Ashes to ashes...

When I was looking through pictures on my Bess, I was stunned at how brown her head hair was. It is like all of a sudden the gray hair creaped up and I didn't realize it. In the end, her head was gray. She looks so pretty in this picture, but there is still that worry in her eyes. This was shortly before we adopted her.

I am laughing right now because I am thinking about Number One Daughter. When she was five, she thought that Bessie's teats were the noses of puppies that were ready to come out of her tummy. That gives me such a good and cleansing laugh. I have to be careful when I laugh at something Number One Daughter says or does. She has always been sensitive. I explain to her that I laugh because her thoughts are charming and that her actions are adorable. That makes it better.

Today marks one week since we put Bessie down. It was a hard week. On Tuesday, I received a sympathy card from our vet. Tucked inside the card was a mounted inking of Bessie's paw print. It was so unexpected and wonderful. The mounting is very simple, but it is one of the best gifts that I have ever received.

Yesterday afternoon, Greg picked up Bessie's ashes. Now if someone had ever told me that I would have ashes of anything or anyone, I would say that they were crazy. In my lifetime, we have said goodbye to many beloved pets, but they were buried in the yard or a field. If I had gotten ashes from our dog Chocolate Milk, they would have been spread in the river or the Pacific Ocean. He loved to swim. Pogen, a little beagle dachshund cross would have been spread in a field; how she loved to run!

But Bessie just liked to be near me. Always by my side or at the very least, within sight. She didn't act out, but she wanted to be near me. She hung out with the kids and Greg, don't get me wrong. She loved all of us. But when all was said and done, she wanted to be with me.

So we are going to make a shadow box and place her ashes in it with pictures and her paw inking. It just feels right. When Greg brought her ashes home ayer, I cried, but a peace also washed over me. So for me and my Bess, this just feels right. She is home.

Bessie

It is hard to know how to describe my friend. In this picture, she is perhaps ten years old, maybe 11. I adopted her from a rescue in Indiana five years ago. They weren't exactly sure how old she was. I adopted her based on her picture alone. It was a simple headshot, in which she looked beyond sad.

Granted, Basset Hounds as a breed look sad, but my first impression of Bessie was that she had given up on life. As I heard her story, I could see why.

Her original owners abused her unmercifully. She was beaten and left outside to fend for herself in all weather conditions. She escaped from that family several times and thankfully the last time that she escaped, she was found by an animal rescue.

Once at the rescue, a veterinarian healed her physically. Only to have her attacked at the shelter by three other dogs. She required stitches and more healing.

Then, I found her sad face on petfinder. It never occurred to me that she lived three states away from me, but it was too late: It was literally love at first sight! She was delivered to us in the parking lot of a strip mall about two weeks later.

At first, she would cower at the sound of a man's voice. Simply crumble in fear. A raised voice sent her into shivers. She was shy and certain that she was destined to be abused forever.

Armed with lots of cheese, which was her "chocolate", and a husband with the heart of an angel, I knew that we could help ease her pain. Soon she was lying on the floor next to Greg. They took long naps next to each other. She was bowled over by him and she deserved nothing less from a man.

Truth be told, though, she was my dog. She followed me every where like a little puppy who is expecting fun and excitement. She was calm and docile, really, but she was a good guard dog and defended me fearlessly.

She would dig up small moles and toss them around. She found a family of raccoons in our brush pile and went crazy, but mostly, Bessie was just content being where ever I was. At my side. Lying down. Begging for cheese or a pat on the head. Ever present. Deeply loved.

On Thanksgiving Day, we rushed her to a 24/7 emergency animal hospital. Her hindquarters were becoming paralyzed. With a little bit of medicine, she improved and we enjoyed about five weeks of good-healthy Bessie time.

Alas, on Friday, January 2nd, her hindquarters failed her. She lost control of her bodily functions. I was upstairs when it happened. Greg's urgent, "Your dog needs you!" brought immediate tears as I hit the stairs at a dead run. He put her on the bed so that I could pet her and calm her. Those trusting, heavy, deeply soulful eyes fixed on me. I knew that it was time.

I called the vet. An hour later, shortly after 5 p.m. I held her as they shaved her leg. The vet administered the euthanasia. I bawled like a baby as she looked at me. I told her how much I loved her and held her tightly. And then as swiftly as she stole my heart five years ago, she slipped away to Heaven.

To say that I am inconsolable is an understatement. I loved her so much. The love for an animal is beyond any love that I can describe. It is the kind of love that we strive to find in our lives with humans. I mean, the love for my children is the most precious love of all, but the love for an animal is deepened by the animal's intense dependence on us. It is the deepest unconditional love that exists.

There is not much that I wouldn't give to have her lying here next to me this moment. I miss the sound of her tags on her collar. I miss her under my feet as I try to walk ANY where. I miss her leaning against my legs as I sit here crying.

Bessie was my friend. I am beyond honored to have been the recipient of her love and devotion. I wish that I could have one more day with my 12-year-old friend...

Quickly. Hurry faster.

It seems that there is never enough time. And time flies by. All the cliches about time apply.

I see that Zach Bonner of the Little Red Wagon Foundation was one of three winners in the Volvo campaign! He won $25,000 and plans to build a school in Africa. You can visit Zach at:

http://www.littleredwagonfoundation.com I used to play with the display and settings and it would show his name and take you there, but our system crashed and I am not using my computer.

I met a lot of people on Blogger. I hope if you drop in that you will enter a hello in comments. For some reason all the links to my friends have disappeared!

Have a very happy day,
Renee

Vote for Zach Bonner

Would you take a moment to go to this link and vote for Zach Bonner at the Volvo awards? He is an amazing kid who does a lot of charity work through his Little Red Wagon Foundation. Just click on this link and it will take you to the voting page. He is the first listed entrant:

http://www.volvoforlifeawards.com/cgi-bin/iowa/english/vote/butterfly/index.html

Oh Holy Night

Fall on your knees.
Oh hear the angel voices.
Oh night divine.
Oh night, when Christ was born.

God willing, we will have peace in 2008. God bless our soldiers, airmen, seamen and Marines. God bless you and God bless America

Time to let them go

My brother is the man in the bucket in this photo. He is younger than I am. I remember playing games with him when we were little. I specifically recall one day when we were in Japan and no one wanted to play with me. He came home and sat with me on the porch.

Little moments like that carry us through, I think. About ten years ago, he was injured on the job. A head injury. It did a lot of damage. He needed glasses after he recovered. That should have been the indicator of things to come.

Two years ago, I flew to California to see him in the ICU. He had emergency brain surgery. He survived. G and I stayed with him for four or five days. It was an awful, yet miraculous time, too.

In August he had a stroke. I didn't find out about it until October. It is a long and painful story and my parents and I are estranged again because of it. My heart is aching for my little brother. He will never be the same though he recovered well. I know that his time is nearer than I care to admit. We are estranged now, too.

Ironically, a lie created all this mess. A lie that my family didn't even share with me for two years. My brother's wife told my family something about me and it was a lie. He and that woman are divorced now and my family has suggested that they may have been mistaken, but offered no apologies.

Because of the lie, my last trip to California will be the last time that I see my brother. He is not strong enough to talk about what happened. So the clock is ticking toward the end and I am in misery.

My parents for whatever reason have always believed me to be something less than what they expected. I have never understood that. I just don't get it. I am so much more.

After the holidays, I am going to reiterate to them to leave me alone. By hurting me, they hurt my family. The kids deserve unconditional love. They can't offer it to me; how do I expect them to offer it to my children. It is too much pain. I have a responsibility to protect my children. A nagging feeling eats away at me: had my parents protected my sisters and I, perhaps there wouldn't be so many terrible feelings and estrangements. It is time for me to get on with my life free from this nonsense.

It is time for me to let them go.

A year in the life...

Almost one year later, we are back online. I don't know if it feels good or not:)
The news reports let you know that we are buried in snow and this is what I feel like. Polar Bear Mommy and Little Big Boy and Number One Daughter bored to tears.
I would like to say that I had an epiphany while we were off line, but I didn't. Things are one year older and I am the same. There have been many changes during this time, but all in all things remain the same.
My heart is heavy and I do not feel like it is Christmas at all, but am trying to stare at the Nativity and see the meaning behind it all. My little sis said once that she feels like Cindy Loo Who in the live action movie The Grinch. This year, I feel the same way.
Six days away and I am looking for the "feeling" of Christmas. There is a song on The Preacher's Wife soundtrack that is worth a listen: Who Would Imagine a King. I try to ponder that song.
If I don't make it back here before the week is over, Merry Christmas. I hope that you find the meaning and it surrounds you like a warm hug from a long lost friend. hugs!

Safety Nets

This reminds me of days gone by. I imagine this is the street that Louisa May Alcott lived on. It is warm and cozy. More importantly, it is festive.

I have not posted in a long, long time. The boogie man found me via this blog; at least that is how I think that he found me. I confronted him, too. Not face to face, but I confronted him. I also told him that I had no place in my life for him. More importantly, I will not allow him into my children's lives.

He wanted to be in my life. All these years gone by and I find him in my inbox one day. The first letter that I wrote to him was filled with hatred and anger. Then I calmed down and told him the way life is. Not only is he unwelcome in my life, but I do not want to hear from him again. The door is closed.

Well, I didn't post for a long time. Now I have "locked" my blog. You have to be a member to read it. I invite by email addy, so I have some work to do.

The boogie man is gone. Joey, our cockatiel died. 19 year old is out on his ear again. That about covers the stress.

However, my favorite time of the year has just passed. It didn't feel like Christmas to me. That is an extremely rare feeling for me. I find Christmas always. This year, I think I finally found it on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day-I don't recall which.

Little Big Boy lost his first tooth today:) Number One Daughter is doing very well. G has a new job and he likes it even more than his last one, which means a lot.

Blessings surround us. Thank God for safety nets.

Computer glitches

I HATE COMPUTER GLITCHES!!!! I am so addicted to immediate information and entertainment that when our computer is on the fritz, I go bloody boonkers.

Maya's lesson: gratitude

This is an excerpt from an Oprah interview...My little sister sent it to me today...It is provocative...and known, but so easy to forget.

I live in the space of thankfulness - and I have been rewarded a million times over for it. I started out giving thanks for small things, and the more thankful I became, the more my bounty increased. That's because what you focus on expands, and when you focus on the goodness in your life, you create more of it. Opportunities, relationships, even money flowed my way when I learned to be grateful no matter what happened in my life.

"Say thank you!" Those words from my friend and mentor Maya Angelou turned my life around. One day about ten years ago, I was sitting in my bathroom with the door closed and the toilet lid down, booing and a hooing on the phone so uncontrollably that I was incoherent.

"Stop it! Stop it right now and say thank you!" Maya chided. "But - you don't understand," I sobbed. To this day, I can't remember what it was that had me so far gone, which only proves the point Maya was trying to make. "I do understand," she told me. "I want to hear you say it now. Out loud."

'Thank you.'" Tentatively, I repeated it: "Thank you - but what am I saying thank you for?" "You're saying thank you," Maya said, "because your faith is so strong that you don't doubt that whatever the problem, you'll get through it. You're saying thank you because you know that even in the eye of the storm, God has put a rainbow in the clouds. You're saying thank you because you know there's no problem created that can compare to the Creator of all things. Say thank you!"

So I did - and still do. Only now I do it every day. I kept a gratitude journal, as Sarah Ban Breathnach suggests in Simple Abundance, list at least five things that I'm grateful for.My list includes small pleasures..."

"My thank-you list also includes things too important to take for granted: an "okay" mammogram, friends who love me, 25 years at the same job (and loving it more than the first day I started), a chance to share my vision for a better life, staying centered, having financial security. I won't kid you, having money for all the things I want is a blessing. But as I look back over my journals, which I've kept since I was 15 years old, 99% of what brought me real joy had nothing to do with money.

It's not easy being grateful all the time. But it's when you feel least thankful that you are most in need of what gratitude can give you: PERSPECTIVE... Just knowing you have that daily list to complete allows you to look at your day differently; with an awareness of every sweet gesture and kind thought passed your way. When you learn to say thank you, you see the world anew.

As Meister Eckhart so eloquently stated: "If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'Thank you God', that would suffice."

Unacceptable school status quo

Three school shootings in recent weeks are not listed on this map. There may be more that that missing from it, too. This map included 2005 shootings and none from this year.

This is status quo. This includes shootings after Columbine, which is largely thought of as ground zero for school violence.

I called Number One Daughter's school last year and asked about school safety and what they do to prevent shootings. I was assured that they had a program in place.

Last week I sent a message to the Superintendent of Schools and cc: the school board and the principal for Number One Daughter's school, too. The superintendent referred my inquiry to the assistant superintendent of schools. He asked her to reply. She hasn't yet.

In the superintendent's message, he assured me that there is a safety plan in place. This is status quo. All of this is status quo. And status quo is unacceptable.

Among other ideas, I am taking my concerns to the PTA. I am not happy that I was patted on the head and that my ideas and concerns were not taken to heart. I think the reason that I was patted on the head is that the superintendent and school administrators in general believe that there will be a certain amount of knee-jerk reactions to the school shootings. Although I assured them that this wasn't a knee-jerk reaction, my concerns were cast off.

The Wisconsin representative who is calling for teachers to be armed needs to have a refresher course in reality. Arming teachers is not a good idea. Even though he suggested that other countries do so with no major problems. Surely he must realize that there is a far greater danger in arming teachers than exists when you are airline pilots!

We need cameras in and around the school. We need self defense courses for teachers and students so that they have an idea of what to do if they are taken hostage. We need a curriculum that teaches empowerment to everyone so that they realize that they do not have to be victims. We need a national action plan. It is scary, I know. It is very sad, too.

The idea that I am going to float that could help immediately on a national level is very simple: Give every teacher, administrator, librarian, indeed anyone in contact with students a Life Alert necklace. They are monitored 24/7. One push of a button and help is being summoned. No delay looking for a phone-cell or otherwise. The first inkling of trouble is the time to push the button to summon assistance.

In Colorado, the adult who murdered one girl after molesting several, was noticed by many people before school. Suspicions were raised. Hair was standing up on the back of people's necks. See that is the first sign that your guardian angel is whispering in your ear. Indeed, the thing that we must encourage in our schools is for people to listen to that little voice in our minds that says, "Danger!"

I'm ready for the nay sayers who are concerned about prohibitive costs too. What insurance company wouldn't rather spend money to improve security in our schools? They would be preventing lawsuits-potentially. I am a mom on a mission. You can mess with me, but don't mess with children. Not on my watch.

Word processing

I keep telling myself to use Word to write my posts, but I don't listen! So another post is lost in the great void....even when I used "recover post," most of it was gone.

I hate when that happens!

The Wrong War

If some of our children are battling wars on other shores,

Dying for reasons that appear to be
based on fiction and not fact,




And leaving scars imprinted in the hearts and minds of our soldiers who are but Little Big Men and Women...
Children dying on foreign streets in wars that our government representatives themselves would flee...
Much less allow their children to be sacrificed for...




While violence is claiming the lives of our children in our schools and on our streets...

Then we are fighting
the wrong war.

School defense

It pains me greatly that we are going to have to teach our children the same lessons that are taught to passengers on airplanes post 9/11. Prior to 9/11, flight attendants were taught to listen to the instructions of the hijackers. Now passengers are told that they must help keep planes safe by not allowing a criminal/terrorist to take over a flight.

Sadly, we need to teach our children the same message. Of the three school shootings, the Amish school shooting is the most disturbing-that is if one can be more heinous than the other.

It is one thing to want to take your own life, but it is another to decide to take others with you-no matter what has happened in the gunman's past. Exacting revenge isn't an option. Even anger at the Supreme Being isn't a reason to take others with you.

School shooters are terrorists. I do not care how old the shooter is. I do not care what their past reveals about their lives. I do not even care if they are suicidal. There is no reason to take hostages, especially in a school.

Terrorism is rampant in our own country; perhaps it is time to focus on home-grown terrorism. I do not understand when taking innocents hostage became the standard for criminals, but it is time to prepare our students to defend themselves against terrorism.

My fear is that if we do not do something soon, we will have to arm our teachers; it will be like the cockpit of an airplane. Some pilots arm themselves.

We have to teach our children that if something seems out of place, that they shouldn't ignore it. They should report it immediately to school personnel. At the first "inkling" of a problem, school personnel should call 9-1-1.

For a long time schools have had fire and disaster drills. It is time to hold anti-terrorism drills, too. Safety needs to be reinforced. If only someone had known that they should have fought off the shooters.

The principal at the school near Madison Wisconsin was a hero. He fought off the shooter. He took him to the ground. I am deeply saddened that the principal's life was taken, but he saved dozens if not hundreds of other lives.

In the end, parents are the final line of defense against terrorism in our schools. If we suspect that a student is capable of inflicting harm, we should speak up. We should also be alert when we take our children to school. Perhaps we need parents in the classroom to combat the likelihood of an attack. Parents trained to spot trouble. It is a sobering thought.

In the past decade, we have learned that school isn't necessarily a safe haven for our children. It is time to prepare our children for life in this war zone. I am stunned that I wrote it. I am stunned that we need to do this, but we must find a way to protect our children when we aren't with them. They are their best defense-if we prepare them.

Heaven help us.

Zach Bonner is Superman!

A friend of mine, an EIGHT-YEAR-OLD SUPERHERO, Named Zach is the President of The Little Red Wagon Foundation. When Hurricane Charley hit Florida, Zach was about six and he was moved to raise money and got donations of toys for the children affected. He jumped to action after Hurricane Katrina, too.

Then Zach organized fund raising to buy backpacks filled with necessities like toothbrush and toothpaste and snacks for HOMELESS Children.

Currently, Zach is holding an auction on eBay to raise money for these and other projects. The money will be given to children in need all over the country.

If you are moved enough to help him in his cause, I would really appreciate it. You can view the items for bid at this link:
http://search.ebay.com/_W0QQsassZlittle_red_wagon_foundationQQhtZ-1

I also invite you to meet Zach for yourself by following this link: http://www.littleredwagonfoundation.com/

There is a link to join his website and you will receive eNews from him and his site. You will discover how dedicated to helping children that he is.

In this world, and especially in the circumstances that we face after natural disasters and September 11th, we are in need of genuine heroes. Zach is one such hero.

Thank you!

~Renee

Nancy Grace's smoking gun

Trenton Duckett is missing. His mother said that he was sleeping soundly in his crib when she checked on him at 7 p.m. on August 26th. Trenton's mommy's name is Mindy Duckett.

Mindy said that she had shopped all day with her two-year-old son. When they returned home, she stated that she placed him in his crib around 6:30 p.m.

According to the police report, Mindy told police that a couple of her friends came over to watch a movie. At 9:30, she went to check on her toddler, but he wasn't in his crib. Mindy called the police.

The police were shown a cut screen in the baby's room and a picture that had been knocked off of the windowsill. The police began the search for little Trenton.

I do not know the events that brought about Mindy's appearance on Nancy Grace's show, but I know that outcome of it. Mindy Duckett, 21, shot herself to death after a very disturbing exchange with Nancy Grace.

The blonde former prosecutor is well known for her fist pounding declarations of guilt aimed at guests on her show. I think the 21 year-old didn't know what she was getting herself into when she agreed to appear on the show. I wonder how many times Grace accuses someone of doing something and they actually are guilty? It is thought provoking.

Grace made Duckett trip all over herself during a cross examination that ended with the blonde host accusing the 21-year-old of something sinister...Not in so many words, but there was no doubt what Grace was insinuating.

It is highly likely or perhaps highly probable that Mindy Duckett played a role in the disappearance of her son. Statistics prove that when a member of a family goes missing, it is often a family member who made the other "disappear."

Remember Jenny Jones? Another blonde talk show hostess who played a role in a death that occurred after a guest appeared on her show? There are some things that do not belong on television, but the problem is that viewers watch shows like this. A jury held Jones accountable for the death of a 32 year old guest after he revealed a secret crush on a heterosexual guest. Three days after the segment was taped, the man who was "humiliated" on the show killed the guest who had a crush on him.

Mindy Duckett may have known what happened to her little boy, but Grace crossed a line. The only person who might have been able to find Trenton has taken any information that she had to her grave.

Trenton's mom was an orphan from South Korea. She was a gifted student, by all accounts. Her grandfather insists that she told him that she didn't have anything to do with her son's disappearance. There are times when this kind of blind faith proves unwarranted, but does that justify the means? Not to me.


I hope that Duckett's family takes Nancy Grace to task for the suicide of Mindy Duckett. Mindy could have helped authorities find her boy; if she had anything to do with his disappearance, she might have been coaxed to revealing that given time. Instead, when Mindy pulled the trigger to shoot herself, Nancy Grace might as well have been standing beside her with her finger on the trigger. That is not good television. That is a travesty of justice especially for Trenton Duckett.

Marcus Fiesel's plight was known

Although the digital picture isn't of the best quality, it is easy to see how cute this little boy is. Candy is smeared around his mouth. His eyes are deep and expressive. He looks like any other little boy. Unfortunately, this isn't just any other little boy. Sadly, this is Marcus.

Marcus had a disability of some sort. I do not know what his disability is, nor is it important. He is a cute boy. I look at this picture and want to hug him tightly.

I wish that I could change Marcus' name and bring him home, but it is too late for that. He died when he was three years old. He was a child in the foster care system. On Tuesday, August 30th, 2006, his foster parents were charged with his murder.

His so called foster parents had a family reunion to go to. Rather than take this adorable little boy with them, they decided to leave him behind. If only they had done simply that. Instead, his foster parents rolled him up in a blanket with his hands pinned behind him. Then they wrapped him up in the blanket with duct tape and placed Little Marcus Fiesel in a closet. They left him there for two days. Upon their return from the reunion. Little Marcus was dead.

When his "foster parents" discovered his body, they had no more mercy for this little boy then they did when they placed him in the closet. This man and woman took his body to a remote location. Then the couple "made several attempts to burn Marcus Fiesel's body and concocted an elaborate sham to cover up the boy's death, Hamilton County Prosecutor Joe Deters said Tuesday (August 30th)."

I do not know why it is so easy for foster parents to be approved to provide shelter to children and then abuse, abandon, neglect, torture and murder them. I do not know why we stand for it. I do not understand why there are so many people opposed to adoption by alternative life style living parents who want a child so very badly.

The government doesn't believe that gay couples should wed or be given the privilege of being parents. Meanwhile, it apparently believes that the foster care system is a safe haven for children.

This is Liz Carroll. Her husband, David Carroll, Jr. Helped murder Marcus. They stood before cameras and begged that he be returned home. Then they repeatedly returned to his body and tried to burn his remains. They pleaded for his safe return. But they never cared about his safety at all. To them Marcus was nothing more than a paycheck. In essence, the foster care system is the "puppy mill" of children. Trade services for money without regard to the living or death conditions of the helpless victims.

It is beyond time to fix the foster care system. Innocent children are dying. No one listened to Marcus Fiesel's whimpers. No one could hear him, yet the district attorney knew that this wasn't the first time that he had been left alone. Marcus Fiesel's plight was known, but someone choose to ignore it and now little Marcus Fiesel is dead.

New 9-11 video

I cannot believe that anyone was able to keep this to themselves for five years. This is the new perspective on the WTC tragedy. The view is just from the side of the front doors of the North Tower.

The woman filming is holding an infant. My heart ached as I listened to her commentary. It is a stunning sight. Shocking moments caught in time. I think it is important that the couple released this because with the aid of digital technology, someone may be able to identify some of the emergency workers prior to the fall of the towers. This might provide some closure for their families.

It is not easy to watch. I didn't watch any of the "anniversary" coverage from five years ago. I did watch this and it is a poignant reminder that we must be on-guard. Not paralyzed, but on-guard and watchful. Not frightened, but empowered to do all we can to prevent another attack on our shores.

On September 11, 2001, President George W. Bush did the best that anyone could under the circumstances to pull our country together after a terrifying event. The tears in his eyes were genuine. I think that it is easy to forget that he was moved by the plight of the families that lost loved ones on that dark day. Whether you or I support the President is unimportant right now. We need to remember that he led us on a very dark day. On September 11, 2001, I was proud that he was our President.

You can argue many things about our government right now, but on that awful day all I could see for miles and miles was raw courage under fire. I mean that from the blind man who made it all the way out from the 78th floor to the hundreds of emergency services workers who marched in and met their fate.

This is a link to the newly released video: http://www.revver.com/view.php?id=59686 I originally linked it here so you could see it, but my blog won't load with it. You won't be able to look away. I don't know why that is. Perhaps it is because all of the video shot of the WTC event showed the buildings and people running from them. This shows the people "marching into hell for a heavenly cause..."

9/11

Five years ago, I distinctly recall wondering why I was three months pregnant with Little Big Boy. Why was I bringing a child into a world where people would take civilian planes and use them as bombs all over the eastern United States? Why was I bringing a child into a world where treachery and insanity appeared to reign?

A lot of time has past, but the images from September 11th are fresh in my mind. The most disturbing of all of the images that I recall from that fateful day are the ones that show people jumping from the WTC windows. What in God's name was so awful that the person preferred to jump from almost or over 100 stories up? How could jumping be preferable to staying put? My imagination tells me the answer to this question and it is almost as disturbing as the pictures from the event itself.

I'd like to say that I went on courageously after the events of 9/11, but I didn't. Over the next few months and even years, I became paralyzed. I was so certain that another attack was eminent that I kept myself from living. I justified it by believing that I was protecting my family from a fate such as the one faced by the thousands who died on 9/11.

I know now that there is nothing that I can do to protect my family or myself from terrorists. God's will is His will. It is nothing more and nothing less than God's will. That is not to say that it is His fault or doing. No! It is only to say that if I am called to Heaven, I have to answer that call no matter what circumstances take me there. And it is the same for my family.

When I was a child, my parents could assure me that I was safe. I have lived through and survived enough to know that I wasn't safe, but I have also learned that it wasn't anyone's fault. It was simply what was.

I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of my past-of real, live bogeymen. I talked it over and tried to purge it all from my very soul. In the end, I realized that no matter how much I talk about it, it isn't going to change. I can only change my perception of the events.

I look at September 11th now as a time when people ran from the WTC. Maybe people ran from the Pentagon, too. And even from Flight 93 as it plummented to the ground in Pennsylvania. But while others ran away from the horror, there was a select group of people who ran toward and walked toward and marched toward the scenes of the terror and crimes. And five years later, I can honestly say that I have resolved to be one of the people who walk toward it, instead of run from it.

It isn't a death wish, either. It is a LIFE wish. I choose to live my life inspite of the terror and horror that exists in the world. I choose to believe that there is a greater good. I choose to believe that we can stand up to those who try to control us with fear. I believe that I can show my courage and defiance. They can come here and attack innocent civilians. I know that now, but I'm not afraid of it anymore. I am ready to look them in the eye. Checkmate.

Too much

There are far too many things going on that I would like to comment about. Some good. Some bad, but far too much blog fodder! It makes me wish that I had kept up with daily blogging. So this is going to be another multi-post.

1. I was so sad to hear of Lightfeather's loss...so much has happened this year. I am praying that she will have a much brighter future...filled with acceptance, peace and love.
2. My hubby knows the family of the little conjoined male twins-separated about two days ago now. The boys are doing as well as they can following the marathon surgery.
3. Both Number One Daughter and Little Big Boy started school on Tuesday. It is always nice when school starts AFTER the holiday and not before. It gives the temps a chance to become more mild so the students don't have to sit in stifling rooms.
4. Menopause sucks-whether it is brought on by age or by surgery like mine, it just sucks. There is too much information about the side effects of hormones and all that. You'd think that there would be something safer that works. (I love Whoopi's comment about menopause in her HBO special.) If pharmaceutical companies can solve the terrible and dreaded ED...why can't they find a way to ballance out hot flashes! I mean really!
5. Another foster child has been murdered at the hands of his foster parents. That is not a story suitable for this post, but I have his picture and the awful story to tell. I will post it soon. It is just too painful to write for now. I still think that if these murderers are the best foster parents that can be found that someone ought to head up to Capitol Hill and kick some ignorant butts. There are real loving families awaiting children and their only crime is that they live an alternative life style. In this day and age, that seems too trivial to worry about. Again-the parents who are murdering foster children have been approved by the same entity that opposes gay foster parents. Is it really so awful to have gay foster parents that it is better to subject children to torture, abuse and murder? Who is making these laws anyway!!!??????