LifeRevelation

Life is a Revelation…be encouraged

Archive for the category “humor”

Late One Night…A Long Time Ago

http://drugsinfonewslineireland.wordpress.com/2011/01/24/dublin-the-day-that-cocaine-traces-was-discovered-in-leinster-house/

The small mirror I hold in my left hand reflects the dull light straining to penetrate the dirt that coats the lens of the overhead street lamp. If I turn it slightly it catches the bright orange light which flows from the dashboard of my turbocharged black sports car. The sports car turns heads when I drive through the city, which of course is the whole idea. The exhaust is tuned to make it purr like jaguar moving through the jungle. The car says, “I’m cool and I rule my world.”

At the moment I’m not concentrating on the car or the woman draped over the taupe buttery soft leather seat beside me. Come to think of it she is like jaguar too, just in a much different way. She says, “I’m cool and I’m going to sleep with you tonight after we party and you spend lots of money on me.”

My focus is on the mirror. To be more exact my attention is what’s on the mirror, which is about a hundred dollars’ worth of Peruvian marching dust, otherwise known as blow, candy, and sometimes referred to as cocaine, but usually only by those talking heads on the evening news and very uncool people.

I watch as my right hand, holding a single edge razor blade, makes short quick chopping motions. The technique used in this process speaks volumes. It says, “I know what I’m doing. I can do this in my sleep. I’m a pro.” The woman is impressed. She makes the appropriate sounds, a soft ooh and ahh through perfectly glossed shiny lips that are parted only slightly to display her movie star white teeth.

I’m parked in a lot behind a mini retail mall with eight store fronts ranging from a convenience store to an upscale men’s clothing store owned by my good friend and drug dealing buddy, Mike. All of the stores are laundering significant sums of drug money.

The night is perfect. My plans for the evening are rolling along just the way I had planned them. Earlier I had taken the young lady to a French restaurant with modern décor that screams, “Buddy, your ass is not getting out of here for under five hundred dollars.” Then on to a dance club where we had walked by all the poor souls waiting in line, palmed a hundred dollar bill into the hand of a man five times my size, and been ushered to a private balcony. There we sipped a variety of alcoholic beverages and decided when we would descend to the dance floor so we could gyrate in pseudo sex acts that pass for dancing. By daybreak the young lady and I will be seriously entwined with one another beneath the sheets, and I will have completed one more day as drug dealer without getting busted.

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

It was then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. Probably just a stray alley cat or a large rat, but with  a hundred dollars’ worth of cocaine on display and another six thousand dollars’ worth lying in the console between the seats one couldn’t be too careful.

Damn, there it was again! Definitely something behind the trash dumpster. Without taking my eyes off the dumpster I laid the mirror and razor blade down between the seats. Now that my right hand was free I reached beside my seat and pulled out my Glock 9 mm. The vibe in the car had changed, and while the little missy setting beside me would never be mistaken for a psychiatrist, she detected the change and to her credit, even noticed the gun.

I carefully placed the pistol in my waistband and pulled on the door handle. “Be cool.” I said as I pulled myself up and out of the car, “I’ll be right back.” I walked slowly toward the dumpster with two prayers on my lips. The first was for whatever was behind the dumpster that I could now hear, “Oh God please let this be a rat.” The second was, “And God whatever happens; please don’t let this damn gun go off while it is only inches away from the only penis I’ll ever have.”

It is then that I hear a familiar voice.

“Ditch the bitch.”

My first prayer was answered, it was a rat, only with two legs.

“What?” I mumble.

Slower and more distinct, like I’m a kindergartner being told to pick up my crayons, “Ditch the bitch.”

Mikey that you?

“Yeah, who the hell did you think it would be?

“Gee Mike, I don’t know. I guess I just kind of forgot that you always hang out behind the dumpster at 1:00 on a Friday night.”

“Get rid of the bitch and give me hand will ya?”

“Not on your life butthead. For your information I’ve got over a thousand dollars tied up in that babe tonight and I’m getting laid for my money. Besides what the hell are you doing back there.”

“I’m stealing my stuff.”

“What!?”

“Did you suddenly go deaf? I said I’m stealing my stuff and I need your help. So get rid of the woman of your dreams and give me a hand.”

“I don’t think I’m the one going deaf…or stupid. Why the hell are you stealing from yourself?”

I’ve got a shipment of blow coming in at the end of the month and I’m a little short on cash. So I’ll heist my stuff, turn it into the insurance, get the money, pay for the blow, put the stuff back, and life will go on. That is unless you stand out here in the parking lot and keep flapping your jaws until somebody finally calls the cops cause two queers can’t make up their minds what they are going to do.”

“Danny, this isn’t exactly on my schedule for this evening.”

“Look Steve, send the girl over to the bar across the street with some cash. Tell her you’ve got to help a friend for a few minutes and you’ll be right there. We aren’t moving a damn warehouse, man just the shit in my store. I’ve got a van setting right over there. It won’t take thirty minutes. Then I’ll bust out the lock on the back door which will trigger the alarm and I’ll scoot across the street and you can buy me a drink for being such a genius. It shouldn’t be too long before the police arrive. The alarm is tied directly to them. By the way is that a gun your carrying.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Jesus, I hope you don’t shoot your dick off.”

Obviously friendship can do strange things to the brain.

I trudge back to the car and open the car door. I explain a kind of, sort of emergency thingie has come up and I need her to go across the street to the bar and I’ll be along shortly. I can’t help but notice the blow is gone from the mirror and there is a small smidge of white powder resting just underneath both her nostrils. Nothing surprises me anymore. It has always amazed me how compliant a woman can be when you are spending a thousand dollars a night on her. She shimmies out of the front seat and teeters across the street on come hump me pumps while I go back to my friend.

Less than thirty minutes later we are sitting in the bar nursing our drinks as we begin to hear the sirens.

It’s just another wasted night in a life that has no reason to exist.

Be encouraged!

Perspective

http://likeadayoff.blogspot.com/2011/02/fork-in-road.html

In the distant past, Susie and I were having an argument. It was one of those adult relationship type of arguments, where you furiously disagree about something, and it reaches the point where you stop communicating.

We were on our way to see a play. Whatever we were squabbling about, each of us at the moment thought it was dreadfully important because we were in misery. For those of you who live alone in a cave (obviously with an internet connection), this occurs when you thoroughly despise the idea of hearing another utterance from the one you have chosen to spend the rest of your life with.

I had parked the car and we were walking toward the theater. Of course, we did not walk close to one another. In fact, we showed no indication at all we were madly in love with one another and would willingly, without hesitation, lie down on our lives for each other, if it ever came to that. At the time, each of us was completely assured of our own rightness, which in the universal adult relationship code means that we could not touch, nor look at one another as we walked, to do so would have signaled weakness, and that was not going to happen. We pondered how the other could so stupid and still figure out how to combine breathing  and the act of putting one foot in front of the other, at the same time. I’m sure as we made our way in the midst of streaming foot traffic, the air around us chilled a few degrees due to our icy indifference of one another. As couples walked by us, I am certain they secretly thought, “Please God, don’t let our relationship end up like those two.”

We continued to walk along in perfect venomous lockstep, when suddenly Susie stopped. This only focused my anger even more. In a nanosecond I was running through my mind various sarcastic questions I could shoot at her for this unexplainable moronic behavior. As I was lost in this train of thinking, I heard her say, “Look, we are at a fork in the road!” I tore my thoughts away from the flawless verbal comeback I had already decided upon and followed her gaze to this silver-colored fork lying in front of us on the sidewalk. We stood there for a moment like we had suddenly been touched in a game of freeze tag…then we looked at each other and burst into silly giggling, snorting, and overall cackling.  We laughed like two little kids…and then suddenly…everything that had gone on only seconds before was gone.

We collapsed into a full body embrace. In the middle of a busy sidewalk, in downtown Indianapolis, I held the love of my life as tight as I could. We kissed long and hard, grateful for the touch of one another’s lips. We walked the remaining blocks to the show arm in arm, with her head gently resting on my shoulder.

To this day, neither one of us remember what we were arguing about.

Take a moment and think about your angers, your worries, the elements of life that drive you to fear and/or frustration. We all have them. They are quite real. They cause us pain and stress. They rob us of the life we want. Many times they literally steal away years from us. They imprison us and hold us captive, just as real as any hand cuffs or leg shackles.

I don’t know why a simple fork in the middle of the sidewalk, in a busy city, would work such a miracle. Nor do I have the exact wisdom or knowledge to step you free of everything that holds you captive. But I did learn something that early evening so many years ago…whatever it was I was worried about then…and everything I’ve been worried about since…needs to be put in perspective.

Be encouraged!

Reaching Out For Love

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sistine_Chapel_ceiling

In my home I have started a ritual. Susie has other words for it, but I’ve settled on ritual. It is rather an odd ritual, but before I give you the exact details I want to introduce you to the other participant.

The other partaker of this habitual sacrament is the newest member of the Gang of 5. The Gang of 5 is the nomenclature Susie and I have begun to use to identify our two dogs and three cats, all of whom are rescues. I think of them as our own personal crime fighting super heroes and Susie considers them to be five little, four-legged members of our family. We both totally love on them.

The most recent fellow is Andy. His entrance into our lives began when he was abandoned at a golf course, where I was to give a talk. He appeared early in the day and immediately identified me as a soft hearted sucker with the means to extract him from his current homeless, hungry situation and usher him into a warm home with plenty to eat. He said he was only seven weeks old and had no idea what events had transpired to leave him in such a strange place with uncaring people. A quick inspection around the grounds turned up no siblings or parents, so he came home with me.

My wife, Susie instantly prepared food, water, and a litter box apart from the others so he could make the transition from wandering around a golf course to being a member of the Gang as seamless as possible. Once he was fed, watered and nature had taken its course he began to explore every square inch of his new abode. He was also anxious to make the acquaintance of his new siblings, so anxious that to them he seemed a little forward. Since his only exposure to others was his birthed brothers and sisters he straightway approached the Gang by hopping on them, gnawing their ears, batting at their tales, jumping on their backs, and lunging at them with teeth bared. This type of activity, without the usual warm-up period of sniffing, staring, and lots more sniffing, did not quickly establish bonds of love. Slowly he learned to turn down his enthusiasm (at least a little) and they learned not to be so put off by his willingness to shower them with his type of affection. Hence his nickname, But I Meant It Nicely.

Now back to the ritual.

I awaken usually around 4:30 in the morning and head to the bathroom for my morning constitutional. I will spare you the exact intimate details of what this consists of, but suffice it so say I feel greatly relieved upon finishing. But this has become a sign to Andy that for at least few moments I am anchored in one spot, with time on my hands, and nothing better to do than pet him furiously. He loves this. His little purring mechanism increases by several decibels.

So each morning begins with my alarm making this horrendous loud obnoxious noise, which completely convinces me that it is far better to rise and face the day than have to endure that sound for another go round. Then I grope my way into the bathroom, thankful for the nightlights Susie installed several years ago, and ahem…make myself comfortable. I then hear the pitter-patter of not so tiny feet bounding up the stairs, running down the hall, scratching for traction as he rounds the corner before flying into the bathroom and coming to a skidding stop at my feet. With my first touch he erupts into ecstatic purring so loud that the first few times I heard Susie mumble, “Uh…what’s that…uh…noise?”

The other day I mentioned to Susie how neat I thought it was that every morning, no matter what; as soon as Andy hears my feet hit the tile floor of the bathroom he comes charging through the house like a runaway freight train, careening into the bathroom for morning snuggles with Dad. She smiled and said, “Isn’t that how we all feel about love? Once we discover it, won’t we run to its source as fast as we can every time?”

With a smile I reached out and hugged her before replying, “Yes, Honey it is.”

Be encouraged!

Introducing the Gang of 5:

  • Jake the Wonder Dog – A Jack Russell who looks like a gym rat steroid freak. Seriously, he has muscles everywhere and they ripple as he moves. He was abandoned by a family who got him when he was eight weeks old and the next day decided they weren’t “dog people.” So he came home to us, but he is 100% Mommy’s dog, they are completely inseparable. He refers to me as “what’s his name.”
  • Callie the Sleek Dog – A 13 year old Huskie who came to us tipping the scales at close to 200 pounds. Through diet and exercise she is now down to a svelte 125 and lookin’ good. She has been through several homes, but she is beginning to move very slowly and emits small groans as she gets up. We make her as comfortable as possible. Our home will be her last.
  • OC the World’s Smallest Cat – She is an all-black, incredibly tiny cat whom we discovered one morning under our front porch in the middle of winter. At seven weeks old she was cold, hungry, and scared of the world. She is now a little ball of love muffin.
  • Zip (aka Snowball) the Catch Me If You Can Cat – She was abandoned in our daughter’s suburb, and knowing of our great love for furry little creatures, she immediately brought her to our home. She sprints throughout the house and for a brief instant we considered calling her Flash. As I type this she is laying, curled up, on top of my feet.

Susie and I love on them exactly as we would any member of our family. We talk to them, hug them, love on them, pet them, and shower them with all kinds of affection. They do the same in return. It works well for all of us.

Sort of Like Responsibility…Part V

http://www.steliasorthodoxchurch.org/

There are few things in life that split people as quickly as talking about religion. Everyone has an idea, a thought, and/or a conviction. And rare is the individual who will listen to views, other than their own, without certain walls going up. So what I am going to ask may border on the impossible…or at least in the very difficult zone. Yes this post is going to be about what I think about God. But is only my thoughts. I am not writing to sway anyone’s opinion. I’m writing this post with the same intention I have written the prior four posts on responsibility (there is only one more), to share what has happened in my life and to prove to others who have issues, situations, or circumstances in their life that there is hope. Real honest to God, life changing hope.

So, as I usually do, let me start with a story…

The year is 1998 and I have already made significant changes to my life. Although those changes started only four years earlier, I am a completely different person. Not that there weren’t matters that needed attention (and still do). But I was no longer spending every night in a bar, chasing every skirt who happened by, or indulging my considerable desire to steal everything that wasn’t locked down and stowed away. The drug use was history and I had quit drinking. Both were considered minor miracles by those who knew me, because I had been doing a gram of cocaine a day (no worry about pesky nasal hair) and drinking a case of beer and a bottle of cognac (nice mix, huh?) a day.

No coincidence, Susie and I had been married for four years as well. Her presence in  my life had opened the eyes that were blind, the ears that were shut, and the heart that was to hard to care. It was like being born again…literally. I was experiencing emotions I didn’t know existed. I would watch the McDonald’s commercial where the little ducklings followed their mother in the rain, and tears would roll down my cheeks. I could talk to people about Susie and choke up ( actually this one still happens). I suddenly found myself loving small children, something that had NEVER happened before.

Susie had introduced me to church, which I thought was about as strange as anything I had ever witnessed, and I had witnessed MANY strange things. I liked it, but it just felt weird. I had never attended church in my life and I was extremely uncomfortable. It was like a secret society. The people were nice enough, but they had there own way of talking. A language I was completely unsure of. It was English all right, but in the world I came from being “washed in the blood,” meant you were probably dead of a gun shot wound or had been bludgeoned to death. Even the individual words were used in a different context. “God” was no longer connected to damn it and “Jesus Christ” now referred to a person/deity as opposed to being an expression of surprise. I also noticed no one used the F word, this was extremely strange, and VERY difficult to get use to. Occasionally I would slip and I was aware this was not a good thing. Susie promised to help me.

In 1998 I met this man……I’m not quite sure why he is holding that sign, but just ignore it. His name is Fr. Stevan Bauman and he is without a doubt the greatest person I have ever met in my life, which is something he would definitely not acknowledge. Knowing him has changed my life from our very first encounter over lunch at a downtown Indianapolis restaurant. I came home and told Susie things were going to change. This was a fairly large statement considering the evidence I have just presented. Over the years Fr. Stevan and I have grown quite close. When I was baptized into the Eastern Orthodox Church he became my godfather. His presence has been like having my own flesh and blood incarnation of God, another statement he wouldn’t be able to disown fast enough.  He is kind and gentle, compassionate and loving, holy and pure, patient and humble. I don’t believe he knows what anger or frustration are.

So what is this post all about?…certainly not just a window into a side of me that I rarely talk about. Well yes and no…I do want you to know about this side of me, I think it will help you understand me and my writing better, but no I’m not trying to convert you or anything remotely like it. I’m not trying to convince you of the presence of God…or of the Truth of Creation.

So what is it?…it’s about being honest, being open, being vulnerable, being authentic, and being real. It is about telling the Truth. My journey through this life has been exciting and painful, thrilling and suicidal, adventurous and paranoid. At one time my living expenses were $33,000 a month and my income far exceeded my expenses. Other times I stood in front of a Coke machine and cried because I didn’t have enough money…and this was when they were only cost 35 cents. I have run across America and stood in front of thousands telling about it and I’ve slept in a dark alley next to a dumpster because I had nowhere else to go. I have known personal pain so severe I didn’t know if I could draw my next breath and happiness so complete I didn’t have words to express it.

I have been delivered…I have been set free…I am alive…and anyone and everyone can do it…no matter where you are at, or what you have done, or what has been done to you…so please…be encouraged!

Sort of Like Responsibility…PartIV

http://www.flickriver.com/photos/drmarciana/3216269473/

The double doors leading to the factory floor swung open to reveal a world I had no idea existed. I might as well have been transported with Scotty, Bones, Spock, Captain Kirk, and  the rest of the crew of the USS Enterprise to another dimension. This was another world…and nothing in the world I knew, had prepared me for this.

Let’s start with the smell, it nearly knocked you down. Think of WD-40 and 3in1 oil mixed together and then injected into nose via a fire hose. The smell wrapped around you like saran wrap and tore into your lungs like Leatherface from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Later I would learn how it permeates into your skin, so even after bathing with all kinds of girly soaps, and things of my wife that I can’t identify, you still smell exactly like the factory. I’m telling you my wife is a very special kind of woman to put up with that.

Then there was the noise, it was deafening. I’ve been next to tornadoes and this was louder. I have been in the front row of a Guns n’ Roses concert and this was louder. It was like having a blunt instrument pound away at the inside of your brain, right between the eyes.

As I stood there reeling from the total effect of this onslaught I realized the man leading me lips were moving. I yelled out as loud as I could, WHAT?”

He smiled and leaned closer to me, NEVER BEEN IN A FACTORY BEFORE, HUH?”

Well this man was obviously a genius. Surely I had completely camouflaged my shock. It must have been me staggering backwards when he opened the doors and him having to repeat himself four times before I answered him that blew my carefully formulated cover.

“YEAH SHERLOCK, FIRST TIME.”

He motioned for me to follow him. No problem there. I kept as close to him as a newborn kitten afraid of losing his mother. In fact, now that I think about it, that new born kitten analogy is an accurate portrayal of how I felt. Safe in his Mommy’s womb the newborn fur-ball is thrust into a world that is cold, hard, and completely different from anything the little guy has ever experienced. Nothing has prepared him for this; he has to find nourishment a whole different way, suddenly there is a lot more room, and he still can’t see anything…and that was EXACTLY how I felt. If I could have turned around and drove back home to Susie, crawled into bed beside her, and gone back to sleep my world would have been perfect. Except I couldn’t do any of that. We had lost our bookstore business and, although we weren’t destitute, we could certainly see it from where we were standing. Besides Susie and I hadn’t worked all our lives to lose everything, so I was willing to do whatever was necessary to keep us afloat.

But all of that didn’t keep me from being scared. I was shaking in my new steel toed boots.

It took me nearly six months to begin to grasp how things worked. Eventually I got use to the smell, the noise, and the dirty weld fumes that made you blow out black crud when you blew your nose. I got use to women cussing more than any sailor I ever talked with, but I never got accustomed to men showing me their iphone pictures of the women who, as they put it, were “pounding” vagina. However, after a while I did know who they were and I avoided them like the plague.

I quickly moved up the proverbial corporate ladder and off the factory floor, but I’ve never forgotten the men and woman who are still there. Still working in 110 degree heat in the summer and bone chilling cold in the winter. Still breathing in the fumes and still having the noise assault their senses daily. Still working, because they need the benefits and the pay is the best in this region.

Those men and women will be in my memory forever…I miss them…but not so much the guys with the iphones.

Be encouraged!

Sort of Like Responsibility…Part III

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Wife-Bumper-Sticker-Decal/dp/B001P1PCWY

Most of you who read this blog know that I am deeply in love with my wife, Susie, and she was/is a major contributor to all that is good in my life. Her love, patience, sweetness, and guidance has been the one constant over the eighteen plus years we have been married. While not every moment of those years has been perfect, the sole reason for them not being was/is me.

During the days of my youth and far too long into what I was calling adulthood, I was always drawn to the darker side of life. If there was so scum to rub in, I was there. Nearly everyone who knew me figured I would end up in prison for life or dead. It just seemed like the way I was headed. She literally saved my life.

Susie is a woman of phenomenal intellect, yet able to talk to any one regardless of their age or station in life. I’ve seen her totally enthralled in conversations with:

  • A five year old short-stop on our Grandson’s Little League team.
  • The Metropolitan Bishop of North America and Australia for the Bulgarian Orthodox Church.
  • The mail lady.
  • A homeless man on the streets of Monterey, California.
  • The lead singer of a death-metal band from Norway.
  • A lady in the nursing home who just wanted her to keep on singing.

She has the type of personality that is rarely flustered or confused and is never mean. Her basic being is happy, compassionate, and above all loving. Even back in the day, my friends would say, “Dude you better quit screwing (okay, actually they used another descriptive word for sexual coupling, but you get the idea) around and marry this one…especially before she realizes what a waste you are.”

She is also, a raging incredible cook, who can make a tasty meal out of nearly nothing. During our early leaner years, I would often look around the kitchen cabinets, pantry, refrigerator, under the bed, and in the glove box and find absolutely nothing…and I mean nothing…no crackers, no bags of chips with only those crunched up little tiny pieces stuck in the bottom corners that nobody ever throws away, no crusty peanut butter jar with the lid stuck tight, nothing, nada, not anything…the great food void.  She would come home and I would ask what we were going to have for dinner, her reply was always the same…”Oh, I don’t know, let me look and see what I can find.” Thirty minutes later she would yell for me to wash up, dinner was served, and it would be this fabulous collection great tasting food, to this day I have no idea how she did it.

During the eleven months and three days it took me to run across the United States, Susie took care of everything. She made contact with our host homes, lined up speaking engagements, coordinated meetings, kept the mileage and rotated each pair of running shoes, doctored my left foot, did the laundry, had the oil changed in our support vehicle, got me breakfast, lunch, and dinner plus multiple snacks each day, dealt with police officers, wrote our newsletter for family, friends, and supporters, gave me a massage at the end of every day, kept track of the total miles I ran, and did all of this without ever once breaking stride. She smiled, giggled and was supportive of my every whim, which I am ashamed to say were numerous.

Susie is the rock that holds her three sisters and their families together. Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are all celebrated at our home, with Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, and Labor Day all being rotated. The general family consensus seems to be that everyone simply enjoys hanging out at the home Susie created. Family and friends often remark about how peaceful it is…and it is… because of her presence.

She possesses an incredible singing voice which she has used with our local Philharmonic Orchestra for the past seven years. She also plays banjo, guitar, piano, and I long ago gave up trying to get her out of any music store under an hour, because she has to “try” every instrument in the place. She reads and writes music, like the rest of glance through the USA Today…in other words, with ease. She can identify any song ever recorded dating back to the late 40’s.

She writes poetry and music, pursues photography with a passion, paints (oils and acrylics), writes computer code, runs, cycles, swims, is accomplished in all types of crafts, and lately believes she wants to try her hand at composing a rap song about our new start-up company. I have come home from my travels to find her:

  • Installing a new floor in our laundry room (a complete new floor, she had stripped it down to the stringers, or whatever those boards are called that the first layer of plywood gets nailed to).
  • Hanging new doors in our bedroom, guest bedroom, and one of the bathrooms.
  • Teaching our, then three year old, Grandson how to make guacamole.
  • Putting up new insulation in our book barn (large barn w/climate control that holds 70,000 volumes of books).
  • Creating a new garden.
  • Using a leaf blower to usher a 4 1/2 foot long black snake off the back porch.
  • Changing the oil on all our vehicles.
  • Splitting and stacking wood.
  • Bathing our 165 lbs. Husky.
  • Rearranging all the furniture in our living room (actually she has rearranged all the furniture in every room of our home several times).
  • And last, but certainly not least, I have come home to find a note on the dining room table (where we leave all our correspondence  for one other) that read, “Out for a 10 mile run…your dinner is in the frig…glad you’re home…I missed you…I love you…S.”

I married up.

I married WAY up.

Every good thought you have ever had, as a result of reading this blog, is directly related to her presence in my life.

This post is dedicated to her…thank you Honey…you are my everything. Amen.

Be encouraged!

Not worthy…

I'm Not Worthy Women's V-Neck Dark T-Shirt

http://www.cafepress.com

Cristi at http://cristimoise.wordpress.com was more than kind of enough to nominate me for this award. If you have a moment please drop by his blog. He posts some wonderful breath-taking photographs and occasionally posts some of the quotes that you’ve seen me reblog here. He and I have conversed, like we all do, via the comment section and he has deeply impressed me with his compassionate and sensitive Spirit. I think of him as a renaissance man and I wish I  had his eye for finding the truly beautiful in this world.

1) If you could change something what would you change? Their is a part of me that wants to say my face (hahaha), but seriously if I could change anything, I would like to be more compassionate.

2) If you could repeat an age, what age would it be? At 15 I left home, I would like to relive that year over, with some major changes.

3) What one thing really scares you? Hands down…death. Now please, I am a Christian, and I know all the theological arguments for why I should not be afraid of death…but it makes no difference…I am.

4) What one dream have you not completed yet and do you think you will be able to complete it. Having enough money to implement my idea about having Compassionate Elders in the public school systems…I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it…mainly because I find the school systems far too political to want a bunch of loving people walking around hugging the children…but one never knows, and I’m too old and stubborn to give up.

5) If you could be someone else for the day, who would you be? Hmmm…this is a tough one…my first reaction would be to say Jesus Christ, because then all the questions I have would be answered. Then I think of Steve Jobs, so I would know what true innovative thinking would feel like…but I’m not too fond of his rougher, anal side. Then I think about being my Dad, because once again, that would clear up several questions I have. Of course, there is always Lance Armstrong, because then I would know the Truth about all the doping issues swirling around…and it would also be really, really cool to be able to ride a bike as fast as he does. And just recently I’ve been reading a lot of Paulo Coelho, it would be awesome to write like he does…or wait…how about Mozart, to compose music like him!…or Twyla Tharp, to create dance in an entirely new way…or Albert Einstein, so I could understand string theory…I’m not very good at this!

I am going to nominate some folks who have been with me from the beginning…their words are as pure as their hearts.

SPECIAL NOTE TO THOSE NOMINATED-If you do not “do” awards I understand…just know we all value what you write.

http://gigoid.me

http://thebettermanprojects.wordpress.com

http://cultfit.wordpress.com

http://ariannasrandomthoughts.com

http://inkarasworld.com

http://toddlohenry.com

http://lilyincanada.wordpress.com

http://terry1954.wordpress.com

http://davidkanigan.com

http://lynnecobb.com

http://agrippinglife.wordpress.com (CAUTION-Lisa can make you laugh and cry all in the same post…ALWAYS bring tissues and don’t drink anything while you are reading.)

http://diane-owens.com

http://marianne365days.wordpress.com

http://eof737.wordpress.com

http://ruthrutherford.wordpress.com

http://writingyourdestiny.com

http://willowdot21.wordpress.com

http://lifeintheblueridges.wordpress.com

http://jennysserendipity.com

This has been fun…thank you again Cristi for nominating me.

Be encouraged!

Thankful

Susan Bright at http://fridaymorningbookclub.com/ was kind of enough to give me this award…for which I am truly thankful. I don’t often post when I receive these, but it is Saturday afternoon, the sky is bright blue, and there is a wonderful crispness in the air that I love…for some reason Susan’s gesture simply touched my heart…so thank you Susan.

These are the assigned question and my somewhat rambling answers:

What is your favorite flower?  Hmmm…it would have to be any type of rose…I love how delicate the petals seem to be as they curl out from the center.

What is your favorite non-alcoholic beverage? They make such a thing? Why? It would be a toss-up between vanilla rice milk and an iced vanilla latte.

What is your passion? I have a few; 1) My new company that produces women’s motivational and professional development conferences. 2) Any book I am currently reading. 3) Developing a program to “love on” children in our public school system.

What is your favorite time of the year? Summer…I love the heat.

Favorite day? Without a doubt…Sunday…it has always had a special quality about it.

What is your favorite animal? I am a dog and cat lover. Susie and I have Jake the Wonder Dog (Jack Russell), Callie the Sleek Dog (Siberian Husky), OC the World’s Tiniest Cat, Zip the Pet Me Now or Die Cat, and Annie Now Called Andy Because His Stupid Parents Can’t Recognize Sex Parts on a Cat. They are all rescues that are part of our family.

My favorite book? This is impossible for me to answer…I always have at least five or six I’m reading, and the last time I checked I had over two hundred on my list to be read. I read mostly nonfiction. I am currently reading Daring Greatly and I Thought It Was Just Me both by Brene Brown, The Fire Starter Sessions by Danielle LaPorte, Evolutionaries by Carter Phipps, The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, and The Story the Bible as one continuous story. Oh…and I’m also writing my own book, Running Across America and Down Other Roads…to be published before I die…hopefully next spring…the book that is, not my death.

What is your favorite time of the day? Early afternoon…especially when it is warm, the sun is shining brightly, and I’m hanging out with Susie.

I think I’ll pass this along to Lisa at http://agrippinglife.wordpress.com/. She is an awesome lady Susie and I met through the blog world and now we just consider her an extended member of our family…she is a precious soul.

But before I end this post I got to tell you there are literally hundreds out there I could/should have nominated for this award. Those of you who read my blog are the kindest, most compassionate, loving people I have encountered in life. You have blessed my life in ways you’ve dreamed of. You have provided me with a window I can look through to a world I worried was gone, but you are my hope…and my strength. Blessings to each and every one of you and to those whom you love…thank you from my very soul.

Be encouraged!

The Astounding Ability to Quote

“The ability to quote is a serviceable substitute for wit.”

William Somerset Maugham (Writer, Novelist and Playwright, 1874-1965)

From http://quoteawiz.wordpress.com/about/

The above has been my guiding light for the past month or so, 
while I work on book and start-up company. I have also used the 
reblog button for a substitute for originality. Thank you for 
your patience and I hope you have enjoyed posts.

Be encouraged!

My Political Thought

Banksy.jpg

http://dystopia-11engadv.wikispaces.com/

I read a post by Lisa at http://agrippinglife.wordpress.com/ entitled Dear President Obama. She didn’t write it, but felt it was a good summation of how she and possibly many more are feeling. The original post was written by Maggie at http://somethingfathappened.wordpress.com. I don’t know Maggie, but since I started this blog Lisa and I have become good enough friends that we have actually entertained our families getting together for a meal sometime when we all can find the time.

Lisa is not someone who goes off on political tangents. She isn’t the kind of person that would pigeon-hole you in a corner for over an hour while she rants on about big government and how the apocalypse is upon us. However, if I were you I would steer clear of talking about a certain cashier at the local diner where she has breakfast every morning, but other than that Lisa strikes me as being fairly level-headed, compassionate, intelligent, extremely witty, and someone who truly cares about the quality of life for others.

So she worried about posting something political. She didn’t want to have to wade through reading a bunch of hate mail that questioned her mental stability, gender identity, social status, and/or whether she was an enemy mole feverishly working the inner ropes of the blogging community. She just wanted to post something that reflected how she felt…end of story.

She inspired me.

Like Lisa I am posting something that someone else created (although I wish I had the talent and the spray paint). So with my tongue planted firmly within my cheek the above is my political statement. I should acknowledge this is my statement and my statement alone, it does not necessarily reflect the thoughts of Susie my wife, Jake the Wonder Dog, Callie the Sleek Dog, OC the World’s Tiniest Cat, Zip the Pet Me or Die Cat, or Annie Now Called Andy Because My Stupid Parents Can’t Recognize Sex Parts on a Kitten.

I am Stephen Edwards and I support the contents of this blog.

Be encouraged!

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