One life removed

Sometimes we learn what is required in life early, saving ourselves from a lot of grief. Those are the lucky ones, for the rest of us learn the hard way, taking our time forgetting that all life is only but a vapor, here on earth.




That is until someone you know walks into a hospital, due to some illness and never walks out. Everyone’s life can be change in one week or on day because of one life, forever removed from this earth. This is a personal article, I know it means nothing to anyone but me. I just had to take a step back and remember how dedicate our life spans are. What we don’t know is the age we will be when our number comes up, nor do we know, where our vessel of a body will be. I know is this, it is a agonizing feeling when you know that one life is gone and they never had the opportunity to be a Christian. Or maybe they just chose not to be, I can’t judge their heart. I only wish I could have been there maybe to whisper something inside their ear, the words that God would of giving me, to bring some inter peace to a dieing soul. Laugh as you may, if my spelling is wrong or that my words make no sense, it does not matter. Some people have developed a hardest in their character, always looking for the flaws in others to humor themselves. Life and death are both a commodity of being human. Don’t ask who died, if you don’t care about the feeling of who is informing you. Maybe they just needed to share. Laugh not, it could be you that misspelled a word, for none of us are perfect in what we do. Don’t judge the heart of another, for you will one day be judged. If you have ever had a paper plate on a cookout that displeased you for you could not put one more thing on it? It was wet, soft, messy or maybe small and plastic unable to be used in the microwave? Either scenario, your plate was full. Life can be much like that plate at a cookout, just too full and with one more item, it tips over and everything ends up on the floor of use to any one but the dog who is waiting for your mistake. Remember life is full of people with full plates even after the cookout is over. The laughter has stopped, everyone has gone home and your plate is still full.


Then, someone you know dies and you take a look at how dedicate our life spans are.

A house does not make a home the people do

Home is where the heart is, not an address. It has taken me almost
A lifetime to realize what the word "home" meant. For most
People, home is where you grew up as a child. For my family, it was very
Different, we traveled due to my father's employment. As far as I
Can remember, there are only a few buildings that I lived in as a
Child that I actually remember. Mostly it was a memory in the house,
Not the house it's self. There are only a few homes, I remember for
Various reasons, like counting 101 steps to the front door. That was
Hard work. I remember that house, because it was in that house, my
Mother brought home a baby sister for me eight years my junior.
There was another house, I distinctly remember because the doors had
Skeleton key locks. It was there I wanted a pony for my birthday, I
Was only seven. Of course, it was impossible to fulfill that dream of
A little girl but my father tried. He rented a pony for my birthday.
It was in that house I thought my father made coins fly through the
Air.  Sitting on the kitchen table there was a pink plastic
Sugar bowl. Daddy would say, close your eyes, then he would lift the
Lid, and inside there would be a nickel. Daddy was quite clever, he would yell
To my mother," remember that nickel in the bathroom"? "Did you see
it fly by you"? "Because here it is"! I just knew my daddy could do magic. I
still remember that little pink plastic sugar bowl. I also
had the measles in that house. In those days if you had the measles,
you were kept in the dark for weeks to protect your eyes. Daddy
boarded up all my bedroom windows. It was there, I remember
storybooks that were read to me. The bathroom had a skeleton key
lock, and one window. Somehow my mother had lost her little manicure
kit. Mama was raising a holler, she just knew we had it. Daddy
said," if I find that manicure kit in your apron pocket I'm going to
give you a spanking". I was seven, that was so funny to me, as I
knew he was poken’ fun with momma. So daddy chased her, and caught
her, though she ran. Sure enough, there inside her apron pocket was
that little red manicure kit.
I remember daddy holding mama as they both struggled to get her manicure kit
out of that apron pocket. They were laughing, he did say he was going to spank
her. They were laughing, all I remember, was my daddy ended up locked in the
bathroom and mama had the only skeleton key to open the door. In fun, daddy
would say "Sweetie, go get the key from your mama". She had the key in her
apron pocket. I could not get it. But I watched, as the two of them played.
Now mama was a little nervous about letting daddy out of the bathroom by this
time. So she went outside to get the garden hose then she put it through that
rear bathroom window. She turned on the water hose flooding the bathroom
with my father inside. He was soaked, everyone was laughing Mom was much younger
than, as she would never do that kind of thing today. Daddy, was soaking wet,
he was not laughing by now and was still trying to get me to get the
key to let him out. Oh how she patted that pocket like the evil stepmother in
Cinderella, when Cinderella was locked up, To this day I am not sure how my father
got out of that bathroom. But he did, and all was well.

Are we afraid of a possum...are we afraid of each other?

In many ways, people are like a possums. We can look mean, when we are afraid. We play dead, to get out of trouble. However, with the right love and training we can be friendly too. We all like to be petted and feel loved. We all will fight, when back into a corner. To some we are ugly and to others, well they can just see pass our faults and go right for our smiles. We can learn a lot from animals. They do not argue or analyze each other. They do not compare themselves with others or try to keep up with the Jones. They do not use words so they cannot be cruel or indifferent. They do not treat other possums as badly as people can treat other people, for from your mouth speaks the words of your heart. They nurture their young with an instinct for life. The part of that life shapes and changes the world from the inside out. Passion to save all kinds of life is giving birth to the right to “be”. To observe oneself in a mirror without shame for were once a seed. One possum cannot change the world but the world can change one possum. His name was Scooter; his mom was killer by a car, there on the side of the road with seven babies in her pouch. Found by someone who had heart, took them home for safekeeping but out of the seven, six found their way out of a cage leaving Scooter who was the smallest of them all. He grows as a pet, used a litter box, and sat on your lap. Loved to be petted and smiled with all the teeth. Never aggressive, hang on your finger upside down. There came a time when Scooter could no longer spend time in his caged bedroom, for he had outgrown it. It was not easy to let him go but he had to learn on his own and he had 65 acres of land to give it a shot. Moral of this story is not everything that seems mean is, not everything meant to die does. And sometimes the smallest efforts for what man think is the less of these can be one of God greatest creations, from the inside out.