A Dying Heart

Drifting and swaying as the eyes grow weary I cast upon my prayer list the request of returning home, where my heart remains. A place where judgment is tolerable and happiness blankets the fear of facing life burdens is a place in which only home can provide. Safety and security against dreary and weathered lines of age are the arms that catch this fallen heart. The return to childhood memories and a mother’s comforting reality check becomes the antibiotic required of home sickness.

An age old recipe, created among the ancestors, possessing vaporized steam, bouillon scents, a dash of salt and a hint of honey mixed in a small bowl while patience and love simmer hours within the paisley and flower printed crock pot warms the soul as laughter and orneriness awaits the remedy yielding a bulk of unconditional heart healing. Viruses linger among the ill as the shattered heart requires the gentle touch of a mom’s caress.

A walk down Viking Lane accompanied by the biggest fan provides reminiscence of whom and where dreams began. Once seen as jailhouse walls and confinement to life’s ambition, the school of Hard Knox trained and schooled the young to persevere with pride, gain victory within loss, hold steadfast to truth, live as if tomorrow was not promised, allow heartaches to mold love, sing as if the whole world wanted to hear, cruise with pouring rain and opened sunroofs, laugh with all and dream the impossible. The home of the Vikings, Huntington North High School is a stomping ground in which friendships, mentors, acquaintances, and even bullies defined the parameter of a foundational lifeline; a home where hearts were built.  My mom is my biggest fan, even today; twenty years post.

A small town comprised of corn fields, flat land, and farmers alike welcome the drifters as they cross mile markers lessoning the gap between years gone by and the very roots in which the drifter ran from. The roots of heritage, family, is the road I travel today in hopes of mending ties and finding the Viking within; a woman who lost sight of dreams once attainable. Though I ran years ago and sought out comfort in the wrong classrooms, I embrace the humility of reaping what I have sown and will never cease in praying for the one way road trip home but for now I will walk with my daughters with perseverance and the hopes they will see me as their biggest fan, the mom who gave it all up for their safety and security.

Home is where the heart is. Huntington, Indiana, a small northeastern town (my hometown), is the place where my heart remains. My heart is held by its residents; a mom whom has loved unconditionally, a sister whom carries my admiration, a step-father who diminishes the "step", a family of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents that fragrances the colors of my personality and the familiar faces and spirit of a Wal-Mart congregational reunion dwell within my veins and feed the oxygen needed to keep this heart from failing, until the next visit.

Reflection Piece on Blogging

Blogging to gain fluency, oh cool! For the first week maybe. There’s no doubt I have a passion for writing. The excitement of visiting old friends, pen and paper, was enough to ignore hurdles such as writer’s block and grammatically correct sentence structure (which I still suck at) but the initial fear of disclosure blogging would require was beyond most anxiety attacks experienced, thus far. Anonymity was not an option if I wanted to be judged and graded with all fairness involved, not to mention syllabus inclusion of warnings like “invading your own privacy”. Well, that just shot the excitement reunions typically bring; my writing had always been self-invading, therapy if you will. I desperately needed therapy, emotional release without edit or delete. 

Three weeks later, many hurdles cleared and many leaving scars, progress has been made; vocabulary bank expanded, awareness of audience upon the battlefront, and twenty-five (25) therapy sessions completed. Although therapy is considered as healing, regardless of which emotion was flowing during the hour (or 300 words), the victories fed the conquering while lessons from defeat fed the drive to persevere. I yearned for acceptance throughout this assignment and found comfort knowing there were eyes reading, I actually had an audience. Minimal comments were made throughout, source of discouragement on occasion; however the acceptance came from increasing “hits” on certain posts and from various areas, globally. They shared my fear; disclosure. Forty-nine “hits” in one day, now that is honor, one that often kept me from giving up.

Blogging has become a playground or a lab testing facility for me, as a writer. Tracking followers, disclosed or undisclosed, of writing styles and content is an asset I hope to define my strengths and weaknesses, those known and unknown. I suspect I’m not alone in this fear; Anne Lamott assures the journey of writing is far greater than a prize. This journey is far from over as it has been one of the best therapy sessions I have experienced, thus far. The desire to share my writings in hopes the reader could benefit are still strong and growing but expansion has also been made in that as well; large scale or small scale makes no difference now…if a smile, tear, or giggle produces from reading any of my writings, then I have succeeded, published or not.

Winding Roads, Dead End Trails...A Narrow Path Ahead (Ending)

The death of my grandma was the last trauma I could endure; no more façade of strength and courage nor the ability to continue showing my heart and its characteristics as I so enjoyed doing for 9 years. Those were the years I feared not to open my heart to many, but one in particular…my life was finally perfect (or so I thought). November 6, 2009 I was taken to the ER and released 4 hours later; many revelations came upon me that night. Too many to conjure up, chances of calm waters stirring in chaos is not one I care to surf right now. What I will disclose, or confess for that matter, my flight syndrome has always been a safety net I depend on. When all else fails, I am well past ready for take off! Sometimes, in this mixed up head of mine, I choose the wrong flight number, sometimes I do not but whatever the flight or destination at the time is my heart aching for someone to see me, just me…not the mom of five teens, or the woman who had 5 kids at 24 (all under 4), or the superwoman who ran a successful business, or a mom who started a Christian volleyball club, or a wife that continually learns submission, or a wife that wants to make everyone happy, but for once I would like to take this mask off and when I do take the mask off…here’s the scary part…I would like to be loved anyways. I don’t mean pretending to be a bestie or lover and then only to abandon me once again.

I’m told the best “cure” for getting through these things is this: Turn to our Heavenly Father, Pray, Fellowship with brothers and sisters, forgive yourself, place your burden upon Jesus and HE WILL LIFT YOU UP. During the happy years, the 9 of which I spoke of, I did just that. Maybe that is why God has chosen the past year to bring me to my knees. Now, I yearn to walk that same journey. I’m afraid to give it all I have. I know I am forgiven but do others know that? I need that acceptance again the unconditional love I felt from God. One thing I have learned is this, many will let you down in life, many will be friends you thought were true, many will hold your past against you, many will continue to do so. I’m afraid of the ones who could hurt me worse than anyone, the ones who spent the last year demanding that my “illness” was spiritually related. I have subsided to their truths in hope that maybe they are right. Maybe I am to blame; maybe just maybe I expect too much from the ones whom I thought knew me, just me. Baby step by baby step I test the waters, but the cage is full of wrath that belongs to God, not them. So I place the mask on and trust in God that he can still see my heart, know it is his, and pray one day, someday…someone will see just me, a little girl, a daughter who is doing the best she can to lean on Father #4.

Winding Roads, Dead End Trails...A Narrow Path Ahead

Winding roads and dead end trails became the paths I was accustomed to many years ago yet it wasn’t until my early thirties the discovery of flight syndrome became a daily battle of mine. Childhood friends, adolescent lovers and the façade of “besties” were definitive antecedents molding concrete walls while the guilt and burden chizzled the very muscle I was protecting. One may think confession is the tissue of healing and one may think what goes around comes around, like karma in tenth degree. The experience of both is yet another reason the shelling of my heart was essential as surely the next victim of my abandonment would stay for just enough time to gain full access; this pearl of mine was too precious and few were allowed. By the time my thirties came around, selfishness was a trait some would suggest however, they neglected to see the things produced by humility and silence; as it should be. Although I can’t remember the first time I exercised the flight syndrome, one particular moment in time I am able to vividly feel today at age 38.

For most, there comes a time in adulthood when the happiness of adolescence is too far gone to grasp, the fear of aging is quickly approaching and the identity crisis of who we are and what we have become outweighs the imagery of desire, passion and hope. Although most feel this devastation, not all can relate to the depths of which one can and does fall. For me, as usual, extreme measures were prevalent. Aside from the discovery of a 22 year old untreated depression, a relevant postpartum diagnosis, an 80lb loss in less than 8 months, severe panic attacks, another father down then a paternity test 18 years too late and the symptoms of peri-menopause shuttling in blurred vision, hot flashes and mood swings, I was just like the next person who experiences a mid-life crisis. The crisis when most will take a moment or two and regain their foothold, not me…too many expectations to uphold, it was not the time to fall or show the weakness stirring within. My children depended on me; the soft spot of a strict home. I yearned for their approval, still do.

Part A...

My Omelas and Yours?

A Respoinse to:

“The One Who Walk Away From Omelas”

By Ursula K. LeGuin

Intriguing, to say the least, was the antecedent feeding my strife to comprehend? In all honesty, my exhaustion of overload hindered my evocative nature of dissecting such literature therefore a battle within was prevalent as the deadline approached. The inner battles I face reside in the form of guilt, I hate guilt. I chose to persevere however victory is unknown or is it merely unseen?

Most obvious, Omelas is a place all humans can associate their minds and hearts to, however the location and identity of Omelas is left implicitly suggestive. Ursula leaves the reader with no limitations to the imagination yet reigns in the common grounds that feed all audiences; a place of belonging. Omelas possess characteristics of happiness and joy with minimal judgment of one’s source of peace and love. As diversity characterizes the human race, each of or inner desires may or may not be the same. Whether it be wishful thinking, a place of hope, a belief in something unseen, or a place we reside in now; Omelas is the portrayal of yours, mine and others sense of belonging.

Do you belong to a higher power leading your heart and soul to peace, joy and happiness or does the caged child toil within every battle? Who is the caged child to you? Is there forgiveness, judgment, mercy, compassion, love, or lack of any that dictate which side of the gates you belong? Do you go against the grain in bravery? What is the grain for you?

These are the questions I believe Ursula is enticing readers to explore; the answer she provides is that of belonging. I was impressed with the method in which she sought all beliefs which suggest multiple audiences.

I shall walk the narrow path in efforts to gain the freedom God promised through the sacrifice of His child. His promise shall guide my path and when the trumpets sound in the last days, I shall then enter the Golden Gates of my Omelas, Heaven. Until then, I shall not seek joy and happiness with things of this world nor be lured in by the flutes of Satan or the darkness of his eyes as he is blind to my inner most love for my Father.

One Year, Your Reflection: Our Heritage

Marianna Grayston Monsey

Ayear has passed and the memory of Marianna Grayston Monsey lingers within our hearts. Forever shepherding our daily walk, her unspoken lessons of what it means to be a woman of nobility rests upon our heritage and dwells within our steps. Her life is the example each of us are left with, a goal and desire to be more like the woman who taught selflessness and devotion as a wife, a mom, a daughter, a grandma and a friend. Courage and strength, characteristics Marianna embraced without complaint, were the foundation of survival we, The Grayston women, could only pray to achieve. Trials, loss, separation and solitude inhabited her daily routine as silence and submission were the commands that brought her inner joy. As children and grandchildren we often wondered why or how she could persevere with such eloquence and grace; the blindness of her breakdown was a mystery without solution until God's promise was knocking upon her life. Eminent truths were unveiled during the last months, weeks, days and to the last moment of goodbye. Her childlike demeanor and free-spirited journey humbled the hearts of Grayston women; through confession and realization a mother and a daughter broke the silence. Granddaughters witnessed the phenomenon; a life's journey by choice and not by lack of understanding or worldly acceptance but rather the faith and hope of our Father's will and promise. Marianna chose to share in the sufferings of Christ so that God's glory could be revealed in a manner we would never let go of.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

1COR 13:4-7

Although Marianna had the right to anger easily, to envy other women and seek acceptance among worldly guidelines, she chose forgiveness. Marianna kept no record of wrongs and was patient each time the sin broke her heart or shattered her dreams. Her intelligence was a gift many would boast upon yet she reflected no delight in such pride. The kindness went against the grain of rudeness earned; she chose to rejoice and remain in hope, faith and trust of God's protection. Marianna Grayston Monsey persevered through a life many women today would deem as a lacking self worth and merely a weak woman trapped in a life of dictation. That is simply not the case. The choices made exemplify a portrait of a Proverbs 31 woman; a wife of noble character. Her self- worth was found by knowing the acceptance she had in our God; her reflection and not the perception of others. Although she had many dreams hindered by circumstances there were a few in which came true. She cherished the gifts of angels, fantasized of flying her free spirit and giggled at the orneriness of clandestine flights. We, the Grayston women, kneeled in prayer for a bittersweet request. The battle of cancer was over and bonds of unconditional love were mended and her heart, mind, body and soul could take no more suffering. She sacrificed all entitlements with honor, grace and mercy. Her dream of having wings was granted October 8, 2009.

Andrea L. Storms

10/8/2010                                                                        

It's almost a year...I miss you...I love you...you are here

A year is sneaking in, much has happened and all has not been lost.  The loss was severe. She loved the man unconditionally, without ridicule, submitting her desires to a man that had no respect for anyone than himself. Why did we all try to gain his acceptance? Its been a year and she holds my heart more now than ever. Her character has been the strength carried me through. It opened my eyes. I thought I saw the right path in those last few months, I thought I saw her want more, I thought I saw regret. What I did see was she began to realize she was not crazy, all of us loved her, we all wanted to know the Grayston history. She missed her family all those years. Did he ever let her see them? I don’t remember ever seeing the Grayston side, other than visiting many landmarks that laid their foundation, the beginning of Huntington. The Graystons were the one of the first families to settle. Isabella traveled many seas to reach Huntington. Did you know even back then the townspeople thought they were better and made many judgements on others. Is that the history of Huntington? Just weeks before Marianna’s death, I began to see much more. There was no doubt in me the story she told was true, of course I thought it to be “How could he not considering all this woman has submitted to?”…I was wrong, she saw him through His eyes. I have never seen anyone in that way. Her one on one was never broad casted nor was it declared but rather through the years instilled in the Grayston women, by example. Her life is a reflection of Him. Why did I not see it til then? I knew the heart was there and the gentle, kindred spirit. Judgement was never a trait she entertained, regardless of the overwhelming amount placed in front of her, or directed at her. She was judged daily, weekly, yearly and broke. She took refuge within, what appeared to be “crazy” factors, delusional words, off topic comments, historical lessons 101 that many did not follow, I did. My heart hurt for her all those years. I was afraid too. How did she do it? Brushing it off on a the “weakness” of women in her generation (boy was I wrong). There was not weakness, it was a product of finding acceptance where it mattered, in Him. She was a woman of grace, eloquence, nobility and what it means to truly love unconditionally. She has been gone a year now (in a few days) and although my heart hurts and wishes I could say just a few more things to her, I knew she had all she could take and so did He. It was her time, He gave her time to say goodbye without any distractions, no judgement, no ridicule, just time to be her….a woman whom she forgot existed, or was it us that forgot? It was  difficult to hear the second guessing of who she was and what was ok as that man took all she had with no remorse. Marianna, Grandma, I miss you! I miss hot and cold. I miss the nights of register heat. I miss the non chalant defenses we shared. I miss the stories we snuck in. I miss the times when I saw you. I hold onto those moments. I hold onto the years. Most of all, I hold on to the example you set for the Grayston women, unconditional love and the acceptance of one is the ticket. I have your strength, I have your will, I have your grace, I have your ability to submit, I have your love, I will never let go, I shall honor. I will see the only acceptance that matters. I will fulfill our shared dream. I pray I honor what you would want. I will break the silence, with respect. I will carry you in my heart now and always. I will let your example lead my journey. By the way….I know you are here. I feel your presence and your strength holding me. I miss you. With all I have.

Debt and Credit, Confident or Not? (CONCLUSION) (full response begins 2 posts prior)

Generally speaking, the article contained an overall accurate “surface” description of installment debt and revolving credit and the role it plays in everyday life, however, I found many areas of this article to be misleading by the omission of a few necessary details that would help the reader in conformity of its main objective: “How To Guides:” This is money we are talking about so if an organization is held to a position of monopoly and the general public places confidence, as defined by Merriam-Webster[1], then shouldn’t Yahoo!Finance provide a few more details when claiming definition to a commodity that is a “fact of life”?

Today’s economy is a reflection of similar circumstances and characteristics encompassing The Great Depression era yet with Baby Boomer’s as leader that will soon retire only to find instant gratification was passed on the their children who, along the way, lost the concept of where to gain self worth and now hindered so much that total avoidance of debt appears to be the best strategy in managing credit based on a false meaning of confidence. Statistics show, we, all generations, are experiencing yet another era of depression. This time around: cash purchases, large or small, possess limited feasibility (cash on hand has become nearly obsolete) and the ability to gain funds or purchasing power through installment debt or revolving line of credit, both in which are necessary instruments in today’s economy, has become nearly impossible. Era’s discussed within this essay have displayed a total avoidance of debt and credit as well as the rebellious proceeding generation embracing both debt and credit, responsibly beyond the means of their income yet molded the industry of financial planning It appears the economy is a reflection of several imprudent decisions on all levels (i.e. individuals, partnerships, corporate and government), including Yahoo!Finance.



References

Celent. (2003, December 4). The Baby Boomers Prepare for Retirement. Retrieved October 4, 2010, from Celent Reports: http://reports.celent.com/PressReleases/20031204/BabyBoomers.htm

Merriam-Webster, Incorporated. (2010, October 4). Confidence. Retrieved from Merriam Webster Dictionary: http://www.merriam-webster.com

Yahoo! Finance. (2010, October 4). Personal Finance How-To Guides: Yahoo! Finance. Retrieved from Yahoo! Finance: http://finance.yahoo.com




[1] Confidence: faith or belief that one will act in a right, proper, or effective way

Debt and Credit, Confident or Not? ....Continued (See One Post Prior)

Just as this retiring generation has molded the nation’s perception, acceptance and embracement regarding financial planning; these “Hippies” have also molded the nation’s desire, need and drive for instant gratification. Their rebellious years characterized by Woodstock festivities and free will/go with the flow mind sets have caused for the ‘Keeping up with the Jones’ cliché. The rebellion itch may have been the drive behind marketing the up side to revolving credit (aka open-ended credit) as such instant money availability allows for the façade of having more than what you actually earned; this concept appears to be where confidence in self and the future ability to pay comes in. Revolving credit such as Visa, MasterCard, and department store cards come in several colorful designs that can be a reflection of one’s personality and façade of confidence (mine is multi-colored tie dye). A revolving line of credit does have limits, ceiling versus sky if you will. Credit limits are based on payment history and income; these factors have an impact on the annual interest rates charged and the potential annual account fee charged to the consumer and calculated into one low monthly payment (the minimum payment of total balance) (Yahoo! Finance, 2010). Easy enough right? No way, not a chance, of it being that easy, as the annual rates are significantly higher than installment debt interest rates. Annual rates are at an all time high as many credit ratings are declining (confidence factor maybe?). Although appealing introductory rates are offered to new customers as well as an extending the same inducement in an effort to keep the good rated customers, eventually those introductory rates expire, leaving consumers in the position of good management skill application. Annual rates are noted to be 18% or higher (Yahoo! Finance, 2010). Math calculations indicate minimum monthly payments with no further usage (lack of balance increase) cause for the debtor to now spend more years paying for such convenience than that of either an installment debt or self discipline of delayed gratification.

Let’s face it, the strictness and self control displayed by those sixty five and older is paying off for the parents of baby boomers. The era of a great depression and those who persevered (suicides were some of this nation’s highest rates) are now the positive statistical representation of poverty rates. Those of the depression era reflect plummeted rates of poverty and appear to have the well-founded financial stability (Celent, 2003). Their offspring, baby boomers, have critiqued, molded and overall made the good foundation of financial planning better however, left the management skills and self control issues a bit to be desired. Today’s active generation now struggles with confidence, trust and laziness. Yes, laziness. The revolving line of credit continues to feed impulse buying, purchasing large items that one can’t actually afford and proposes the lack of need to compare costs prior to buying therefore costing this generation more money, money that is being spent for instant gratification (LCD Flat Screen) instead of delayed gratification (investments that will provide for a desired lifestyle during the ‘Golden Years’). All generations are currently impacted by this generational transformation.

Confidence (in all forms) must be substantiated based on history in order to make decisions for the future; this is what the economy refers to as forecasting. The anticipation of future abilities derived by analyzation of all data applicable is the foundation for a reliable opinion of confidence (or lack thereof). In my opinion, the definition of credit presented by the article, “Man’s confidence in Himself”, is faulty (Yahoo! Finance, 2010). Historically speaking: keeping up with Jones’ has been the measurement of worth rather than looking at self to measure worth. Looking at “self” to define worth would mean analyzing the data applicable, substantiated history of income and the management skills to disperse funds wisely. How can there be “confidence in himself” if the analyzation process contains the wrong data? However, later in the article, my opinion is further supported by the first step to eliminating credit card debt, in which I do agree with; “begin to address it by honestly evaluating your spending habits. Examine your existing expenses to analyze how your money is spent. You will most likely be able to identify the problem areas…” (Yahoo! Finance, 2010).

CONCLUSION....coming tonight.... 

Debt and Credit, Confident or Not?

“Will that be debit or credit?”, says the cashier as the customer instinctively answers, “Credit please, I need the miles”. The harmonious nods indicate the camaraderie of a goal, desire and method of transportation. .Exchanging pen, plastic and carbon reinforce the agreement[1], as defined by Merriam-Webster. The kibitz exchanged has now been executed; both parties exit such chatter with a token of their common ground; the customer’s ability to view Monday Night Football on the latest LCD Flat Screen and the cashier with further assurance of job stability and hope of keeping up with the Jones’. After all, the John Hancock ensures confidence[2], right?

According to the article, Managing Debt and Credit, credit was once defined as “Man’s Confidence in Man”. But in fact, the definition of credit today is more like “Man’s Confidence in Himself” (aka having trust in your future ability to pay that debt) (Yahoo! Finance, 2010). Although the concept appears to be accurate, the actuality of today’s less than favorable economic conditions coupled with future conditions encompassing Baby Boomer statistics; confidence and credit adjoined in meaning could likely be a thing of the past. Parents of Baby Boomers represent a generation of The Great Depression in which paying cash for all purchases, even the big ones (homes and vehicles) was prevalent as well as a sign of noble and wise money managers. They worked hard, saved money and consistently made choices of never spending more than you earn. Essentially this could be viewed as total avoidance of debt and credit. So what happen to that?

The era of instant gratification, going with the flow and keeping up with the Jones’ became a way of life therefore debt and credit came down one’s confidence in himself. Baby boomer’s are primarily responsible for molding the benefits and downfalls of both installment debt and revolving credit. Installment debt refers to money borrowed for a specific period of time (aka maturity date) with payments being made at regular intervals to include both principle and interest. Depending on terms of the note (and the pool of funds the institution lending utilizes), interest can be paid at the front end or back end of the loan, most are front end therefore principal balances decline more in the final stages of the note. Competitive interest rates, average range of 5%-10%, are typically amortized over the life of the loan with fixed payments remaining constant. (Yahoo! Finance, 2010) Installment debt is widely recognized as the instrument in which homes, businesses, and cars are obtained (large ticket items) however, installment debts can also be small loans, secured or unsecured, utilized to either cover an unexpected expense when liquidity is minimal or a tool in which credit can be established and built on. Baby boomers recognized the higher rate of return by obtaining installment debts and the positive impact it has on a portfolio. Tax benefits freed additional monies to reinvest elsewhere such as the stock market, in which they molded as well. Those over 50 control four-fifths of the money invested in savings-and-loan associations and own two-thirds of all shares on the stock market (Celent, 2003).

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED.....

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[1] Agreement: a contract duly executed and legally binding

[2] Confidence: faith or belief that one will act in a right, proper, or effective way

Story Creation of Random Words and Meanings - (unedited)

Early evening and the walls are caving in. One course of homework complete, now on to Composition and the preparation of a five course meal has escaped realization for Samantha; a 38 year old college freshman , moderately successful business owner, wife to an overgrown 40 year old boy of two decades, and mom of five teenagers. Determined to pave the way of noble characteristics, Samantha cracks the solitary window of confinement allowing increased fenestration to circulate carbon dioxide, indeed a wise choice in efforts to rejuvenate the lost energy molecules her Chemistry homework so graciously borrowed. Slow movement, dazed eyes and the tranquilization that an absence of light inflicts diminished the hope of a second wind. Too tired to think, too knackered to function, she knew she could no longer fungo her way through this tunnel of darkness; the time had come to call upon her most qualified assistant: perseverance requires prayer.

Samantha’s submission, accompanied by the soft music of romance, invigorated a swaying motion of dance steps buried within her soul. Aroma lingered with scents of gooey marshmallows and dripping mocha chocolate encased by double cinnamon grahams that only a cool slithering  breeze could grasp from the adjacent parcel. The backdrop of a crackling bon fire and the kibitzing neighbors embellished Samantha’s ginormous desire to reminisce and two-step along the Table Rock Lake shores. Distant visions of shimmering water and butter crystals ionized by pure sunlight skims the surface of rippling waves sifting through her vibrant orange polish. Protrusion through sand granules and foamed white capped bubbles, the conveyance triggers the natural vibration a complimentary massage produces, the calamity of spirit becomes the fringe benefit Sam gains from submission. The child like innocence and the comfort felt within retrieval words are collectibles attached to her heart. “Sam! Come Home, Sam!”…

“Back to life, back to reality, back to life, back to reality”, serenades the cellular device as the sweet peas of Sam’s heart (aka Mikayla & Miria) initiated mobile to mobile drama, round one for the evening. Her twin daughter’s emotions were rising and the debate was ignited as Sam recollected a distinct morning conversation of Mom’s Taxi Service Schedule to begin at 7:30 p.m. not 7:00 p.m. Mikayla insisted such tardiness was solely the fault of Miria as Miria shifted blame to Dad, passive traits are prone to such burdens of involuntary targets. However, don’t be fooled. Good ‘ole passive Dad and the only son, Mikel, find comfort in their marathon training which has been successfully tailored, especially when the predominant factors include shared estrogen levels among five drama queens. The Boys’ adrenalin pumping speech goes a bit like this: “RUN like EBEN! RUN Mikel RUN! DON’t let those carnivores catch you! RUN like EBEN!” Meanwhile, as the bickering continues and no consideration is given to Mom’s fuming tendencies of ring side referee services, All EBEN could break loose! Instead of feeding among the carnivore attitudes, Sam chose utilization of the slow interval breathe in and breathe out stabilization method, then responded “Gotcha. I will arrive for pick up in T-18 minutes”. Click. The call was over. Mumbling and jumbling, Samantha’s outburst prevailed seconds later, “Shenanigans! I fell asleep during prayer!” Kibitzing out loud, her jibber jabbers gained momentum then yet another coping method unveiled it's identity...

Although prayer time had been interrupted and a rude halt to a phenomenal dream became a bittersweet buttery illusion, Sam’s reality of fungoing throughout trials is now in season.

A "Snippet" from My "I Believe Essay"

Rocky roads don’t even touch the surface of our journey.

A more accurate description would be enormous boulders on a destructive path destined for the next 80 foot cliff. No exagerattion; our marriage has been nothing short of the extreme  sport of cliff diving. Fear intensified as each soaring dive lost the volume meant to break our falls, needless to say (but I’m going to anyways) a lot of bumps, bruises, scars, broken lives and shattered hearts were the reminents of a once fairy tale marriage many envied (and still do on occasion). Our most recent dive has been voted among our family to be the true definiton of our family motto: The Storms 7. Yes, pun is intended here.

Although we say it, sing it and…well…eventually live it; We Will Praise You in this Storm! Music is a meeting ground, a truce, a peace offering, if you will, for our dysfunctional family. God has provided the lyrics and song many times over as each of the Storms embrace His refuge in the midst of chaos. Casting Crowns, Acappella, Skillet and the divine memory of Watershed’s seranade of Make Me a Storm are the power tools God has utilized over 18 years of repairing the debris of lightening striking. We, the Storms 7, believe David, a king in the Old Testament days, sang it best in Psalms 46. His praises to God, in desparate times of need, have been the scriptural references for our family’s codependancy[1] of one another and more importantly; our dependancy on God. David’s song goes a little bit like this, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear… He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear, he burns the shields with fire. "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." My marriage has journeyed the trenches of many battlefields, created the vibration of thundering booms and witnessed the impact of our many storms. Being Still has never been our strong suit.Yes; ALL puns intended!

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[1] 1 COR 11:11-12 However, in the Lord, neither is woman independent of man, nor is man independent of woman. For as the woman originates from the man, so also the man has his birth through the woman; and all things originate from God.