A Beginning, But of What?

Pebbles, dirt, twigs and unknown things glint for a moment in the sun before drifting down, down, down into the darkness surrounding me.  Weakened, I barely notice, can no longer move my head.   A bit more debris goes unnoticed amongst the rest.  Eyes dimming as pain hammers relentlessly. adamantly pounding, ferociously, frenziedly tearing into the remains of what once glittered, sparkling with radiance.

A fall day balloon floats through quickly, no strength, can't hold on, gone. 

Darkness.

Is that you, Clarence?

Words shot, scalding hot
Wounds with no blood appear

I sometimes question my faith, wondering if God truly does exist or is just a lovely story passed down from our ancestors meant to soothe during thunderstorms, help during bad times, cry out to when we have no one else willing to listen.  I wasn't thinking of God this morning when the darkness descended upon my home, I wasn't thinking of anything of importance, really.  Waiting to hear from the transporter on whether my new mini mare would be delivered today or tomorrow, watching a little of Sunday Morning on TV, checking FaceBook to see if the world had survived another night and if my friends were ok.  Nothing really, sipping my coffee, just enjoying my Sunday morning. 

I often think of Dorothy in the Wizard of OZ when normal gets swept away by tornado force winds, when your hair begins to slap you in the face, when you wonder which is up, where is down.  Unexpected, abrupt, nowhere in my cards scalding hot words stab, then pierce the soul of me.  You've all heard the saying that once hurtful words are out there, there is no bringing them back, right?  The other part, often left unsaid, is that the target often cannot forget those words.  Yes, forgiveness will come, but forgetting, sorry, just won't happen!

Anyway, we were talking about God.  Eager for a quick escape, I limped from the site of the battle, convinced that doing errands would be safer.  We weren't quite ready for the full grocery run to Walmart, so went to the Dollar Store to pick up milk and cereal.  An older gentleman was speaking to the cashier when I was ready to check out.  The gentleman pulled his truck over as I was loading my car and asked if I wanted some corn on the cob.  My first response was, no thanks, I have no cash.  I normally use my card for purchases and rarely have cash in my wallet.  The man shook his head and smiled at me, telling me there was no charge.  He got out of his truck and started filling a grocery bag with corn and then asked if I wanted the tomatoes too.  I'm guessing his name was Clarence, but will probably never know.  I believe with all my heart and my pierced soul that he was an angel.  His goodness, sharing and light while not wanting a thing at all from me, convinced me that God, seeing my pain, sent down one of his angels to comfort me.  Now, you can believe what you want.  Yep.....maybe he was just a good man who had a bountiful garden this year and just couldn't eat one more ear of corn, maybe God had nothing to do with it at all.  I believe that at that time in that parking lot, God wrapped his goodness around me in the form of a man with too much corn on his hands.

My lunch today was two ears of that hot delicious corn dripping in butter. 

The sun will come back...tomorrow?

Rain hammers the ground, bouncing back to the sky as it hits.  Thunder deepens, screaming in it's hoarse voice.  Furious strikes of Lightening whip all it encounters.  Wind joins the fray, spinning hysterically.  His strength claiming all, overwhelming all, none stronger, none safe.

Mother Earth convulses from deep within, sending out her army of geysers, volcanoes, quaking in fear, no escape to be found.  Sun retreating from this battle, nervously peaking out from behind his blanket of clouds.

The smallest tuck their heads and tails, scrambling to safety, burrowing into Mother Earth's mantle, dashing under bushes, diving deeper and even deeper into oceans, lakes, creeks.   Hoping, wishing, praying to endure this war that has mercilessly seized them.

Turducken

I seem to be a misery writer.  No, not related to Stephen King's book Misery at all, but instead, I only seem to be able to write when I'm unhappy, stressed and yes, miserable.  Perhaps, writing allows me to take out each piece of individual misery, expose it to the sunlight for examination and then poof....make it go away.  If you were to look through my windows into my soul, you wouldn't see anything in particular to be miserable about.  I have a wonderful life...people who have not only looked into my windows, but dove through them upon occasion, yanking out the weeds that grow in the darkness, the flowers now able to grow in the sun, all because they love me.  I have miniature horses back in my life.  Oh how those three blonde fillies make me smile with their cavorting, picking on each other like sisters.  I imagine them saying...."mine, mine mine", "stop touching me" and "mommmm...she's looking at me" before they gallop off together.  Magic's 31" majestic beauty, gold glinting on overcast days; Lolli, the sweet, has discovered the apple trees, foregoing dinner to scrounge on the ground for fallen apples; Cadie, the leader, marshal of this miniature parade, fussing at all to form a line, stay in line and whatever else should happen, hold hands as they go.  Connor....the best, most beautiful, smartest, cutest, most wonderful child in the whole wide world.  Sorry...he's my grandson so of course he's those things and so much more.  I'm sure yours is too!  We smile at each other, everything else simply drops to the ground and to evaporate.  Ohhh how I love him!! I could go on and on about Connor (really...I could!).  The most startling surprise of my life was how much I adore Baby Connor!! 

So...Turducken you ask?  Well...I have four little dogs who bring me joy everyday.  So....for Missy, Auggie, Tweetie and Sally, I head out to PetSmart today in search of their very favorite treat...Blue Buffalo canned food, including Turducken because nothing makes me happier than the smiles on their doggies faces!!

Have a lovely Sunday!!

Full Force Ahead

In another time, not so very long ago, I had a mini horse farm, Mountain Spring Miniatures. Life, as it tends to do, sent an earthquake into my idyllic existence, shaking everything up, leaving nothing as it once was. The barn I was once so proud of, fell into disuse, needing paint and love, among many other things. The fields, once immaculately manicured by voracious mini appetites, grew tall with weeds and brambles. Fences....oh...fences that once proudly served as butt scratchers for those it kept safe, fell, rusted and broke.

Several years passed. Each spring as the peeps began their song down at the pond, the birds began to schweet, schweet and the sun warmed chilly winter souls, my heart yearned for mare stare and brand new lives to nurture and love. Sadly, I would shove such yearnings way down deep, turning my gaze away from the once beloved barn, ignoring the state of the fences, the growing weeds, continuing on with my less than idyllic life. My soul grew rusty along with the fences, was tangled and choked with weeds. My eyes grew dimmer without foals to charm them. My head was downcast not seeing the sun, refusing to hear the birds and peeps.

Several years passed and....the ghosts of horses who once blessed my life with their mere prescence, Raven, Diva, Freedom....oh Freedom, such a scamp you were, Spirit...such a beautiful soul and the many others, raised their heads as one and their beautiful eyes met mine. I couldn't ignore them. How could anyone? The yearnings, buried so deep for so long, shook me again with their exit from their tomb. They would not be denied, horses had to come back into my life. My happiness was dependent upon them. I needed them and I knew somewhere out there, there were those who needed me.

Crazy Voices?

Does anyone else ever suffer from crazy voices in your head?  Not like a serial killer wanting to kill, Kill, KILL, but those voices that sneak into your head when the house is quiet, you've gotten into bed and are ready for sleep.  Doubts and insecurities rush in spinning around madly, gleefully dancing, bouncing around in your brain like ping pong balls.  Sleep is no longer possible.  Rational thought joins the fray trying with all their might to fight off the negatives with their strength, shooting back reality at the mad dancers.  You toss and turn, searching for peace, praying for your brain to quiet, wishing for a surcease, grasping for the sleep that is ever out of reach.  The war raging in your brain seems to have no end, on and on rational thought battles against the demons of doubt and insecurity, trying to restore the equilibrium the brain yearns to find, needs, in order to sleep.  Exhaustion marches onto the field. more tired and crankier than usual, to put it's foot down, ending the war.  Each are commanded back to their own corners, doubt and insecurity assuring rational thought that they will be back to battle another night, but for now, peace reigns, the brain relaxes and sleep finally comes.

Where Did The Time Go??

With an "I'm outta here!" and the slam of the door, it begins.  The little bird, testing her wings, dives to parts unknown, pinwheeling wings trying in vain to stop the inevitable crash onto the hard cold ground.  Mother bird cries out to her young that it's too soon, she's too young, pleading to her to wait, just wait a while longer until her wings, her still fragile wings can support her.  Her daughter, incapable of listening, plummets to the ground, feathers flying furiously as she descends and descends and descends until finally, all movement stops.  Lying in the dirt, her mother out of reach far above her, she creeps away certain that her way is best.  Her mother cries.

Or...there's no furious slam of any door.  There are gentle and loving cracks in the tie that has always and forever held them together.  Heartache and loss intermingle with pride and love.  Mother bird knowing that small steps of separation are necessary for her little bird to successfully fly, but still feeling the loss, the pain, every tiny crack  in the tie like a knife slicing into her heart.  She sighs and turns away to wipe the tears from her face.  Her baby bird begins to test her wings, growing stronger and more confident with each flap.  Her mother smiles.