Wednesday, May 16, 2018

How To Approach a Roach (Poem)

Dear Reader...
For Grandpa...
My homework.


A child ran oh so quick
In his hand, he held a stick
His fear I say was beyond reproach
He wanted to know how to approach a roach.

"Should he?" he asked with voice so soft
"Grab a shoe and mount the loft?
Should with the anvil high ahead
Let it crash in his stead."

"Is the bug a fright?" he asked?
"Would a light do the task?
Or maybe with a fire bold
Allow the knight a story told?"

"Is this beast a fearsome prey?
A danger to us night and day?
Or is this bug a harmless one?
When everything is said and done?"

"Should I with flowers yet in hand.
Durrive for me a clever plan?
Should I invite him yet to tea?
Or should this bug, let him be?"

"Is the roach a fearsome pest?
Is this yet their very best?
Do they indeed invade the home?
Or would they rather let us alone?"

"For one, I spy with my lil' eye,
Are there yet more to raise the cry
To mount a war against our homes,
And eat our food, and gardens roam."

"Do they yet eat my little hands
Is my pain yet in their plans?
If you will but be my coach,
Advise me how to approach this roach."

"Approach a roach dear child of mine?
Is this idea what has come of thine?
How to broach this simple task?
I say, dear boy, you have but ask."

"A pest or treasure this you ask?
Is this their job, or given task?
Are they for good, or wish they ill?
Diseases, dirt, and filth dispel?"

"A roach indeed is thought a pest,
They invade the home and destroy the nest,
They chew the wood and other things
And are indeed most unclean."

"They carry germs that make us sick
And rid the place is no picnic
For if one, I see climb up the door
A million more hide beneath your floor.

"A Coleoptera this they are,
Latin child, I'll explain more
In our homes, they've always approached
This is the pest we call a roach.

"Yes, dear child, they do bite.
And will with surprising might.
They love your socks, and underwear,
And everything left here and there."

"The bits of crumbs left on the stairs,
And some half-chewed gummy bears,
A dish or two you forgot to wash,
And that soda you happened to slosh."

"You see there be a lot they eat,
Now dear child how to defeat
How do you approach a roach?
This will be how I coach."

"If inside do smack it dead
There's plenty more to take his stead
Don't give for him a single tear
For he won't invade this a'year."

"But if outside, let him alone
For this shall be their good home
The roach inside is but a pest,
But outside they are blessed."

"They help the leaves to decompose
And dead bodies they help dispose
The droppings left by little Spot,
And all things you have forgot."

"They clean the world, prevent fire
And this is why God inspired.
To create for us the little roach
With all the colors I've yet to broach."

"In Egypt, they were thought to be
Gods of birth and destiny
I tell you, child, this is untrue
But thought back then by quite a few."

"So dear child so dear to me
This roach is not your enemy
Do not run or be afraid.
Determine how to give your aid."

"If outside, let him alone.
But kill the beast if in your home
And now that I have been your coach
You know how to approach a roach."


Alright, there we go. Will probably need some editing later.

A few weeks ago, I hopped into the car and Grandpa said. "Your challenge for today, I want you to write a poem titled How to Approach a Roach... I did write something short, but I HATED it. This is better but still could use some work. The current plan is to take this, and its edits, illustratetrate it and turn it into a picture book.

I hope you enjoyed, any lines you can think of, or glaring mistakes, please point them out in the comments.

As always

Cowgirl Out

Sunday, May 13, 2018

Mother's Day Poem

Empty hallways
Empty home
Empty arms
Where once I roamed

Mother's call
Freedom's fate
Left unsaid
Much too late

Oh my heart
Oh my soul
Oh the place
Where I was whole

Mother's arms
Oh, where are you?
On this day
That is for you?

How long must I,
Bear this pain
Carry the burden,
Long for your name.

I hate this day,
For what has been,
And the loss,
And pain within.

Mother's Day?
To others perhaps.
For me it is
A memory lapse...

Despite the years,
My mind does go
Back in time,
To pain and woe

Mom's failing health,
Joy now gone,
Grammy's death,
Day's new dawn.

For on this day
In year '09,
Grammy Died,
It was her time...

It strikes a blow,
To hear those words,
To see the flowers,
To watch the birds.

How long it's been!
Can't I say?
For just this once,
Happy Mother's Day?

Oh, my heart?
Why do you greave?
Why ruin it again?
Nor sorrows releave.

And yet again,
My heart is hurt,
As I yearn for Mom,
Worlds apart.

It's not in words,
I tell her now,
How much she means,
Or furrows plowed.

I try to say it,
In little ways,
How I act,
And what I pray,

When I teach,
And what I learn,
How I dress,
In each day's turn.

To all the children,
I have 'mom-ed'
I smile now
Seeds have spawned

Oh, my mom,
Who's worlds apart,
As I school,
She's in my heart.

I wish to return
To her today
But oh the price
I'd have to pay

So in this poem
My heart will cry
To my mom
Until I die.

I count the blessings
Of mothers dear
And all the ears
For with they hear

Oh yes this day
Does give me grief
But I guess now
There is relief.


Slight errors through it... mother's day happens to be the hardest holiday for me. For many reasons... but I'll leave it at this.

And to all the Moms, of birth and spirit, Happy Mother's Day.

VK Out

Saturday, May 12, 2018

Freedom in Guardrails

This is for a class I'm in the middle of; Three paragraphs on an issue of Freedom that I struggle to grasp, and was covered in week's lesson.


Freedom is a notion that is hard to grasp, and even harder to carry out. Every day duty and life tugs at us from all sides. Mother wants this, Father that, school the other, then bosses, government, spouses and children tug at our time and lives day in, day out. As much as we want to be free, we also want food, a home, and adventure. But how? How with life tugging at our day to day are we even to approach freedom with such millstones hanging about our necks? We could live on the backs of others, and some have, but that only removes their freedom; with it, harmonious life in the cosmos.

But man must have freedom? Yes! One, in a way, must be free. First, however, one must be disciplined. This is a concept set forward by Kant, which I'd like to elaborate upon. Kant stood upon the idea that rules were more like guardrails protecting us from ourselves. It seems counter-intuitive, but if you sit back and think about it, this notion is very true.

At first, we don't have any rules, but also, we don't have any freedom. As a baby grows and matures, more and more freedoms are given to the child. With these freedoms; rules. When we are small, there are a lot of rules. But there are a lot of things that can hurt us. It's easier to be given a rule to follow, than a reason to obey. These rules are like guardrails allowing the child to explore their small world in great detail without the dangers of the whole world crashing in upon them. As they grow, and learn, reasons are given, adding signs to their adventure of life. As it is with rules and free for life, so it is on a larger scale with driving and rules.

Driving and life have rules. To protect our freedom, and broaden our reach, and the reach of others to achieve their dreams and goals. If you follow the rules, and everyone else does too, we can have many adventures and greater freedom in this life for all of our days. There are still things that can get into our path, but it prevents us from driving off the edge of the cliff into unknown dangers and threats. If our roads didn't have guardrails, we'd consider the builders careless. And if your life lacks rules, then not only are you risking your freedom but the freedom of everyone around you.

VK out.

Friday, May 11, 2018

Kendra's Little Yellow Dump-Truck (Dream)

Last night I had one of those dreams that I'm STILL laughing over. I'll try to do it justice. No guarantees.

Genres (Aventure/Comedy)


This wasn't the first time we were to climb the mountain. I couldn't even remember why we needed to climb the mountain. But there was something up there that we needed. Or some person... I could never remember.

"Come on V!" A pillow comes flying through the air colliding with my head. "We are late! Oh, what is that smell?" My eyes crack open to stare across the room at Kendra... Kendra? I decide not to question it.

My feet hit the floor. "I'm up!"

"Good," She said. "Shower, grab your bags we're leaving in ten minutes."

I blink... "In what?"

"I bought a dump truck!" She tells me proudly as she skips from the room.

"A... dump truck," I blink trying to wrap my mind around my sister's announcement. Oh whatever... did only have a very fractional amount of time to leave.

Grabbing my stuff I head to the shower, which I miraculously know where is despite the fact that this is obviously no place I've ever been before... If I were to guess, it's in her house... I decide not to question that either. Dream logic, ya 'know.

Once in the shower, and sudds up... I come to the sudden realization that the only soap in there is in a glass... perfume bottle. A glass- very large, very fancy, flower etched... perfume bottle that says. 'color enhancing shampoo' for thick, curly luxurious hair.

Must have been an impulse buy. Or Kendra dyed her hair again and didn't tell me... I shake my head and go with my gut, she bought that for no other reason than it was different.

I get dressed as fast as I can, and miraculously, we're on the road in the required time limit. "You use some thyme on your clocks?" I asked her hoping for the answer to be no as we walked out to the garage.

"Oh the spaghetti sauce just loves thyme... maybe we should eat moon dust on the way."

It's a dream, don't question it. "Right... I suppose I'm to do cartwheels in the hall?"

"That would be prudent, but not until after we get there."

Walking out the garage I look around. "Uh... Kendra? Where's your dump truck?" I ask her.

"Over here, I had it shrunk to fit." She pulls a tiny little toy yellow dump truck from the shelf, opens the door, and climbs in.

Again, don't question it. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and look in.

"OH!" she says, "I need you to grab the car mats... I forgot to put them back in."


The floor of that truck couldn't have been messier. The whole thing was caked in... bread crumbs, cookie crumbs, and crushed Oreos. But I find the large truck mats easily hanging on the other wall. I look between them, and our mode of transportation.

"Don't worry, I did get the right size! Just toss them in and come on! We really do need to get going before I have to toss more thyme onto the clocks."

And... they did. As my hand passed through the door, everything shrunk to fit. I climbed in after them and we were off.

The interior of the truck was again odd. The seats were made out of crackers, and the seatbelt was licorice. Made me wonder about the outside being a toy. Where did my sister find this thing?

"So, back to the top?"

"Yeah, and we've got a polistoikehedron on our tail." She replied as if we were discussing the weather.

"Great..." I said.

"Not really, Bet he brought some of those other monsters too. Bet he wants... whatever it is that the Giver wants us to get."

"And what is that?"

"I thought you knew." She replied glancing at me as she ziz-zagged up the road.

"You sure you don't want me to drive?"

"Not a bad idea!" She pushes a button and the steering where disappears from her side and appears on mine.

"Did you get it from Santa?" I ask.

"Might have, Just appeared in my driveway. Could have come from Mrs. Frizzle too."

I laugh at this, relaxing into the role of driving. "We are to climb the mountain and find... whatever it is we are to find."

"Exactly!" She sings

"Let's do it then."

As we drove, the road slowly changed from flatland, into a rocky forest, then finally we were climbing. Colder and colder the air grew as we made our trip up the mountain. I could see why she'd gotten the vehicle she had. The road was getting steeper, and narrower. Finally, in a section, it became too narrow for us to continue and too steep for us to park.

"I'll drop you here, then return," I said.

"Where you going?" She asked.

"To park it in a place where this... oddity won't be found, and won't go anywhere without us."

She nods. "Just make sure it's left upside down." She instructs me.

So, now alone, I back up nearly half a mile before I see a ledge overhanging the road Just at where my shoulders would normally be. I park the truck, get out, and flip it over leaving it behind a yellow flower bush and head to catch up.

The trip back up the mountain was a lot faster than what I expected, but the ledge was also a lot narrower than I remembered. Finally, I find a cave and turn in, this being the only direction Kendra could have taken forward. Once inside I hear two voices from out ahead of me. Puzzled, I follow.

"Purple chickens run faster than blue ones."

"SERIOUSLY! It's the red ones that are the fastest."

"Oh for crying out loud!" I mumble to myself trying desperately to wrap my head around the nonsense... yet again.

As I enter a cavern, I realize she's arguing with a giant, Venus Flytrap. Around it, moss, and glow warms light the enclosed area, and there she stood in the middle of it, going full force into a debate I couldn't even hope to follow.

"Kendra! We can't afford to be standing around!"

"I know!" she said, "But if we don't ask the good fly trap then we'll never figure out where we are supposed to find the dohicky that is supposed to do the whatnot for the whoever."

The plant, noticing me turns it's... now sunflower face towards me. "Oh! Hello! The blueberries grow on trees!"

"Sometimes," I reply.

"Very good, you may stay here until tomorrow night. It's time to wake up now... and boy do you stink!"

With that, it turned back to Kendra, morphing into a Rose, and going off again on some other nonsesne debate.


And that's where the dream cut off. With me hoplessly trying to follow their logic through a debate that would be better suited for Discord and Pinkie Pie in MLP. The whole cavern changing itself to fit the topic they were dicussing.

But I figured you guys would either loose sanity, or get a laugh out of that one.

Until Next time.

Cowgirl Out.

Monday, May 7, 2018

The Delema of my Blogs

Or should I say coming up with, and completing blog posts...

This past month I've been studying the great minds and worlds of thought that were advanced during the Reformation. That, of course, led to cleaning out my inbox in my email of all those... trash notifications that I've gotten over the year. Things like Google Calendar would like to inform you that it's time to wake up... dated October 22, 2015... I do hope I actually did that day it's too long ago to remember. This led to tripping over old posts, which has led to this.

The Dilemma of My blog posts

To understand my dilemma, I'd like to go over a bit of history of the blog, and how it's grown over the years.

When I started blogging, with my other one, Making Me A Servant in 2009, it was for a handful of reasons, the first was... to be cool. The cool people had blogs. (Nerds) The second reason was school related. I was learning how to write an essay and needed an audience bigger than Mom and my two siblings for that.

I should point out I had only really just captured the art of reading. My typing skills were... questionable at best. Not like today where I can cover nearly fifty-two words a minute without much thought or struggle. I type nearly as fast as I think... sometimes faster.

Kendra started about the same time as I did, and shoot, anything she could do I could do better right? *cough* I didn't do much. I tried... half-heartedly to keep up with the blog. Post here, post there, but it was a casual adventure. At that time, Most of my posts were taken down, edited, then put back up at some point or other.

This is also the year I gave up spelling tests. Guess mom considered the shame of being laughed at for my spelling was enough incentive to get past my big fat zeros I was getting on tests.

And so the years went by, I wrote, as I had ideas. But really, it quickly lost its novelty, and my motive went to 'I blog because my sister does.'

This of course came with its own bunch of problems. Honest, I was frustrated, angry, and downright reluctant to even attempt anything here, why? because to tell the truth, I was writing for comments and followers. I had maybe half a dozen followers, and she'd get a new one... frequently. Well, a lot more frequently than I was.

So I created myself a system. I had a daily goal and I'd follow the pattern. Memory Monday, Quote Me Tuesday, Wordless Wednesday, Thoughtful Thursday, Finished Friday, And Song Saturday. Each one pretty much explains itself, but I'll go over them. Mondays, I'd tell a memory. Tuesday I'd hunt down a quote, and then comment on it. Wednesday I'd share one, or more pictures I'd taken that week, Thursday I'd state something I was thankful for, Friday I'd put what I'd accomplished, and Saturday I'd write a new poem.

Talk about overwhelming.

It was a good goal, and I did manage to follow the pattern for a solid three months. Over one hundred days of blog posts six days; sometimes seven days a week. As great as it felt I burned myself out, and I was back at my starting point. To make matters worse, as I burned out, I was hearing more, and more often 'take it down, you have an error' or 'take it down, that's private information.'

Some were at this time, I started up this blog, to accompany the first. Making was supposed to be about my spiritual growth, but I was getting into poetry and writing. Those concepts just... didn't fit.

So time went on, and my frustration just kept mounting. Fed up, I tossed in the towel, But in my heart of heart... I do love writing.

So, again I morphed. Joined a fan fiction site, and started blogging over there. Nothing bad, but I needed to get away and create my voice away from my sister's friends, and my mother's influence. I needed to become ME. When people ask, I say that was my rebellious stage. Any posts I was particularly proud of, I'd bring over here and share as well. You'll notice those because they tend to have an outline from the transfer. Or weird little emojis.

That being said, Kendra still kept an eye on everything I posted, everything I shared, and when I stepped over a line... she let me know. But shoot, what are sisters for? I still didn't like it, but I was away from the people who knew me, and able to try different things without someone at church going. "Oh, so I read your blog post..."

I was studying a lot of strange topics, Like personality types, how the DISC system worked, What are personality functions. How does color affect our moods and emotions... Among other topics. And, I grew a following! For the first time ever, my stuff was being seen, and that gave me the motivation to keep going. People kept asking questions, and I kept studying. I was asked to join a reviewers community, I started doing voice work for animators, I led an art group, we did a dramatic reading together of a story we all enjoyed. I was discovering myself.

*Cue the crashing car*

All good things must come to an end. I was one of a handful of Christians in a heavily Left-wing world. With my beliefs, and my stands, as well as my following, I was getting noticed by the trolls. On top of that, my health was suffering, graduation had just happened, and my editor walked out; and to in case my month couldn't get any worse, a local friend stabbed me in the back... almost literally

So I quit. I quit everything. Pulled out, and just walked away. I had to. My heart was in a million pieces. I wasn't going to bend to the left and their regime, and I wasn't about to let anyone tell me what I could, and couldn't do. Especially not a troll online, or a friend I'd not spoken to in months. I do, after all, sing my own song.

I remember very little about the following months. I discovered gaming and fell in. I said I was learning about action sequences. Maybe so. Maybe, in the beginning, it was about noticing the finer details of the action in writing. But if I was honest, I was just trying to kill time. Kill the time I'd previously spent in all those projects, and with all my friends. From time to time, inspiration would strike and I'd start something, or write something short. But it wasn't very often, and it wasn't very deep. I turned to art when I wasn't gaming or cleaning.

I won't say what changed. But it's been a very dark couple of years. Just one thing after another. I feel I'm stronger for it, Learned how to journal, how to express myself for myself.

But where am I going from here? What is my dilemma? Very simply, I refuse to stick with a mold. If I'm part of an art group, I write poetry for birthday presents. If I'm part of a poetry group, I paint them pictures... just whatever everyone else is not doing, that's the part of myself that needs to speak.

I named this blog I'm Singing my Own Song because I do. I'd rather walk alone than fit a mold. I don't NEED people to be happy, or fulfilled. There's works of thought, the beauty of nature, places to see, books to read, paintings to paint; stories to write; music to create. I have a song, and I must sing it!

But it comes with a dilemma. I know what gets comments. But if I stick with just those posts, it's like using only one puppet in a puppet show when you have so many more to choose from. If I stick with just one, I feel like I'm repeating myself. But on the flip side, I've been hurt. I've been hurt badly and there's so much more to myself that I can't let out yet.

So where am I going? I don't know. My goal of blogging is to educate, to express myself, and to lift up other's spirits'. I don't know where that endeavor is going to take me. This blog doesn't have the same viewing my fan blog did. It doesn't have the same followers. I don't' even know if at this point in my life I have the time to put in that kind of effort to grow this to that.

Do I want to re-start that blog? Not really. I still have people I talk to from time to time, but I'm pretty sure that stage of my life is complete. That blog's goal was to help me find my voice, and the types of blog posts I'd enjoy writing.

Might still pop in from time to time, I do still have a ton of stories I really should finish before I take that next step into my own writing. Finish up with my voice, complete those endeavors. 

I've considered many paths forward for my blogging. My first is to study the great minds, and eras and doing posts about the heroes, and the women in their lives... But I don't think this blog's name is all that conducive to those kinds of posts. Despite the fact, women leaders in history, and their reputation has been a favorite topic of mine for years.

I've considered sitting down with the knowledge I have now of personality types, and colors... and people in general and doing posts. But I'm not sure I'm quite ready to do that either. Honest, I've already done that once. If someone wants to ask me a question on that... I'd be happy to do a post. Biblical Counseling is the degree I want, that involves having a deep understanding of the way people tick.

I know I'll continue to do posts about my imaginary worlds, and encounters with my different imaginary friends. As well as maybe a few of my more interesting dreams that could turn into story ideas someday. My art and my photography have always been a part of this blog, and it always will be. (Reminds me that probably will be the next post.) You can find my photography on Instagram.

That being said, I don't know how many times I've started a post just to close it and leave it in drafts. Some of them, I had a concept, but the post just didn't' feel right. Other times... It felt repetitive. This is, in essence, my dilemma.

Blogging is a beautiful creation of the free will and mental exercise. A freedom that our ancestors have not been able to experience. Their writing being forced to go through filters of government before anyone had the opportunity to see or read. A blessing that I wouldn't' give up for the world. I may change where I blog, but I'll never quit blogging.

And perhaps, just perhaps, being a small time blogger... isn't so bad after all.

VK out

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Word War

A short poem I started during a word war... never start a poem in a word war...

Photo Credit Kendra E. Ardnek

Clickity Clack
Fingers smack
Rush the keys
Busy Bees

Round the room
Words go zoom
All us girls
Hair to twirl

Push our minds
Keep in time
Time to beat
No, don't cheat!

Getting Stuck
Brain is muck
Keep in time
You're doing fine. 

Stories Told
Hearts unfold
Many tears
Untold fears

Story flies
Soaring skies
Darking plot
On the spot

Timer ticks
Keys still click
Rush of noise
Words of choice 

Down the page
In a rage
Gameface on
Story on

It is told
Just be bold

In the zone,
Not alone
Such a heart
We're all part

Time is up
Laptops shut
Wordcount out
Let us shout

Sunday, April 29, 2018

Retreat reflections.

I stumble into my bedroom, bags heavy in my hands, hardly making it to the bed, I plop down exhausted. Must make the bed, unpack... then set back up the computer, oh yeah... everything from the floor is all over the place. I should never have left. This is just simply more than I can handle. My mind begins a slow gradual downspin of every negative moment over the past few days.

It is at this moment I see Oth... His great arms are crossed over his chest as he looks down on me with amusement and a hint of forbearance.

Oth is a guardian, large, pushing nine foot I would say wingtip to wingtip... which he has four of, I'd say much greater.

I freeze before simply flopping on the bed. I don't want to write, I don't want to talk, and we both know it.

"I go to an event to help energize me to write... and I just feel worse." I bemone to him.

He lets out a great sigh before sitting, shaking his head in amusement at my little ol' self. I know the look, it's the same one I give my sister when she's melted all over Walmart's floor after a day of shopping complaining about some little nitpick little thing that just happened to tip her over the edge of her proverbial wall.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he sits in the old rickety chair beside me. I always wonder why it doesn't break when he decides to set up camp there... but it never does. Now he glares at me for thinking such things.

"Yeah," I say simply

"Would you do it again."

"In a heartbeat," I reply... "But not tonight."

He smiles, his hand brushing the side of my face with gentle comfort. The love and devotion in his eyes are soothing. I let out a great sigh, a yawn, then another sigh.

"I... had fun. Much more than I expected since I knew nobody and was going to a writer's event..."

He glares at me with a shake of his head. "Did you learn nothing-"

"I... I learned..." I replied yawning again.

He smiled with another nod. his wing slips around my shoulders. "You took a lot of pictures."

"Wasn't the only one," I reply instantly.

He shakes his head at me, but I don't care, I feel so dead. So drained. I should be sleeping, but-

"Do you feel better?"

I pause, my mouth half-open trying to understand what he was getting at.

"I'm not to stay like this forever you know. I have more to do than just hold your hand. You need to, you have to re-learn how to rely on others. Those girls are all more than worthy of your trust, and friendship." He glares at me, his great cat eyes boring through me.

I just got home after three days of people, people, people, and you want to know if I feel better? I already said I feel dead."


I look at my hands. I feel nothing, I know nothing. I just feel dead.

Elijah... the story of his flight from Jezable plays through my head slowly. My eyes turn to his. He's watching me.

I sigh, resigned. "I'm tired." I protest.

"I know." He says. "But you are also writing. Not just planning, or gaming."

I grumble under my breath. "Yeah, so what, I still don't feel any of this."

"You feel tired, you feel spent. You did your duty. I'm proud of you."

I feel the tears come to my eyes unbidden. I don't know why I'm crying, I simply am.

"Tell me about your adventure."

"I posted enough pictures-" I protest.

"You didn't post the half of them, and we both know it."

I look away, gazing off into the distance trying to pull myself back to the moment.

"When you first were told... how did you feel?"

"Afraid... There's just so much that can go wrong... and I knew none of the people there. What if... what if..." I don't say it, but we both know what my fear was... rejection. Again. Now a tear really does fall down my face. Or, a situation where my health becomes an issue. It always does, if even just a little.

"Then what... keep saying."

I'd almost forgotten he was in the room, I blush, shying away from his gaze. I wonder how much wisdom and knowledge are behind those eyes... that's off topic. The trip...

"What was it?"

I bite my lip. "A retreat... an adventure into someplace far away with eight girls I didn't even know."

"Eight isn't so many... now think of how all your artist friends felt..."

"New kid at the party..."


Anxious. I really don't want to say that out loud. I'd packed, then re-packed, then double packed... then felt for certain I'd overpacked, or forgotten something... probably both... somewhere. Maybe I should unpack and make sure I-

His hand falls on my arm again, his eyes firm. "Tomorrow. Rest, reflect, and pull yourself together."

"I'd rather escape."

"And avoid dealing with this, and forgetting the whole of it entirely.... you should also focus if you have any desire to sleep. What is one thing you learned... not your head, but your heart."

"My heart, or my spirit?" I ask.

He gives me that mysterious smile... I sigh. "My head didn't really learn anything... not really."

"I didn't ask about your head. What did your soul, spirit, and heart learn."

"Ah!! All of them!" I pause, trying to capture my escaping brain from the sheep pen... "I learned... I learned I missed doing things as a community. I miss my friends. I miss doing the reviews. Don't really miss writing-" The moment that's out of my mouth I freeze, baffled at the statement. "I don't miss writing?"

"You've never stopped, but you do miss the spirit of the writing."

"Sarah's talk..." I reply.

He nods. "You have forgotten why you write child. "

"I... still write my poetry. And besides, I did paint too."

"You painted so you didn't feel like you were the idiot in the room of saints."

"Translation I was showing off..." I reply.

"Exactly. You were showing them why they should accept you, then warning them why they should keep their distance... But why do you write, what is the spirit of it..."

I look away. "Originally, to have my sister's approval."

"Must it always be about that?"

I look away, realizing Oth had stopped talking, but rather it was the Giver who'd taken over talking to me, not through Oth, but within my own spirit.

"Yeah... guess it does," I say.

"Why do you write now?"

"So I don't forget what I've learned... so I have a record of what happened day to day..."

"What about your fiction?"

"Again, so I don't forget."

"What a goal." I look at Oth, as he smiles warmly down at me, his wings brushing my shoulder yet again.

"And what in hills on fire is that supposed to mean? What type of motive is 'so I don't forget?' What does it do for your kingdom? How does it further anything?"

"Some people write to uplift. Others write to inform, but you are there to remind. You don't say anything new. You shouldn't say anything new. Why do you think I allowed your head injury? Because you needed a short-term reminder to use your ability. You HAD to be disabled in the short term to understand how broken all humans are. How short-sighted they are."

"Alright, so this is Sarah's talk, Grace did one too... though I don't remember what on-" At that moment, I realize I can remember the story better than the lesson. I remember her talking about doing dramatic readings... something I sorely miss. But I don't remember her talk!

"Why didn't you write it down?"

"Because I wouldn't be able to listen," I reply instantly.

"And there are others, who took detailed notes, that if you asked, would be more than happy to share them... that is what a community is for. This work I give not just to you, but to many."

"So this talk isn't just for me then."

"You are the pen, and I am the author... is that not what we agreed?"

What if I get hurt again?

"Did I not teach you about the importance of not getting proud? They are on a fast track to pride. So are you. Fame must come slow, so one does not become proud. But, you will have a place in that group as well. And if one hurts you, then pray for them. I'll bring all good things to you as it is good for you to have them. This was my will. You needed that. The peace of nature, that I made... besides, you were praying for Blue Bonnet pictures."

I giggle with a smile. "And Indian Paintbrushes... got both."

"A walk, two nights of sleep no issues.... laughter, and games... and someone who delighted in your art."

"I have never seen someone value my work so highly."

"That is how I value it child. You needed to see that, to feel that, to own that look."

I nodded with a smile, glancing around, I realize in talking to the Giver Oth had left.

"Yeah..." I yawn again.

"Your body needs rest..." The information was not new, I knew I needed sleep. I was BONE tired.

"I created you so that after time with others, you would have to go off on your own to rest, to reflect. It's not bad. But you can't fear this weariness. You have to allow yourself out again. You have to let yourself build a community. but delight in the rest as well. Build yourself back up to sleep. I love you child"

"I love you too Abba." The weariness still washes over me in tides, but the dead feeling, the feeling that I had for so long allowed myself to prevent writing was gone. Probably to return.

There was a hush in the holy of holies, but it was fresh now, and free of strife.

Monday, April 9, 2018

So... Dad's in the Hosital

This is just a quick update.

Pray for my family and I. My dad's health has been rocky for the past 8 years. But this past week he started getting a pain in his chest... He went to the ER, but they found nothing. Blamed Gas.

Today, he went back in because he was in EXTREME pain... long story short he's getting his gall bladder removed.

He is the only driver in the family, Mom's eyes, I've got anxiety and fainting spells, and he's never bothered to teach Kendra... and we are trying to get into a house.

I know God's going to work through this. But I'm tired and frustrated. Please pray for us. This is causing all kinds of emotional issues for me. And... kish I want it to be over already. But I know Dad does as well double time.


Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Greaving Toffee

She loved to play

Few weeks old

 Getting a haircut
 Always in the middle of us. 
 Dig Toffee! Dig!

Eating out of Tadpole's hand

I... don't even know where to begin. How do you... express the deep sorrow over your childhood best friend/dog. I've had Toffee since Iwas 7 years old... and now...

Officially, she's missing. But she went missing Friday evening, March 15th. and hasn't been seen since.

What I think happend... Based off a dream I had... She went walking about dusk, when she suddenly had a sezure in the woods. Not being on our property when she finally got over it, she was SO lost... then she was attacked by wild dogs. Dream ended with me arguing with my father. I wanted to get home, he only wanted to go to work... but mid argue, the wolf jumped out of the woods and killed... I won't say.

But How do you... she was my WOLRD! I know she was old. but... oh! After everything I've lost these past 2 years, I didn't want her to be one of them.


Toffee has been with me since I was 7. So there are many lessons I've learned with her at my side, or in direct connection to her.

  1. Be aware of another's need
Toffe had one ear that... didn't stand up right... why? Because when she was about 3 months old I forgot about her being on her leash when it was below freezing. That ear was frost bit. 

2. Laugh at yourself
My favorite memory was when she was little. She'd catch hold of her tail and go round, and round and round. 

3. It's alright to be a girl. 

This was something that happened to her. Prior to this, I was working so hard to outdo the guys. That day, everything changed. After having a real man up helping out with the chores... she managed to get her shoulder slit open on some tin. While the guy had done more that day, than I had all year in the garden... I was the one who stitched her back together. 

4. Don't be afraid to take on something bigger than you are. 

Toffee never knew she was little. Or old.... she took on ANYTHING. She's the one who allerted me to the mountain lion. She'd take on stray dogs... cars, strangers... Never bit anyone... not for show. When she attacked, you KNEW it. 

5. Always look out for others. And pull them away from danger even if it hurts them. 

As I said, Toffee was always becide me. Through my years as a goat heard, while I had rabbits. (She LOVED the rabbits. I could put them down with her and she'd just snuggle them in.) But twice she saved me from snakes. Both poisonous, both times she grabbed my leg and yanked me away when they struck. She knew I was prone to freezing. And she always made sure I was out of the way. 

6. In all things: Be gentle. (you'll get more cookies)

Toffee's favorite way to get her food was for one of the babies to put it in her mouth one piece at a time. She'd just open her mouth, and let you put it on her tounge waiting for your fingers to be a safe distance away. And she'd do this with ALL children. 

7. It's OK to be picky (Just be polite about it) 

That dog, because of her Epilepsy, was always on a strict diet. But when her teeth became loose... she started wanting only soft food. She'd sit there and look at us until we'd put milk on her kibbles. That dog LOVED cerial. 

8. Friendships don't have to be physical. 

Toffee never licked. Part of what we trained into her. But also, with me having SEVERE dog allergies, we almost NEVER touched. She'd come in, lay down beside me then scamper off. 

This also ment she never did learn the definition of come. She came when she chose to. The rest of the time... good luck. 

9. She always came if I cried. 

ALWAYS. The first time she got off her leash I thought she was gone for good. After looking for hours, I broke down crying in the barnyard. She was instantly in my arms. That was always true. If I was hurting, she was with me. My last memory was right before I had to go. She spent that entire time glued to my leg. And I forgot to say goodbye! She didn't touch me... but she was there letting me know she was there. I broke down crying, and she curled up against my back. 

10. She never let moles stay in her yard. 

She LOVED hunting mice and moles. She first figured it out from one of our cats when she was a puppy... after that, she hunted. Remember the first time I walked out into the kitchen and she had  a mole in front of her food dish. Yep... I was mad. We eventually trained her to leave outside... though she always put it in the path. 

11. Dig Toffee! Dig!

First trick she ever learned... only real trick she ever learned. Brilliant dog... and she trained us with it. 

But she LOVED to dig. So the kids trained her to follow a line in the sand to dig tunnels. All you had to do, was tap the ground and she'd go at it. When you were done. You went EEEH! Sit. and she would... normally... actually you had to distract her somewhere else. And hope she didn't see you digging... because then she'd be right back at it. 

12. Tolerate children. 

It wasn't just feeding she tolerated... the only time she EVER bit anyone, was when my cousin stuck her finger up her tail... yeah. I'd bite too. But everything else. She'd just roll with it. 

She loved blankets more than pillows. Being massaged with your feet, Sleeping in the sun... chasing bugs... running... following me while Idid pictures. If I stopped, she'd stand and growl at anyone who came close. If it was a bug... she'd normally eat it. 

I really don't know what I'll do without her. I miss her something awful. I wish SOMEONE would return her body to us so we can at least burry her. But... I doubt that'll happen at this point. I think her coller had her rabies tag on it... but nothing else. 

Another favorite memory, she was the one who introduced me to Vasthi and Vonner my Vultures. She loved those chicks. Stole the eggs at first... then... I think she'd also bring her the dead mice she caught. I'm not sure. 

The only real thing that'd bother me, is at 4AM every night she'd want to go to the bathroom... so she'd stand at the door yipping until someone took her out. At which point somewhere in the house you'd hear. "Someone hush the yip box." 

She had a bark for everything. Yip, was let me out, or in. 

EEHR! Was I'm hurt. 

Awoof! Was new car. come see. 

Woof, woof, woof! GERRRR, Mailman just got out of their car. 

Yip was also hungry... tirsty... and you could go down the list... she'd sneeze when it was a yes. 

Lord... help me through this. I don't know if I can have a new dog now. But oh I want one. Don't let Daddy get rid of her stuff! Bring us her body please. I want to bury my dog. My baby. Even if we are not staying there.  Amen. 

Coming to say hi

And get scratched. 
(Not at all bothered by that cat)

Her Guarding my back while I took picturs. 

So proud of the hole she had dug. 

Thursday, March 15, 2018

A Talk with the Giver

The meadow was a beautiful place here in the center of Ooladada's hills. Giver's hill was the exact location. The Anka's vault could just be seen. I myself was up there storyboarding. I  never really liked talking to my 'friends' when others could hear me... it was odd. But up here, I could talk to them all day long and never feel out of place.

In my mind's eye, I pulled up my current companion. Doofy. Doofy was simply his Nika name... I won't say more because... well I'm not ready to tell you guys here. The Alian's gold eyes and emerald armor shone in the light. "Are you kidding! Kish if I had my way... ya' know... I think I chose to be with you so I had at least chosen something. Some days, I feel like Rapunzel."

My companion laughs. "You are capable..."

A feeling of disappointment and sorrow fill me. I look behind me towards the Anakulen's Vault. Standing beside it I see the Giver. I sigh, dismissing my imaginary friend. I'm not about to continue with this line of thought and walk towards him. "Sir." I begin.

"If only you would talk to me as you would them."

I can feel the pain in his voice. I look at my feet chewing the inside of my lip.

"The keepers, the guards, even the playmates you communicate with freely... and I have to overhear. V...." He walks over, kneeling in the grass in front of me. "Shall we sit? Can we talk? Can I say anything to you?"

"We can I guess... but I don't want to waste your time. There are others."

"Do you think the master of time itself can't find the time to deal with all? You need to talk, so let us sit."

The birds sang around us, the wind whistled through the trees.... and I sat with him in the dew filled grass. "What... what do you want to know?" I stammer unsteadily.

"Listen? Do you hear the birds?" He said to me.

I smiled. "Yes, m'lord. I hear the birds."

"How long will you call me that child? I have made you my own! I do not sit here with you out of duty."

I look away. "It's awkward..."

"It's not normal. Not in your new sense. I did this all the time for Adam and Eve. You talk to your imaginary friends... you WANT to talk to your imaginary friends. Can your small mind not understand this?"

"I'm trying to... My friends are different. I can't offend them. They are just imaginary. They don't exist. I can figure things out before it matters."

"Child... oh my dear child! How long must you suffer? How long must you turn your face from me towards another? Have you made yourself gods of these things? I who've made you, who've raised you out of the multitude, who have chosen to talk to you in this way.... and you turn to an idol?"

"It's not an idol... it's just an imaginary friend."

"Did it come between us?"

I pause gulping. "Not... exactly."

"You know I know everything?"

I bite my lip, my ankulen burning against my forehead. "it's just... it's just... weird... ya' know."

"You've been studying helping those who are trapped in their mind... to communicate, how do you reach them?"

"By joining them in their play..." I say without missing a beat.

"How's that?"

"Don't you know?" I protest.

"I want you to tell me child.... and use my name. The name I told you to call me."

"They are trapped Abba... Daddy... trapped in their minds. But they are trying to reach out. Not always the way we'd accept. But to enter, you must mimic them... join in. If they beat on the table... turn it into a rhythm... or follow the bouncing beat game.... gently of course... don't break anything. Then, slowly they'll open up."

"How is that different than what I'm doing now?"

I snort. "Are you calling me retarded?"

"Are you saying you know the mind of God?" He throws back at me.

I can't help but giggle at this. He gives me a half smile. "I guess to you we are no different than those poor souls with autism. Trapped in their small reality."

"Everyone is trapped in a reality. Just some are smaller than others. Child... oh my darling one. If only you would talk to me as you do your imagination. If only you would cry out to me as you do them. Have I not reached out to you? Have I not spoken to you directly? Child, grow your faith and trust in me. I have set you upon a rock, I have placed my mark upon you. You won't be moved. And you cannot be harmed. If your heart desires it, tell me. Tell me everything. Because I want to grant you everything."

"But you are so much more Lord! Oh, how can I ever treat you as lowly as I these figments of imagination?"

"Do you not treat them as real? I am real, and yet you've set me on a shelf."

"I have not!"

"You've asked me why I've been silent... but when was the last time you talked to me? Open your eyes. And while it is good to have an imagination. I come first. I've written the world into existence. Can I not help you write your own stories? Can I not take what you possess and make it the best you can be. Let me child take your pen, and let this story be mine. Let us together cowrite all things."

"People are going to call me odd...."

"When have people ever been faithful. Don't worry about this generation. It shall be honored here, even if it is despised there. Give me your pen, and let me write through you."

"Lord, I wish to say yes, but I don't know how..."

"Then meditate on my words, and let me teach you. But first, you must learn to talk to me. Then, you can learn to write with me."

"Lord, this is not in me, or of me. Nor of me could it ever be...."

"Let me take the load, and you can do all. You are beautiful. You are kind. You are gentle...."

I feel my cheeks grow hot. "Sir!"

"Are these not the words you make your characters say? Child, you have spiritual eyes that you may see me, a heart that cries for wisdom. You've turned your heart to me that I can speak."

"But my feet run towards the world Lord. There are shiny things I want!"

"Tell me about them, and I will give it to you all that I deem good."

"Lord... sometimes it's awkward.. and I don't always know exactly what it is I want... and...I still don't like asking...."

"Just ask, and I will provide."

"You are good Lord...."

"Child, I am your father, so let me give to you all that which a father would."

"Can you give me more than I can ever need?

"Can you first handle nothing? Can your green pastures be one bite per step?"

"I can try Lord," I reply.

"No, don't try. For your flesh is weak, and you'd never make it. Hold my hand, and let me guide you."

"Like a horse..."

"With the blinders on."

"Still odd."

I hear him laugh beside me. "Don't measure with the flesh that which is of the spirit. When a man comes against you to kill you... let no man question that I have placed my mark on you. You are my child, and I am your Father. I will work great things through you. But first, you must trust. You must Talk. And you must let me write through you."

I blush as I look at my hands. "When I am weak, then I'm strong."

"I've covered you with my feathers, I will shelter you with my wings. This my promise will be your armor. The armor I gave you so long ago. You shall grow, and it shall fit. Go, child, I will be with you."

"Thank you, Abba..." The words, still funny in my mouth slip off my tongue as I rise. He vanishes, not of my will, but the season of sight had ended. I sigh as I walk back down the hill to the portal to reality. Pausing, I look back over my shoulder. "Thank you... I'll try to remember."

"Don't try... Do." his voice is the wind itself whistling over the land.
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