Author Kathryn Stockett

I just finished reading Kathryn Stockett's The Help. It is a novel about black maids and the white families they worked for during the turbulent 60's. A great read -- definitely thought provoking.

I read much of it in a kind of hand over the mouth shock. I am too young to remember segregationist America, but old enough to remember seeing my first African American -- because I did live in a segregated America. I know people that believe things should still be that way, and I am ashamed for them. Color of skin -- or religion or sexual preference for that matter, should not be the determining factor in how one person feels about another.

At any rate, you should read this novel. It is a great look into our not so distant past. You can click on the title of this entry to launch directly to Kathryn Stockett's web site. I encourage you to do so.

Death of Elizabeth Edwards

Elizabeth Edwards passed away after a valiant fight against the big C. I am so very saddened. She has children who are not yet grown. Always, always, I think of children without parents. It has to be one of the most difficult things for a child to endure. It just doesn't seem right for a child to loose a parent. Please take a moment to pray for her children.

I made a similar comment on my facebook account this morning. A friend then posted the poem below. It is so lovely -- and fits so well with how I am feeling.

Andrew Jackson Kessinger IV

Now that another battle's over
and we see the victory has been won
We need move t'ward the next valley
and see,
"Where it's ended
is where we've always begun”

Starting anew is never easy
and changing paths
is always hard
Yet we know with our LORD
He'll always show us the True Way;
Straight is the path and narrow is the gate
toward His Love.

Since I always get what I pray for
I gotta really be careful how I pray
For as I pray in the Spirit it's beautiful
but when I pray in the flesh I'm led astray

Once He allowed me to submit all to Him,
I knew there'd be no turning back,
and then as I stepped into the Promised Land
Peace I'd never known became fact

I could see trials and tribulations
though I dared not look to find out more
It scared me, but He gave me boldness;
knowledge my Saviour knows what's in store

The dawn has come
Building toward tomorrow's sun

AJK IV, Sept. 2004
after watching my wife die from lung cancer.
It's still appropos

Liars and other bad sorts

Liars -- unfortunately most of us know some. I sure do. And I have a big problem with them.

It isn't so much as how the lies people tell impact me, but -- rather -- how they impact those I love most. The thing is, even a small lie is big in the eyes of someone -- therefore, there are really no small lies. I would like to shelter my loved ones from these people, but sometimes it is impossible. You just have to deal with the fall out that comes with liars. Believe me, it isn't pleasant.

In my book, just telling the truth -- no matter how ugly the truth, is a better thing. Sometimes, the ugliness of the truth actually can be a protection. I know a situation where an underage child is dating an older man -- all sorts of lies are involved in this. Personally, I would hang the sob out to dry for having relations with a minor, but it isn't my fight. And in that one lie -- several others were exposed. It got me to thinking about the sort of negative energy and negative vibes that these people send off -- and how I want to be rid of that in my own home. How I want to shield my children. How I am GOING to shield my children.

There all all sorts of bad people. We just have to keep them as far away from us and out loved ones as we can. And band together with like-minded truth tellers and other good sorts.

Happy birthday

Sixteen years. Can it really be that amount of time that has passed since the birth of my first child? It sure doesn't seem so. The years have gone by in a flash.

I think about the baby that I held -- so amazed at this beautiful creation. I was so full of hope and expectations, but mainly I was full of love. The love that a mother has for a child far exceeded what I even thought was possible.

I can't even remember what my life was like before, nor do I want to. He is still my beautiful perfect boy, and my life is so much better for him being in it.

Life

Stressed out today. All of a sudden I seem to be overwhelmed by -- the kids, my house, my life ...

I know to take one thing at a time, and it will work out.

Actually, today was a good day when I look at the big picture. It is just that it is bed time, and so many things didn't get done. It wouldn't be such a big deal, but for the last week or so, there seems to be so much left over for the next day -- every day! I would just like to be caught up, or at least see the end!

Becoming my mom

Recently, I went to an all a school reunion for my high school. It was great. I got to see many old friends, and I really had a good time. Some of the people I hadn't seen in 30 years.

There was another reunion of two classes, mine and the one ahead of me just the other day. I didn't go to that one -- mainly because I had gone to the other and I knew that my best high school friend had done the same thing. From the pictures, it looks as though I missed out.

One of my re-acquaintances and I have been talking. It seems that I have brought back some friendships due to these reunions. What I have learned is that sooner or later, we all become our parents -- or at least some version of them. Some of my old school chums have even begun to look like their parents.

But here we are, in mid-life. Most of us have children of our own. Although times have changes so much since I was a school girl, many things remain the same. And it is in that sameness that we find the similarities. Problems that faced our parents at this time in their lives -- well, I am up against the same situations. It makes me wish for my mom.

If she were around, I would love to pick her brain to find out how she handled various situations. But she is not here, so I muddle through the best that I can. I find myself looking back to how she handled things with me -- and I try to pick the best of what I remember and go forward with that information. In many respects, I find that I AM becoming my mom.

What are you hiding from?

I read a book by Piers Anthony the other day. In it, one of the characters had been molested as a child, another character had been abused by her husband. OK -- every character had something they were hiding or running from. It really got me to thinking about my own life -- my own past.

What am I hiding from? Lately, I feel as though I am almost consumed by the ugliness that can come with sexual abuse. Stories that don't seem to bother others become huge to me. Things that others think funny bother me for days, not only invading my waking hours, but my dreams also. And so I wonder, what causes me to feel so uneasy -- almost sick? And even more than that, am I ever going to feel normal again?