Remain Passionate and Change the World

    I'm a mutt. I'm the descendants of Germans and Prussians and the unknown. I have Southern blood running through my veins and the sweat of hard working farmers dripping from my brow.
    I am the daughter of artists and dreamers and adventurers.
  
   People braver than me.

   People that comprehend the comings and goings of this world far better than I do.

   I was raised poor. Renting poor. Working hard poor. But what my parents couldn't give me in money they gave in other things.
    Ideas, memories, dreams. Treasures of the heart.

    At times I was a pretty serious child. When I was in third grade I was in the newspaper for trying to teach people about the dangers dolphins faced from tuna nets.

   I was eight or nine. In between making posters about Boycotting Tuna and recycling and reading articles about elephant poachers in Africa...I would have sleep overs, and play Barbie and ride my bicycle.

  By middle school I was reading books upon books about how to save the world. I was still making posters and hanging them up in the school library. The local library.

   Protesting. Protesting. Protesting.

   Always demanding that systems could be ran better. That ideas could be bolder. That people could try harder.

   I was an idealistic teenager.

   Who turned into an idealistic adult and realized that this world is not made for the dreamer.
 
   The believer. The idealistic.

   Only the strong survive in this world. Or the greedy or the selfish. The takers. The dream breakers.

   BUT ALSO those strong in FAITH.

   In this last year I have learned many things.

   Friendship is a strong support system. That we were never meant to live without true friends or a sense of community. Of belonging.

   Change, real honest change,

                is possible with small- not ideas because those are easy- but  actions.


                 Big ideas can happen by faithfully putting small actions into place.

One has to remain passionate about dreams, ideas, and faith otherwise you go into this dark zone of drift where you allow despair and sadness to rule your life.

Faith and prayer are extremely important because we are spiritual beings.


LOVE holds this messy, chaotic life all together.

So this year I'm not making New Years Resolutions. Instead I'm going to focus on:

                   Big ideas can happen by faithfully putting small actions into place.

and 

 Remain Passionate and Change the World

   

Happy New Year. I pray for all my readers near and far and wish you a healthy, safe, and hope-FILLED 2014.

  

Hold On

             I hold my breath.The events in the world surround me. Worry me. I can't ignore them. So if you come to my blog for funny, I'm a little short on it today. Perhaps sarcasm. Hopefully a little faith.
             But funny- I can't do. Not today.

             Holding my Baby Blueberry. She is cuddly and snugly and is a busy little person. She is nearly a year now. Almost a birthday.
            It's such a milestone. It marks that transition between tiny infant to active kid. To talking and walking and already having her own opinions.

            She doesn't like cherry pie and she doesn't like mangoes. She loves puppies and horses. And just like most Moms I can tell you a hundred more things about her.

            I'm pretty sure Moms all over the world are pretty similar. We rock our babies at night and sing them lullabies. We coo at them. We teach them to write their names.
           And we try to keep them safe.

             I've sometimes pondered if the Moms of the world could get together, without the interference of governments, religion, media, big corporations, and societies- if we couldn't make a better world for our children.
            
              While our governments beat wildly on the war drums -

              While media talking heads - mere puppets- try to convince the people that bombs bring peace-
             
              While big corporations add chemicals to our food and tell us it good for our children-

              While religion tell me that I'm not getting into heaven without paying a proper amount of money-

                While society tries to tell me what to think and who to hate-

               I pray.

               I cling to what I know, in my heart, to be true. Faith. Grace. Hope.

              Not hijacked, political hope.

              Real HOPE. Fueled by LOVE.

              Perhaps I'm just having an inner hippie moment.

              Or perhaps I'm just a Mom who loves her children.

Day Twelve- Always There

  Years ago I wrote a bit of faith on a scrap of paper, never quite sure what to do with it. It wasn't about me or anyone I knew but it spoke to me. I will share it with you today.

   Always There

by Christy Hammond

    

She sat on the church pew wondering why she was there, when a man passed and she dropped her head in prayer.

            “Where are you, when I need you so? Look what has happened, you have abandoned me here, am I to give birth with no one that cares?”

            She wept on the wood, silent tears of grief, when the same man who had passed came and stood by her bare feet.

            He didn’t say a word, and she wished him to leave, hiding her dirty toes underneath the seat. She kept her head bowed, her hands clasped together, and still he did not moved but continued to linger.

            “Go away,” she muttered, finally at last, her soiled fingers fanning across her swollen belly.

            The silence grew long, and the man did not shuffle, and finally she could not keep her head down any longer. She raised it up, and gasped.

            “You asked me here, so don’t send me away. I thought you needed me, but even if you don’t, I will still stay.” The man spoke gently, holding out a hand.

            She felt ashamed, her hands all dirty, but he did not care as he held them firmly. He helped her from her seat, her body heavy with the tiny person she had made.

            “I will be there, please do not worry. I will be there for you and your baby.” The man walked her to the door, that lead out of the chapel, and waited while she looked at the rest of the hospital.

            She looked at him with fearful eyes, and then wondered why she had doubted. Of course, he would be there at her side. Waiting with her, for her new arrival. She clutched her belly, with the wave of pain and knew she needed to find a doctor.

            “It will be alright, go now, your child awaits.” The man leaned forward, and kissed her head, not caring of the dirt, and oil, and smell that clung to her skin.

            She stepped and turned away, knowing that he was going to be there, with her, through the whole thing.

            And after her baby was born, and slept so soundly. She slipped to the chapel, with her sore body. Her mind was tired, she could hardly think, but she whispered some prayers, and gave him thanks.