"Never Give Up, Never Surrender!"

      I'll never forget the first time I saw the movie Galaxy Quest with my son years ago. He was seven and I was single again. I have to admit that I felt just a little like the characters who portrayed the cast from the "series" Galaxy Quest in the movie. I had been whisked away into outer space it seemed, with nothing but a few years performance battling "aliens" of one sort or another. Finding myself divorced again, alone with a young son, no job, bills piling up and health issues manifesting themselves, I realized that our ship had become much more than a prop where we were acting out the daily scenarios of life. Suddenly it was our lifeboat in a dark sea of reality. Sole responsibility rested on my shoulders to find a way to navigate through this black hole we had been thrust in at warp speed. It was my job to stand up to those "aliens" that were threatening us. There was no one else to fight for my little boy but me! I had adopted the motto of "never give up" some years before, but finding myself facing an even more difficult challenge, it would take more than not giving up. It would take not giving in.

     Ironically, it was that brown-eyed boy, my "mini me" that taught me what it meant to "never give up, never surrender." From the time he was born, he was fighting things seen and unseen. He beat the odds at birth when he was born three months premature. That thirteen and a quarter inch doll baby was a fighter! No matter what we faced from that time and through the years that followed, my sweet boy embraced everything with an optimistic, loving and unselfish attitude. For someone who was so tiny and behind the curve for the first several years of his life, he was the biggest "boy" I knew. At 24, he is a bigger man than anyone I've ever met! All 140 pounds of him. He is a rare breed in this generation of entitled spoiled "children."

     Looking back at those years I am amazed! I can't lie. I wanted to give in so badly. I wanted to just find an easy way out but I couldn't! I had no choice. To borrow the words from Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, we weren't in Kansas anymore. Have you ever heard the phrase "point of no return?" Well, once you get so far in life, either with decisions you've made, circumstances beyond your control or situations that for the moment dictate a steady hand at the wheel, you are at a "point of no return." It's like an airplane flying over the ocean. The plane has just enough fuel to get to the other side. If it has only flown a third of the way, there is enough fuel for the pilot to turn around and go back where the plane originated. However, once the airplane reaches just beyond that halfway mark, the pilot knows he is committed. There isn't enough fuel to return to the starting point. He has no choice but to fly to his destination. The airplane is at a "point of no return."

     Life is like that. For the most part, there are no "do overs." We can't relive our past or go back to where we started, we don't know for certain what is in our future, and often our present is more than enough to handle. The thing is, for us to handle our present and continue on our destination towards the future, we can't give up or surrender! Sometimes we want to. Lord knows I did on more than one occasion! Sometimes we feel like others have failed us or we have failed ourselves, but here's the thing. "Failure isn't falling down, it's refusing to get back up and try again." I've watched some of the Summer Olympics over the course of the last several days. The tenacity and drive of those athletes is nothing short of amazing. I can imagine how they must've felt the thousands of times they fell if they were running or doing gymnastics, or how many times they fell short if they were swimming or rowing. But there they were at the Olympics! None of them there were failures because they got back up and kept trying... again and again and again until they found themselves so successful they were representing their countries! These athletes all have learned a valuable lesson about life, about what matters and what doesn't and those lessons are what caused them to never give up or surrender.

     I have a feeling that no one reading this today has lived a perfectly charmed life - where everything went as planned, where there were no setbacks, surprises or detours. I doubt that any of you have been perfectly healthy or completely successful at everything you've put your hand to. Success is more of a journey than a destination. It is an attitude, a mindset and a behavior.  At the end of it all ironically, we all end up on equal ground when life is said and done.

     There was once a conversation between the father of a very wealthy family and his young son...

"The father took his son on a trip to the country with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family. On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, ‘How was the trip?’

 

’It was great, Dad.’

‘Did you see how poor people live,’ the father asked.

‘Oh yeah,’ said the son.

‘So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip,’ asked the father.

The son answered:
 

‘I saw that we have one dog and they had four.’

‘We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.’

’We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.’

‘Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.’

 ‘We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.’

‘We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.’

‘We buy our food, but they grow theirs.’

‘We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them.’

The boy’s father was speechless. Then his son added,‘Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are.’”

     There is a crucial key to life in this story. Never giving up and never surrendering has much more to do with what you do with what you have and how you feel about where you are, than what you actually have or where you are actually heading. It is about gratitude, acceptance, self-worth and true value. Stuff is just that - stuff. It does not define our true worth. Accomplishments are awesome and we all desire them, but they do not define who we are. If life has sent you on an unexpected "Galaxy Quest," due to health issues, loss of a job or relationship, financial issues or just a change of plans beyond your control, just remember what it takes to truly "never give up and never surrender!" You don't have to stay down if you fall down or are knocked down. You have much more to get up for than you realize!

Sixties Baby

When I started writing this post, I realized that my topic would expose me. No woman really loves telling her age, but here I am doing just that and I have to say, I think I'm doing okay for an "old lady!" Yes I am a "sixties baby" - the age of psychedelic flower prints, white go go boots, peace symbols, bell bottom pants, Afros, and a message of "love sweet love" that rang out in the love revolution. Our musical tastes ranged from the Beatles to John Denver, from rock-in-roll to soul, from country to jazz and everything in between.

Since I was born at the onset of the decade, I was still in that transition phase form the simplicity of the 50's to the revolution of the 60's. I was raised in the South and despite what you see in the movies, I was taught from an early age to respect everyone young and old, rich and poor, black and white. It's funny because I hear so much about social repression of certain races and classes of people back in the day, but honestly I didn't see any of that. I learned how to say "yes ma'am" and "yes sir" as soon as I could say full sentences. I was taught that everyone was my neighbor, and that true friends were "family." The neighborhood I grew up in was predominantly white but I didn't really think of that so much. Louise, the lady that helped care for me and my brother after Mama returned to work was like an older aunt to us. Oh her skin was darker than ours, but it wasn't something that seemed odd to me. She was like family.  It wasn't until the end of the 5th grade that I "learned" about social differences. 

The year was 1971. Segregation in most social arenas had faded away with the exception of schools. There were a few black students in my grammar school, but because we were assigned schools based on where we lived, the ratio was low since our neighborhoods did not have that many black families living there. It certainly wasn't due to economics, because I grew up in an average house, eating lots of beanie weenies and mac-n-cheese. It's just that the different races had settled into different parts of town through the years. My grammar school was a first through sixth grade, but at the end of my fifth year, the school board made an announcement that they were implementing integration of our schools. I would not be able to finish my last year of grammar school at my present school. Instead, they were busing us across town to an inner city middle school and busing many of the inner city students to schools in my area. I only lived a few miles from my grammar school, so the thought of having to get up before daylight to hop on a bus and ride many miles across town was the last thing this little girl wanted. Even back then I was not a morning person!  

But there we went - all of us from each side of town pulled away from what was familiar to us in a social experiment exercise mandated by the government and Department of Education. In full disclosure, I was raised as a "church girl" so was sheltered from many things that went on in society - both that of the white and black community. Even though it was the sixties, I had not been exposed to the many things that the "hippie revolution" offered - drugs, drinking and "free love." To say that my first couple of months at the new school was traumatic for me  is an understatement. It was a culture shock of epic proportions. I met older white boys who had failed school a few times. They had beards and long hair, and stayed high on pot. They were known for pinching girls on the booty - girls who wore mini skirts, low cut blouses and go go boots, and who flirted shamelessly. I saw black boys who were also older due to failing school. They liked me more than I wanted them to and were very forward towards me teasing me in every way possible to get my attention. I saw long hair, Afros, tattoos, cigarettes, beer cans, peace symbols and crosses hanging down bare chests and pierced ears. I saw girls and boys making out in dark corners and sneaking puffs of a joint when they could. I had my purse stolen, my hair pulled, my clothes mocked and my naivety laughed at. It was a world this little church girl had never had a slight glimpse of and this was just middle school!

I can't lie. For the first year or so, the clash of social cultures was difficult for us all - black and white. We were all raised in our own little cocoons, with our rituals, habits, traditions, manner of speaking and activities that were familiar only to those in our communities. But then something begin to happen. As we studied together, sat side by side in desks together, ate lunch in the cafeteria together, played volleyball or did relay races together, dressed out in gym together, cheered at basketball games together, and sat on tattered bus seats together, we found out that we had more similarities than differences; and in the ways we were different, we were not longer intimidated but intrigued. After three years, the "experiment" was proven to be a success and we graduated to the world of high school. By then, it was another transition of epic proportions being underclassmen - babies, passing the upperclassmen - young "adults" in the hall. I was able to attend the high school near my house and actually able to walk or drive to the school. By then we were a tight knit group - this integrated "family." The school board and government had their balanced "ratio" and we had our forever friends and classmates. No, everything wasn't perfect, and sometimes our cultures clashed. Not because one was better than the other, but just because we were accustomed to different lifestyles, routines etc. but we grew and matured and expanded our wings. My senior year of high school, I was the National Honor Society secretary. My best friend, also an honor student. was Asian. Our  class president was a brilliant and funny young black man with a 4.0 average.

Reflecting on this time of my life and then observing the clashes in our society between races and cultures today, I find it hard to even listen to the rhetoric spewed by mainstream media and by political leaders. This "we've come a long way but have a ways to go because people still aren't being treated fairly" is a cop out. Rather than coming a long way, we've gone backwards in the last decade! The days I experienced 40 years ago were filled with much more acceptance, respect, understanding and cooperation then what is happening now. Back then we didn't blame each other for what our ancestors had done a hundred years before we were born. We didn't feel like we were victims because we were forced to think of someone besides ourselves when we first came together and we didn't expect our teachers, community leaders or government officials to fight our battles, pamper us or give in to our selfish whims. Rather, we tackled the social changes head on and courageously. We celebrated the many ways we were alike rather than argue about the many ways we were different. Our parents taught us the one key element to success in society and in life - respect. If human beings do not have respect for others and respect for themselves, then society falls apart. This sense of entitlement, of pampering and protecting, of selfishness and superiority, of disregard and divisiveness is all due to that one word - respect. Rather then becoming a progressive society like we "say" we are, we have become a primitive one behaving less than civilized, to say the least. 

I am proud to be a "sixties baby" and for the lessons learned so long ago. My prayers are that somehow these lessons that we learned can be taught to our children and grandchildren so that we can find our way back to an age of peace and the "love revolution."

Independence Day ... Again

     Hi I'm Starla and I'm a Political Junkie. I confess, my eyes and ears have been glued to the news broadcasts and media outlets this election year. This passion and interest has thrust me in the middle of quite a few lively debates and brought out my feisty side without a doubt! This mental "jousting" of sorts has proven to be a positive catalyst for necessary conversation and thought - something that has been sorely lacking in the world of social media where the most trivial and mundane occurrences go viral while serious issues are ignored. Don't get me wrong, I love the joy that a Chewbacca mask brings with moments of laughter to escape the seriousness of life, but I also want to know something more than what an athlete eats for breakfast or what kind of tattoo a celebrity has.

     There is so much going on in our world and it seems everything is topsy-turvy; good in someways and devastating in others. Seeing terrorist attacks around the globe almost weekly now is a "not so good" upheaval in our world. However, seeing people become interested in world events and in diplomatic and political matters again is encouraging and a positive shake up. When things are "rocking along," it becomes easy to be lulled to sleep concerning life, liberty, and the many issues around us. Sadly it often takes tragedy or conflict to stir us up. We swim around like the frog in a pot of water feeling safe, then before we know it the heat is turned up! The good news in the midst of so much bad news is that people are waking up! The old movie "Network" perfectly portrays the attitude and mindset of people not just in America but all over the world concerning government overreach, political injustice and oppression of the citizens. Remember the line in the movie? "We're mad as 'hell' and we're not going to take it anymore!" This "righteous indignation" has renewed pride in country, tradition, values and freedoms catching the elite class by total surprise. The Brexit in the UK is a shining example of the movement among "we the people." Seeing this kind of patriotism brings hope!

     Many of you will recognize the feature picture at the top of the blog. It is from the first movie "Independence Day." What seemed like the "end" brought about a new beginning when the people of the world came together not to fight opinion, policy or even tyranny, but to fight for survival! Art imitates life doesn't it?  

     The night of the Brexit vote, I stayed up through the night waiting for the results. Evidently many in the UK did not as they were shocked when it turned around at the last hour. The next morning the leader of the Brexit movement stated that they were celebrating their "Independence Day." It was such irony that the very ones whom Americans celebrate an Independence Day from had come full circle to where they desired their own independence when the powers over them had tried to diminish and reign in their freedom, their security and their liberties. It was Independence Day again in the world! Seeing their bold move reminded me of what we are about to celebrate in a couple of days. This year it appears that the celebration of Independence Day reaches far beyond the borders of the United States but is being echoed around the world!

     For us as Americans, the simple celebration with family, friends, fireworks and bar-be-que will be a reminder that even though there are some that want to rob us of our freedom, our peace of mind, our liberties and way of life, we are still a free nation. One thing about being free is that it comes at a price and with conditions. A couple of years ago I wrote a blog post called "Independence Day" and used the same picture as a reminder of just how serious we should take our freedom. It can be wiped out, destroyed or even stolen if we become complacent. Below is a portion of that original blog post along with a few new thoughts. I think the sentiments resound even louder now than they did a few years ago when I first wrote the post...

   Independence Day - our national day set aside to reflect on what it truly means to be free. Watching the news it seems the whole world is either fighting their battles for freedom or celebrating new found freedom. You may have heard it said that "with freedom comes responsibility." How true that is. Reckless freedom is not truly freedom at all. Freedom to do what we want while trying to stop others from doing what they want is not freedom. Freedom of expression that silences others is not freedom. Taking away the safe space of others to create our own just because "we can" is not freedom. The liberty to silence the voice of another, to strip away the rights of another for our own is not freedom. Independence Day isn't about "independence" as much as it is "interdependence." We each have our own roles to play, our own lives to life and at the same time, we need each other and we are a part of each other. I choose to believe that the human spirit is more powerful and is more about self-sacrifice for the good of others. Look at how so many have stepped up to help others in the midst of terror around the world after devastating events. Citizens have helped other citizens - tending to their wounds, helping them to safety, praying a last prayer with them, sharing tears with grieving family members, giving blood and a million things in between. Some even stood between that person and the terrorist to take a bullet for them! Law enforcement has bravely put themselves in harms way to save others. Courageous leaders have continued  to speak out against the injustice and evil trying to divide and destroy us even though they are ridiculed. Interdependence understands that sometimes it is more important to stand up for what is right for everyone than what is right just for you. 

     This self-sacrifice is not just seen during times of world crisis or political unrest. Watch how everyday "heroes" perform their duties on ordinary days. A firefighter battles a blaze putting his own life in jeopardy to save a family or a neighborhood. A policeman steps into the darkest corners of his city becoming a beacon of hope protecting citizens. A nurse or a doctor spend countless hours in an ER with little sleep committed to saving lives of the sick and injured. A soldier leaves his or her family to cross the ocean in order to fight for the freedom of others. A border patrol agent puts himself between citizens of neighboring towns and potential danger to keep his community and country safe from those who want to sneak in and do harm. A mother spends hours, days, months and years putting her own needs aside for the good of her children and spouse - doing without so they can be cared for. A companion completes a long day at work then comes home to be by the bedside of his sick spouse finding energy somehow to care for her, the children and their home. A technician battles the most adverse conditions to repair electrical lines, or whatever else may be in dis-array to assure others are taken care of and not left without necessary services. Yes the human spirit does not take liberties nor freedom lightly and does not flex its muscle of independence simply because it can. 

     All of these examples need to be beacons for this generation to see and be reminders of what freedom truly means. Freedom isn't rioting in the streets or stomping on flags just because you can, it isn't condemning other lifestyles nor forcing yours on those who are uncomfortable with it. It isn't about suppressing the speech of  others just so you can be heard. It isn't about taking away a person's freedom to express their faith so you can express your disdain of that faith nor is it silencing the person who disagrees with your faith to make your point about you faith. Freedom is both having your voice and listening to the voices of others. It is living your life while respecting the lives of others. Freedom isn't freedom if everyone doesn't have it! Just because you can doesn't mean you should!  

     What about those that do abuse this liberty, this freedom that we have as citizens of America and of Earth? What about those that take human life with little regard, those that try to usurp authority over basic civil rights and freedom; those who simply want to bring suffering in the life of another or take away any good and any dignity a person has managed to do or obtain? I wonder. Will those oppressors ever be reachable? Approachable?  Why does an individual or a group of people, or an elite crowd feel the need to put another down? What joy is there in making life even harder for one who is already struggling? What has brought us to such a place in the human race that we have so little regard for one another? How could an ideology be so flawed that it causes followers to be okay with harming others, belittling others, and destroying others in one way or another? 

     These are questions that we may never have an answer to. What we can do instead is to focus on our role in promoting freedom and mutual respect. Certain things are in our hands. We all have a choice as to how we use our freedom. We can hurt or heal; we can tear down or build up. We can produce fear or provide protection. We can encourage or we can dampen the human spirit. It starts with us individually and ends with us collectively. Interdependence preserves our independence. This is true freedom!

     Happy Independence Day!!!

United We Stand...

     Yesterday, I was glued to the television and social media most of the day watching as the details unfolded about the horrendous terrorist attack in Orlando. Like everyone else, I was saddened, sickened and outraged. When such a senseless act occurs, there are really no words. Last night, I watched a segment where a gathering of family and friends of one of those murdered had come together for a special interview. Two men in the group were close friends who had been with the deceased but had escaped unharmed. Their heartfelt account of the events was gut-wrenching. Their tears, sobs and wailing ignited the whole room with unspeakable grief. I didn't know them and to be honest probably would've never crossed paths with them or run in any of the same circles they did, but for that moment, I felt like I too had lost a member of my family. After all, we were fellow citizens of a place that we all call home - a place where we all want to live, love, work, play and feel safe to pursue our dreams, raise our families, express our voice and follow our faith. 

     Well that is what most of us want. Some only want to take away those things that we desire for their own twisted and selfish satisfaction and gain. It just seems inconceivable that one man could be so persuaded in his mind and radicalized in his heart that he had no conscious at all when it came to cutting down so many people - all of them in their prime of life - because he had so much hatred and disdain for those who believed differently than him theologically and who lived differently from him socially. As I listened to journalist after journalist and expert after expert trying to make sense of things, the conclusion was pretty much the same. Nothing - absolutely nothing about it made sense from a logical humane standpoint. The one thing that did make sense, at least to me, was the fact that this radical terrorist was so devoted to his interpretation of Islamic beliefs and so convinced of them that nothing would deter him and no amount of sacrifice was too much to thwart him from perpetrating such evil with no remorse. In his eyes, he was doing what he thought was right. I am sad that we as Americans don't have that much conviction or devotion when it comes to how we feel about our country, laws, rights, responsibilities and freedoms.

     I thought about that for a long while into the evening as I continued to follow updates. Some time in the evening, I came across a Facebook post by one of our local news reporters who posted the picture you see at the top of this blog. I later added the "caption" but here is what she said concerning the photo...

"Driving home from work during an afternoon thunderstorm I looked to my left and saw this. A full rainbow and an American flag at half staff. The storm subsiding, the message clear: Stand strong Orlando, we are with you."

  

     A natural weather occurrence had provided an unexpected measure of solace, comfort, hope and purpose. I compared it to how it feels here along the Gulf Coast after a hurricane, or terrible storms or tornadoes. When you wake to the sun peaking through clouds making way for blue skies after such darkness and terror, somehow you know that you can go on and that things will be manageable again. You also have hope that things will be good again. This breathtaking rainbow backdrop to the flag at half mast was a gentle reminder that we are stronger than we know and a part of something much bigger than "us." 

     To my shock though, some people were diminishing the loss of life and national safety down to petty arguments, criticisms, opinions etc. They took it on themselves to determine what was in this reporter's mind and heart when she posted the picture. They assumed she was equating the rainbow to the Gay Pride symbol and therefore they felt the need to correct people on the true meaning of the rainbow. Their lofty "insight" was that this one in the sky could not and should not be equated to a "sign from God" for anyone to grab hold of. I thought I had no words for the tragedy in Orlando, but for a brief moment I truly had less words for this callous, shallow mentality. The last time I checked this was the UNITED States of America - at least that's what it says on our currency and legal documents. It seems though that people continue to find more and more reasons not to be united. 

     I have to go back to my comparison of the sun appearing after a hurricane here on the coast. The one thing I've seen about the human spirit and the true nature and character of Americans is that tragedy is the common denominator for us all, as is death. After a hurricane when buildings are destroyed and homes are damaged, when there is a shortage of drinking water, ice and the basic necessities, when trees are toppled, roads are obstructed, people are hurt and animals displaced; when the power is out, it's hot as blue blazes and no breeze in sight, no one cares if a person is a southern Baptist or a southern Buddhist. It doesn't matter if you drive a BMW or a VW.  No one cares if you frequent the Country Club or the night club. Your skin can be black, white, yellow, red or green for that matter, but none of that is important. When you are without electricity and sweating like stuffed pigs; when you are rationing water and smell like you just spent the night in a chicken house and look like you’ve been lathered with Crisco Oil, it’s hard to tell what kind of pedigree you have. All you know, is that you’re neighbors, you’re family in a community of southern brothers and sisters. Those people who find a way to criticize in the middle of tragedy are obviously not feeling that tragedy themselves because if they were, the differences between them would go out the window in a heart beat.

     This photo and what the reporter had to say stated it perfectly - no matter how much division, doubt, destruction, deception or devastation that is perpetrated against us or orchestrated to control us - as Americans, when the chips are down and our way of life is threatened, "we are one." We are the United States - not because we all think the same, believe the same or live the same, but because we all desire the same basic rights as citizens of the USA. My prayer is that we not allow the hatred of the terrorists and the radicals of our world breed more hatred and division. We don't have to agree on theology, philosophy, sociology or ideology nor do we have to stand toe to toe politically to get along and to respect one another. With freedom comes responsibility realizing that we aren't truly free if we only want it for ourselves. 

     In wake of this horrible attack on our country, I believe it is time to stop the internal fighting, to cease the riots, to put an end to the power struggles, to quit blaming each other for what is wrong with our country and start coming together to preserve what is right about our country and make it even better for our future and the future of our children. If we don't stand UNITED, we will be overtaken by our enemies without them having to lift one finger or at the least do very little. 

"United we stand against those who seek to destroy our nation from without or within."

That "Beautiful Thing"

      It's been one of "those" weeks. If you've followed my writing for any length of time, you know exactly what I mean - one of those "knock you to your knees" flare-up weeks.  You know that old saying "weak as water?" Well that would be an understatement. Lord have mercy what a difference a week or even a few days can make! Last weekend I was running on "love" with adequate energy for  all that was planned for our Mother's Day festivities. I did what those of us do who deal with fibromylagia or other such illnesses that produce chronic fatigue, pain and flare-ups. I  put my engine in high gear and plowed through the weekend trying to make the most of every moment. Then come Monday, "it" happened... the "crash and burn" part of the cycle. I've experienced this thousands of times over the past fifteen years, but I am never quite ready. This one was a "doozie" as they say down South.

     As I looked in the mirror tonight at myself, I had to laugh. I wondered who that pale-faced, puffy-eyed creature was! She didn't look anything like that lovely bright-eyed woman that graced my latest profile picture on Facebook posted from Mother's Day. It wasn't just the absence of make-up and perfectly styled hair. No, it was the absence of energy, strength, vitality and well... "health." There was a time on one of these kinds of days, where after seeing myself in the mirror, I would walk away in tears, depressed and discouraged. Usually, I would try to "put on a good face" just in case someone showed up at my door or perhaps just to make me  feel better - emotionally anyway. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't because I would feel weaker physically after all the effort and would simply curl up on the sofa, keeping company with the folks on TV until I fell asleep. They couldn't see how I looked and I was too fatigued at that point to care.

     Shaking my southern upbringing on a day like this was "tougher than a two-dollar steak" for a very long time for me. Southern belles pride themselves on big beautiful hair, manicured nails and we have a way of being "dressed to the nines" even when working in the yard! Lounging around in pj's or sweatpants, no make-up and bedhead is just not in a southern belle's DNA. To this day, my own mother rarely ever heads to the kitchen after waking up, until she has brushed up her hair, gotten dressed and "presentable." There's something about illness though, that becomes a great equalizer and common denominator for us all. Priorities change in a hurry! I was reading about a study today from Baylor University that said 9 out of 10 Americans pray for healing. It didn't say those that were religious or non, those of certain faiths or not - just 9 out of 10 prayed for healing. It just isn't natural to give in to being sick! Talk about being in our DNA... the fight for health is part of who we are as human beings. NO ONE enjoys being sick or feeling poorly. Yes, priorities change from things that seemed so important or "proper" before an illness becomes a part of one's life. 

     It took me awhile to "get it..." shifting to a different mindset about myself and life. I had spent so many years convinced that my value was wrapped up in all the things I could do and be. During a time when I was flat on my back due to illness and could no longer run in circles like the energizer bunny, I felt worthless and of little value. In addition, I felt that my beauty was  reflected in what I saw in the mirror. If outer beauty wasn't there on certain days, then I didn't feel beautiful. It wasn't until someone close to my heart said something to me. We were reflecting on a day when I had to be at the hospital for eye surgery. He had volunteered to pick me up and drive me there the morning of my surgery. I couldn't wear make-up, couldn't style my hair, couldn't even put on perfume or lip gloss. My friend had never seen me like this! I was embarrassed and wouldn't even look him in the eye. I wore sunglasses even in the waiting area of the hospital. Months later we reflected on the day. He is the kind of person that makes a woman feel beautiful. He often comments on my pictures, or writings etc. On this particular day of our conversation, he had sent me a note and told me I had that "beautiful thing" going on. It was at that moment I felt the courage to tell him how I had felt that day at the hospital. He told me he had seen me at my best and at my worst, and in it all, I had always had that "beautiful thing" going on.

     As I looked at my reflection in the mirror tonight, I remembered what that sweet man said to me those years ago. While the mirror this evening didn't reflect the expected perception of "beauty" or even of health, the fact that I had the courage to look beyond what I saw in the mirror did reflect a beauty deeper than what a piece of painted glass could detect. I now have the freedom to not to give in to a desire to put on make-up even though my body needs rest. I have the good sense to realize that my health and strength matter more than specks of dirt on my floor or dirty dishes in my kitchen sink. My physical well-being means more than a writing quota or financial goal. Some things matter and some things don't. 

     Maybe your body is no longer in perfect shape, your emotions are frazzled, your face pale. Perhaps you have days like I've had this week where it requires energy to simply get dressed or prepare something to eat. This could be from illness, from stress or just from the wear and tear of the years. It might even be that you are in fairly good shape physically, but your responsibilities are heavy on your shoulders. You are pulled at from so many directions that there is no way for you to meet every single responsibility to every person in your life; you "see" inadequacies of some sort when you look in the mirror. Perhaps "guilt" distorts that reflection as well. My suggestion is this. Go to your mirror and close your eyes. That's right... close your eyes and "see what you see!" Think of the loveliest thing in your life. Maybe it is the kiss of a child that adores you - not because of what you do for them but because of what you are to them - you are Mama or Daddy! Perhaps your thoughts go to the smile on your spouse's lips after you've said something that makes their heart jump. That long day at the office or the plant, at home or in the community depleted every ounce of energy in their body, yet in an instant your words of love, appreciation, respect or humor melted it all away. That smile is proof of your beauty or handsomeness! Whether your loveliest thought is the sunset that you watched earlier from the back porch of the house you bought, built or care for, or of the "good morning" spoken to your neighbor when you went to the mailbox; whether it is the warm embrace of a parent who is proud you're their son or daughter, not because of all that you do for them but "just because," realize that what you are "seeing" is beautiful, handsome... breathtaking! Each of us have that "beautiful thing" going on - not because of how we look, what we can or can't accomplish but for what is only "seen" with the heart.  

House of Mirrors

*Editor's Note: As much as I enjoy laughter, levity and encouragement in my writing, sometimes transparent commentary is what the "doctor orders" most. Today is one of those days!  I hope my reflective thoughts resonate and even "hit a nerve" with us all to the point we  are motivated to a positive course of action and interaction...    

     Last night I got a double dose of reality. The movie "We Were Soldiers" starring Mel Gibson was playing late night. Restless and unable to sleep, I thought watching a few minutes of an old movie would help but was I ever wrong. This was not the movie to lull me to sleep. Oh I've tuned in to action movies before and fallen asleep because I wasn't really following the plot anyway, but this one was different. It wasn't just a mindless "shoot 'em up" movie, it was history in its rawest form. If you've never seen it, I recommend you dig it out of archives somewhere and watch it. It is riveting, heart-wrenching and sobering.

     I watched the story unfold of the men who were carried off to the Vietnam War; not really fighting for their flag or their country, but because they were ordered by their government to fight someone else's battle. Ultimately, they fought for each other, to survive and return to the wives and children waiting behind. With the finale' of the story, came a release of tears that had been pent up in the recesses of my emotions somewhere - hidden behind frustration, disgust and even a bit of anger.  For the last couple of years, I've followed the news closely through riots against the police, through social and moral cage matches between church and state, through the political "follies," protests and debates; through campus unrest, "coddling" of students and media hoopla. It has been the biggest "comedy of errors" in modern time in my opinion - almost like walking into a house of mirrors where nothing is as it seems, everything is a false perception, and reality is lost in a maze of  distortion. We have no idea who we are as individuals or as a country anymore all while the "carnival masters" stand outside the house laughing.

     Watching the re-enactment of those young men who died in the 7th Calvary in Vietnam, and seeing the sterile way our government informed their loved ones that they would not be coming home, caused me to wonder even more about so many things. How have we come to such a place in America and in our world where our biggest fear is who uses what restroom; our greatest enemy is the one whose speech differs from our own, and whose ideas "color outside the lines" of our neat little picture? We demand diversity and acceptance, all while shutting down speakers, protesting politicians, and coddling "traumatized" college students who can't handle a name written in chalk on a sidewalk. We stomp on our greatest symbol of freedom and sacrifice, and wave another country's flag in place of the one we trample, burn, spit on and wipe our butts with. A grilled cheese sandwich is deemed "racist," a person is fired for their faith, another is rewarded for theirs. We want freedom of religion, freedom of expression and freedom of choice, but want to deny others the same freedoms. Right and wrong are subjective, truth is relative and reality is in the eyes of the beholder it seems. A person can claim a different skin color, gender, or even age simply by how they feel and no one can refute the law of physics, biology, genealogy or science. We are criticized for wanting borders to protect our country, while we build constant walls of intolerance of those who think or speak or worship differently than we do. We are afraid of being ourselves, and even more afraid of being different. While all the political correctness nonsense ignites flames of division and disillusionment, all sensibility, reason and common sense is lost and the world is going to "hell in a hand basket." People are dying, terrorism is mushrooming, freedoms are being stripped one by one, economies are collapsing - all while we stay wrapped around the axles about who eats pork, who marries whom, whose candidate deserves our vote and who has monuments dedicated to historical figures. We want to change our textbooks, law books and ledger books to create a "virtual reality" that matches the current narrative instead of learning from those very documents. If a person erases all memory of where they've been. they have no idea where they are and will never arrive at where they need to be.

     While we stand on the side lines arguing about who's right and who's wrong, the ones truly "in the trenches" much like those soldiers in my movie, fight on for freedom. The movie adequately depicted how far removed we still are from those who truly do make a difference in our world. The soldiers'  deaths were acknowledged with nothing more than a Western Union telegram delivered by a yellow cab. When the battle was over, their lives and sacrifice were a media story that was descended upon by a plane load of hungry reporters anxious for a sensational headline. You would think we would've learned something from the Vietnam era, but we keep repeating the same mistakes. We fight battles we can't win, offer help that isn't appreciated, spend money that bankrupts our nation and ignore the ones who gave the most for the ones who expect it all. Our vets are homeless, sick and in poverty, but instead of caring for them, we care for those who want to use the system. We reward troublemakers and criminals, rioters and illegals, while belittling our protectors in blue and putting our firefighters in unnecessary harms way. We cow down to the corrupt politicians who ignore the voice of the people and criticize those who are willing to stand up for "we the people" all because they don't fit our mold. Our leaders argue with each other and we tear each other apart on the world's stage while our enemies watch us fight to the death and they don't have to lift one finger to defeat us.

     I'm not sure exactly when we walked into this house of mirrors, but I think it is time we shatter the distortions around us. We aren't those strange faces in the mirror. In fact, if we looked at each other instead of the images our leaders and the media place before us, we might see our own reflection in the faces of one other. We all want the same things really. We want to care for our families, pursue our dreams, have means of providing, walk in health, live in safety and feel protected.  We want to be free to worship or play or speak in the way we feel best. We want to live and love and enjoy the simple pleasures of living in this great nation of ours. It's time that we take a good long look - not in the mirrors of distortion but the mirrors of truth. Until we see ourselves in the eyes of another, we will never see them through the eyes of truth and compassion. Our greatest enemies are not those without, but those within. If we desire to save our world from tyranny and terrorism, from death and destruction, we must save ourselves from "ourselves" first.

     

    

"God's Touch For Mothers" - A Mother's Day Prayer

It is special occasions such as Mother's Day that opens the floodgate of my memories pouring them over me like a southern rainstorm on a blistering summer day. Today I pulled out a poem I had written a few years ago for the mother of a dear friend of mine. I've always felt a kindred spirit with her. She and I both had faced adversity as young mothers. I understood what she faced being left alone to care for a child. Actually, she had three children and  gave more than her ALL to care for them and raise them. Even when she was blessed with a loving companion later on, she still took on a labor of love when he became crippled due to devastating disease in his body. Now in her seventies and long after her children are grown and gone, she still cares for her companion lovingly and tirelessly.  Fortunately, her son lives nearby who is God's touch to her when she needs it most. We are kindred spirits in that regard also as my son Joshua has truly been God's touch to me, always being there and honoring me, caring for me and helping me when I need it most. I can't imagine life without God's touch, God's gift to me in my exceptional brown-eyed, big hearted young man.

Tonight I am also feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for the example my mother and her mother have given me in what it means to be a mother. I don't think I would've managed one year of being a single mom without the example and instruction I had received growing up from my Mom and Maw Maw.  They too, are God's touch to me and I love and admire them more than words can adequately express! 

All mothers - single, married or widowed know what it's like to give more than our ALL. We understand what it's like to be tired but refusing to quit, to be weary but never consider giving up.  Somehow we find strength that is bigger than us, and at the very moment that we feel our knees buckling under us, God's touch comes to us in the gentlest of ways. One look in our children's eyes, one hug or one touch infuses us with a joy that causes any hardship to pale in comparison! This prayer poem comes from my heart to each and every mother this Mother's Day! YOU are true heroes!!!!!

From The Heart,
Starla

Earth Angels

Sunday night I took a moment to record a video that I called "Earth Angels" as a thank you to those special everyday angels in my life who show up when I need them most. You know the ones I am referring to - the ones who "step in when the whole world walks out." Time slipped away and I did not get the video uploaded, but still wanted to acknowledge them.

We all have them - those sweet and wonderful Earth Angels. They may be a bit ragged around the edges, sporting crooked halos and broken wings; they may push us to our limits, get on our last nerve and even crash our pity party no matter how loud we sing "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to!"  Still, they make life doable, bearable and worthwhile. What they do instead of joining our pity party, is to give us a pep talk, a helping hand and even a swift kick in the butt to remind us that "dancing in the rain" is much better than crying through the storm.

I, for one, know I would not be here if it were not for my Earth Angels. I'm not sure how they know when I need them. It's like they are hovering out there somewhere watching and waiting and they always step in. My sweet daddy will show up to help in my yard; Mama will send care packages of groceries if I haven't gotten out to shop for food due to painful flare-ups. A friend will call from far away on a most stressful day just to make me smile! A card or letter, music CD or bouquet of flowers will arrive in the mail or at my doorstep with exactly what I need at the very moment I need it. My son will call and say "I am ordering take-out what would you like to eat?" Or he will work a long work week only to give of his hard earned resources to take up the slack when needed. Someone will offer to be my "handy man" or "mechanic" to take a look at my car or hot water heater, faucet, toilet or air conditioner, or anything else that has become the victim of "Murphy's Law." They don't just step in, but step up and do what they promise to do no matter how inconvenient it is for them or their schedule. They don't put me "on their schedule" but put aside their schedule for me. They don't just add me to their "list" but make me their priority when I need them the most. I guess you could say they are love in action or as my southern grandmother used to say "Jesus with skin."

Believe me, I don't take my Earth Angels for granted. I find motivation to be better than I am, to push harder than I think I am able, and I try to show my gratitude by reciprocating their love and attention, care and giving spirits. I sometimes miss the mark in "angelic ness," but I hope that they at least see my desire to be their Earth Angel as well - broken wings, crooked halo and all!

Thank you my Earth Angels! You are not the "wind beneath my wings" you ARE my wings!

From The Heart,
Starla

 

Dive In Headfirst

In response to this - yet another social media outlet, my son shared the "secrets to success" in this virtual world of ours. "Mom I've been following media and marketing experts and they all say that you have to dive headfirst into social media, immerse yourself in every venue possible. Get yourself out there until your name is known!"  

Let's see... I am on Facebook - I have my author page, my business page, my personal page, my southern regional page and my encouragement community page. I am on Twitter with a personal/author page and a business page. I have a contributor's profile page for my health articles via the network I freelance for, and another author page for the blog posts I freelance for the same network. I have an Amazon author profile and am on Google+... 4 pages to be exact! Then there's the multiple boards on Pinterest, my professional profile on LinkedIn, my official business website, my You Tube channel, Instragram and two - make that three as of today... blog sites!  I am exhausted just thinking about it!!!

I should be a household name by now surely... a media sensation right? Well not exactly. Every techno savvy fifth grader in the world knows the art of social media better than me and the competition is fierce! Still, as an author, I am grateful for social media. To pen a line from the movie "The Aviator," social media is "the wave of the future" - title wave I think because it has been the wave for a long time now and drowning out just about every other venue. I am trying to catch it...  really I am. I know the only way to truly navigate my way through is to do exactly what my son suggested - dive in headfirst. I never thought I'd see the day when libraries and actual books, magazines and newspapers were obsolete, but it appears they are all on the endangered species list. I think that is yet another reason for me to dive into social media with a passion. I simply refuse to allow my son's generation forget about the thrill that comes with the way a book feels in your hand and how exciting turning the pages are along the "journey" that the book has invited you to travel. I want to preserve the anticipation of the next "chapter" where you have to wait at least long enough to lick your fingers, grasp the parchment paper and physically turn the page. Even that book "smell" stirs up imagery in your mind like the smell of fresh baked cookies on Christmas morning, or the crispness of soaked grass after a thunderstorm. 

But I digress. We aren't talking about "classic" books, we are talking about social media - computer screens, phone displays, chat rooms, forums, eBooks and eMags. We are talking about smart phones and TVs that think they know more than we do. So Social Media - I've been comfortably wading your waters for a few years now, but I'm ready.  I'm diving in headfirst! Here's the imagery I prefer to see in the process;  not ocean waves beating a coastal shore, or rapids twisting hundreds of feet below a mountain cliff, but rather an adult-sized recreational ball pit like the picture displayed at the top of this post! That offers excitement and fun, not fear and uncertainty. I most surely know I can find my way in, out and through that barrel of fun! And no one - absolutely no one will notice if I get it wrong because ALL of our inhibitions are released to simply enjoy the moment in all of its amazing simplicity!  Hmmm... I think that is how it all began for us when we first began to read, write and communicate with each other in kindergarten. It was fun!

Welcome to a glimpse into my non-traditional world of writing. No two days are the same and the thoughts from one to the next can be quite random! If you are a new follower, hopefully you will find something in my various venues that will keep you coming back and we can enjoy the process together. Thank you again Social Media for giving me something I never dreamed of a few years ago - a global platform! I am excited to dive in headfirst with thousands of my closest friends...

From The Heart...

Starla