Monday, April 8, 2013

The girl who didn't know she was a princess and the Mom who forgot to tell her

Once upon a time there was a little girl. An extraordinary, amazing, beautiful little girl. She was a princess, only she didn't know it. She had no diamonds, no tiara's, no servants, but she was a princess none the less. She was born royal. Born to be a queen. No, no, not the kind that sits on a throne, but the kind that walks in humility and grace and is greatly adored.

Yes, this was the destiny of this particular little girl, but her Mom forgot to tell her this as she was growing up. Her Mom got distracted and forgot to make sure that the little girl knew this about herself; she let her own insecurities and doubts overshadow her and didn't whisper the words that the girl needed to hear each night as she drifted off to sleep. Sometimes the Mom yelled out words that made the little girl think less of herself and that echoed in her heart and soul. The Mom didn't mean to do this, but the little girl didn't know that and she blamed herself for her Mom's scournful words. She even believed them.

If the Mom could take all those moments back, take the words and the attitudes, and the looks that hurt the little girl back she would. She would pull them out from deep in the little girl's heart and replace them with the truth. The truth that the girl is amazing and beautiful. The kind of beauty that comes from deep down inside and shoots out of her. She would tell her how smart she is and how funny. She would tell her that no matter what others say and no matter where life takes her that she is royal. It is her birthright, because her Father is a King, the King of kings, and He made her with a purpose. The Mom would tell her all these things a thousand nights over and hope that the words would reverberate throughout her and knock loose any of the lies that may have made their way in. The lies that tell the little girl that she is nothing and has nothing to offer. The lies that tell her she is less than this person or that. The Mom knows though how those lies can get imbedded deep. She also knows that her own words sometimes barbed the lies and made them stick. The Mom wishes in a million ways to remove the barbs, she hopes that the little girl princess will listen now to the truth.

Dear Princess :

I am sorry. You are so much more than what you think you are than what I have led you to believe. You are talented and ever so lovable. You are smart and generous. You are everything a mother could want in a daughter and more. Please don't ever doubt your birthright. You deserve the best things out of life. The best isn't money, prestige, or possessions. The best is knowing that you are worth being treated well and knowing that even when you aren't, (because there are times when you won't be because not everyone recognizes royalty when they see it) that your worth is still the same. The best is treating others as the royalty that they are, even when they forget to act royal. The best is believing who your Father says you are and not listening to what His enemies say you are, because His enemies only seek to destroy His kingdom and those who will inherit it. The best is being willing to forgive, both yourself and others. The best is remembering that you are royal and that your heart and body aren't to be used as currency in hopes of finding love and acceptance, but rather knowing that they are both more precious than any treasure to be found and they are to be treated with respect and awe. Never trade your treasure for a dollar store trinket, be wise and patient in the affairs of the heart and body, because the best would never want your treasure in exchange for plastic jewelry. (If you forget this or mistake plastic for gold someday, you are still loved and still treasured, your worth is not what you do it is who you are.) If someone uses your treasure without persmission, that does not make it worth less or cheapen you, that makes them a theif, do not mistake the two. Remember these things, learn them, take them to heart. Don't let them slip your mind, because there will still be days when I forget to whisper them to you. There will still be days when my words, actions, and looks might mislead you into believing less. It is on those days that you will need to remember this and hold tight to it. Spread this truth to your friends, because they are just as much a princess as you are. You are loved dear daughter. SO loved. You are the most precious treasure always, forever, no matter what. Do not forget your birthright.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

The Road to Finding Me........Prologue

Life is hard, isn't it?  A lot harder than I ever imagined it to be.  It is so easy to get lost in it.  That is where I am right now, lost.  I couldn't tell you where or when it started, when I lost myself.  Maybe I never fully found myself to begin with.

As hard as life is, people are harder.  Life makes them hard.  Hard to see.  Hard to know.  One thing I have learned in this life is that we all want to be seen and to be known.  The trouble is that life comes at us so hard and so fast that we begin to wall ourselves off.  We get so caught up in the building, stacking our stones until the one thing we want, to be seen and known, becomes impossible.

So, here I am lost behind a maze of walls, wanting to be known, and not even knowing who I am.  I have spent so much time building, running my fingers over these coarse bricks that I have become like them - cold and hard. 

The building of these walls came easily enough.  That is another thing I have learned.  Lots of people are willing to give you bricks in which to build with.  It is the tearing them down that comes harder.  Every time you chisel away a brick you have to work at it, remember who it is from, how it was given to you.  Some bricks are heavier than others.  It isn't easy work.  I am tired of living and being lost behind these walls of stone bricks.  My only way out is to take them down.  I must take them down one by one and instead use them to build a road.  A road to finding me.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

The Legend Of Split Foot

Growing up our family had a fun little tradition called Split Foot who brings some extra candy and a little gift on New Year's Eve.  I believe the tradition started with my Grandfather or Great Grandfather.  Back in 2009 I wrote this story to go with our tradition.  I hope you enjoy it.  Our family has always loved Split Foot.  Feel free to incorporate it into your traditions as well if you like. 

________________________________________________________________________


A long time ago, before your Great-Great Grandfather was a small boy, a reindeer was born. This reindeer just happened to be born in the North Pole and Santa planned for him to be a part of his sleigh team that delivered toys to all the children on Christmas Eve. There was just one problem though, this cute little reindeer was born different than all the other reindeer. He was born with a big split in his hoof, which is how he got the name Split Foot. Santa had all his best vetrinarians look at Split Foot's hoof and they all agreed, there was nothing that could be done. Split Foot would always be different from the other reindeer and would never be fast enough to help deliver presents on Christmas Eve.




Split Foot grew up and would help Santa get ready for Christmas Eve by taking presents from the workshop to the wrapping house, and from the wrapping house to the delivery barn. He loved that he could help Santa in those small ways, but always wished that someday he would get a chance to deliver those presents to little boys and girls around the world. Little did he know that day would come sooner than he thought.



Christmas Eve was always a busy night with elves and reindeer hurriedly rushing about, but this particular year was even busier than most, because Santa's nice list was exceptionally long. Split Foot watched longingly as the sleigh team donned their best bells and harnesses. He tried not to be sad as he watched them fly away that night. As he was turning to head home he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Oh no, a pile of presents and candy had been left over in the corner, Santa had forgotten them! Split Foot knew it was too late to call Santa back to get them, something had to be done and he had to do it. It was then that Split Foot knew his time had come to deliver presents. As fast as he could he loaded those presents and candy onto a delivery sleigh and set off into the night sky to deliver them. He knew he would never catch up to Santa, but he would do his best and even if they got there late it was better than them not getting there at all.



Split Foot flew as fast and as hard as he could. On New Year's Eve he made it to the houses that had been forgotten and when the children woke up on New Year's Day they found their missing present and candy from Santa waiting for them on the fireplace. Every year since then Split Foot has always found a few presents and candy that Santa forgot to put in the sleigh and delivers them on New Year's Eve. Maybe this year you will be one of the lucky children that finds a delivery from Split Foot.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

And So I Write

I have words that long for the spilling.  They tumble inside of me, deep.  And so I write.

I am invisible.  Lost in the world of diapers and dishes.  Who I am is trapped within.  And so I write.

I have songs that wait for hearts to sing them.  And so I write.

I am filled with stories just waiting for eyes to read them.  And so I write.

I write and I write until I feel that I am empty of words.  I write and I write letting the inner me escape the trappings of wipes and dish soap.  I write and I write listening for hearts that are singing.  I write and I write in hopes that eyes enjoy the reading.

The words have been loosed, the poet awakend......

and so I write.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

A Little Color

So my good friend's daughter drew this amazing picture which she entitled "A Little Color".  I love it.  I would hang it on my wall.  It inspires me.  In her description of the picture she says that she is seeking inspiration.  Her void has become my well, so to speak.  With her permission I will add the picture to this blog. 

A Little Color


I stand solitary and alone in the darkness. 
Devoid of color.
In the world that I have become stranded on.
I watch as life keeps on swimming past me,
Out of reach.
I raise my arms up to the Light.
I raise my arms and I cry out for colors to fill the darkness.
The Light sends me colors bright.
My open arms are filled with them.
Shades of purple color my hands and circle my head.
Purple, the color of royalty.
The Light has reminded me that I am His.
I am His and I am royal.
Suddenly, my surroundings seem less dark.
The life that is swimming by doesn't seem as far.
All it took was just
A Little Color.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Lucky, The Little Dragon

Once upon a time, there was a little dragon. His name happened to be Lucky, but he certainly did not feel as though he was very lucky.  Lucky's life had been hard for him.  He got teased a lot by the other dragon's at his school, Dragon's Breath Elementary, because he didn't live with his real parent's like all of the other dragons did.  He lived in a foster home with a really nice family of dragons.




Lucky's real parents didn't take care of him the way they should have and some bad things happened to him.  That is why he was put into a new home with the Fire-Flyer family.  His new foster family loved Lucky a lot and wanted to help him feel good about himself and know that no matter what had happened to him before that he was a very special little dragon.  Even if bad things had happened to Lucky, that didn't make Lucky a bad dragon.





Lucky, feeling sad and completely unlucky felt as if he must have been a bad dragon for his real parents to have treated him so unkindly.  He liked his new family, but he wasn't sure if he could trust them.  What if they decided he wasn't a good dragon anymore?  Would they be mean to him like his parents had?  Lucky decided that he would just be very quiet.  If he was a quiet dragon no one would notice him.  If no one noticed him then they couldn't think he was bad and they wouldn't stop loving him and want to hurt him.





His foster family noticed how quiet he was and they couldn't get him to talk, so they took Lucky to see a counselor.  The counselor was an older dragon, with fluffly black hair.  Her name was Sarah Snaggleclaw.  She told Lucky that he could call her Sarah.  Lucky didn't say anything.  Sarah, smiled at Lucky and told him that it was okay to be quiet.  She showed him around her office.  She had some toys, books, and games to play with.  She asked if Lucky would like to play with any of them, but he just looked down at his feet and wiggled his claws.




Sarah started to talk about herself.  She told Lucky all about growing up and how she used to be teased because of her fluffy black hair.  She told him that she had always wanted purple hair or green hair like the rest of the dragon girls and how the teasing made her feel so bad about her own hair that she began to be quiet and try to hide so that she wouldn't be noticed.  She told him that it took her a long time to start talking and that her parents had to take her to a counselor when she was little.  It had taken her a long time to want to talk to the counselor, so it was okay if Lucky just wanted to be quiet. 




Sarah handed him some paper and crayons and told him that he could color a picture for her instead of talking.  Lucky loved to color.  He drew and drew until before he knew it, it was time to go home.  The next week when Lucky came he went straight to the paper and crayons.  He drew lots of pictures.  Occassionally he would stop to tell Sarah about what he was drawing. 





This went on every week until one week Lucky decided that Sarah was safe to talk to.  He began to talk and he told her about all sorts of things.  Things like school, his foster family, and what he wanted to be when he grew up.




It took him a long time before he would talk to Sarah about his past and what had happened to him, but eventually he talked about that, too.  He was worried that when he told her she would decide that he was a bad dragon and not want to see him anymore, but she didn't.  She told Lucky how what happened to him was wrong.  It was wrong and it wasn't his fault.  She told him that he deserved to be loved and was a very good and lovable dragon.  She told him that he had a lot of good things about him and that he should share those things with everyone instead of hiding and being quiet.





Lucky wasn't sure if she was right or not, but he decided to try.  He began talking at his foster home.  He discovered that they still loved him.  They still loved him and weren't mean to him, even if he was noisy,  did things wrong, or sometimes said things that weren't very nice.  They still loved him and didn't think he was bad. 





He became brave enough to start speaking at school again too.  He began talking and he started showing people his artwork.  Lucky started to have friends and he was happy.  There were still times when he got teased, but he learned that he didn't have to listen to the teasing.  He could ignore it, because he knew that what the teasers were saying wasn't true.  He knew he was loved, that he was a good dragon, and he really was lucky, even if he lived in a foster home and his past wasn't so lucky.  His name was Lucky and he finally felt like he really was a lucky little dragon.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Old Poetry

 Some samples of my old poems from before I met my husband.  Dates included, but not in order.


LONELINESS
Loneliness comes with icy cold fingers, Numbing my soul, blinding my heart.
 She whispers of needs that haven't been met.
 Her words twist my thoughts, Until touch equals love and attention, desire.
 In the arms of tonight's lover, She sings me to sleep.
 In the morning, I awaken to an empty bed.
Her fingers digging deeper within my soul.
 3/2/98




TREPIDATION
I come to you on trepid feet, scared and hurting.
 My mind and heart in constant battle.
I try to play the dauntless warrior, brave and fearless.
 My eyes a shield, my heart a stronghold.
 I hide my worry, hold back my love.
 I play the game, but fear the outcome.
I become a hardened veteran, aloof and unfeeling.
 My fingertips cool, my touch mechanical.
 I conceal my dreams, withhold my soul.
 I want your love, but don’t trust your motives.
I come to you on trepid feet, scared and hurting.
 My mind and heart in constant battle.
 5/30/98


THE DANCE
She closes her eyes and there he is, the man she has always dreamt of.
Describe him, she cannot, not in terms of height and weight, for he is more than that.  So very much more.
He is warmth and tenderness, intellect and humor, insight and vision, sincerity and nurturing.
He is her perfect compliment.

She feels his arms wrap around her chilled body, his warmth seeps through every pore like a hot shower after being caught in a cold rain.
As he holds her he tells her of her inner beauty and her strengths and listens as she tells him of her weaknesses.
He kisses her fragile ego and reminds her of her strengths once more.
This time she hears him.

She runs her hand across his face, tracing each line of wisdom around his eyes, hoping that some of his insight will find its way inside of her.
He takes her hand and kisses every portion of it very gently.
 He wants so much for her to trust him, to become a part of him.
They secure their hold on one another as their dance has just begun.
 1/2/98


TOGETHER
You are miles away, yet I can feel your touch.
 Your care worn hands gently and securely holding my trembling fingers.
 The soft roundness of your lips sweetly kissing my palms.
I am miles away, yet I know that you can sense my presence.
 My cautious hand carefully learning the curve of your cheek.
 The timidness of my lips as they taste the comfort your mouth has to offer.
We are miles apart, yet we know each other.
 The strength that your hand in mine gives me and the tenderness that mine gives you.
 The acceptance within your kisses and the faith willingly given in mine.
We are miles apart, you and I, but we are together
1/2/98


LOVE'S RHAPSODY
Drink me -
 drink me and feel the liquid of my love ignite your soul,
swelling passion to its fullest height.
Engulf me -
 engulf me with your arms, your mind, your soul, yourself.
Holding me as we become one.
Deeper -
fall deeper into me. Let me wrap myself around you like a blanket.
 My burning kisses and blazing touch will warm you like a fire.
Burst -
 burst within me. Fill me with your love.
Drench me with desire.
Protect me -
 protect me from the night, the hurt, the pain, the loneliness.
Become my armor as I become your heart.
 1997


UNTITLED 1
Touch me - NOT with your hands, but with your soul.
 Hear me - NOT with your ears, but with your heart.
See me - NOT with your eyes, but with your emotions.
 Search for me - NOT because I am lost, but because without me, a part of you is.
Find me - NOT when I am alone, but within a crowd of people.
2/10/98


BEING
I am rusted barbed wire surrounding a vacant beach and vast ocean.
 I am a replenishing rain after a drought.
 I am the blazing hot sun beating down on parched grass.
I am the joy found in a child’s laughter and the sorrow held in a mourner’s cry.
I am a gentle breeze drying the remnants of last night’s storm.
 I am a nourishing meal after a long fast.
 I am the aching loneliness of a cold starless night.
I am the seeds of dandelion puffs blowing in the wind.
 2/18/98