I am not a history buff. When this poem poured out, it surprised me much more than it will surprise you! I read the Declaration of Independence. Yup, I really did! After I read it, I dug a little deeper. That’s when I met Abigail. She was an opinionated, strong women (which I love), and I was swept into the love story between her and John Adams. This is the poem that became . This story is true. Enjoy. Happy Independence Day! God Bless America.
Read MoreI hope you enjoy this poem about dads.. It’s written from the perspective of a daughter, a wife, and a mother. I wanted to bless my dad for Father’s Day even though he is no longer with us. I thought of this poem in the morning, and it was written by the evening. May it touch you, and bless your dad too. It’s a 2 minute read. Thank you for following my journey.
Read MoreThis is a story about Jo, a hardworking girl with a big heart. It’s a quick read about long awaited successes, new beginnings, and memories that you keep and can touch. After the story we’ll attempt to interlace our brain with our heart by adding a bit of logic. There’s a reason for everything…right? Let’s see...
Read MoreWhat are you afraid of? Have you ever asked yourself this simple, yet profound question!? I have. And it changed me. Ponder this quick read story about how this simple question flip flopped my perspective about fear. You will also get to meet Barbara.. a panicked airline passenger who approaches her fear of the “what if’s” in two very different scenarios! Fasten your seat belts..!
Read MoreThe sound of the gun reached her after the shot did. The hunter’s aim had grazed her right wing, throwing her out of formation and stunning her in mid air. Her skein had been airborne for hours when it happened. Heather was tired, and the shot had instantly zapped all of her remaining energy. She knew she was going down. With the last of her fight she “honked” as loud as she could to her skein. Then she swerved, wobbled, and coasted towards earth, relying on her sharp vision to land her safely.
Read MoreWhen you lose yourself. When you are afraid. When you have lost your confidence..it feels impossible to climb out of that valley and back to you. BUT YOU CAN… and it’s easier when we support each other. Deciding to make a big change in your life is huge. It’s so hard to start. It takes discipline to practice and create habits. And then there’s the frustration and daily failures. Just like the little girl at the beginning of this story…
Read MoreStillness. The pilot had announced her decent only moments ago. She leaned forward, reaching around her folded legs and under the seat for her bag. The faded, and scuffed leather sack found her familiar hand and landed freely on her lap. She unzipped the pouch and rummaged nervously through the wadded receipts, loose change, and lipstick tubes until she found her passport. Destination Stillness. Yes, her ticket confirmed the same.
Read MoreThe receiver smelled like motor oil. The dingy, green, phone receiver had been kindly handed to her by the bulky man with the cracked, grease-stained fingers, from behind the cash register counter. He had wiped his rough, calloused hands on a dirty blue cloth and then untangled and stretched the coiled phone cord towards her. The push-button base dinged and clanked as he lifted it from behind the counter onto a disheveled pile of torn motor-parts catalogs, that lay open and heaped on the narrow desk in front of her.
Read MoreThe battered girl just she stood there, silent and disheartened, staring at herself in the mirror; she had become her own worst enemy. No matter how she looked at it, Disappointment was ugly, cumbersome, and hard to fight. Her successes felt small, her goals achieved seemed insignificant. Disappointment had dulled her senses and buried her joy. Fulfillment, Gratification, and Delight had lost its breath, smothered by Failure and Expectation.
Read MoreShe heard a buzz. Her eyes were still closed as she shifted her narrow, inner thoughts outward, and listened. The soft, distinct, buzz drew closer and she opened her eyes, shifting her sight to the lonely, red, bird feeder hanging patiently from the wooden roof beam. The tiny, bright green hummingbird floated and waltzed, back and forth, around, and upside down the red bird feeder, dipping its long, narrow beak into the sweet feast within. She didn’t move a muscle, she didn’t want it to end. Joy washed into the empty, dark alleys of her heart as she memorized the tiny dancer.
Read MoreShe called her the girl with the bags. The first time she had seen her was through her windshield, then a half-second later looking sideways through her driver’s side window; later again, maybe two seconds later, through her rearview mirror. Then she was gone. The girl with the bags, on the side of the road, had surprised her. She didn’t know her name, so she shamefully labeled her.
Read MoreHer tomboy way was simple, innocent and true, her tube socks were her eight-year-old outward statement that inwardly gave her confidence and made her feel strong. Pulling her baseball socks over her calf and up to her knee was her battle cry, her call to action. They said “yes you can” when she wondered if she could. Over 40 years later she can still say that those tube socks were the coolest thing she ever wore.
Read MoreCancer…rattle, shake, pop. Don’t forget about the cancer…pop, crack, shake. Are you thinking about the cancer yet?…shuffle, oomph, rattle…gulp. She squinched her eyes just enough for the clock on her bedside table to whisper that is was 2am. The bedroom was black and still. A murky silence hung in the atmosphere and muffled her ears. The stillness stiffened her body as she listened for his breath. Quietly she rolled onto her side, rubbing her eyes in a tired attempt to see through the blanket of darkness in front of her. Slowly, gradually, his silhouette appeared.
Read MoreThe unforeseen warning had instantly sucked the mountain air from her lungs, jerking her out of the beauty and freedom surrounding her and back into the captive prison of her mind. That ugly prison where the grip of fear strangles all reason. Just like that, the well-intentioned warning sign had blinded her, narrowing her focus to the inevitable darkness of the tunnel ahead.
Read MoreCrown Royal, she had spoiled herself with him before and he had always been unforgettable. He was an indulgent gift, perfectly wrapped, waiting to be unleashed. His boxy outer jacket was misleading, she knew better. There were no manners beyond his royal package, though his foreplay was subtle and exceptional.
Read MoreGod’s timing and hand in this newly embraced reading addiction was becoming clear. This simple task, thirty-minutes each day, was introducing a fresh perspective to her and Kevin’s relationship, both emotionally and spiritually. These intimate moments of learning, growing, and discovering would ultimately reignite a light in her heart that had fizzled and dimmed her spirit.
Read MoreHealing. It seemed a very small word to encompass the mountain of wounds that she had scabbed over, bandaged, reopened, bled, and wept in her lifetime. She was aware of her pain. The tears had dried up long ago and had morphed into frustration. Bliss was no more. Joy and thoughtless laughter seemed so far away. Healing felt impossible.
Read MoreShe stepped off the covered porch adjusting her perched sunglasses from her head to her nose. It wasn’t early and it wasn’t late, but it was bright and sticky; the wet air clung to her arms and she could feel the heat melting through her baseball cap matting her thick, dark hair. Pandora belted thru her earbuds mixing and pumping upbeat motivation into her ears and filtering to her feet. She glanced down at her purple running shoes, tapped her heel against the asphalt giving her equipment one last slip test. With a deep exhale she eased and shifted her mind and body into drive.
Read MoreShe bent down and swept up the tumbleweeds of tangled hair that had fallen and drifted into the corners of her bathroom floor. What the heck had happened to her thick, shiny locks? It seemed the good soil that held her roots to her scalp had turned to sand, and now her hair was falling out. She muttered and cussed under her breath as she combed her hair back from her forehead, revealing the broken, fine, baby sprigs that were in a fight for survival. She took a deep, worried breath as she examined her receding hairline. Crap, maybe she needed bangs, she thought, to hide the broken pieces? She hated bangs. Cuss, mutter…cuss, mutter…
Read MoreShe was naive about God and she knew it, but staying naive and silent felt safer than being exposed and feeling stupid. She blamed no one for her lack of understanding, she simply accepted it. Her path was well worn, comfortable, and under her control. She was a mother and a wife. She worked, took care of her home, and controlled her unraveling life the best she knew how. She accepted the choices she had made and denied every day that something was terribly wrong.
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