Tuesday, December 28, 2010

The Face of My Mother

She looks in the mirror and reflected in place
Are the colors and lines of a woman’s face
The brow, nose and lips are a delicate shell
Comprising a history of stories to tell

Her eyes see the humor in life each day
At times they hold sorrow for things gone astray
They see hope without doubt and love without fail
And compared to their warmth, all else is but pale

Her nose is a creature that is sly and wise
It embraces sincerity and sifts out the lies
The smell of home or her garden of flowers
Remind her of joy in its simplest power

Her lips form a multitude of shapes for her life
They’ve parted in laughter; pulled taught through strife
The tones from beneath can be chiding or nice
Full of secrets and wishes, and treasured advice

Her wisdom and faith can be seen in the lines
Bearing honor and grace, aged perfect through time
For the character and features unlike any other
Are the beauty and love in the face of my mother

For my mother, Carol Jean.

I love you, Mom.

Monday, December 27, 2010


His overalls were faded blue and oil-stained
And had dirt and grease smears on the seat
An old John Deere cap sat crooked on his brow
And a toothpick was always between his teeth

He feigned surprise and fear at the word “boo”
And he’d give me shiny pennies for good luck
I loved bouncing around next to him on the seat
As we drove around the farm in his old truck

Bellowing from the pew in church on Sunday
Above all others his bass voice would ring
He was talented; a naturally gifted musician
And he could make any instrument sing

I fascinated in watching him concentrate
As his hands and his fingers shook
While he set up an old skinny bamboo pole
And threaded twine through a fishing hook

His grin was enhanced with certain wisdom
And years of laughs and earned wrinkles
His voice and gestures could animate a story
As his eyes held those mischievous twinkles

He loved to piddle and tinker around in his shop
To fix up machines and old engine parts
And a puttering rusty red riding lawn mower
Made for a mighty fine kid’s go-cart

Like a hawk, he’d watch me use his pocketknife
As he instructed me on how to whittle a stick
Afterwards I sit on his lap in his rocking chair
While we sipped a root beer and talked for a bit

He’d tickle me till I had tears in my eyes
From laughing and having so much fun
And he could pull a quarter from his pocket
Faster than a cowboy could draw his gun

He let me sneak popsicles from the freezer
And taste range cubes and chicken feed
My favorite place was next to him in the garden;
He’d scoop out the dirt and I’d drop in a seed

He hung up a rope from the rafter in the barn
So I could swing high and land in the hay
He gave the best horsey rides around on his back
And he never seemed too tired or busy to play

His hands were rough with scars and calluses
Weathered from hard labor over time
And though my hands were small in comparison
I remember how gently his held onto mine

The years that separated us never seemed to matter
For he was my hero, and I was his Kellie Jean
The bond between a grandfather and his special girl
Was unbreakable; one nothing could come between

In November ’04 he left behind a legacy of family
When his spirit went home to Heaven above
There will never be another like my Pop-Pop;
A generous soul of extraordinary friendship and love

Withered Rose

Time is an endless circle, forever spinning round
One day it lifts you high, the next it pulls you down
The ground beneath my feet shall fail and I know I will fall
And lonely is my sacrifice; I fear I have no time at all

Day breaks though my window and I begin to breathe
I reflect my unseen shadow and the mirror just sees me
My soul is trapped within my skin, in a trench that is my heart
All of life has left me in a world of pain and dark

The music rapt within my head is missing and unheard
I dance behind these hollow eyes and sing with silent words
I create a world where hours go by and days turn into years;
Held captive by this dwelling pain and shielded by my tears

I mourn for all my withered roses now replaced with scorn
The joy that was my blooming wish now bears its ugly thorn
The reverence that my soul desires is just beyond my reach
And I long to heal the suffering of the child inside I seek

Father Time shall come once more and take away my sin
Mother Earth shall cast my pride afar and bury ashen skin
My heart will be complete again as Heaven unties her hands
I begin a life, renewed and whole, to emerge from sacred lands

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Country Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas
When we all gathered ‘round
To open the presents
From Santa, we’d found

The stockings weren’t hung
By the chimney with care
(‘Cause Mom put ‘em away last year
And couldn’t remember where)

I, in my Aggie shirt,
Furry house shoes and jeans
Had eaten so much
I was bursting at the seams

The little dogs were happy
To hoover the floor
From the tidbits we’d dropped
Only moments before

My BlackBerry was handy
To take pictures of the fam
While Chad roamed the room
With his video cam

Dad sat in the recliner,
Like a king on his throne
As Jen sorted loot
Into piles of our own

Mom wore her apron
As she sat by the tree
And Aislynn kept asking,
“Can we open them? Pleeeeease?”

Soon ribbon was flying
As we all looked inside
To reveal the big secrets
The wrapping helped hide

We oohed and ahhed
At the treasures we’d found
As I soaked in the laughter
And smiled at the sound

There, in that room
With my loved ones so dear
I realized I’m blessed
To have them all near

And then I reflected
From earlier that night
When we’d attended church service
And sang by candlelight

The kids marched on stage
To perform in the play
Complete with a manger,
A doll, and real hay

Their smiles were nervous
As they all took their place
And there was always that one
Who stared off into space

Or had forgotten his lines
Or sang a little off-key
Or mumbled, or shouted,
“Hey, Mom, look at me!”

What a joyous message
About Bethlehem’s star
And some wise men that traveled
From kingdoms afar

They fell on their knees
To worship a boy
Who’d give us salvation
And bring the world joy

Mary and Joseph
Would watch over Him
Until the day came
When He’d die for our sins

I thought about the life
That was given to me;
My wish is for everyone
To see what I see

So let the spirit we feel
During this season of cheer
Overflow from within us
To last the whole year

For the hope that surrounds us
And the gifts we bestow
Was given to us first
So many years ago

Our most gracious Father
Gave us unending love
In the form of a Savior
From Heaven above

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Well…I had high hopes of going to sleep tonight. That plan is shot to hell. I even took a sleep aid. It figures that it would have an adverse effect on me. Instead of sleeping, I feel like running up and down the freeway.

As I type this, it is now 1:52am.

Why does everything in life seem so ominous during the night? I’ve literally been tossing and turning for the last couple of hours. My mind is so bogged down trying to absorb things. And not only am I grasping for explanations, but within that existential yearning for answers lies of list of about a thousand things to do.

Life took a big turn for me this week.

I’ve been steadily listening to hard rock for the last few days in an effort to drown out the shouting that’s going on inside my brain. I attempted some Christmas music this afternoon – well, actually yesterday afternoon – but after a while it only made me feel forlorn. The screaming guitars and drum pounding seems to parallel my thoughts. It’s a better fit for my frame of mind. I am overwhelmed with fear, hope, anxiety, anger, and have laughed hysterically with disbelief. I feel like I have experienced the grandfather of all roller coasters this week.

What scares me is that I’ll run out of track up ahead.

Before I deduced that sleep might be a lost cause, I found myself lying in my bed, envisioning a transparent ceiling so that I could gaze at the stars. I used to do that when I was little. It always amazed me how vast and endless the night sky was. As a tiny child, I was fascinated with the great unknown. I was invincible. I was going to conquer the world. I just hoped there was room enough in it to contain me.

Now, as an adult, I just feel tiny. Insignificant. Alone.

The things that went bump in the night used to terrify me. Now, they remind me of reality. The lulling sounds of the household appliances, or the rustling of leaves outside my window, the gentle whooshing breeze from my fan…all of these things should sing me back to sleep with their own musical montage. But, instead, they remind me that even if tomorrow brings the sunlight, it also brings a dose of certainty. Bills to pay. Decisions to make. Life, for whatever length I’m allowed, to keep zooming past me as I’m trying to keep up. I can't afford fairy tale dreams anymore.

My dreams of princes and castles in the sky have been replaced by cars with no brakes, falling while trying to run away, and searching endlessly for a faceless person.

Maybe the faceless person is me. I’m trying to find myself. Always. Like a game of chess; strategizing. Agonizing over every move to achieve victory. And just when I think I’ve got the game figured out…checkmate.


Regardless, it’s all part of a plan. Every moment in is merely a small piece to fit a larger puzzle. A trial, or a lesson meant to teach us to lean. Or be a rock for someone else. Sometimes it’s tiring to hold my chin up. To be strong. Some days I’d just like to curl up in a fetal position, in a quiet dark room, and cry for a while. A good, cleansing cry.

The hour is quiet now. And dark. Perhaps I should try and put my head down to try and dream again. I’d like to mentally regress for a brief time. When my mind didn’t carry the worries it does now. I’d like to see through my child eyes, picturing outer space…

Beyond my ceiling are shooting stars. I might not see them, but my imagination has painted them a breathtaking arc of light across a velvet midnight.

I have some wishes in mind.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Make it Count

Hello, Wednesday. Ahhhhh…you bring the promise of Friday in just two short days. Bless you hump day. Bless you.

The wind today is treacherous. I swear the moment I stepped outside I felt like it was gonna blow the skin right off my bones. I’m crossing my fingers that it will blow a huge, freezing, snowy blizzard smack dab into central Texas. In fact, I’d like for that to happen right now.

I’m waiting…

Well? (I'm not impatient or anything.)

Driving my car in it was quite a task, too. Not to mention the fear of driving next to a gargantuan eighteen wheeler carrying a load of chickens on their way to chicken heaven. His trailer was swaying all over the road and feathers were blowing everywhere. It looked a little bit like snow. But the smell…definitely not pure and delicate.

So, Old Man Winter, where are you? You’ve given us a few cold spells, but I’m ready for the kind of weather that turns my fingertips blue. The kind that requires a fabulous hat and scarf, and a trendy jacket. Maybe some matching boots. (Santa, I’m referring to the ones I mentioned in my earlier blog.)

I’m ready for a lit fireplace and a roaring, Arctic wind outside.

…sentimental and handcrafted ornaments adorning the tree
…the smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate drifting through the house
…baking cookies and homemade bread
...jingle bells heard through a crowded distance
…rosy children’s cheeks
...colorful wrapping paper
…Jim Reeves flowing from the stereo

Hmmm, sounds like I’m ready for Christmas.

The holiday spirit has soaked into my skin now. I’m looking at it very differently this year. Gift-giving aside, I will treasure the time I have with my family. What a comfort to sit in a room with the familiar smells and sounds of loved ones. One of my favorite quotes from a child: “Love is what’s in the room at Christmastime when everyone stops opening presents and listens.” Indeed.

I can’t wait for the Christmas Eve children’s program at church, followed by the candlelight service. And singing “Silent Night” in German. How special the privilege is to be alive to celebrate the birth of our Savior. He was/is/forever-will-be the promise of salvation and hope. My ultimate wish this year is for those who don’t know Him to discover His love.

Good luck to all of you out there who haven’t finished your shopping yet. I’m right there with you. My middle name should be “procrastination”. I hope while you’re mingling in the crowded chaos that you don’t forget to embrace the true reason for this season.

Don’t wait until the holiday to tell your loved ones how special they are. Hold them close – in your arms and in your heart. And cherish the time you have with them.

Count the moments that take your breath away. And make each moment count.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010


Whoa. Talk about a blast from the past. It's amazing the things you find...in the top of the closet...in your old bedroom...in your parents' house.

I wrote the following poem when I was sixteen.


When life is hard and your burdens are many
And an effort is needed to smile,
Remember to count your blessings;
Let God be in charge for a while.

Look for the silver lining that’s hiding
Behind those gray clouds in the sky.
Mr. Sunshine is waiting to pick up his brush
And paint a big rainbow up high.

Your feet might be bare on a road full of thorns;
Step wisely throughout the terrain.
Those rough spots are little reminders
Of the wisdom and knowledge you’ll gain.

So keep going when you feel like giving up
For your purpose is just up ahead,
Or around the corner and through the gloom;
You’ll find grace on the path you’ve been led.

You shall not falter and your steps will not fail
As you struggle uphill on the road.
The weight of the world is light as a feather,
For God helps to carry your load.

The poem might be over a decade old, but the message is timeless. Hopefully, I'll remember it when it counts.

Monday, December 13, 2010


Hello, Monday. Nice of you to show up again. You’re so thoughtful. And consistent.

But, really, it’s not a bad day today. Kind of laid back, which is a nice change from all of the past Mondays that seem to filter in every week. I’m doing my best to get back into my writing routine, since I have fallen short of my original goal of five times per week. I figured Monday is as good a place to start as any.

Hmmmm…what to write about today?

I think I will write about whiny children. I have no children of my own, which leaves me free to criticize the parenting style and misbehavior of others. Don’t hate. Trust me, no offense intended. I just think some parents ought to consider leaving the state of childhood before they partake in procreation. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Just putting that out there.

Case in point: Earlier this morning, I had the pleasure of being within earshot to a whiny child (guessing he was about five years old) who was pestering his mother for a cell phone. I’m picturing in my head some little navy and red plastic contraption with an emblem of Optimus Prime on it. But, I kid you not, the mother replied, “I know honey. You want an iPhone. We’ll see. You’ll have to ask Santa.” She did not sound put out, just resolved. The boy began to whine even more at this point – and the pitch of his mumbling kept climbing to an octave that I’m pretty sure only dogs could hear. I could detect a note of defeat in her voice as she tried to reason with him.

Who the hell is a kid that age gonna call? SpongeBob?

I don’t get it. This disturbs me. Greatly.

Can’t exactly blame the kids, though. One cannot make thieves and then punish them for the act of thievery. Parents, I blame you.

What you spoil your children with is your business. But it seems to me that today’s children have a supreme sense of entitlement. Society has allowed itself to gravitate away from fulfilling the emotional and disciplinary needs of children, and instead, is catering to their materialistic and self-rewarding behaviors.

Don’t spank your child anymore, because it teaches him to be violent. Really? I got spankings (ahem…a lot of them) growing up, and you don’t see me going around smackin’ people upside the heads (though sometimes I’d like to).

Don’t correct or punish your child because it might damage his psyche. Right. Instead, let him throw a fit until he gets his way. By all means, don’t instill in him the responsibilities of sharing with others, or being considerate of them. Or learning how to respect the concept of ‘no’.

And for Pete’s sake DON’T force him to go outside to play. Seriously. Let him stay indoors in front of the X-Box, Playstation, Wii and Nintendo, so that he never has to develop any skills at interacting creatively with other children. Or - **gasp** - get any exercise.

Oh, and make sure you don’t make an effort to actually be a parent. Concentrate on being your child’s friend instead. That’s way more important than being a leading example of authority or providing instruction to raising a levelheaded, well-rounded human being.

Okay…done venting. For the moment.

Growing up, the words ‘wait until your father gets home’ used to strike fear in my heart. And if my sister or I acted up in a public place, we were abruptly removed – usually with a harsh grip on the arm, or the threat of a belt across our rear ends when we got home. I didn’t necessarily get everything I wanted, but I never wanted for anything either. Mom and Dad were wise in the choices and decisions they made for my sister and me. I see the influence of that upbringing bleeding over into how my sister raises my niece. She is a fantastic mother, and Aislynn is a very well adjusted child. And smart. And kind. And loving. I hope that I do half as great a job with my kids if I’m ever blessed with the opportunity to become a mom.

So, back to the whole cell phone debacle…I guess I just fail to see where giving your children everything their hearts desire is a good thing. What happened to teaching a child to earn something? What happened to encouraging him to put forth an effort so that he may value his own integrity? What happened to letting kids be kids? They grow up too fast anyway.

As we advance in society, so do the mindset and expectations of its people – especially its children. I think it would do us a lot of good if we digressed a little to embrace a bit of old-fashioned parental management.

And SpongeBob, you really creep me out.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Fall Forward

“When at first you don’t succeed, try ‘try again’.” Common quote. Profound truism.

I’ve tried again a lot. And again. And a lot. Lately, I find that I am disappointed in the steps I’m taking. Am I on the right path? Hope so. I don’t think God would lead me somewhere He didn’t intend for me to go. Even if I stumble. And fall. Or fail.

I hold myself responsible for my failures. But it is in my failures that the thought of being defeated makes me work harder to overcome them. To move forward. Hence, the “try again.”

Everyone fails at one time or another. My failing experience has been a humbling one. Mostly because I was too busy riding my own personal high to stop and appreciate the lessons that helped me along the way. I forgot the people who carried me when I was weak…encouraged me when I doubted…caught me when I fell.

When we spend our time in the limelight, we are sometimes blinded by the glamour and promise of possibilities. Personally, I find that I get caught up in it from time to time, and begin to lose sight of the practical side of veracity. However, if that light shines on us long enough, we are forced to take a good, long look at ourselves – the mirror from which we cannot hide. The one that illuminates every imperfection, and magnifies every fault. Try as we may, the longer we look at those reflections, the fewer flaws we see. If we choose to see ourselves as God sees us, then we only see beauty. The shapes and distinguishing features blend together, producing a collage of value and worth.

Still, the imperfections and flaws are there; they are what make us unique. And real. And human.

Do I want to be perfect? No. Why would I want to subject myself to unfair expectations? Why would I want to paint myself in an unrealistic light? My lack of perfection enables me to keep trying. I take comfort in the fact that when I fail, no one notices but me. I don’t want a perfect existence. I want to hurt, and ache, and make mistakes, and make memories, and smile, and laugh, and love, and ride the roller coaster, and fly.

Will I fail sometimes? Undoubtedly. But that failure leaves me with a chance to do it all over again. A chance to fall forward.

So, why are we so hard on ourselves when we fail? We can’t win all the time. For every situation in life – be it a race, a job interview, a personal struggle – someone has to come in last. But being last is not always a bad place to be. Being last allows us to see what’s up ahead in the race. We get a hindsight view of those ahead of us who are creating a path for us to tread on with more ease. It is an opportunity to learn. And rest assured, even those last in the race have followers. It’s just not their time to run yet.

At the fear of failing, do we abandon our dreams? Do we stifle the yearning inside us because we are afraid of rejection? The only restrictions are those we place on ourselves. If we refuse to look beyond our own imaginations, and push our own boundaries, then we will never achieve the things of which we are capable. The things created to drive us to be extraordinary. No one is a failure in the eyes of God. He didn’t create us to fail, as we were created in His image. I can’t envision a more prolific opposite of failure than that.

Time to tighten up my laces and brave the dark and winding road again. My moment is still out there. I refuse to stop until I find it. With God as my guide, I may fall, but I will not fail.

It is in our darkest moments, that the dimmest light can sometimes produce a tenfold of hope. Hope leads to perseverance. Perseverance leads to self-discovery. Self-discovery leads to strength. And strength teaches us to reach into the depths of our characters to try again.

It is those moments when we try, that define us. We become more than human. We shed our own limitations, and become champions of our own souls.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Dear Monday, You Suck. That is All.

Sometimes all you need on a Monday is for it not to be Monday. I really can’t put my finger on why it’s so hard to recover from the weekend, thus embarking on the new week...in hopes of it being productive and fast-paced. And by fast-paced, I mean go by so fast that it’s Friday before you know it.

Today has been a blah kind of day. Really blah. Here is a grim list of my accomplishments so far (in order):

1. Woke up.
2. Worked on the computer.
3. Tried to go back to sleep.
4. Ate lunch.
5. Tried to go back to sleep again.
6. Was interrupted by countless things.
7. Worked on the computer.
8. Played with my niece.
9. Typed some emails.
10. Went back to sleep.
11. Woke up.
12. Worked on the computer.
13. Read another chapter of Decision Points.
14. Ate dinner.
15. Watched about 15 minutes of television.
16. Checked emails, played around on Facebook and surfed the web.
17. Now I’m typing this blog.

Soon, I will take my book to the bathroom, where I plan to submerge myself both back into another chapter and a tub full of scalding hot water.

I hate idle days. I’m not knocking the pleasure of having time to yourself, but when you have an active imagination (like I do) and overanalyze things (like I do), I find that I feel useless, inferior and unproductive. What makes me feel even worse is that my writer’s block has been defeated, and now I’m at a standstill as to which direction the story in my book will go. Essentially, I can write now, but I have to hold off. Which leads me to begin a new book (dare I say “possible series”?). And leaves me feeling like the one I’m currently writing is being neglected through procrastination – an art I’ve mastered on many occasions.

On top of all of that, I still have some major decisions to make, which I am avoiding. Mostly because I haven’t made up my mind yet. (See? Procrastinating again.)

Monday is supposed to be the first day of the workweek. If today is any indication of setting the pace for the remainder of my week, then I’m screwed. I’m in a funk today and just can’t seem to get out of it. And nothing - anywhere, any time or any place - on the planet, can slow down the week’s progression more than if you’re anticipating something. It’s like trying to focus on a mirage. I see it from a distance, and as I approach it, I realize I wasn’t nearly as close as I originally thought. Then I look up and see it again, and go a little further to reach it. And the cycle continues.

At the moment, the mirage is Tuesday. Let’s hope I can get to it easily, and that it will lead to Wednesday (and so on).

I think maybe we should revisit the notion of having eight days in a week. The eighth day would be reserved for whatever the imagination could produce…

Monday – the first day of the workweek, and the day we are most likely to have a heart attack (fact)
Tuesday – actually begin the workweek, and get on our knees to thank God that it’s no longer Monday
Wednesday – depression begins to wane as there are only two days left in the workweek
Thursday – aka Friday Eve, brain starts to perk up, producing hope and endorphins
Friday – pretend to work, and clock watch the entire day until 5pm
Funday – **insert whatever blows your hair back**
Saturday – need I say more?
Sunday – give thanks, rest, and prepare for another week

So, Dear Monday, I’m closing you down now. I know I’ll see you again in just six short days. You ever-reliable @#$%!

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Sound the Trumpet

Do you ever find yourself pondering the meaning of life? I do. There are endless songs, poems and odes written to describe what is deemed to be the unattainable answer by artists and philosophers alike.

For what purpose are we here? Is it to achieve the pinnacle of success as a person? Or as a child of God? Are we to use the talents we have been given to advance our own interests, or serve the Almighty by helping others? What are we to become as we establish our place in the world? Is it possible to do all of the aforementioned, and still maintain the faith and integrity of leading a Christian life?

A lot of questions, I know. Lately, though I’m in a great place in my journey, I find myself wondering what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life. God has blessed me with numerous talents, and not too long ago, I was modest in admitting that. Among the many things I love to do, and do well, are designing/painting/sketching, singing, playing the guitar/viola/violin/piano (more adept at some over others), and writing. I also love to make jewelry. And I can pick up objects, open/close doors, and pinch people with my long toes. Not a talent mind you, but a still a freakish quirk to be proud of.

So where does that leave me? One can't ride two horses at once, and sometimes I feel like I’m trying to ride an entire herd. What irritates me even more is that I’m ashamed for it to be a problem I have, as I know there are others out there who are struggling just to make it down a single path in life. I’m through questioning whether or not I’m deserving of good things happening to me. God is responsible for that, and I will most certainly be thankful for my gifts. And at the same time, I’ve dealt with a lot of heartache to get to these good moments. Maybe we’re all due for a break now and then.

It’s all give and take, ebb and flow. For everything positive, there has been a negative. Some of which have occurred in the past. Others recently. Retrospectively, for every negative, there has been a positive.

I can’t help but think that all of these encouraging moments and opportunities in my life are leading up to something of a grander nature. Do I want my name in the marquis lights? Not really. But, I would like to know that I have the abilities to put it there if I so desire. I don’t aim to be famous. I do aim to make something of myself. An honest version of what’s inside me. No smoke and mirrors. Something I’m proud of. Something that lets my parents know that they raised me right. Most of all, I aspire to honor the skills that God has given me, for I would be nothing and nowhere without Him.

Coming back to my original question…what is the meaning of life? Everyone has his version of what that entails. For some people, it’s the designer clothes, car, house and salary. For others, it is to raise a family and grow old with their significant other. And still others are satisfied with the simple things, like a hot cup of coffee in the morning, or listening to the evening wind rustle the leaves in the trees. For a select few, it’s accepting a wholesome life in the Spirit, teaching and guiding others. There is no greater sacrifice, than giving of oneself to lead others to salvation through Christ.

I’d like to think I’m able to obtain a combination of all of the above...financially successful, but humbled by my upbringing…love another with all of my heart, and create a lifelong legacy through raising our children…and remember to stop and smell the roses…all while being a faithful servant to the Lord, and a good Christian example to those in my life.

Perhaps the secret of life is simple. To me, it’s just simply living - every single day, being truly happy with who you are, and making a difference in the world. That world may be as small as a family unit, or beyond the boundaries of our imaginations.

Years ago when I was a little girl, I had a black and white poster, showing the progression of a gosling growing into a graceful swan. At the bottom of that poster was what remains one of my favorite quotes to this day: "What you are is God's gift to you. What you become is your gift to God." (Hans Urs von Balthasar)

Even now as I sit here and type this, I’m reminded of my ‘ugly duckling’ days. That was then. This is now. I'm ready to embrace the beauty in life; the ‘swan' that God put inside me.

What will I become? It’s time to sound my trumpet and spread my wings.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

31 Wishes

Dern it. I was going to go to bed until I realized that I didn’t post anything for today. Since it’s now after 11pm, I’m going to have to make this a quick post.

And since it is December 1st, and there are 31 days in the month, I’m going to compile a wish list of things I would like to see happen in this month...

1. A pair of Cotton Bowl tickets randomly show up to my house. For me.
2. The fat on my ass and thighs to magically melt off just in time for me to wear a fabulous little black dress for New Year’s Eve.
3. Get invited to a New Year’s Eve party.
4. Have a date to that party.
5. Wear my new Sperry-Topsider Chatsworth winter boots somewhere (see above photo). I think they’re worth “chatting” about.
6. Buy another pair of fun boots, just because I need a variety from which to choose.
7. Impeach Obama. And have Joe Biden resign, ‘cause I don’t want him in office either.
8. Live.
9. Win the lotto.
10. Seriously.
11. Throw away my ratty, old socks and stop saving old t-shirts I don’t need or no longer wear.
12. Do something nice for a total stranger.
13. Hope they return the favor for someone else.
14. Be semi-good on my diet.
15. Blow it completely when I indulge (and indulge I intend) in my family’s traditional tamales on Christmas Eve.
16. Learn to make my Nana’s homemade bread and cinnamon rolls – the real old-fashioned way – from scratch.
17. Laugh hysterically. A lot.
18. Not jump off a cliff when I’ve completed my December blogging challenge.
19. Finish paying for my genuine Dali lithograph. Can’t. Wait. To hang it. After I finish decorating my new office. In the house I will move into soon...
20. Appreciate each day of being blessed with my health.
21. Pray for those who are struggling with illness, hardships, loss, or just need to find a renewed sense of their faith.
22. Clean out my storage unit.
23. Not complain while doing it.
24. Attend Christmas Eve candlelight service at church.
25. Remember to thank God above for sending His Son, so that I have a chance at a beautiful life.
26. Not kill those who text and drive. That is difficult for me.
27. Get my dad on Facebook.
28. Spoil myself with a Kindle or an iPad. (Though, winning the lotto is probably more likely.)
29. Remind my loved ones of how special they are to me, and how much I treasure them.
30. Update my bucket list.
31. Love.

That’s it. Short and sweet. Have to go got bed now. Need my energy to shop online for that pair of Sorel Joan of Arctic Snow boots I want. Color Shale. Size 10. If anyone needs an idea for Christmas. **wink, wink**

Ha! Look at that, I’ve already implemented wish no. 17.