Can You Imagine the Silence


a wonder of wonders spread before

a chorus of life lifting praise

a waft of beauty rampant in curling petals

lips, silent and learning, always learning

for speaking changes everything



Can You Imagine the Silence

if we knew the power of our words?

Ordering someone to “go to hell!”

What if we were opening the door,

pushing them through?

Or gossiping about another,

tearing them down,

insulting them from a safe distance,

making them sick or depressed

or increasing their illness?

You may laugh and say,

“that’s just silly,” …

but how do you know?

Words can fill with love,

or curse with hate.

Watch the other person,

when you tell them in person,

“you look like shit today.”

Watch the pain cross their face.

See the hurt lower their strength.

Watch them wilt like a dying flower…

right in front of you…

and then tell me… words have no power.



Dead Sea Scrolls

A Messianic Apocalypse

Fr. 7
… [the ear]th and all that is on it; and the sea [and all that is in it] and all the ponds of water and rivers who are doing good before the Lor[d] … … like those who curse and are (destined) for death [when] the Lifegiver will raise the dead of His people. And we will thank and proclaim to you the righteousness of the Lord, who …


In An Instant


beauty and death swirled into one

the light a pale kiss upon deep magenta veins

the Creator’s design to teach us Hope

for life is evolving in front of our eyes

one minute opening like a slow dance

the next withering into a curl of loss

darkening into dried silken ash

but before falling softly to the ground

another slow dance peels open God’s heart

blossoming into Hope in an instant

Fall is here…



My internet has been down… due to me FIRING Centurylink… they suck! 

So I’ve been gone for some time, flying mostly anyway, and not spending any time at all writing here… but what I did do… is lay down some rules for the month of October…

While my internet is down, I WILL FINISH my latest work of art, my novel, A Hot Mess of Murder… BEFORE November 1st… when Nanowrimo starts up again, and I have to start a whole new novel.

Therefore, I probably won’t post much here, but I did need to post this, to MAKE myself keep to my goals. This novel was created for the most part 2 years ago, and then life took over. Mostly, my new life as a paraglider!  GAWD… I cannot get enough. Writing just got thrown to the wayside.

Anyway, I just wanted to pop in, and say… HELLO, MISSED YOU ALL, and SEE YA SOON….


He’s Coming


He’s coming…

and I think the day will begin like this; glorious light, beauty spread wide, birds calling softly in the background while the earth settles into silence. The breeze will taste like springtime, the scents of a million flowers wafting by, while our brains begin to assimilate, our heads lift upward instinctually, searching for answers.

The sound of music, led by trumpets, begins to travel across the sky, matching the path of blazing clouds.

The brightness of His Holiness will blind us, and we will be forced to look away… kneeling… one… by one…

by one… and then we will hear His Voice… His Voice… for the first time…

Hallelujah… I can’t wait… 



So, here’s my question for you all today….

Is it possible we can ‘earn’ immortality?

Or… for the other side of the coin; could we ‘evolve’ into it, on our own?

Someone mentioned it, and I can’t stop thinking about it. So here’s my thoughts, don’t forget to share yours.

On the one hand, there is a God, but scripture’s say it is not the deeds you do, it is the love you have inside for God, everything else, everyone else, that gets you into heaven… the eternal mortality that God offers is the goal; the bait; the one thing you do not have here on Earth. You’ve experienced love, been loved (hopefully) by at least one other being in your life, so maybe a new Daddy figure isn’t something you feel you need. But to live forever… FOR EVER?  It would be cool and boring, probably at the same time, and if everyone you loved wasn’t immortal, it would be amazing yet incredibly sad. But think about it, if we all lived forever, here on Earth, we would be wall to wall people… the planet couldn’t support us all… it would be much like it is now, with a lot more starvation thrown in. A lot.

But what if immortal doesn’t mean with your current body? What if immortal is impossible with our body?

Would you want it with your soul? Would you want it if they told you your brain went with it?? Or I should say, your mind? How about your heart; your love? Your feelings??  Wouldn’t you need all these things, for immortality to work? So where do our thoughts, feelings and love come from, if not our soul? Our brain tells our lungs to breathe; but what tells your lungs to hold your breath when you kiss? Or swim? Or blow up a balloon? This is your mind, not your brain. This is you… part of your soul. It floods you with warmth when you’re happy, and it chills you when someone you love dies. It rises up to sing with your favorite song. It explodes in your heart when you hold your child for the first time forcing you to cry with joy.

All this … does it go with your soul? Of course. It is your soul. This is what will become immortal with God. You. Your essence. Your entire soul. And from what I hear, you get the coolest set of WINGS to boot! So in some way… they have to be attached to you…. so you must end up with a body of some sort…right??? 

Now we go to the evolving aspect. It must be possible, somewhere, somehow, because we know how DNA works. Say you’re the one being on a planet who’s DNA alters just enough to where your cells never die, they just recycle themselves in some way… yes you would be the first…

but think about it… out of the BILLIONS of species on this planet, I would guess ALL of them… ALL of them have NEVER ONCE had their genes mutate into immortality. Are WE humans really that special that our DNA would suddenly evolve in a different way than every other species on this planet? If you believe in evolution, you also believe that something had to have seeded this planet with life, ie, bacteria from asteroids…etc.

That being said, literally, anything is possible. We know so little about our lives, our bodies, the world… the universes… it’s embarrassing really. But, we have only been around for about 10,000 years. Compare that to …. frogs… and you’d be blushing again, they’ve been around for over 200 million years…. so lets pick something younger in eon terms… how about a simple rose…. not even close, they’ve been around for about 35 million years… I could go on… my point… we are the youngest species on this planet. With maybe 10 other exceptions, mostly crap our lab tech’s have grown.. that they shouldn’t have!

There are also a few worms, flies and brine shrimp that can all go into suspended animation… the brine can survive up to 10,000 years… add water, and bam, you’ve got brine shrimp… but that’s only suspending life, not living eternally… and well, they’re bugs ya’ll!  Bugs! lol they don’t even know what being alive is.

So the chances that we could alter ourselves into immortality is pretty ridiculous. The fact that we don’t even understand HOW our cells know when to change, or why… or what made that protein decide to turn on a switch… folks… we don’t know SHIT!  OK! We only know the obvious, and that’s about .0000009% of what we need to know.

So my view is obvious… unless you’re severely slow you’ve figured it out by now… I say, go with God! He’s your best bet at becoming immortal! I truly don’t see us, a bacteria ourselves, evolving into anything as spectacular as an immortal being! But you will never earn it, with good deeds. You just have to LOVE!!! And it’s so easy to love God, and everything and everyone else… try it sometime.

Just go one day… where every single thing you see, every person, dog, flower… from the mailman to the boss you hate every other day… and be kind to them. Show them love.  And SEE what happens. Maybe nothing, maybe not… either way, sit back and FEEL what you did.

ENJOY that feeling of peace and happiness that your entire body has been tricked into feeling! Sink into it. Each time you are kind, people usually show you thanks, or love…. each time you reach out and touch someone physically, you are giving love, and USUALLY you will get love back. (now don’t be getting all pervy… lol) JUST TRY IT!!! And you will see… that feeling this way… is the GREATEST thing on earth. Right up there with the immortality you are going to experience!!


So… Congrats to me!

anniversary for blog, started in 2012


Evidently March of 2012 I started this blog, and have managed to keep it going for 4 years! Congrats to ME! lol You have to understand, being ADHD, this is quite the feat. I normally last about 2 years doing anything, before I’m bored and move on. This includes any type of exercise, sex, work, or play I get involved in. I’m not joking in the least, most of life has come and gone for me. I’ve lived in 10 different states, and only plan on leaving here… for Alaska… but still haven’t talked my self into that one… it would be a one way trip, I’m sure. lol  I’ve had so many different types of employment, from military to factory worker to secretary to field geologist, security officer…hahaha… to property manager, postal worker…eeeek….and that’s just what I can think of off the top of my pointy head… good Lord!… not counting motherhood of course… and I can’t remember how many there are… at least 20 or some awful amount I‘m sure.  My running record is 3 years max at any one job. Well, other than writing, of course. I mean a job that pays!

And you know what, I could care less that I don’t have a huge pension coming from some company I slaved at for 30 years… doing the same damn thing over and over and over again….by now I would have blown my head off! Jumped off a tall building, something… to bring life into me. ha!  I say congrats to all of you who have managed to do this… I wish you luck… and a happy retirement.  But for me… I LIVE FOR TODAY BABY!

I spend all my extra money on playing, because saving more than $5000 is ridiculous in my book. Money is always losing value, you can’t trust the stock market, or bonds even… so I say “have a blast”!

Anyway, sorry, got distracted there…hahaha I said ADHD!!!

So, managing to keep this blog up and running… well, I have to say… I owe it all to you! All of YOU!!! out there, who comment sincerely, I love you all!!

I also thank GOD, YHVH, The One and Only, for inspiring me to start it, and gives me the words when I ask. He gives me ALL my poetry for Him, even helps me write other stories, He inspires my stained glass, and steadies my hand for photography, but mostly… HE GIVES ME PEACE AND JOY!!!  Like nothing else I’ve ever found.

You ALL make my day! You give me inspiration! and you give me FRIENDSHIP I can’t find anywhere else!


Another day… another try.


A gentleman walks by me, pleasant as pie, smiles and says “Mornin’”. The green dress clashes terribly a in huge fashion faux pas by partnering it with dirty brown Muck Lucks; white tube socks rolled to the knee cap. He’s a regular, and likes to chat a bit. One hand gently pressed against his lower lip as he waits for my response. Today his nails are black, but only a misshaped swampy island in the center of each.

“How’s it going?” My smile stiffens as I realize what I just said. To me, that’s like saying “hello”. With friends, it’s a real question, but acquaintances, not so much. It’s habit. I wish I was hiding under one. Tonight I’m tired. Didn’t get even an hours’ sleep. My back hurts. I’m just not in a good mood.

I try to lighten lives every day, thinking by sharing one tiny personal bit of info with another person, it shows they are not alone. I’ve done this my entire life, ever since a friend of mine died when we were young. It ended up being a freak accident. But suicide had been a topic we were all interested in at the time, I can’t remember why, but maybe it was just our age. My friend had written something and it grew into my roots. “If just one person had acted like I mattered, anyone, I wouldn’t have done it.”

Sitting on her bed, as I read her diary, she’d written a suicide note just weeks before, getting ready. She’d changed her mind; I never new why, but she didn’t do it. Just the idea of it, hurt my soul. I thought her life was fine. I also thought I was her friend, her good friend. Yet I had no idea she was contemplating suicide. I’d heard her say many times, that she felt alone in school, at home, even when she was out with friends. She felt apart, somehow. We always seemed to have fun, to me.

It stayed with me, became part of me, became a first response for me. I’ve always joked with people, strangers, friends… always. I love to laugh. And for the most part, I take the time to listen to people, even when they’re ranting, because everyone needs to be heard.

So the gentleman smirks, and launches into his latest problem; he needs a new razor blade for his electric razor, which I know instantly we only carry the cheap plastic emergency kind in the store. His full beard is at least an inch long, so I grin and say, “Well, I guess you’ll just have to become a Quaker.”

His giggle becomes a twitter and I try to make my escape. Three more times he comes to the counter and pulls out the hair and grease filled razor, showing me the old blade, in the hopes that new ones will magically appear. Each time my skin crawls at the nasty wad of pubes still stuck inside.

His last trip to the counter was timed to coincide with an empty store. Razor now back in the bag over his wrist, he says to me, “I want you to know I appreciate the fact that I never get the “judgy” tone from you. You talk to me like I’m “normal”. I just wanted to say thanks.” He was blushing a lovely shade of apricot, his eyes sparkled in the bright light.

I said, “The day I become perfect, is the day I will judge you. And you are normal. You are more normal than a lot of people I know.” For someone who was almost six feet tall, he ducked his head down so low I couldn’t see his eyes any longer, but his hand darted out and squeezed mine quickly before he left the store at a run.

I smiled, feeling good for a moment, and thought, “Now, how will I break it to him that the Muck Luck’s make him look like Grandma Eskimo!”

Another day… another try.

Without Rest


yes the love of writing

layers upon my soul

the petals of a rose

could never the less pull

my heart spilled in a mess

letters dancing without rest

a ballet of pages swirl

with grace faintly blessed

one voice tipping the right

another swaying low

flying across a stage

in my life merely billow

back around growing light

a moshing of thoughts flow

from rainbow shades of hope

to a whirlpool of sorrow

tinted words twirl wildly

my mind a flowing banshee

a pirouette of fonted words

plie’ding to be set free

A Trillion Stars…


a trillion stars in the night sky

ticking along in their own time

managed to time to


a massive star

on the day of His birth


a blood red moon

on the day of His death


yet still you question


this massive star

moved south leading

learned men on

and then stopped


moving in retrograde


this blood red moon

began three hours before

Yeshuah’s death

was full on red

as Yeshuah died

and gone three hours after


and still you question


why did God make the heavens?

for us to worship… love… gaze at?

NO! They are HIS CLOCK! His Massive FATHER CLOCK!

They show us exact moments in time when we should celebrate, rest, honor Him,

and follow His timeline for us.

DID YOU KNOW that in 3AD… Jupiter was amazingly bright as it moved directly south from Nazareth, leading the Magi to Jerusalem, then retrograde for some time, hovering straight above “where the child was”, before moving backwards.  At the same time, the moon was sitting directly below the constellation Virgo! Giving rise to a NEWLY BIRTHED MOON!

DID YOU KNOW that in 33AD… there was a full eclipse, bringing out the stars at noon and turning the moon blood red at 3 pm, approximately the time Yeshuah took his last breath?? The moon that day rose with an eclipse already started from below the horizon. And of course you’ve heard of the massive earthquake that rocked the entire area, including the temple, ripping the veil in half.   

It’s like GOD placed a giant sized map up there for us, and is just waiting for us to see it… for the first time.

These astrological events are from written documents and scientific histories of the time…

not the Holy Bible or DSS or Tanakh!!!


NaNoWriMo Time…

point b

National Novel Writing Month is here again….November; the month where us crazy writers get together to try and pound out 50,000 words towards a new novel in under 30 days. We meet all over the place to write together, in cafe’s, bar’s, hotel’s, doing silly shit to keep ourselves focused on writing. It’s fun, for writers. We also get to meet new authors, and hang with our buds.

So we’ll see how far I get this year.  I’ve written three novels this way, this year is my fourth, but I don’t have the advantage I had last year, which strangely enough I just happened to be at home sick with pneumonia for the first 10 days last year, and ended up writing around 70,000 words total.

This year I’m working on a story about a boy who heads off into the wild to escape his worthless parents, bullies at school, etc., thinking living on his own in the wilds of Canada will be better than what he’s dealt with for 12 years. This year, I am not centering my novel around God, like I did the first two years, but in this one I plan to have God be there, but I want the story to deal with honor instead. Honor, which seems to be missing completely from our children’s lives these days, and only seen in very rare instances. But I also see it vanishing with people my age, as I have witnessed so many people who climb over their coworkers, right up their backs… that they have previously stabbed, to get to the top of that ladder they think is so damn important. I’m really disgusted with that, and tend to be a total bitch when I see it happen.

I know most of you know I am a very outspoken person, but I rarely set out to completely shut someone up, really!!  lol  It isn’t something I do very often or plan on. But when someone comes up to you and starts bitching you out for something you have no control over, well, I’m not one to stand there apologizing like a carpet. I will start the sentence out, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that…” and then continue on nicely but very sarcastically, “but really, do I look like I have any control over that? Do you really think bitching me out is going to get you anywhere?”  And lol, yes, that’s what I say! I’m the nicest person you will ever meet, and if you ask me for anything nicely I will go out of my way to help you. And everyone I work with knows this. BUT you come at me yelling, or even swearing, something I do all the time… NOT at work, and I will NOT allow you to continue on. I have a sailor’s mouth, and if I’m at work and someone comes at me swearing, the first thing out of my mouth is, “You can either stop swearing right now or there’s the door.” My boss has heard me reprimand a customer, and grinned at me afterwards. He’s great. He doesn’t allow anyone to talk to us like that, and in our field there are a lot of jerks out there.

I deal with a lot of cranky people, who will just vomit their shit on the first person they see, which is me a lot of the time. And even in that, I find there is little honor in people. They think that just because they are having a shit day, that they have a RIGHT to bitch out others, even when they have nothing to do with the reason this moron is screaming. That is having NO RESPECT for others. And this makes me so angry. They state ‘its freedom of speech’ but I think it’s more just being an asshole, and using that for an excuse. There is no honor in treating others like crap. There is no honor in disrespecting anyone!!!

And yet I see it nonstop, all day long, some days every other person. It’s just disgraceful. It’s not being kind, or even polite. And I’m talking disrespect for races, gender, sexual orientation, job description, place you live, people who drive red vehicles, versus purple or green mind you, it’s just fucking ridiculous!!! It’s a never ending crap fest out there folks… and… it makes me crazy…… aaaaaaaaaa.     

I don’t know… but is it just me, or are people getting ruder and ruder in public. It’s not just disrespecting others… it’s like we no longer have any honor! Honor in our daily work ethic, or honor in being proud to be kind, or a gentleman, or lady. I got nothing against the business types, cowboys, rockers, goth’s or hippies or bikers or truckers or jocks or whatever anyone wants to be…. but in ALL those styles, or groups, you can have honor in everything you do daily. No matter who you are or what you do with your life… you can do it with dignity and honor!

So once again… I’m sorry to admit, after not writing much at all this summer, I will be writing away on this story and probably won’t post much.

so SORRY, SORRY in advance…. but I will try to post a few things, in case one of you out there is actually reading my blog. lol

God Bless all of you, and try to remember NOT to do what I do, which is get myself in trouble daily with the Lord. You cannot imagine the number of times a day I need to ask for forgiveness!!!!!! LMAO  Have a great day all!

Deb 🙂

Thanks wordpress!

spider and flies and house

Have you all noticed… actually registered in your mind… how as you stroll through the myriad of others’ blogs, absorbing their takes on life and what is happening in their lives…. that your brain is triggered into inspiration???

I find being on wordpress has literally expanded not only my knowledge of events and life around the globe… but I am inspired daily by you all!!! New ideas come flooding into my mind as I read through everyone else’s blogs. It is making me a better writer!!

I think maybe for just a second or two … we should all stop what we’re doing… and think about life before the internet… as writers; were you all writing daily, in your own way… or were the dreams of writing hidden behind the rest of your life?

Until one day… bamm…. you discover wordpress… and began for the first time to really express your inner thoughts and desires… to have a voice… even if only one other person hears it…

I truly believe that the internet is bringing us closer as a global species… yet farther away as a family. We spend hours glued to laptops reading and watching others living life… missing out on moments with the lives in the next room… to draw closer to the world as a whole.

Maybe a hundred years from now, if we haven’t blown ourselves to bits, we can look back and say… this saved the planet. This… communication on a mass scale from every corner or round spot on the planet to every dip and dimple. Surely now… we will realize how we are all the same… all human… all hurt… all need love…

But I love being inspired with new ideas each day, even if I don’t have time to write about them.

So THANKS WORDPRESS… well done! and thanks to all the other writers, artists, photographers, and crazy people who inspire us all!



“I HATE ALL Muslims!” the 70 year old loudly boasted. “We should BLOW them off the PLANET!”

I simply asked, “So, are you a Christian?” I left out 5 minutes of the previous conversation, due to his point being long lost, and trampled under several other nasty racist-bigot type remarks.

He blinked in surprise, at my change in subject, but said stubbornly, “Sometimes!”

“Sometimes?” I asked. “When you meet God, and He says, “Did you believe in me… you’re gonna say “SOMETIMES?”

Yes, the sarcasm dripped all over the counter, but I didn’t care. I absolutely loose my mind when ANYONE claims to be a Christian in one breath and says they HATE in another! I’m sorry, I apologize, but I become the biggest shit you ever laid eyes on.

“You think GOD’S gonna LET YOU IN … SOMETIMES?”

The man was just like a million others I have to listen to daily, those who are usually between 60 and death, the elder generation, who are still prejudiced and racist and whatever you want to call religious-ists… they’re like religious racists. Not just BIGOTS, but viscous in their hate! And frankly I am sick and tired of them running our country…. straight into the ground… not only in politics, but in real life. EVERYDAY life. They are always there, in the background, spouting their shit… dragging an entire population down with their crap. Their UNACCEPTANCE… their UNFORGIVING ways… they need to move on, let it go, and let the rest of us get along.

“COME INTO THE 21ST CENTURY!!!” I said louder than I probably should have… but when this man turned to another man to continue with his rant, I turned to my coworker and said in the same loud voice, “THAT’S what I hate,” I said. He paused in his rant, as the man he was talking to turned to look back at me. I went on, “… people who CLAIM to be a Christian, a FOLLOWER of JESUS, who was ALL ABOUT LOVE, tell me they HATE AN ENTIRE POPULATION OF PEOPLE! PEOPLE THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW!”

Thankfully, the old man got my point, that I was clearly done with him and his opinions, and walked away to bother another customer. We walked past each other a while later, and he couldn’t look me in the eye. He started to, but turned abruptly.

That’s when I knew… maybe he was actually thinking about what I said. I didn’t care if he continued spouting his shit, or if he walked away and thought about it deeply. All I cared about was making him stop long enough to think about what he was saying at that moment. Spraying evil, all around… and CLAIMING to be a Christian.

That’s the kind of person who makes all Christians look bad, and drives new believers away. That’s what I hate!

A True Christian

01 DuBois Falls

I realized something this morning, as I watched a video or two of Hillsong United. The first video showed them playing a concert somewhere in India (I think) and the massive audience was singing along with the song, as if they’d sang it a million times before. Then I watched them singing “Touch the Sky” in Spanish, as it looked like they were playing somewhere in Mexico or Brazil. Even in Spanish, everyone in the audience was singing along, praising God… It was Beautiful!

And for the first time, I realized how music is spreading the Word of God, the Love for God, across the globe. Being in America, we tend to think we ARE the Christian base, the Christian believers of the world. But missionaries have been spreading the word for centuries, all across the world. It made me tear up, watching them singing such a beautiful song, completely in Spanish. It sounded wonderful. And the love and joy they were feeling is clearly visible.

During both video’s they were showing at different times the conditions these people were living in, the trash dumps, tiny one room shacks with sheets for walls, the flies in their eyes, even one woman was living in a giant cement pipe used for sewage, but empty at the time, and lying somewhere in a desert town; here toddler runs to her as she sits in the shade of the pipe. And my heart is breaking, knowing these people are just barely living, barely alive, without food, without even a box for a home, just barely surviving on the edge of life…. and here we sit, eating fattening cheeseburgers and pizza, living in giant new homes, palaces to them… talking on our phones, and complaining the service isn’t fast enough and our electric bills are our of control.

And yet, it isn’t our fault we were born here, in the luxury of the US. It isn’t our fault that we have school systems in place to teach our children, and libraries to learn from, or parents with the ability to take care of us until we can take care of ourselves. YES, none of that is our fault, or our choice. We were born into it.

But can you even wrap your mind around the thought that someone else was born into poverty… like none you have ever seen? No home, no clothes, eating dirt to fill your empty cramping painful stomach, no water unless you drink the gray and brown puddle that’s been shit in by a cow or goat, or human. Such utter poverty that you scour through a dump site looking for a bent fork to bend back into shape and sell for less than a penny to get a teaspoon of rice to eat. Or find a dirty stained shirt to wear, because yours no longer has sleeves or is the same shirt you wore for 5 years and it’s too small for you or in filthy tatters.

No. You can’t imagine it, not until you see it live. Or live it. Just the simple idea that you have a flower in your yard to gaze at, one you may have planted yourself, and the poorest of the poor have never seen a flower. They see dirt, for miles on end, nothing but dirt; dirt and sand, blowing in the wind, into your eyes, covering your body, and they have never even seen a single flower. Because where there is no water, there are no flowers. Or food, or weeds, or herbs, or trees. Nothing, but pain, hunger, thirst, cold nights and baking hot days, and no home to go to. No parents to help. And certainly no government that will help you in any way.

That is what they live with daily. What they survive. Could you survive that?? Could I??

This is what God meant when He said “Take care of the poor!”

The true poor. Not some woman or man who is too lazy to support themselves and lives off welfare so they don’t have to work, stating they can’t work because no one will hire them, or they have back problems, or allergies, or whatever lame excuse they come up with. They are only poor in spirit. They have no idea what it is like to be truly poor. Plus here, they will not go without food. Even our poorest of the poor can walk to a soup kitchen, or get get food stamps, or stay in a shelter if there is room, and be fed. Yes we have poor people who are starving and homeless, but they can find food if they aren’t too messed up on drugs or alcohol to get it. Being homeless is a far greater issue, once in a while it is due to choice, but for the most part if they choose to, they can work their way back to a poor existence, one where they have some sort of shelter and money for food.

I myself have been poor for as long as I can remember. But I never go without a job or food, and I may live in a crappy trailer, but it has a roof and bathroom and running water that spews out of a faucet, so I don’t have to walk miles to get it. Or boil it just to drink it. I have always considered myself monetarily poor, but never truly poor. That is a whole new level I am thankful I will never have to endure. Because I live here. Because I have parents who would still take care of me if I needed help. Cousins, Uncles, Brothers and Sisters too. All who I could contact if I needed to for help.

The true poor have no one. NO ONE BUT YOU and GOD!

So the next time you are on your cell phone, and can’t upload your favorite song, that you are willing to spend $5.00 for…. think about the people around the world who could feed their entire family for that measly $5.00…. and do something about it! YOU CAN LIVE without it. THEY CANNOT!!!!!!


Left Behind


He kicked the dirt, lost his grip on Spiderman and sat on a low rock. Spiderman was upside down straddling a Fir twig, but he didn’t care. He was tired of walking. He could see better now that the shade had reached him. The river was gone. It was quiet now, only rocks and trees to talk to. “Dad said he’d be right back,” he told the SpongeBob shaped rock. “Mom is at Uncle Joe’s house, giggling and spilling her lemonade, and PaPa is selling his car to Miss Sippi.” He pulled a twig out of his shoe and stretched over to pick up Spiderman. He stood up and squeaked out “DADDY” as loud as he could, then moaned. “Lets go back, no one’s here Spidey.”

The trail wound back into the woods, and he recognized a gnarly old tree a while later. Then came the little cave he’d crawled into earlier, only to crawl back out when a chipmunk chased him out. He kept going, down, across a small hill and there was the river again. He picked up a dead tree branch and banged it against a giant root, raw without it’s bark, echoing loudly even with the river rushing by. “Daddy!” No answer came.

He’d been talking on his phone, one hand deep in his front pocket, pacing between the trees. His front teeth chewed at the hair below his lower lip, as he glanced in all directions, like he was searching for someone. Wyatt had heard him say, “Even if I leave now, I can’t make it in time… Fuck Me!”

They’d been camping down river for two weeks, and he’d watched his Dad toss his pole in the river, letting it and the fish go when his phone rang. He’d came back over, squatted down to look him in the eye, and had said, “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere, you hear?” “Yes, sir,” and Daddy was jogging down the trail along the river, back to their tent, Wyatt thought. But that was hours ago. His stomach grumbled again, and Spiderman was tired of fishing.

He picked up his pole, tucked Spiderman in his sweatshirt pocket in front, and started down the trail to their tent. It got dark before he reached it, but he knew where it was. He lit the lantern, just like his Dad had showed him how to, and sat inside the tent. He zipped it up, just in case a bear was around, and pulled out the loaf of bread and the jar of peanut butter. He didn’t need a knife, just his finger to dig it out and smear it around. He wolfed it down. Dug out more peanut butter with his fingers. He guzzled at the half empty water bottle lying by his sleeping bag. Then slowly, as he counted out the number of frog “Ribbit’s” he heard, he fell asleep.

All the food was gone in four days; he’d drank all the water and milk and had started in on his Dad’s beer. He felt funny, but lying on his sleeping bag under the stars, he just smiled to himself and looked up. Spiderman was lying on his chest, watching too. They were both covered in filth. But he was the only one with streaks of grime down his cheeks. Spiderman still grinned with large black eyes. One of his feet was missing though, and this upset him greatly. They’d looked for it for hours today. Long enough he’d actually forgot about Daddy for a while. His stomach hurt, so he turned over and curled up, with Spiderman lying next to him, he could just feel the one foot poking him in the side.

He woke up slowly. Wiped sweat off his face and sat up slowly, his head throbbing. Spiderman was face down in the dirt so he picked him up and said in a small voice, “I don’t feel so good.” He stepped into the river’s edge taking three small steps and sat down in the cool rushing water. It felt so good he shivered. He stuck Spiderman in between his knees, pulled off his sweatshirt and threw it back into the dirt on the bank. One arm trailed into the water. He pretended he had a washrag and began to wash himself off. After his face was done he held onto Spiderman and leaned back into the water, to get his hair wet. He scrubbed at his hair with his hand and Spiderman’s two raised hands, then sat back up, shaking his head like a dog.

A sharp crack of a branch startled him. Right behind him, it seemed. He stood up and looked at the trees, the trail, from the river on one side all the way around to the river again and didn’t see anything. Then another loud crunch sounded and he stepped out of the water and froze. The bushes next to their tent wiggled and shivered.

“Where is your Daddy?”

Wyatt whispered, “I don’t know,” as Spiderman came up in front of him to be molded into his chest. Nothing could hurt him with Spidey there.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes. What’s your name?”

“You can call me Leo. It’s short for Leonardo.”

“Like the Ninja?” Wyatt’s eyes were wide open now. He stepped toward Leo, not afraid in any way. Leo met him half way and took his left hand.

“A bit.” Leo led him to the camouflaged tent. “Anything in there you need?”

“I don’t know.” He crawled in anyway, looked around blankly. His bag of clothes was spilled open, so he changed his shorts and found his Hulk sweatshirt to pull on, leaving his wet stuff behind and tucking Spiderman into the front pocket that was his usual resting place. He didn’t bother with Underoos or socks, just slid his feet into his river shoes. He noticed his special pocket knife lying in the dirt and grabbed that, stuffing it into one of his short’s pockets.

“Do you have anything to drink?” Wyatt asked as they walked around the trunk of a huge Cedar. Leo was holding the arm of a long sticker bush up so Wyatt could walk underneath it without getting scratched. Wyatt couldn’t stop looking up at Leo. He stumbled, not noticing they weren’t on a trail of any kind, just making their way through the forest in an easterly direction.

“Not here.” He pulled an orange out and handed it to Wyatt. He bit it like an apple and spit out the first bite. Then he ripped it in half just like the Hulk would, and started sucking.

“Mmmn, oh hey, mmmn.” He swallowed loudly, licked his lips in a sloppy circle. When he was done ripping all the chunks out and slurping them down, he tossed the rind and wiped his hands off on his sweatshirt. He stopped walking and asked,”Can you help me find my Daddy?” Leo stopped walking and bent down to look Wyatt in the eye.

“Your Daddy can’t be found. Your Mommy ran off to Vegas with her pimp, and your PaPa was in a car accident.” He watched Wyatt’s face go from open and adventurous to frozen, just blank. Leo was quick though and offered, “Wanna come with me?”

Wyatt put both hands in his pocket to hold Spiderman, squeezing him against his stomach. “Where?”

Leo walked away and Wyatt followed, just past a massive boulder tumbled from the top of the mountains, and stopped in front of 5 giant tree trunks. Wyatt blinked his eyes and realized the trunks were shiny; blinked again and saw 5 massive metal legs. His eyes followed the legs all the way up to the huge metal belly of a space ship.

Leo grinned widely with both his mouths and said, “How about Pluto?”

Please PRAY!

You can probably tell from my postings, I’m a little down today. And even though I have begged God to take care of my son, and Yeshuah has His greatest Archangel Michael protecting his life…

I am asking that you all, all 900 of you, say a prayer for my son Douglas. He truly needs every single prayer you can offer up. It’s been ten years now… ten years of watching my son slowly kill himself. There is no other way out of the darkness, other than with the Lord’s help!

I’ve been poised on the edge of hell for so long now, I can’t see a way out of the darkness anymore. It will take GOD to bring him back to me. Only God!

As some of you already know, I’m at the point of waiting for that horrifying phone call. We’ve tried repeatedly to get him help, but the evilness that has him in an iron grip, just won’t let go.

I thank you in advance, all of you who will pray.

And in return I pray none of you ever have to lose a child like this… cruelly, slowly, oh so painfully.

With tears streaming down my face, I beg of you… please PRAY!

Right now, with all your heart, please, please pray!

Thank you, with all my heart!

Happy Birthday Son!

You’re 25 today, and I remember your birth like it was yesterday. Rushed to the hospital at 90 mph, the sheer terror at the thought of losing you. Then it quickly became a long drawn out terror, but with God helping it became a little less each hour, each day, until finally at 4 lbs, you got to come home. Then the real hell began, filled almost equally with pure adoring love. You had to be fed every hour on the hour for a year and a half, before your stomach grew large enough to eat enough you weren’t starving to death. All that resulted in a mother who lost her mind. Who seriously went from a normal person, to someone who was suffering from sleep deprivation and running literally on auto pilot. My auto pilot was God. I might not have known it at the time, but I know it now. He had to have been watching over us, because until you began to sleep five and six hours at a time, I was a frizzy haired zombie. But you started to catch up and fill out into this amazing little boy, who stole my heart on day one, and proceeded to fill it to the brim every day after. You had this way of looking, that melted my heart into a puddle of happiness…


and there it is!

Oh but I love you Douglas, my Dooglemeister, my Dougalug, my Little Man, my light.

Happy Birthday, Love Mom



March 6, 2015

These spring flowers have been blooming now for over 2 weeks. They are planted

in North West Washington! A rainforest. Where spring comes in April!

Not February!

I just felt the dire need to document the decline of our atmosphere. Our spring

has been moved up an entire month. Now think about the drought that will follow

this summer. Our summer will probably continue into fall like it did last year,

reaching into September. With the crazy weather back east mounting to disaster

levels no matter the storm, if you had any doubts about global warming,

you had better wake up and take a look around you. We have altered our planet,

beyond what is the norm of cycles for massive weather scale size changes.

You can only leave your head buried in the sand for so long, before you need to breathe.

Think about it, I beg you… there are many different ways you alone can make a difference.

And if we each believe by changing our habits in just one way,

we are all joining together to make change in a great way, then

we will change!!

I’ve been browsing stories I wrote last year, to submit to a publisher, and came across this one… although its not what I needed, I thought you might enjoy it, in case you missed it the first time. :)

Behold Love!

I went in search of something, I wasn’t really sure what. I ended up at the top of mountain, sat down, leaned against a rock and thought; This is what God see’s, from His point of view. Every thing so tiny, colorful, yet we only see about 1% of the color spectrum, so I thought He must see even more glory. I inhaled slowly, inhaling the brisk, even the molds and damp grasses tickled my nose, the heather just starting to purple. I hear birds calling to me, and wonder what they say; go away, go away. My mind continues on, I let it ramble, ignoring all the junk in my life, down there. I’m above it, I think. Rise above it, I think, and look upwards naturally following my own thoughts.

I finally notice the glow nearby, off to my left, the clouds are almost burning. It startles me out of my mundane thoughts, and I begin to watch it closely. The white is blinding, yet yellows glow even brighter, just as a voice says to me, “I Am here.”

I nearly crack my head open, jerking back into the rock, the pain waking me to instant reality. In a tiny voice, I choke out, “Hello…Father.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

My heart has stopped beating, I’m gasping for air; I think I’m going to have a heart attack. Then my Father says, “Calm, child. Calm.”

I force myself to slow my breathing, feel my heart slowing down a tiny bit, then spit out foolishly, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” For some reason, I think if I’m going die, I better be ready. And this is the only line that pops into my head. I could swear I hear laughter. Deep, chuckling laughter, like my own biological Father would have sounded. It eases me a bit, pretending the voice is my own Father’s, putting my mind to rest that I may not be dying after all.  Hearing what I think is my biological father’s voice actually reassure’s me, even though he passed many years ago, and a part of me knows it’s not him. It doesn’t occur to me that he’s here to usher me on… instead it calms my nerves, perfectly.

My mind starts racing, I’m talking with God, what do I say, what do I want to ask Him? The one question I’ve always wanted to know, I ask, “How did you do all this?” I look at the valley below me, the mountain peaks still covered in snow, the rivers coming together like huge snakes meeting at the bend around a hill.

“I Am.” was all He said. Well, duh, I thought. I heard the laughter again, and smiled, knowing He had read my thoughts.

“Then why?”

“Why not?”

“Because… we’re idiots. We’re destroying it ALL.”

“I create moment by moment, second by second, eternity by eternity.”

“But why us?”

“Why not? Why the bee’s? Why the cougar? I have a grand imagination, just as you.”

I was getting frustrated. I don’t know what kind of answers I wanted or expected, but these were just not detailed enough. Staring into the bright yellow light for too long, I looked away to blink, the dot blocking my vision. When I looked back the clouds were swirling. The yellow was growing, churning, and getting larger. I looked West into the sun, realizing I needed to head down soon, or I’d be hiking in the dark. But how could I possibly leave as long as God was right here, talking to me like my next door neighbor? I know instantly, He will make sure I get home safely, so I relax a bit again, back against the rock, and think. 

I’d been reading this crazy conspiracy story yesterday about what actually happened after 9-11, and the scripture it kept referencing was Isaiah 9:7, so I asked Him, “Lord?”

“Yes, my child.”

“Is it true, what I read in that book yesterday, about the scripture of Isaiah?”

“The word is always true, when I give it.”

“Is the word in the Bible true? All of it?”

“True as they saw fit to write about it.”

“But was it Your Word?”

“It was inspired by My Word.”

“Well, what should we do: should we be Jewish, or Christian, or Catholic or Muslim or…..or what?”

“You should Be Love.”

“Do we have to believe in Jesus, to go to Heaven?” I know these were childish sounding questions, to even me, but I had to get as many questions in as possible, as I didn’t know how long I had to talk to God like this. My mind was racing, chasing every single thought I had ever had about God and Jesus around in circles in my brain. I placed my hand over my heart to calm it, hearing the word “Calm” again, this time inside my head.

“Do you believe in Me?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Do you understand what it means to be Holy?”

“Umm, pure, honest, good, loving, kind…” I answered in a half-hearted attempt. Because really, what does Holy mean? In my eyes growing up in a Christian based dousing of beliefs, no one had ever explained to me what Holy really was. The purest of pure … what?

“Holy means I AM. To be I AM you must Be Love. I AM HOLY LOVE.”

“You are pure love? That’s what I AM means? I thought it was ‘the all knowing being’ or something.” I smile along with His laughter again.

“You have more wisdom than you share.” Ouch, I got that. Ok, straighten up, ask proper questions, don’t anger Him whatever you do.

“So many other religions don’t believe in Jesus, are they wrong?” I asked.

“I have sent many Profits, Teachers, even Yeshuah to help you. Even He couldn’t make you see the Light.”

“Have you given up on us?” I started to pray in my head that He wouldn’t say no, then realized I was about to pray to Him, who was right here, and added, “Please don’t give up on us.”

“I Am.”

“Oh thank G… God. Thank You.” This is weird. Really tripping me out. I so want to pull out a cigarette, but think I will be struck by lightning if I do, so I wring my hands instead, cross my legs and sit up, preparing myself for what I really want to know.

“May I ask another question?”

“You may.”

“What am I supposed to be doing?”

“You already know, My child.”


“Exactly what your heart is telling you to do.”

“But what it’s telling me to do, is spread your Word, and I’m trying to do that. Don’t you want me to do anything else? Start a church; hold rallies; be a conduit for You to heal people; scream it from the mountain tops, what?”

“I want you to follow your heart, and Be Love.”

“But that’s so easy. I do that all the time.”

“Do you?”

I had to stop for a moment, and admit to myself, no, not always. Not even most of the time. But I had been trying. For several years now, I had been trying to find the truth about God and Yeshuah. Both… oh, now I know what I have to ask.

“Are you the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost? All three, yet One?” This answer alone could shock the world, if I were to repeat it. So I waited with out breathing for His answer.

“I AM HOLY! I AM LOVE! Do you understand?”

“Yes, sort of.”

“No matter the name you put to it, the teacher who teaches it, the follower who follows it, or the script you try to write about it, Love is truly all that matters.”

“So don’t waste my time on worshiping Yeshuah, just focus on You?”

“Yeshuah taught you to Love I Am First, did He not?”

“Yes, He did.”

“Is Yeshuah My Son?”

“Yes,” I answered. I truly believed He was. I could answer that honestly, because Yeshuah was the ONLY man in all of human history who had walked the Earth in pure love. Others had tried. Others had said they were, but they weren’t. For some reason, I have no idea what, but in my heart I truly believed this. He was special. Different from profits that have come and gone.

“Is the Holy Spirit my Word?”

“Yes.” I answered, half guessing this time, because I still believed they were three separate things.

“It is My Breath, My child. Yeshuah is My blood. So yes, We are I Am.” He stopped for a moment, and I stood up to draw a bit closer to the edge of the mountain, drawn to the light mesmerizing me, and sat at His feet, or what I thought were His feet.

“Was He the Truth, the Light, the Way?”

“Everything He taught was truth and light. His way is My Way.”

I felt very close to God at this point, sitting there looking up at Him. Or at His clouds, with fire in them. It didn’t matter what He looked like, I knew in my heart with out one single doubt that I was talking to God. So I asked him, like I might my own Father, “Are you disappointed in us?”

“I Am.”

At this point I wasn’t sure if He meant He was, or if He was saying again that He was Love. So I said, “Is it near the end?”

“Every second is an ending and a beginning. BE LOVE! HOLD LOVE! BEHOLD, LOVE! Every second of your life. Then your end will not matter or concern you.  There is no tomorrow. There is no yesterday. They are only in your imagination. There isn’t even ten minutes from now. There is only NOW. Every second of your life, Behold, Love.”

I paused here to think a minute, because I couldn’t get that nagging book out of my mind, so I asked Him again, “So like in that Isaiah scripture, that matches up so nicely to current events, and the Judgment you brought against them, will that happen here in the US? Have we removed You from our nation? Denied You repeatedly? Are we facing Your Judgment right now, just like they did?”

“You are one second away from all Eternity, every second of the day. Your Judgment will come when you stand before Me.”

“But have we angered You? Have we pushed You away so far, we face Your Judgment now, like in the scripture, ‘You remove the wedge of safety, You let the terrorists in, through the wall.’ Our leaders have stood and quoted that scripture, like morons, NEVER KNOWING the whole story behind it, and how each time they said WE WILL REBUILD they were only defying YOU! Repeatedly copying that scripture to the letter; they replaced the debris with a new cornerstone, the Sycamore/Fig tree was ripped up from the roots, and then they actually planted a Conifer tree in that same spot, just like a cedar, defying You again! Not once knowing they were fulfilling that ancient scripture. I just can’t believe we’re safe from Your Judgment after they vowed repeatedly to defy YOU, knowing our leaving You is our real problem, and so we did what just they did. Rebuilt higher walls, keep doing the evil shit we’re doing, and blaming it on terrorism.”

“I Am. If there is but one of you left, after the chaos you have wrought that Loves, My Mercy will cover you.”

“So individually, if we don’t believe as some do in the US, in greed, and hate, and murder, we’ll be fine.”

“If you Love, in ALL that you do, you will become love. As you become love, you become Holy. As you become Holy, you become I Am.”

“What if we don’t?”

“When you stand before Me, you will have all eternity to think about it.”

I laughed at that, and heard Him chuckle again. God had a sense of humor. He was not only pure love, but He laughed. That alone made me feel so safe and secure. Why, I don’t really know, except that I had an odd sense of humor myself, so maybe I was just relating to it. Or God actually was like my Father. So caring, so forgiving, so very loving.

I AM His child. I may be half way through my human life, but in His eyes, just like my biological Father’s, I will always be His child.

“Thank you SO much God, for all that You do for me … daily, minute by minute, I can’t even begin to thank You enough.”

“I know. I Am. Now go write a new script about Love. Be love. And know I will always Love you!”

“Yes, Father. Will You give me the Words?”

“I always do.”

I laughed again, tears eking out the corners of my eyes. I felt so good inside, I wanted to stay for ever just chatting with God, but He said, “You must go, or I will have to carry you… again.”

I laughed again, just couldn’t quit grinning up at God, just sat there basking in this wonderful overflowing Love for a minute or two. Finally I signed and asked, “You’ve been carrying me for years, and years. I hope You have one of those back braces, or something?”

“I’ve held worlds in My Hands; you, My child, are like a butterfly’s kiss. A precious butterfly I cherish.”

I stood up brushing off my pants, and smiled hugely up at the clouds, and said as I slowly backed away, just like I always do to my own sons as they head out the door, “Love you SO much.”

God answered, “Love you more.”


~~~~Scripture referenced is Isaiah 9:7 to 9:11 Quoted from Qumran Isaiah Scroll:

(7) The Lord sent a word upon Jacob and it fell in Israel. (8) And the people know, all of them, Ephraim and the inhabitants of Samaria in the pride and largeness of heart saying: (9) The bricks are fallen but with hewn stones we will build. The fig trees are cut down but we will change them to cedars. (10) And YHVH will set on high the enemies of Rezin against him and his foes. He will gather together (11) Syrians from the east and the Philistines behind and they shall eat up Israel with open mouth.  For all this His anger is not recalled but His hand is still outstretched.



God loves me, this I know, very, very much,

I know by His constant forgiveness and His Grace filled touch,

He has never forsaken me, never left me behind,

Not once in my life, not in one moment I can find.


As I stood here, thinking about my life, I realized something about myself that I rarely admit to.

I am the greatest of sinners. I’ve gotten into the habit, each day as I head to work, of asking God to give me the strength to not gossip. You may say to yourself, oh, that’s not a big sin, but it is. It is just as bad as murder, rape, stealing or cheating. For each and every sin.. is just that, a sin. For it not only passes on bad feelings about someone else, and shows I know nothing about true love and forgiveness, but the hate for someone else increases. I am not only hurting this person, I am telling someone else to hurt them also. I am telling them this person should not be loved. I am giving them a reason to not value this person, to not trust this person, and to dislike them, not only for their own reason for this, but adding on mine.

I tell myself, I wouldn’t gossip if I wasn’t surrounded nonstop by people who do, which is true, but it is no excuse. I have no excuse that I can see for allowing myself to jump in and add to this gossip, which I do.

I tell myself I am pulled in by their unhappiness and hate, yet maybe only once a day do I manage to not join in bashing this person.

I tell myself it’s because I work, literally, in a den of thieves. In a place where greed runs rampant, and people are rude, selfish and worshiping money. But this is still no excuse.

I also tell myself, that God has given me this job, not only because I asked for it, but because it is the greatest test of my will and faith, that could have ever been placed before me. And I have failed miserably, almost every single day of work this past year.

I try to be honest with you all, and I realized as I gazed back at some of my recent posts, that I must sound like a true Christian to some of you, but that I truly need to let you all know… this is not the case.

I am a sinner. I am so far from perfect, I am shocked some days, by what comes out of my mouth. I may not kill, I may not lie, and I may not steal, but I clearly show I do not love like God wants me to.

I truly desire to be a true Christian, but as the saying goes, I am a work in progress. I am reaching for God, I am reaching for a goal that is almost insurmountable at times… yet I AM reaching. I AM trying. And I just felt the need today to let you all know… none of us is perfect. None of us even comes close. At least no one that I know personally. And I for one, am at the top of the list!!   But…

I am trying. I am aware of my faults. I am willing to change. But I stumble, often, daily, hourly even. Still… I try.

And once I stop trying.. I will have lost the battle.

So forgive me all, for trying to sound so good and righteous, when clearly I am not. But don’t think for a moment, that I am stopping my pursuit of God! He knows me like no one else, and He still loves me with all His heart. THIS I know! And He forgives me, each day, because He knows… I am trying.

So keep trying… no matter what your battle may be… do not give up. He can forgive you any sin!! And He will. Just don’t give up trying not to commit that sin!

God Bless you all!

I am a Gentile… Why is this important…

Many of us are into a religion, rather than a relationship with God. But Yeshuah, Jesus Christ, did not teach religion. Nothing He taught changed His disciples from being Jewish. They all continued to celebrate Pentecost and to pray at Jewish Temples long after Yeshuah’s death. Paul attended synagogue and kept the laws throughout his life, and the apostles convened a council in Jerusalem. Yeshuah WAS the Lion of the tribe of Judah. He WAS the root of David.

Why do people choose to forget Jesus, Yeshuah, was a Jew? Or worse, to mock them, insisting God has forgotten them, or forsaken them?

Yeshuah was raised Jewish, taught His Father’s laws, and most importantly…

He WAS the Lamb slaughtered, for us all.

EVEN in the book of Revelation… when John weeps because no one is worthy to open the scroll, the elder speaks and says “Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed.”

When God spoke to Abraham, he said, “I will establish my covenant as an EVERLASTING covenant between me and you and your descendants after you.”

Do you really think God goes back on HIS WORD? Do you really think that because a few Rabbi’s made the wrong choice, one they were supposed to make, that God would condemn Israel? NO! He said to Abraham, “…I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse, and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”

We, the Gentiles were meant to be grafted into Israel. PLEASE don’t let any church, any religion, blind you from the WORD spoken from Jesus’ own mouth.

You can not believe only HALF of what He said, and ignore the rest. I am NOT saying you need to become Jewish, for God Loves Gentiles too, what I am saying is that the Jewish were to be a light for us, to lead us to Israel. If you truly believe that Jesus was the Lion who shed his blood as the Lamb to save us and give us a chance at an eternity with God, you must believe ALL that He said.

He said He would return, when the fullness of the Gentiles shines on Israel. Yeshuah did NOT mean fullness as in numbers, he meant “complete”. He meant, when we, the gentiles, were completely brought into the fold of Israel. 

It ISN’T the other way around, we are not to bring the Jewish people out of Israel, we are to JOIN the Jewish people in Israel…becoming Israel… and when this is done, Yeshuah, our Christ Jesus, will come again.

He meant: the full representation of every tribe, language, people and nation ordained by God to be saved in His Final Plan of Salvation.

In Psalms it says, “The Law of the Lord is Perfect.” And Jesus, Yeshuah said, “This is my command…that you love one another.”

It is so simple, and yet we seem to have missed it. Even if the Jews do not believe that Yeshauh was their own Messiah… it does not matter one bit. Because through Jesus Christ, Yeshuah, Son of God, we are all given a chance at Salvation! He did not come to replace the laws of God; He came to enhance them and let us know, we are all under Grace.

Therefore, my final words to you all today, is something that God said long ago that I will (badly) paraphrase, ‘When you pray today, ask God to forgive the sins of your fathers also. You may not be able to repent for your ancestors and all they did, but you can pray for them to be forgiven, so that you and your family will not continue to be cursed from this day forward.”

Have a lovely Blessed day my friends! And hope to see you all someday soon in ISRAEL!!!

🙂 Love, Deb

Matching the Sea

kris 016

Tumbled, a deserted child’s sand castle, the rocks lay covered in dark green moss. He waited patiently, his soft blue eyes an ocean of questions. The Pacific rolled in, slowly pushing tiny pebbles to its edge, teased on by the crispy wind. The trees nodded hello, for he was a stranger, not in the least strange, yet curious in a rare uncanny way. Islands off in the distance encircled slowly by lumbering ferry’s intrigued him for a moment, then he turned and shivered. He was used to heat, the dry kind filled with frilly lizards and thorny water sucking plants. His idea of fun was bouncing up and down with sand in his teeth as he raced through the dunes of a lonely wasteland. His idea of birds was the kind who circled above only interested in death. It surprised him to see the ones here were fishing. I wondered what he was thinking as his eyes darkened just then into a slate blue matching the sea, but without saying a word he put his arm around my shoulders and we walked slowly down the rough gravel beach.


brandon in italy on top of stromboli


I remember a day… giggling for hours

over nonsense, useless ideas, the drama

then one of us looked out the window

the other rushed over and there you were

the one she wanted

in only one full minute, mouth dangling open

silent motionless, it sank in

you were the one

you were the one

I had dreamed about

you were the one I had created

from too many romance novels

day dreams on a hillside

the man imposed upon a G.I.Joe Ken doll

the one who always drove the massive dump truck

bright yellow in the sunlight making his camo too visible

hours spent picturing

my dream man

this hard working soldier who would have blond hair

slate blue eyes

that sparkle when looking my way

become steely when danger is near

gorgeous and sexy and of course

would love me like no other woman

but you were lost in the shallow beauty

and the physical realm

drawn away only seconds later it seemed

and I saw it in the flicker of your eyes

you were wordless

not a writer

you had no comprehension

of the imagination

of the possibilities

of a dream come true

To all my fellow writers….

Good morning all. I have a question for you… I am wondering how many of you actually WRITE for a living?

I would love to be a writer every day of my life, and make a living at it. But I need a LEGIT company to work for, and am wondering if any of you know of any company who actually hires writers to work for them.

I have seen all the scams out there on the internet where you do editing work or write tiny blurbs for pennies for each piece… and could not survive on that.

So I am reaching out to you all, to see if any of you know of a REAL company who hires writers???

As you know, this blog I write here is dedicated to God, but I write all kinds of things, and do editing for others, beta reading, too, and would love to be able to write for a living, even if it’s just ads, blurbs, blogging, short stories, really anything that is LEGITIMATE!!

Trying to find a real job on the internet is not only incredibly hard, it’s scary! There are sooo many places that are just there to rip you off, or send you out phishing, that I’ve given up on trying to find a job online, unless I know the person offering it.

So please, if any of you, MY FAITHFUL FOLLOWERS, knows of a real job I could apply for… please take a minute and respond!!

THANKS so much, and thanks for following me for two years… you’ve made my life so much more complete by just taking the time to read my blog!!

Deb  🙂


72,000 words in 20 days!!!  I killed it this year! Had my 50,000 in under two weeks!!!

Of course I was home sick for two weeks, so I had plenty of time to write!!

This next novel is called “A Hot Mess of Murder”!!!  lol and is a comedy of errors!!

Now to spend the next few MONTHS editing and re-writing it into a GOOD novel will

be the HARD part!!! Plus I need a cover photo…. maybe of a crazy woman riding

haphazardly through town on a horse…. or something similar…. don’t have a clue

where I’m gonna find that!   IF ANYONE has a graphic of that…. get in touch with

me ASAP!!  Might even use a drawing of some type…..   🙂



So for those of you who know me, and follow my blog, actually reading what I write about, I’ve been questioning something for some time now.

I’ve been questioning whether or not we are to pray TO Jesus, and I’ve been asking God to show me, or tell me the answer. I had a fear inside that we are NOT to put Jesus, Yeshuah, HIGHER than God in that respect. So for some time now, I’ve been seeking answers.

Well, the other night, I think I was given the answer. It did not come in the form of a deep voice speaking to me. Instead, it came to me in a nightmare, one that scared the snot out of me… but it showed me CLEARLY that even if we shouldn’t pray to Jesus INSTEAD OF GOD THE FATHER, there IS POWER IN HIS NAME! Great power, and that the use of his name JESUS, instead of Yeshuah, is OK. Both of these thoughts have worried me, that our corruption over the generations and language change of Yeshuah to Jesus, has always struck me as total DISRESPECT, but even that seemed to be cleared up for me when I woke from this nightmare. As some of you may know, I’ve struggled for years with violent pain and sad filled nightmares. MOST of which eventually come true… so with that in mind…

Here is what happened. It is the TRUTH, for I NEVER lie when it comes to God and Jesus, YHVY and Yeshuah…so just know this is exactly what happened….

I was being tortured by demons. Full out tortured, to the point of what my mind knew was pure evil rape. I was being held above my bed, floating somehow, and stretched out spread eagle… while they tortured me.  But in my mind, I INSTANTLY knew that if I banished these demons in JESUS NAME, they would be gone. SO I opened my mouth, to scream, but it was like the demons were stretching my mouth and blocking me from articulating the words. It took me several tries to formulate the words but I eventually managed to scream…”BE GONE…IN JESUS NAME I DEMAND YOU BE GONE…IN JESUS NAME I BANISH YOU!”

And BAMM… I woke up and was lying peacefully in my bed. I lay there wide awake for half an hour or so…just contemplating what had happened, and it made me realize just HOW POWERFUL JESUS’ NAME really is. And it made me realize that the use of the name Jesus, rather than Yeshuah, is just fine.

There is POWER in His Name alone, let alone realizing HE IS GOD’S OWN SON! He must have been given GREAT POWER if HE truly can banish evil demons. You may think to yourself, that oh, Debi, it was just a nightmare…but I kid you not, these were demons. And since I’ve been writing this blog, I’ve been told by several people to be careful, because evil will be looking for me, and when ever any one gets closer to God, evil tries even harder to destroy us. I believe it’s true, that the more I write on this blog about God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit, with 800 people following me, a lot of which do NOT believe as I do, I truly believe evil is looking to destroy me. I’m reaching too many people for it not to have noticed me! I think I may be drawing them, and believe me, I will turn CLOSER AND CLOSER TO GOD because of it!!! THEY WILL NOT SWAY ME! or scare me! FOR GOD SO LOVES ME!!!! THIS I KNOW!

SO…keep that in mind folks, when you are struggling with anything hard, or wondering why evil has come into your life…keep JESUS in mind. He is the SON of the MORNING, and believe me, by morning I was NEVER HAPPIER to have HIM on my side. He is also the KING of the ANGELS, so pray to HIM whenever you need angels to watch over you, or someone else. 

I have a dear friend who has told me repeatedly when I feel pain physically, or am ill…to simply say “BY JESUS’ STRIPES I AM HEALED!” And THIS thought alone was what reminded me during my nightmare that JESUS SAVES!! IT is not just a cute colloquium or silly phrase…HE SAVES!!! HE TRULY DOES!!!


How many ways can God show me… I’ll survive?


sitting by the river

just a few hours ago

the water tumbling into

a splattering roar

splashing at my feet

yet I don’t seem to care

about the debt or water

attempting to drown me

for the sun is peeking at me

through the branches above

sending me a calming love

just as an orange leaf

elegantly floats down

to become a boat

maybe for a bug or fly

to voyage across on

to a safe haven near the rocks

as I wonder

where is my boat

as each splash gurgles

and burps

something moves beneath me

and my rock

catching my eye

making me smile

as I watch the crawdad

trying to quickly sneak by

but he runs into my rock

his claws clicking

and grabs a stone

tucked under the edge

almost his size and backs up

moving it, then another,

and another, before

slipping under my rock

and sneaking down his hole

reminding me

no matter how big the rock

with enough determination

I too can move mountains

Second book is online NOW…. Long Before Time – The Moses Beings

Woot Woot, my second book is up and running!!!  (Don’t download the Kindle version yet, it looks messed up and I just informed them it’s not showing properly… so it  may be a day or so before it’s ready…)


Long Before Time cover



here’s the link… in case you’re interested!!  ONLY $11.92 right now!!


We sat on his deck each summer, barbeque lit, after a long day of skiing behind his boat. Two weeks of heaven, enjoyed from the time I was 11 to 17. Days spent at Six Flaggs, riding roller coasters and eating cotton candy, nights spoiled rotten at the nearest Red Lobster for my favorite, always King Crab legs. Me and him, spending hours in his car as we drove the country roads of Missouri, singing …

“Counting Flowers on the Wall,

that don’t bother me at all,

playin’ solitaire til dawn,

with a deck of 51,

smokin’ cigarettes and watchin’,

Kap…tin Kang…aroo,

now don’t tell me…

I’ve nothin to do…”

by the Statler Brothers, at the top of our lungs.

I will never forget this song, I hope, as he and I were the only two crazy enough to know it by heart and blast it out the windows. He had a beautiful tenor voice, and with those silly songs he loved so much, he also taught me how to harmonize.

We would walk into the nearest bar, when I was of age and living with him, and everyone inside would yell, “Norm!” He looked like Norm, and drank like him; Norm, the character on the TV show Cheers. But when I was 20, a new single Mom, and had no where to go, he offered to help me. Said, move in, sweetie, we’ll babysit for you at night while you work, until you get a decent job. Which was several months later, after a good friend of his got me the job. But for a year and a half, we got so close, shared so much fun and love and laughter. We put together countless puzzles while frozen in. I marveled at how much he spoiled and loved my son like no other, his first grandson, and it meant more to me than growing up without him.

Any time I wanted to talk, he was there. Any problem I had, until the day he died in 2000, no matter what it was or how upset I was, he would softly say, “Keep your chin up!” and always followed immediately by an “I love you!” 

He was PawPaw to my son, and insisted the word was drawn out, like Paaaw Paaaw, like a bear paw, because he was no ordinary Grandpa. I would laugh until I cried while he told “Hair lip” jokes, which are now terribly un-politically correct, but back then, hilarious. He taught me how to make the best spaghetti and lasagna sauce known to man. He would spend hours in the basement with my son playing with his massive 500 car train set, complete with mountains, trees, towns, all built by him. They would race remote controlled 4 wheeler trucks through the house, across the back deck and down the driveway to the squeals of laughter of my son, and him. He built my son’s first snowman. Let him drive the lawnmower at age 1, and the speedboat the same year from his lap, and I’m not sure, but probably his car as well.

He taught me how to use his massive telescope, and gave me the desire and love of looking up at the stars. He taught me how to take photo’s with great perspective, and to water ski, and to slalom, behind his boat. But most importantly, he taught me to laugh and love, no matter what else in life you do…you must laugh and love. And I miss him all the time, and thank him for passing on his orneriness to me, along with his amazing sense of humor.

He may not have raised me, but as a Dad, he was the best. He filled a huge hole in me, with love and laughter. And when I scattered his ashes across that lake, I scattered pieces of my heart. Russell Keith DuBois, November 18, 1938 to April 15, 2000, RIP Daddy! Love, me.

Wilbur, Asa, Glenn & Russell

Culpepper Pipe: A Strange Collaboration of Sorts:

Below is a collaboration between myself and Trent Lewin, at trentlewin.the com, one of my favorite authors! He wrote sections 1,3, and 5, and I created sections 2,4 and the ending! If you go to his site, he also wrote a complete version of the story…. a must see!!!

Mark’s version is at: .  His site is and he also joined in and wrote his own version, also doing sections 2,4, and his ending… so check out his version, too, and TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK of all three versions!!!!


Here is my complete story:

Culpepper Pipe


Kate swallowed the square before anyone could see her do it. She went for another one and chewed it slowly, all the while working on the one she had stuffed in her mouth.

The carpet was appalling. It was twenty years old, and hadn’t been properly steam cleaned in that time. She was bare foot. Seemed like she could feel the dirt in the fibers, lurking there waiting to offend her guests. But they, she remembered, were all wearing shoes.

“You’re Angel’s mom?” Kate nodded. The woman was fifty, maybe more, and had on a red dress that came with its own cleavage. Her heels were sticking it to the carpet, leaving little dents all over the place. She swallowed some champagne. “Tell me, why did you name her ‘Angel’? That’s a unique name.”

“It has a precedent.”

“Oh. That’s funny. When did your husband pass?”

“He didn’t.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not so funny. What happened to him?”

Kate explained. Clearly, this woman wasn’t from Barrie’s side of the family. She explained in time that she was married to one of Barrie’s cousins.

“Nice house,” she said. “Won’t you come over and have a drink with us?” She was actually looking at Kate now, instead of straightening her hair or showing concern for the relative exposure of her very handsome bosom. Kate tried not to look at that bosom, and failed. She blushed. “Saw you standing alone. It’s your party, isn’t it? Why not enjoy it?”

“It’s Angel’s party. But thank you.”

The woman – Veronica – touched her hand and smiled. Then she went for another champagne.

Kate stayed in the corner, concerned for the well-being of her carpet and the lack of cleavage that she was able to expose from behind a dress that would have had nothing to do with cleavage if it had been ripped from top to bottom and made transparent. Around the great room, guests milled, and more entered all the time. Angel was at the doorway, greeting them. A few came over and said hi to Kate, but not many. These were Barrie’s relatives, and they had come here for Angel’s wedding. Still, it was funny how the spot of silence in the corner that Kate occupied managed to contract on her, the one place where light would not go and the laughter in the room had no reason to be.

She picked up another square and took it down in a single bite.

“Mom!” came Angel’s voice. “Those are bad for you.”

“Harumph,” replied Kate, chewing madly.

“Have some juice,” said Angel, handing over her glass. “Mom, this is my fiancé Mark. Mark, my mom.”

“Harumph,” said Kate, lips upturned at the taste of orange juice mixing with thick caramel. She started to choke on a nut. “I mean shit… sorry. Mark, nice to meet you. I’m Kate.” She extended a hand, and finally looked up from the carpet.

Mark, last name to be determined, was at least four inches taller than Barrie had been, and Barrie had been a tall one. He was wearing a blazer. His handshake was crushing, and his eyes petrified with the fear of meeting the mother of his future bride. As Kate talked with him, the fear faded away, as she knew it would – replaced with questions about this graying lady in the cheap blue dress and the bare feet, the one who had a smudge caramel on her nose.

Kate spun away to greet new visitors. “Call you Kate?” asked Mark.

“Mrs.. Januskiewicz might be a mouthful.”

He glanced at the room. “Your husband has a lot of family.”

“The Smithson’s are very tight-knit. You’ll figure it out. Stop being so nervous.”

“Can you introduce me to some of them?”

“No. I don’t know them well. They liked Barrie and they love Angel, but I’m a Januskiewicz, the very first of my kind in this family. You’re on your own.”

“So are you, it seems,” he replied, surveying her little corner next to the dessert table.

“Have fun,” she said, giving him a little push towards the party. At once, people pounced on him, patting him on the back as several hands tried to give him a drink at the same time.

Kate ducked back into the corner. When she was sure no one was looking, she took another square and put it in her mouth. Then she picked up a second one and started chewing on it very, very slowly.


Mark leaned against the glass of the patio door watching the circus surrounding his Bride-to-be. The conductor is clearly Angel; she introduces the clowns to her maid of honor, a few cousins wearing giant bow ties, at least 50 or 60 years old, still one squirts water from his flower pin and giggles. She turns, laughing with her teeth, not her eyes, and wipes at the water splattered onto her blouse. Introduces the juggler; he’s trying to light his cigarette while balancing his wineglass in his elbow. Angel shakes her head, then tosses her hair as the lion arrives. Clearly this was a kissing cousin, or she wouldn’t be rolling her shoulders back to expose her breasts.

He turns away, carefully balancing his plate of nachos and slips out the door completely unnoticed. He surprises Angel’s Uncle Reggie, as he’s sitting with his legs spread a bit too far apart in the lawn chair, knees moving in and out as he stares at Angel through the door glass. Mark knows that move. He swallows his disgust and turns to lean against the railing looking out at the uncut bushes trying to escape the yard.

“There you are,” Kate says. Uncle Reggie quickly grabs his empty glass and heads inside, his face an angry red. Not from being caught, but from being interrupted.

“Busted,” Mark answers. He shakes his head and notices her sparkling blue eyes. Wet from tears of boredom and repressing a yawn, still they seem bright. “You come here often?”

“Once in a while.” She grins up at him hoping to draw his attention away from the unkempt yard. “Didn’t have time to mow, they said it was gonna rain.”

“Not the weather, please,” he says.

“And which cousin are you?”

He grins but it’s only with the lower half of his face, “I’m the one the bride slept with in 9th grade.”

Kate mouths the word “oh” and places her hands on the railing nervously, surprised he figured that one out so quickly. She leans back and says quietly, “Can you see your future, with them thrown in,” she nods at the crowd inside?

“They say you can learn a lot from meeting the family,” he answers slowly.

“And what have you learned?”

“It’s like a mask has been removed. Not too sure I wanted to see that.” He crunches a chip, wipes his mouth with his other hand.

“It’s a lot of pressure, performing for the audience,” Kate says, then adds “God, it’s muggy.” She unbuttons the top button on her dress, then fans the top in and out trying to make a breeze.

Mark looks down, catches a glimpse of identical cleavage, even the same mole he’s seen before on the left side, then glances away before she looks up. She felt the look, but asks, “You need another drink! What are you slamming?”

“Anything you’ve got, Mom!” He grins down at her as she grins back, then he adds, “Mrs.. Januskiewicz just doesn’t seem right.”

“I don’t know if I can call you son just yet,” Kate turns to leave, throws over her shoulder, “but come inside before it gets dark and you can have one more sip before nigh-night time.”


Kate swallowed three of the French fries and stared at the platter. She ate three more. They were burning hot, freshly-liberated from the cooking oil that one of the guests had brought from Malaysia. The fries tasted like diesel fuel, but that didn’t stop her from eating a few more before taking the platter to the dining room.

Angel was speaking to Barrie’s three sisters, pouring them wine as she told them stories about her trip to Denmark. Uncle Reggie was sitting at the end of the table, drinking Drambuie. One after another glass-full of the stuff vanished into his throat, washed down with the occasional green bean or more often, a pat of butter that he pretended to apply to his asparagus. He smiled broadly, listening to Angel’s stories, smiling as though he knew what she was talking about, as though he had been on the same trip a long time ago and was remembering it through her. Occasionally, his eyes rested on her breasts and stayed there until they dropped a bit further and found the Drambuie again.

“Delicious,” lied Mark, eating a few of the fries.

“You look like you’re enjoying them,” lied Kate, right back. “Ready for the rehearsal tomorrow?”

“Why are so many people coming to the rehearsal? Why does it have to be so formal? Who ever heard of a formal dinner after a wedding rehearsal?”

“Drink up,” said Kate, pouring him some wine. “Welcome to clan Smithson.”

“What’s your job tomorrow?”

“Let’s see,” she said, picking at the guacamole. “Dress conservatively. Look dour. Tear up but don’t shed any liquids. Try not to yawn or soil my thong.”

“Wedding rehearsal thong?”

“Best kind. You don’t speak much.”

“Only to you, it seems. Wanted to ask you about your husband…”


“Do you ever visit him?”


Mark waited for more. Uncle Reggie was laughing hard. There was something coming out of his nose that one of the sisters pointed out.

Kate held the boy’s stare for a while, before finally saying, “She doesn’t want kids, you know. And she’s spoiled rotten. Always has been. But she’s my girl. She’s my girl.”

“We’ve had the kid talk. And we’ve had the spoiled brat talk too. I heard Barrie’s in a hospital not far from here, do you want to come with us to see him?”

“More ribs?” she smiled. But he wasn’t playing anymore; he was serious, no matter how much wine she’d fed him or how horrible the food was. “The dessert’s going to be worse,” she muttered, but he didn’t flinch. “No, I’m not going with you. Before he got sick and went all catatonic, Barrie was going to divorce me. He had some girlfriends. Rich lawyers girlies. Know the type?” She let that sink in. “The Smithson’s were high on him dumping me. But then his liver went rancid, and his brain afterwards. You can’t divorce someone when you’re a vegetable. It’s a law. I checked.”

Mark was sweating. He looked at Angel, a quick gaze that Kate supposed was meant to ask her about all the things she hadn’t told him: how she’d ended up here, a single child with a father in the hospital and a mother who blended in with flowery wallpaper she refused to give up. But to Kate, the paper on the walls smelled like Barrie, his cigars and scotches, the only memory she wanted of him, the only one that made sense to keep.

“I want kids,” he said, finally. He chugged his wine and asked for more.

“That’s a problem then. We’ll make this glass a big one, okay?”

“Yes ma’am. Join me?” he said, looking at her with wide eyes on the verge of contracting with his drunkenness. She wondered what his smell would be one day, what scent he would leave behind that her daughter would want to keep.

“Sure,” she said, and poured herself some. She chugged it down and took another as his eyebrows shot up. “I was kidding, by the way.”

“About what?”

“The thong. I wasn’t planning on wearing underwear tomorrow.”

For the first time all dinner, Mark smiled.


“Ok, Mark, you stand here, facing this way,” the Minister guided him to his spot, turning him to face at a slight angle to the pulpit. “Now, Georgie, turn off that CD and start the music.”

The pianist started playing ‘Here comes the bride,’ and Angel appeared at the end of the isle, wearing her bridal veil. It looked stupid with her cutoffs and tank top, but it was baking inside. Mark pulled his t-shirt up and mopped his forehead.

His friend Jay was standing behind him and muttered, “Damn dude, you change your mind, you let me know.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but Mark wasn’t biting. He was hot, bored, tired from lack of sleep after arguing with Angel all night long, and being hung over from too much wine.

The minister was hurrying towards Angel, saying, “No, no, no,” and dragging her back to the start again.

“How fucking long is this gonna take?” he muttered back.

“Chillax, dude,” Jay patted him on the shoulder, “It’s almost over.”

“This fucking rehearsal or my life?” It came out a little harsher than he’d planned, but his friend didn’t respond. The minister was coming back now.

Kate caught his eye as she slipped through the side door, smiling as she swayed a bit, clearly she’d already started numbing herself. She winked obviously at him, pulling at her waistband and he grinned, remembering her threat to come thong-less.

Jay leaned closer and asked, “Who’s that, the older sister?”

“That’s Kate, Angel’s Mom,” Mark answered.

“Whew,” Jay said softly, “did she just wink at you?”

Mark laughed softly, and said, “Inside joke.”

“Uh, huh,” Jay said, then added, “she looks hammered.”

“OK, places everyone,” the minister said loudly, “Georgie, once again…”

Two very slow hours later they were finally at the Italian restaurant, filling up the entire place. It was sweltering inside. Mark held his scotch on the rocks up to his forehead, leaning one elbow on the table, then downed it. He picked at the bread, tearing it apart, piece by piece.

“Would you at least act like you want to be here,” Angel demanded through clenched teeth, smiling at everyone else.

“That’s all we seem to be doing isn’t it, acting!” He stood up angrily, chair scraping the floor and head for the bar for a refill.

“God what a nightmare,” he told the bartender. “Another please, and another, and another…” The bartender filled his glass, leaving out the ice and adding in extra scotch and Mark smiled. “Remind me to tip you later!”

“He’d rather you did it now, while you still can,” Kate said, sliding into a seat.

“Right,” he said and dug out his wallet. He slapped a $50 on the counter and held up his glass saying, “You see this empty, you know what to do.” The bartender snagged the money, and nodded.

“You should slow down, there’s still the party later,” Kate said gently.

“I’ll be fine, dinner will soak it up,” he said.

“You and my girl doing ok,” Kate asked? He folds his arms on the bar, circling his drink and lays his head on his wrist, looking at her sideways. There’s an emptiness to her gaze, yet an intensity behind it that belies her self-worth. She cares, but doesn’t want to. She asks, but it’s not what she wants to ask.

There’s nothing for him over at the table. He hears their laughter, jokes that aren’t funny. Someone makes a toast to Angel’s happiness, not once noticing he wasn’t at the table to be part of that happiness. They’re clashing their glasses together. He hears their voices from a great distance, feels a horse beneath him as he races across time. Trying to reach them, or running for the open range. The pounding in his head matches the hoof beats drumming into the earth. He closes his eyes for a single beat. A glass crashes to the floor, an omen to the toast.

He opens his eyes and says, “Just dandy.”

“Tomorrow it will be all over, Mark,” Kate said, looking into his bloodshot future. He would become an alcoholic, smoking a Culpepper Pipe; the smells rose off him already like the mist over a pond.

“My friend said the same thing. I’ve never been good with hints,” he said.

Kate placed her hand on his arm, and said, “You’ll be fine. Life’s too short to go it alone. Look at me; I got a huge loving family, a daughter as pretty as a marble statue, and a husband just as cold. Ain’t nothing I need, except new wallpaper and clean undies.”

His faced cracked, and he whispered, “You really free-ballin’ it?”

Kate grinned and said, “Free as a breeze. I seemed to have misplaced my balls, though.”


Kate stood in the rain. There were people in her house. Three times, she’d tried to go in, but there had been people in the entranceway, pulling off their coats but not their shoes. Now they were inside her house, sloshing about the carpet.

She stood in the rain. Lightning visited, and thunder wrapped its presents. Water drizzled down her hair and crawled up her feet, soaking the bottom of her dress. She could have gone in through the back door. She could have rang the doorbell or tried the garage. She should have gone in, because the house was alive and the music was loud, and it was her house. It was her house. But no one had come to look for her, some lowly immigrant Januskiewicz who had married above her place and narrowly avoided a ruinous divorce by virtue of a couple of ill-timed over-the-counter drugs that her cheating husband had popped late one Friday night while watching horror movies. No one had come to look for her, and no one would, and no one inside would even know that she was not there, not even the daughter for whom this party had been organized.

She stayed off to the side, under a tree sure to attract the lightning. Out of the light, she stared at the windows.

“Drambuie,” came a voice. Mark skidded to a stop under the tree, bottle in hand. “Sweet mother, where have you been all my life?” he laughed. He took a long drink and handed her the bottle.

She drank. “You should go back in. You should also stop drinking. Tomorrow’s the wedding.”

“Yes it is. Yes it is,” he confirmed. He took another drink. “But I put in my time. And I kept trying to get to Angel in the center of it all, but there was some kind of force in there pushing me to the sides. Every time I tried to go in, it grabbed me and sent me to the walls. You know what I mean? Good thing I found the bar. I left an hour ago. I’ve been out back. No one noticed.”

Kate took another drink. Then another. This was a night of lightning. It would come, and she would duck as though it had targeted her. But she remained alive and whole, soaking wet under a tree in the middle of the night as the cars roared past, spraying water onto her lawn.

She found herself next to him. Pressed against him. Then she found herself in his arms. Why wouldn’t she have? Lightning came, and she kept waiting for the thunder to follow. But he held her as though he meant it. As though he wanted to keep her dry, to keep the sound of the cataclysm that was tearing the sky apart away from her. He tasted like alcohol. She didn’t care. “I’m not going back in,” he moaned, and then repeated it as she opened him up and splayed him against the tree. She inhaled him. Acids and electricity were all she could sense as she felt water on her body, every part of her, desperate fingers reaching for answers and warm things that they were not entitled to, not allowed to have under the rain or on any other day. But desperate they were, and found the way through to some spot against the roots of the tree, in the full force of the mud and the strangest sensation that they might sink, might vanish, if they kept going. Lighting came. But there was no thunder. Lighting came, without thunder. And he kept telling her that he was not going to go back in, to that light, that there was nothing there for him; and she answered him with her lips and her hands until he had nothing left to say, nothing to do except lie beneath her and see her in the flashes that continued to rip apart the heavens.

The music inside the house grew louder. She could hear voices. But he only heard hers. And for each love and grief she could conceive, she took every part of him, every thought too, including all the suggestions that said this was wrong, or that something like morality or family or anything of the kind could get in the way of a moment like this, there under the tree with the lighting splashing its own concert lights on shadows no one else could see.


She’s coming towards him, beautiful like a summer sunrise. One step, pause, one step, pause. She doesn’t want children, but I love her. This will never last, but I love her. It’s too late now, pause. We’ll be divorced by fall, pause. Just keep smiling, pause. I do love her, pause.

He tunes out the minister as he reads his lines; bless this holy union… is there anyone here who thinks these two should not get married, that would be me. Everyone looks out at the guests, waiting for someone to speak up, he sees her in the front row. Silent tears running down her face; happiness or despair? Her blue eyes full of storms, or was that last night? Lightning sparking off her hair, turning it into spun gold. God, how could I have done that, he berates himself.

I do love her… pause.


People say to me all the time, “Why are you so damn happy?”  “You’re dirt poor, your job sucks, you’re divorced, one of your kids is a meth-head ….why are you so happy?”

To be honest, for the most part, maybe 70%, is just my personality. I was raised poor, with 6 older brothers and 1 sister, and life was crazy! And if you can’t learn to laugh at life, or laugh with them, you’ll never survive.

But the other 30% is all God. When I have a problem, any little problem at all: I’m out of cat food, my truck is coughing, my breaks are squealing, the rain is keeping me inside…. or even the big problems: food for me, can’t pay my bills, or just worrying about my sons… I’ve gotten into the habit of just talking to God. He is always there, in my mind, in the back of my  mind, and I talk to Him ALL the time… and I know He’s listening. So that even if I can’t pay those bills, or haven’t heard from my son for 2 months, or even just “please make it stop raining”, I KNOW He hears me. That’s all it takes. I feel better inside, I feel real peace, and even if the money I need doesn’t appear magically, or my son doesn’t call, I still feel better.

The stress just fades away, and my attitude becomes, “oh, well, I’ve done what I can.”

You’d be amazed at some of the things I talk to God about. Crazy shit! lol But no matter what it is, I know in my heart He is there, listening. And when I finally break down and ask for something specific, like; “Please let me hear from my son?”… within a day or even an hour, he will call. “I just called cause it’s been a while, and I know you’re worried, Mom, but I’m ok….” and that is how the call starts! If I’m out of food, which I am quite often, living on minimum wage and only working part time, I may have can food in my cupboard’s that I don’t like to eat, because I know it’s full of sodium and preservatives so it just sits there, so I know I won’t starve if it comes down to it, but even when I just say, God, I’m hungry, in no time one of my friends will show up and either bring me something yummy they’ve made, or insist we go out for lunch… it just happens. Granted I have some pretty stellar friends, but for them just to show up with food, for no reason whatsoever, not knowing I’m going without, it just being Blessed by God. There is no two ways about it, God takes care of me. When I couldn’t pay my electric bill in January, and I was trying to get the electric company to hold off on shutting me off, the girl at the counter says, “Do you know the Salvation Army in Snoqualmie will sometimes help you, if you take in your disconnection notice?” I had never heard of this before, and didn’t even know we had a Salvation Army office in town. So I drive over there and they paid it in full. Just like that. No questions asked, no forms to fill out! And then a a few months ago I was struggling again, ran the bill up to over $300 before they were going to shut me off again, and this time they told me to call Hopelink. Another charity organization that will help if you are low income. Long story short, the girl said I had made a couple hundred dollars too much to qualify, but after hunting down all my pay stubs for an entire year, I did qualify based on it that way. They paid not only my bill, but I qualified for over $750, that they applied to my bill. Which means I haven’t had to worry about my bill for 3 months now!!! Talk about PEACE of MIND! and Thank You God!!!

Now if I can just hang on until my position becomes full time, I will be ok. That is if I can put up with being yelled at daily by angry people. Hah! But, I ask God each morning to send the angry people to someone else, and just let my calls be people with just questions, and SO FAR, it’s been working wonderfully!!! LOL  Of course I feel bad, because the other girls get the angry people, but I needed a break from it, before I quit. I know I can’t walk away from this job, and truly needed the peace to keep it.

You cannot convince me, no matter how hard you may try, that God does not hear us! I have had too many miracles in my life, and too many times I have reached out in pain or suffering of some kind, only to have God answer my prayers almost immediately.

I kid you not, folks, when I say God takes care of me, I am not kidding, or lying in any way!!!

My prayer for you all is to find Peace also, every minute of your lives, and all you have to do is just ASK! HIS NAME IS EMANUEL!!! It means “GOD WITH US!”

And if you don’t believe…. I dare you to try it! Just once. I dare you! 🙂 And I will pray God Blesses you in a way you never thought possible!!

He can move MOUNTAINS people!!  Just give it a whirl!!! Take care, and talk to you soon! Love, Deb

Affecting Lives

It’s strange how we idolize movie stars, actors and actresses. But sometimes one or two come along that play their part so well, you almost believe they are this way in real life.

I grew up watching The Waltons, a great family show series about a family struggling to survive in 1933 and carried on into the 40’s. As someone who came from a large family also, I identified easily with all the brothers and sisters, but mostly with two characters: The father, John, played by Ralph Waite and his son John-Boy, played by Richard Thomas, during the series. Various other actors played in the pilot, and there were several movies made after the series ended.

As a young girl who was raised by a stepfather who was hard working, yet completely cold and unaffectionate, I can remember dreaming of John as a father figure. And also as a young girl who lived through books, I identified strongly with John-Boy and his dreams of becoming a writer. Each night the show was on, all eight of us children would fan out on the floor in front of our ancient TV and watch the show intently, rarely commenting as this was not allowed until a commercial came on. My stepfather and mother would be in their favorite spots on the couch, one at each end, rarely exhibiting the kind of love and connections this family had and felt for each other.

It was a dream. No family I’ve have ever heard of cared as deeply for each other, or forgave each other so easily, working out their problems in a healthy loving way. Don’t get me wrong, there was much love in my family, mostly dished out from my mother, but also always shown through the struggles my stepfather displayed in keeping us all fed, clothed and keeping us on the right track in school and with a work ethic and dedication to taking care of his family, even if it was without tender emotion.

Still, the characters have stayed with me throughout my own life, and it struck me today with sadness as I watched the funeral for Ralph Waite, as portrayed on another TV show I love, NCIS. He had taken the role as Gibb’s father, and was once again a great father figure for a new generation. I remember hearing in the past at one time he was rated #3 of all the greatest loved father figures to ever be portrayed on TV. And it struck me hard, as I sadly realized he had finally passed away in real life. I had heard about it a few months ago, but at the time I was at work and it didn’t really register until today.

Of course Richard Thomas has become an icon also, in TV, Movies, theatre, and has directed numerous movies, but he also wrote 3 books of poetry. He is beyond talented, but I will never forget his first role in my world, the one I saw first, as him playing John-Boy. His dream, never ending, never wavering dream of becoming a writer was etched into my tender heart and mind throughout most of my childhood. Along with his father there backing him every step of the way, encouraging him, and teaching him what it meant to be a real man.

Of course I realize that both actors were blessed with great scripts, written by wonderfully well written authors, and I give them credit as well, as it was their great writing that made these men into great actors.

But we rarely get to see the authors, or get to know them as people. I did read the book Spencer’s Mountain, by Earl Hammer, as a young girl, and loved it, too, which I believe The Walton’s was based on.

I find it hard to believe Ralph is gone, and I truly feel like I’ve lost a dear friend, but mostly I wonder if he was a great man in life also, or just a really good actor. I wonder the same about Richard, and from what I’ve seen of him on talk shows he does seem to be a kind, good man for the most part. But I never saw Ralph in anything but shows, so I can’t say anything in regards to him.

But I do know this, if there were ever two greater actors, given two better scripts, I have not seen them. Or maybe I was just an impressionable young girl who needed an affectionate loving father and an older brother I could look up to, and strive to be like, since I had neither at home.

Thank you Ralph, you will be sorely missed. And thank you, too, Richard, for instilling a lifelong desire in me, to achieve my dreams as a writer.

A Beam of Light

Shuffling a step that matched each rush of the waves as they reached out to him in curls. The moon stretching his shadow began to drown his Fedora, then another step and his head was consumed by a light foam. He continued on as his shoulders washed out to sea. He looked up at a billion tiny lights, inhaling slowly with a deep rattle, and wondered why the ocean was foaming at the mouth while the stars only blinked. He gazed back down and watched the sand absorbing his bare boney feet. Mesmerized by his right big toe fighting to stay above the sand, holding on for one last second before it disappeared from sight. His cough took over, continuing on until he was hunched over. He leaned on his knees catching his breath for just a second or two, before it shook his soul once more and he sank to his knees. The cold ocean water swirled around his legs, numbing them almost instantly. It reminded him of a day almost a century past when he was lost in the woods only a mile from his home. Scared and wandering in circles, he had lost feeling in his feet and hands. And just like now, he had fallen to his knees. His last memory then was watching his tears poking holes in the foot high snow while the cold moon watched. But on that day, within seconds his father had burst into view, blinding him with the light from a flashlight beam before scooping him up and running non-stop until he reached home. He hoped it would be the same today; that he would once again see his father, maybe clothed in shining light as he greeted him once again. His mother next to him, wiping the flour from her chin with her apron. Maybe even his son would come riding up on his bicycle, horn honking and pink cheeked. He watched his fingers sinking into the sand, his wedding band catching the light of the moon in a tiny flicker of light. He hoped with all his heart that MaryAnn would understand. He couldn’t go back. Not to that lime green room that stunk of disinfectant and stiff bleached sheets. He hoped she would forgive him this one last time for walking away: from her, from the room, from the slow painful hell he couldn’t endure, not one more minute. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of evening, and smiled knowing she would see the letter in the morning. He crawled forward until the waves surrounded him’; his Fedora finally adrift and free.   

On This Day

I wander through a dusty room. Stare at a photograph in a dented, fake gold frame. Lying on his big brothers chest, his tiny feet in the air. A choo-choo train on his shirt. An almost toothless grin dimples his pink cheeks.

The curtain flutters above, brushed by a single fly. The Tonka truck and a flat soccer ball waiting silently in the corner, next to bags and boxes of forgotten memories.

I gaze into the past, the photo I took the same day he learned to walk. Holding on to his big brother’s fingers. Tippy toes bare against the bright, spring green grass.

The dandilions such a sunny yellow next to their heads, almost reflecting in their bright eyes. As he tickled him, they were both giggling, full of love and light, trust and innocence, on this day.

If my home caught fire tonight, I would grab just this picture on my way out.

Daily Prompt: Let’s Dance

What are your earliest and fondest memories of dance?

country bumpkins 1

(from left to right, Kim, David, Mark, Kevin, Doug, Kendon, Me toothless & Kris; we are lined up via height, not age, I was the baby and was 6, I think, my oldest brother was 13)

Born and raised in Indiana, some of my earliest memories of dance were not so fond because we were forced into servitude by our Mother, who only had good intentions at heart, but had no qualms about humiliating us repeatedly. The bib-overalls and flannel shirts helped immensely.  We were the Country Bumpkins, and oh how we were, who square danced together and went around to various Nursing Homes and square danced for the elderly and their total amusement. Sometimes they joined in with us, which brought huge smiles to their faces, and cheered them up in a long lonely dreary life, but mostly they just clapped and laughed at us… we were sure it was not with us, for even if we crashed into each other and giggled, it was more due to embarrassment than anything else.

This was one way my Mother made some extra money so that she could save it up for a one time only family vacation we took soon after. I remember distinctly how we all hated the trip, even though we drove in our huge van from Indiana to the East Coast. We saw every single war monument and cemetery and little house on the prairie between, and were bored out of our ever loving minds.  The only highlights were when we got to stay in a hotel each night that had a swimming pool, something Mom made sure of, to release all that pent up boredom. We also ate in fancy restaurants each night, right up until the last time, when we were finally at the East Coast. Blasting into this fancy restaurant all the boys ordered Lobster and us girls got the King Crab legs, (I think) all served on shiny silver platters. Almost done with our dinner, and bored once again, my wonderful brother Kevin set the table on fire! He knocked over his candle that was heating his butter, and torched the fine linen tablecloths and napkins! It was great! lol I’ll never forget it! We did get to see and swim in the ocean for the first time, and saw several pretty cool monuments, so it wasn’t a total bust, and of course after we torched the fancy restaurant we got to eat at Frisch’s Big Boys, McDonalds and KFC the rest of the trip home…. and never had to dance together again!

just a quick note to all the sci-fi writers out there…

For those of you who like to read other sci-fi writers, I just stumbled across a short story that was so unusual, great, well written and just plain creative that I thought I’d give a shout out for the author.  The short story is called “The girl-thing who went out for sushi” and is written by Pat Cadigan.  I found it in this huge compilation called “The year’s best science fiction,” edited by Gardner Dozois and published by St. Martin’s Griffin.

When I read it, all I could think was WOW, and how Trent Lewin would probably love this!  So there ya go Trentster… right up your alley!  It took me at least 2 pages into it before I figured out what the heck was going on, it was that out there! 

A few of the other stories I may mention later, but just thought I’d take a minute and give a shout out for Pat Cadigan.  Seriously great creativity!!!

I’m a Wiener!!!

winner badge nanowrimo 2013


I’m at 72,637 words…that’s 263 pages in 26 days folks!!!

Still have a few last words of wisdom to go…but I DID IT!!! 

I’m a wiener!  lol

Of course this doesn’t mean I won anything…lol…but writing along with 81,000 other writers I DID reach my goal of 50,000 words in one month!  Will probably finish it up tomorrow, but just thought I’d let you all know I’ll be back after Thanksgiving to blog my heart out!

Hope you’ve all had a wonderful November, and I promise to go back and read through your blogs and get caught up SOON!!!

Just a bit on edge…

Up early.  Didn’t sleep at all, as I’m still in the hospital; no worries, I’ll survive.  Just a bad attack of asthma, mixed in with bronchitis, making it a small issue of breathing, something I really do enjoy!  And have found to be very necessary in my life.  lol

The reason I didn’t sleep is obvious to anyone who’s ever been in the hospital, they never let you rest.  I really think they need to rethink this aspect on a deeper level, as not only are we trying to heal physically, but to do this it is obvious to me, rest is required.  Yet they always put me in a room with someone who needs constant care, around the clock, and even if I only need vitals taken every four hours or so, at least in between this time I can cat nap.  But no, they like to double up people, I guess trying to save the number of rooms to clean, or maybe save the nurses from having to walk all over the place.  I have no idea, but I can assure you, I will address this issue with the sweet human resources lady today, and maybe the social worker who’s actually on a mission to find good homes for all my stupid cats. 

I can no longer deal with them, aggravating my asthma, causing me to use allergy meds on a daily basis.  I love them to death, but they are literally loving me to death.  So it has been pointed out to me repeatedly for 5 years now…they must go….and after the last 8 days, I agree.

At any rate, back to my original point; I’ve gotten no rest whatsoever since I’ve been here.  But not only are the nurses intent on poking me and prodding me nonstop, listening to me breathe, cough, hack, try to blow a meter to show I can finally exhale, drugging me up, drowning me in fluids; which I must say, really, I had no idea my bladder could hold 27 oz. of fluids, every freaking hour!!!!!!!!  SO yea, I’m ready to leave; but I digress…

After not sleeping the previous 5 days I was at home suffering, sitting up all night long trying to breath, and not sleeping one wink, I finally give up and come in only to go 3 more days without sleep.  So yes, you could say I’m a bit on edge.  Or you could say, I’m honestly about to kill someone. 

So after dealing with all that, my roommate, sweet as she is, feels the need to leave her TV on all night long, and have the heat cranked up to 90 degrees, because she’s constantly cold.  I on the other hand, like it cool, because it eases my breathing, and am a very light sleeper.  But even with ear plugs in, nicely provided by the nurses, the constant flashing of the LED lights on the TV had me totally frustrated, placing the pillow over my head, the sheet, my sweatshirt, my sunglasses, lol, I kid you not, I was walking a tight line last night, between murder and trying to find compassion.  It WAS TOUGH!  I almost didn’t make it!  It seems like when God tests me, He tends to go all out!! 

BUT THIS MORNING, bright and early, after my roommate had woken up at 5am, turned her TV up really loud, and I finally gave up on sleep, I was channel surfing and saw Joyce Meyer preaching.  So I stopped to listen, as she is one of few ministers I have ever liked, because she really has a lot of common sense.  I like that in a woman.  None of that flowery bull, and burning hell and brimstone stuff, just good old every day common sense teaching on how to be walking in Jesus footsteps on a daily basis.

So what is her message this morning….LOVING YOUR NEIGHBOR!  hahahaha  cracks me up, how God does that to me.  She mentioned the sweet practice kindergarten children have almost daily, “Show and Tell”; and how we need to SHOW more than we TELL!  So I sat their debating what to say, how to say it, and how to show love, and not just bitch and complain.  Which is hard for me, I must admit.  I tend to bitch a bit, joke a bit, and then smile…which is not SHOWING love in any way. 

So yes, I bit my tongue and tried not to complain, ordered two cups of coffee right off the bat, and then decided to mosey around the curtain and mention to my neighbor what I had been thinking about all night long, while not sleeping.

What most people don’t know, is the new TV’s have LED Lights in them, that studies have proven DO penetrate your closed eyelids, and can literally keep your brain from sleeping when you leave the TV on all night long.  Not to mention the voice and remote control can also program your brain with all kinds of crappy commercials while you sleep never letting your brain get the rest it needs, and NOT letting your body heal properly.  Your brain must rest, when you are ill, to heal fully and quickly.  Otherwise you are just extending your illness.  I also mentioned how meditation can help to heal any problem in your body, but also help to reduce pain, which my neighbor is dealing with massive amounts of right now.  Even just 10 minutes a day, meditating and saying the words “heal me” over and over again, can increase your brains ability to heal itself.  Along with the meditation, it calms your brain, helps it to function better and be at peace, and will help to ease all the frustration she is going through, not being able to be the mother her children need right now.  She was literally making lists yesterday, to send home, from the minute she woke up on…and I mentioned to her, that she needs to let go, and let others do for her.  She needs to heal, brain and body, and she will find she will make it home sooner to them if she only makes a few changes.

She’s started down the long hard road of rehab, and I suggested just adding ten minutes of meditation to her routine for 3 days, and see if her mind doesn’t stop worrying so much, and her sleeping improves.  She’s on a vicious circle of meds that mess with normal sleep time, but I know from experience meditation works.  It can rest the brain, no matter what time of day you do it.  And of course, I explained how bad leaving the TV on all night long is for her. 

So, I just thought I’d mention all this today, in case any of you out there are dealing with your own healing issues, or sleep problems.  Force yourself to turn off the TV, cover up any LED lights in your room, like on clocks or radio’s, etc., and meditate a few minutes each day, whether at bedtime or when you wake up, but either will help you immensely!!!  I KID YOU NOT!  Stay well all….I’m off to dream land for at least 2 days solid, as soon as they let me out of here!!!!  😉


Broken, in under 3 seconds…

every single bone on her right side;

internal injuries easily laid at deaths door.

Only she admits she wasn’t wearing a seat belt,

knows her error and bad decision as the car

flipped over and over again; it will echo in

her dreams and thoughts for many years to come;

the guilt, the judgment of herself, the chastisement

damnation and constant barrage of “what if’s”.

Leaving 5 children to struggle on through months

of necessary surgeries, pain induced rages and

hopeless parenting attempts to change things…

without daily hugs, warm food, washed clothes,

an ear to listen, a voice to scold, or one to laugh;

months will go by, with no one to tuck them in

or help with homework, or play hopscotch even once.

Teenage dances with dresses unbought and no ice cream

nights watching love stories with much Kleenex required.

Boys not watched during sports events, or with girl advice;

because if they ask, they will listen to their mother,

even if they crack a joke and walk away, like they didn’t care…

they still listen.  Boys are like that with their Mom’s;

they pretend they don’t listen, but weeks or months down

the road, you hear them say something and you know

they heard you loud and clear, and followed your advice. 

And the youngest needing her the most, story time, hugs all

day long, the special last child time full of spoiling;

not really understanding what “broken” means; for not only

were the bones broken, but the mind and soul are shattered

instantly, and will never be put back the same way again.

Will it bring them closer because of the almost loss or

tear them apart as distance sometimes appears to be

betrayal?  I pray for her, for in one single second she

changed the course of her life making it viscously hard

and challenging, painful and disappointing, a struggle

like very few others are ever forced to face and in the

worst way possible …at her own hands!!


(I hope you all pray for her, her name is Teresa,

and she will need as many prayers as you can pray!)


They say:

That birds of a feather flock together…

But what about the words of old birds;

do they profligate or just migrate

gathering up momentum spinning

out of control only to circle and land

in huge drops of refuse spotting

the cement of callous empty halls

where honesty and truth

get covered in black and white

corporate suits of greedy desire

and green worms are all that matters?

They should become jailbirds…

because only ill birds foul their

own nest.

They certainly shouldn’t be free

as a bird…

if only I had a couple hundred stones!

looks can be deceiving

looks can be deceiving



living poor is living free, safe from greed

free from pretending only worry about need

wearing same old clothes, trailer trash to some

food bank once a week, ten year old phone

he walks to work only a mile away

doesn’t have friends, never much to say

so what if he was kind, never hurt a soul

would you care or try to make him feel whole

what if he was gentle, loving to every one

would you laugh at him or joking make fun


living poor is living free, he could care less

about money or greed, only being his best

working hard day by day, never giving in

providing a spare room for abused women

hiding them where they’d never be found

guarded by his sweet huge German hound

living almost off the grid, helping just enough

not caring what others think, just showing love

you never know how some people really are

judging based on looks makes you so subpar


would you mistakenly think he’s vulgar

when in reality he’s the one who’s stellar

you end up being the one living in a sewer

cheating others, just a scab of life, a liar

hurting others with every breath you take

crawling over others with every step you make

you think that ladder you climb makes you great

and all that money you have makes your fate

but it only takes away from what you have inside

living poor is living free, his heart and soul is open wide


“Paw Paw, look, I’m winning!”

His grandson’s face was a rosy glow as he grinned at the speed his big wheel was now achieving as he raced down the cement hill of the cul de sac.  They’d watched the Indy 500 earlier together and decided to ‘soup’ up his big wheel to see what speed it would top out at.  Buddy, just his nickname, had no idea Paw Paw had done nothing more than oil the plastic axels so the wheels would go faster.  All he knew was Paw Paw was the bestest.  Paw Paw, not Papa, or Grandpa, but Paaaw Paaaw, because he was special.   

Buddy was going so fast, at least 10 miles an hour, that he couldn’t keep his tiny feet on the peddles any longer, and just held his feet up in the air until he came to a stop across the cul de sac and halfway up the neighbors driveway.  Then he quickly rolled backwards, screaming in glee until he finally stopped in the middle of the huge circle of cement.  Paw Paw sipped on his usual, a rum and coke, and hollered,

“Five seconds flat, Buddy, that’s a new record.”  He hadn’t bothered to even look at his watch, it didn’t matter how many seconds it took, only that his little Buddy thought he went faster.  Which he did actually, but only because he wasn’t peddling.  He turned the big wheel around and pushed it back up the driveway, while Paw Paw lit a cigarette.  He thought about mowing the lawn, but decided to wait until Buddy’s nap time, so he could play with him longer. 

This was how they spent the weekends now, ever since Buddy and his daughter had moved in a year and a half ago, and she worked nights and needed a sitter.  She only got a few hours sleep each morning before Paw Paw had to leave for work during the week, and she had to get up and watch him all day.  Then she would sleep a few more hours after dinner when he got home and he would put Buddy to bed, while she went to work.  But on the weekends, it was play time with Buddy all day long.  He was only 2 years old now, but talked and had matured into a 4 year old stage almost over night.  Paw Paw loved him through and through and they had become buds the minute he held him at 3 days old. 

His daughter was a single parent, and he was glad because she needed his help.  They had always been the closest out of all his children; mostly because she was the youngest and hadn’t really understood what it had meant when he had abandoned them and left her Mom to raise them alone.  She’d instantly forgiven him the day she met him again, at around the age of 11, after he had taken her to the Red Lobster and treated her to crab legs.  She’s only been a year old when he left, and had thought her step father was her only Dad, until he reappeared in their lives once again.  She had no idea what child support meant back then, and didn’t care.  Her new Dad was fun and spoiled her rotten.  Something she had never had before that day.  She’d been the youngest and a bit forgotten in the crowd until that day.  She had no idea how close they would become over the years, and when she ended up pregnant, she turned to him.  He couldn’t say no, and she moved in when Buddy was about 6 months old.  Paw Paw became like a father to him, and his daughter loved him even more for it.

“Paw Paw, can I have some soda, too?”  He grinned down at the joy of his life, and said,

“No, but I’ll get you some apple apple juice.”  Buddy wrinkled up his nose, but since he’d added the extra ‘apple’ in, Buddy knew it would be a treat.  Paw Paw would blend the apple slices and a scoop of ice cream in with the apple juice and make a milk shake of it.  This was making little Buddy’s legs a bit chubby, along with Paw Paw’s belly, but neither cared.  Paw Paw had been 8 months pregnant for about 20 years, but not due to ice cream; more due to alcohol.  But he always blamed it on the ice cream.  Something he had to have every night before bedtime; and now had insisted the routine be carried on with Buddy.  “What’s the point in living, if you don’t live?” he would say. 

“Paw Paw, can I help you mow today?”

“Maybe later, after your nap.  I’ll save the side yard for you to do.”  The back yard had too many obstacles to go around, and the front yard was too steep for him to hold Buddy and drive at the same time.  But the side yard was flat and bare with only one tree to circle around, and was safer to mow with Buddy on his lap.

They went inside the cool kitchen, and sat for a moment, before he made the apple shake.  He was tired all the sudden, and the heat had gotten to him, making him sweat, when it was only about 10:30 in the morning.  He set his drink down, and got a cold bottle of water from the fridge and guzzled half of it down, thinking he was so thirsty he would melt.  It was only about 65 degree’s out, and he wondered why he was so hot all the sudden. 

The wicked stepmother, as his Mom called her, came in sipping on her first drink of the weekend, a bloody mary.  She got a huge stalk of celery out of the fridge, plopped it into her drink and left without saying a word.  She was mad at Paw Paw for canceling her ‘antiquing drive’ to play with Buddy.  She was almost always mad for some reason or another, and the only time she was nice was when she had about 4 drinks in her.  But Buddy knew even at his age not to play with her, because at some point she would get mad.  Usually at his Mom, because she and Buddy took up so much of Paw Paw’s time. 

They made regular trips to the bar together, to get away from the wicked stepmother.  Paw Paw would tell stories and jokes for everyone in the bar, and flirt with the bar maids, and Mom would flirt with men.  But neither ever invited the wicked stepmother, because she was no fun.  They only went on Mom’s days off, and if Buddy was asleep for the night.  But Mom had told him she needed some adult time too, and wouldn’t leave if he was still awake.

Buddy was pretty smart for a 2 year old, way past his years.  Mostly because he was his Mom’s little man, and had been treated like a little man since he was born.  He had been born a month late, and was walking at 6 months, and she never talked baby talk to him.  She knew he was smarter than the average kid when he called her Mommy at the age of 4 months.  Not Ma, or Ma Ma, but Mommy, like a big boy.  His second and third words were Paw Paw, about a week later.  Then it was ‘uh oh’ over and over again, until the day he learned to say ‘what’s that?’  He never stopped asking ‘what’s that’ until he knew what everything was, and by the time he was 8 months old, it became ‘why?’ 

Buddy looked at Paw Paw and saw his red face and said,

“You ok, Paw Paw?”

Paw Paw just chuckled, and went to make the apple shake for him.  He was too big for a high chair anymore, and sat on a phone book on the kitchen chair, and waited.  Then he saw a hummingbird outside the patio screen, and said quietly, like a conspirator,

“Paw…Paw…look, it’s a hummer.”  Paw Paw grinned to himself, and thought maybe later he would explain that it wasn’t a hummer, but a hummingbird, before he got into trouble.  He turned around and asked Buddy,

“You want a PBJ sport?”

“No.  Can I have a B with no LT?”  Paw Paw had explained this just yesterday, and Buddy didn’t like the lettuce much and hated tomatoes.

“Alright.  Do you need to go potty?”


Paw Paw’s heart was racing a bit, and as he wondered why, he finished up the shake and sat it in front of Buddy, before sitting down himself, and sipping on his drink.  His daughter came in the kitchen a second later, hair tousled from just waking up, and still in her sweats.  Buddy jumped down from his chair and threw himself at her.  She snatched him up and spun around hugging him and kissing his face.  He tried to stop her, but she switched to puppy kisses, licking his cheeks, and he giggled and squirmed to get down.  She let him go, and he climbed back up onto his chair as she poured a cup of coffee.  She added some cream, and then went to the table and sat down too.  She looked at her Dad and saw his red cheeks, and asked,

“What have you two been doing?”

“We were racing!”  Buddy said grinning, which told her they were talking about his big wheel, his favorite toy Paw Paw had got him for Christmas.  He took a big gulp of his apple shake, then with a huge milk mustache went on, “and I won.  Huh, Paw Paw?”  Paw Paw said,

“Yep, you went faster than ever before Buddy!  It only took him 5 seconds to reach the neighbors.” 

“And what were you doing Dad, running along beside him?”  He smiled and shook his head, but could still feel his heart beating fast.  He looked at his beautiful daughter, and smiled to reassure her but then admitted,

“Guess I should stick to water before noon, my hearts racing.”  He pushed his drink to the middle of the table and got up again to get the half drunk water bottle, then sat down again and drank some more.  He was so thirsty and his rum and coke was not cutting it.

His daughter’s brows began to draw closer as she looked at her Dad.  His cheeks and forehead were very red, when it was usually just his nose and cheeks looking a bit rosy.  His heart was racing, and she didn’t like it at all.  She asked him,

“Is your left arm numb?”  He knew she was thinking he was having a heart attack, but he tried to reassure her again and said,

“No, I’m fine, just feel a bit weird.  Like I just ran a race.”

She got up to get her cell phone from her purse, and when she came back, said,

“Shall I call 911, or do you want me to drive you?”

He laughed and said,

“No, I’m fine…really!”  She didn’t believe him, because she could tell he was lying.  She stood next to him, and picked up his wrist, and felt his pulse.  He was only 50 years old, but it was the average time men had heart attacks.  His pulse was racing way too fast.  She said,

“Get you’re ass in the car, Dad, I’ll get my purse.  That’s an order.  You too, Buddy, get in your seat for me, ok?  We’re gonna go for a drive.”

“OK!” He ran to the garage door, and pulled it open, and looked back expectantly at Paw Paw, who was still sitting there saying over and over again, ‘I’m fine.’

His Mom came back a few seconds later, with her flip flops on and her purse, and combing her hair as she walked.  She said sternly,

“Come on Dad, were going!  This isn’t something to fool around with!  We’ll just go to the Sports ER, and have them check you out.  It’ll only take an hour!  We’ll be back before the witch knows were gone!”

He grabbed his wallet from the key shelf after five minutes of arguing, and said sternly,

“Only if we stop for ice cream on the way back.”  Buddy giggled and squealed with joy, and like two grinning kids, they finally got in the car. 

He made it to the small ER and Buddy and his Mom were in the waiting room when Paw Paw died of a massive heart attack.  To this day, at the age of 40, Buddy eats a bowl of ice cream every night before he goes to bed.  


As most of you know, I’ve been a huge partaker of the herb for most of my life.  I began doing this at an early age, because I discovered it blocked my nightmares completely, and I not only enjoyed it, but it gave me a bit of peace and restful sleep.  But for a month now, I’ve been trying to detox my body, so I can pass a drug test and get a new job I want and terribly need.

Last night though, I had the freakiest dream, that was one that continued on and on, no matter how many times I woke up, it kept playing on, driving me to the edge by the time I gave up and got up.

It went something like this: I opened my front door, and to begin with 3 older adults, my age at least, came pushing into my home, locked my doors and sat down, like “whew” we got away….then the door was broken in, while I was trying to get these strangers out of my house, and younger people started streaming in, breaking things, chasing me, I tried to lock myself in my bathroom with my old school hand held land line phone (which I no longer have), but I kept trying and trying to reach 911, the police.  They never did answer, as I listened to all my stuff being broken, and ripped up, and then a young woman broke through the bathroom door, so I went elsewhere trying to escape all these crazy people I didn’t know, who were taking over my home.  At one point two young men did some inappropriate things, nothing to horrible, but NO matter what I did, I couldn’t get away, or get them OUT of my home, or reach the police!! 

Each time I woke up, my heart was racing, my fear was rising, and my body was physically shaking.

My thoughts were originally: who are these people, why do they want in my home, why are there SO many of them, and why won’t they leave?  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why they came flooding in. Literally flooding, like 30 people total, in my small home, wrecking it and doing whatever they wanted.

Now you might think, nothing too horrible happened, so it wasn’t really a nightmare, but as I sit here thinking about it this morning a few things struck me, that didn’t last night.  The biggest “revelation” to me, being for someone who is trying very hard to follow Yeshuah, Jesus, is that these were EVIL souls, flooding into my home.  I had just told someone a day or two ago that when we “try to walk with Jesus” or follow Him, the devil will go out of his way to test us and trip us up, trying his hardest to make us give up and turn away.

And also, as some of you know, my dreams come true way more often than I like, which is why I tried to block them for years. 

So what does it mean, people??  Anyone have any ideas.  ISHAYIA??? can you help at all, reach out and see what was going on or still may be? 

I’ll take any advice I get if it makes sense… lol 

I really don’t like this dark feeling hanging over me today, so if you’d like to pray, please do so…I could use some angels watching over me!!

I feel like evil has come in and is making itself at home, while my nerves are jumping and I still feel like I’m being attacked.

Weird, isn’t it, how our dreams can mess with our waking hours?  Mine always have, its a curse I carry, and one I may have to deal with for some time, if I get this new job I need. 

And if anyone knows of a safe herbal remedy that is good to take before bedtime, and helps to calm and get rid of nightmares, feel free to offer it up.  I already know Camomile is good for this, but it never did much for me.

thanks for listening, I feel a little better just writing it out…but I still feel the darkness.  Guess I better go pray for a while, maybe all day!!! lol

a Very Caring Man


Some still believe he wasn’t a good president, but to this day he continues to go out of his way to help others, especially the poor, and is sadly ONE OF FEW in politics that I’m proud to say is a great American!!! I passed this around facebook the other day, because HE IS SO RIGHT!!! I want to strangle the hypocrites in our country that continually say they want Christian Values! They continually rant and rave that we need God in our schools, taught and praised, want to keep all their guns without registering them or having to submit to a background check, because they have RIGHTS!! YET we have had more mass shootings this year alone, than we have had DAYS! Its just embarrassing! They want our country to go back to being only white folks, which would leave about 10% of the population, and the rest to go back to where they came from! They continually say this is THEIR country, when our ancestors clearly stole it from the Native Americans and Spanish that were here before them. They are SO BLINDED BY THEIR OWN IGNORANCE they can’t see past their own ass!

Animal Beings!

Imagine if every person you met taught you something helpful. 

Imagine children running around with every single adult they meet caring about them and loving them for their uniqueness and individual character.

Imagine the type of confidence and strength children would have if everyone guided them towards greatness; and the incredible adults they would become.

Imagine how advanced our culture would be, Art and Music, engineering and the technical advances we would reach with everyone just contributing for the common good of humanity. 

Imagine the science and medicinal growth if all doctors conferred continually, like in the genome project a few years ago. 

Imagine if all mentally disabled or mentally different minds were not sent away to be locked into rooms, and instead were listened to, and loved, and treated like they were special like savants, instead of behind or a threat.

Imagine, if you can, every family taking in anyone who is homeless and adding them to their family permanently.

Imagine sharing everything you have with others; food, clothing, homes, cars, toys, medicines, love, friendship, support.

Just sit and imagine it for a second:  what would you see?

A society filled with love, caring, nurturing.  Brains exploding with new ideas.  No greed, or pride, or hate, no self esteem issues or image diseases, no pain of non acceptance, non belonging, suicide, and most importantly… no war.

Can you see it?  Can you even imagine it?

I can, but only in a story I’m writing.

Maybe one day, a millennium from now, we will have finally evolved into HUMANE beings.

Until then… we just don’t measure up. 

We should call ourselves Animal Beings, because we still live like animals; treat others like animals; and behave worse than animals…. and most animals are very HUMANE!!!!

When did we reach the point that we thought we were better?  When did we decide that language made us better?  Its the only thing that sets us apart really from animals…yet has it made us better?  Has it brought us together, for the better?  Or have we just become noisier?

(sorry all, just disappointed and sick inside at the inhumanity I see rampant in our world!  thanks for letting me vent!)

Wake Up Sheeple!


Wake Up Sheeple!

15,000 people die each year due to drug overdoses,

10,000 people die each year due to drunk drivers,

3,000 people die each year at their own hands,

yet no one is upset about these lost souls.

Yes, 3000 people died horribly on this day,

and we will honor them all as we should,

but what really seems to anger us,

is that they dared to harm us on our own soil.

BUT what about ALL the others;

over 6,000 soldiers died in Iraq,

320,000 vets have come home with brain injuries.

That’s a THIRD of our military folks,

and doesn’t INCLUDE THE 1,500 with truly horrifying injuries.

So what shall we do?

Continue to rant and rave about a small number of

psycho’s who did this, this horrifying thing, 12 years ago,

when we have SO many OTHERS to worry about?

To this day, Americans are prejudiced against Muslims,

when few hate all Germans because of Hitler.

Yes, honor the fallen today, THEN TOMORROW,








One day, Jesus and his 2 little friends, Maggie and Thomas were playing on their roof.   In those days they were like a huge deck, and living in the desert, well you know those Jews, they wanna be able to catch some son.

They were playing around like they were in the WWF and little Maggie got body slammed, then she rolled right off the roof, and then hit her head really hard on a rock and died.

Jesus was like, “Holy Dad”, and then he started swearing, “Me, Me”.

So they climbed down quickly and Thomas began begging Jesus, “Stupid Girl!  If you don’t bring her back, I’ll give you my slingshot and my ASS.”

But Jesus was like, “Don’t be a hata!” or something like that I’m sure. 

So he kneeled down, placed his hand over her heart, and said those 3 Eternally Famous Words that have been Echoed throughout time….

“Tag, you’re it.”


🙂  Just a tiny bit of humor to get you all going today!  Not sure if I posted this little story before or not, but have a lovely day!!!

When I say…

Michael is my warrior friend, watching over my lost son, I am not lying.  I have felt very unsettled all week, which believe it or not I rarely worry about my son, because I have given him and his addiction to God and Yeshuah to take care of.  If I hadn’t I would’ve sunk under the weight of despair.  I’ve done all I can, and after I originally prayed and gave the problem to God, I was filled with peace and the worry just left my mind.  Thoughts of my son are always hovering close by, but really, I don’t worry or even think about it for long periods of time, long like weeks.

So last night when I went to bed around 10, after putting in 36 hours in three days at work, I thought I would sleep like a log.  But I didn’t. I tossed and turned, and thoughts of my son plagued my dreams.  I woke up this morning with the worst nightmare still playing in my mind, someone had shot my son and thrown his body in the river, and would never be found.  Probably the worst dream a mother can have…..but typical of the types of dreams I have, the kind of horrific nightmares I’ve had all my life.

I sat up in bed and said a quick prayer, my usual, which isn’t full of bullshit, but short and to the point, because I really don’t think God, the Holy Spirit or Yeshuah want to hear us ramble on and on, listing out every single praise we can imagine, going on and on about how wonderful they are.  I really don’t.  So my prayers usually go something like this:

“God, please continue to watch over my boys.  I know you will, you are always so good to me.  Yeshuah, please keep your minions of angels watching Douglas, and Michael, I know you must have been working hard last night, so thank you again for taking care of him.  Thank you for all my blessings, Father, I love you!”

That was it, and then I got up and went into the kitchen, nuked some water for my coffee, and then sat on my couch to boot up my laptop.  Before it booted up, my son called me and said,

“Mom, I’m in Issaquah and catching the bus, can you pick me up at 9am?”

I said “ok.”  He hung up and I thanked God for several minutes, with many heartfelt deep praises.

I picked him up and brought him home, and after I said to myself out loud again, ‘God you are so good to me’, he turned to me and said,

Yes He is.  Mom, I thought I was gonna get shot last night….” and went on to describe an event that scared him so much he took off on the last bus to Issaquah and then slept behind the Target to wait until morning… to come home.

Michael, my warrior friend, once again saved my son.  As a mother, or father, or even adoptive parent, this scenario seems like it’s what was on the TV last night, and you may think to yourself, this kind of thing will never happen to my children, I won’t let it!  But, let me tell you, it does happen.  It happens without your consent, and when you sit and think about it nonstop as it’s happening and ruining their lives, it will rip you to shreds if you don’t have the strength to handle it.  I tend to think God knows I’ve become a strong woman over the years, and can handle this, but even to me THIS is devastating.  To me, my heart, and my son.

So when I say, God is SO GOOD TO ME….I MEAN IT!

And my greatest wish for any of you out there, who don’t have faith, is that someday soon the light streams into your heart and fills you with the LOVE and JOY I have in my life.  EVEN while surrounded in darkness…the LIGHT shines through and I feel the Glory.


I’m beginning to wonder…..

I’m beginning to wonder if 90% of the followers I have (500+) are just wordpress trolls?  Several are just dead ends when you click on their gravatar’s and they never comment or like.

I only get likes and comments from about 100 different people, and even if they are only scrolling through the reader and hitting “like” without reading, I still get less than a hundred visits per day.

And in those visits where I get that many hits, I’ve posted at least three different posts.

Have any of you noticed this, also?  Is it just wordpress’s way of keeping us using their site???

I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t just change my site to a “.com” and be done with it?   I’m sick and tired of trying to comment on other posts, in this new comment block from hell!  It takes 10 minutes just to say ‘that’s cool’ and add a smiley face!  Not to mention their entire program is so tweaky it deletes my stuff and locks up, and won’t upload photo’s…it bothered me to the point I now use Windows Live Writer instead and have no problems at all…except when it is uploading to wordpress!

I also wonder if these others are just visiting in the hopes I will also check out their blog?  But I’m sorry to say, I don’t have that kind of time, and unless they comment or like more than one post, I don’t even notice them.  Sad to say, I know, but I got a life!

So NOW I’m wondering….how many of you would actually continue to follow me, if I changed over????  MAYBE the 20 followers I have who I know are human, and actually interact with me on a regular basis????  

IF you’ve actually read to this point, please let me know if you would continue to read my blog if I do?  please be honest… I can take it! lol but you know it would require taking the 3 seconds it takes to make a favorite tab, and all…and that’s alot…. haha

Other than that….I got my new larger memory card…woot woot, and will be busy all day…. 🙂   see ya tomorrow blogadeers!