adoptive mother if I was adopted, her answer, “Absolutely not! Where do you get such ideas?”
I respond, “From biology class.” when I was in high school.
“My OB says two children can not be naturally born that close together.”
Mom’s reply, “What does he know?”
My mother guarded this secret ferociously. Even as a 48 year old adult and I approached my mother with the adoption, my mother was never going to tell me the truth about my adoption.
When a child is adopted into a family, regardless what age the child is adopted. They become part of a family just like every other family. People with dysfunctions, problems, different personalities and family issues. Adopted children do not automatically get adopted into the “Happily Ever After” family. We are adopted into a family and become family, most of us do anyway.
My mother and I seemed to always have a wall between us. She was not nurturing to me. She considered my problems petty and not worth her time when I was a teenager. If I had a question about boys, she told me, I would figure it out. My dad was the person who told me about becoming a woman, and about boys and about sex.
Why the wall between my mother and I?
Perhaps it was because I am very intelligent my mother and I did not get along. I showed I was a very quick learner from a very young age. I started first grade at age 5, half way through the school year. I was moved up one grade. I graduated high school, five days after I turned seventeen. Not to mention National Honor Society and straight “A’s”. Maybe the questions I asked as a small child intimidate her, as I would one day be more intelligent and knowledgeable than she was. Those reaction have happened with me in other relationships.
Then there is always the personality differences. But in truth I think she had a hard time with me for being adopted. According to aunts and uncles, my dad had to fight my mom for me to be adopted. Apparently dad really wanted to adopt me and my mom did not. There could be various reasons why my mom did not want to adopt me. But there was definitely a strong conflict concerning the adoption of me.
My sister recently learned at sixtyish, she is adopted. While she was content to believe the whispered rumors I was adopted. It was a shock to learn both of us were adopted.
Our first question: Why did my parents not tell me I was adopted?
My sister then went on the investigative journey with the family relatives asking questions and not getting any more information than I did with one exception.
The aunts and uncles were angry that we were not told by our parents. Anger is one of the first emotions learning your are adopted when you are an adult. But the family was upset with our parents for not telling us. They did not know why my parents had sworn them to secrecy concerning the adoptions… but each one felt that my parents were wrong in doing so, and upset that we were not told by our parents, but learned through non-family members.
This past week we had dinner with my husband’s brother and his wife. We were discussing my sister just learning of her adoption.
The brother said if he adopted an infant, he would never tell the child they were adopted. “What is the point of telling them, when we would be their family?”
I gave one of my very rare glares, “I would tell. The child has the rights as a person to know the truth about themselves.” But my option is bias by the fact I am adopted and learned as an adult from someone other than family. No explanations or statements of love saying you were chosen to be our family.
If you were to adopt an infant, would you tell them they were adopted? Does an adult person have the right to know?
The word prompt from word press for the month of March is bridge. There are various types of bridges, small, large, wooden and cement. Some bridges are only for foot traffic while others hold up multiple lanes of cars and vehicles. Each bridge is designed and built to serve a purpose, even as simple as taking you to the other side in order to see the view from a different perspective.
Our path through life has bridges. Bridges we build to establish relationships with friends, families and lovers. Bridges to get promotions and better way of life. Some bridges we later burn, but in order to burn a bridge, the bridge first has to be built.
One bridge I feel is important in our lives is the bridge of education. Education as a bridge conjures up higher education as colleges and universities. Colleges and university cost money, and for those who do not have money, are out of reach. There are other pathways to education.
One way to build a bridge of education in your path to a better life, is by learning through reading. I read all the time on subjects I am interested in such as sheep and gardening. There are still libraries. When I first moved to Texas, there is a lot of snakes. I really DO NOT like snakes. I went to the little library in our little town and checked out books with pictures of snakes in Texas. I wanted to learn to identify the different snakes around my house, but also what they eat and where they like to live. By removing what the eat and where they like to live, I can get rid of the snakes.
Through reading I have learned how to care for my sheep. I have hands on experience in taking care of horses, and I used that experience with the knowledge I gained through reading to care for my sheep.
With today’s technology, youtube is an awesome source of learning, especially for those who learn best visually. I have repaired my riding lawn mower and household appliances by watching youtube videos. Yes, some videos are not very good, but there are some that show each step in how to repair something.
I know a young man, who struggled learning in school. He was glad to just graduate from High School. This young man started buying and selling goats while in Junior High School. He would ask questions of those at the sale barn, and learn. He learned some through what is called the school of hard knocks, but he stayed with selling and buying goats. As a junior in High School he purchased his first truck and stock trailer from the money he saved. He learned by watching others at the auction and started buying sheep. Two years out of high school, he purchased an sheep and goat auction from the man who started it. Two years after the purchase, he has paid off the initial cost of the auction and made major building improvements with out loans from the bank. For a man under thirty years of age, he is doing very well. This young man watched, asked questions and learned outside of college and a class room. He put what he learned, and some hard work and now has a prosperous business. He does not feel he has learned everything. Recently, he wanted to ask questions about raising registered sheep, and how I managed my registered sheep business. He is still asking questions and still learning.
When I was in High School, my English teacher told us, ” Vocabulary and the proper use of vocabulary will determine the altitude of success in your life.” This statement just seemed to burn in my mind when she said it. I was determined to succeed in life, so I worked on improving my vocabulary and professionalism.
Some simple tools to learn, vocabulary and professionalism, to observe and ask questions, to build bridges.
In order to build a bridge, you have to know where you are going. Dreams and goals guide us on what pathway or road to take, and provide the determination to build bridges for success in our lives.
For years, actually most of my life, I did not give much thought to my own birthday. It was another day, I received gifts, but no big celebration or fan fare. I began to believe that my birth nor my being was of much importance in the universe. My self worth was very low, I was unimportant and there was no need to celebrate me becoming older. Age is just a number, no need to acknowledge or celebrate one more year.
Then I joined the “Birthday Club” at a church I was attending. Each month we would celebrate not the birthday, but the fact a woman was born. When we signed up, we were to put our birthdate on the form so the organizer would make sure we were not acknowledging the fact we were born in the same month of our birth. I realized that my birth was important and a reason to celebrate.
Now I celebrate the birthdays of those I know. Those I can be with get a card and gift. I like to send flowers to my daughters. I mail cards and sometimes small gifts to my grandchildren. I want them to know I think they are important to me and I love them.
The day of our birth is special and unique as that is the very first day we greeted our parents, became a family, and said “Hello world, here I have arrived!” We should celebrate each year we have shared our lives with others, as others did not have some many years to share with others.
When I celebrate my birthday, I celebrate that I have survived as long as I have. Acknowledging all the health warnings for activities I did as a child, it is a miracle I am alive.
Yes, I drank from a garden hose, rode in the back of a pickup truck traveling the speed limit or more down the highway. As a child, the vehicles were not made with seatbelts. It is a wonder the baby boom generation even survived at all.
But I had a life of roaming anywhere I wanted, only had to be home for supper. I remember riding my bicycle down the gravel hill near home barefoot. We would go to the top of the hill and pedal as fast as we could, then let go of the handle bars plus put our feet up on the back fender of the rear wheel. On one run, I missed the back fender and my bare toes went into the rapidly spinning spokes. WIPE OUT! Nearly took my toe off in the spokes. Blood all over my toe and foot. Removed my toe nail off my big toe. My reaction, go into the house for a pair of shoes, and out the door to see if I could go faster. Have I gotten wiser as I have gotten older. I would love to try that stunt again, only I will keep my shoes on.
Birthdays celebrate the number of years you have shared your life with family, friends and others.
How to you feel about birthdays? I hope you feel they are worth celebrating. You being alive is worth celebrating.
Me, Myself and I 