I was sitting at the kitchen table eating my breakfast with my thoughts. I was mulling on how I don’t like this period of my life, I’m going on sixty. The sun raced across the table enlightening my hands as I moped in my self-pity when I realized that this is nothing new, not liking a period in my life. Why is that? I certainly have been blessed enough to live with a full,overfull tummy. I never woke up without a sanctuary a heated sanctuary. I have Problems, who hasn’t .
In my fifties I found myself becoming unemployed, diabetic and saying goodbye to my parents, and in-laws. Everything my Father and I worked towards, the family business disappeared. So at fifty-three everything that I was use to ceased,waking up well before the sunrise, working at least 10 hours a day 6 days a week if not more, I doubt if I worked a 40 hour week but 3 times in my life since I was seventeen. I don’t have the money to show for it , it was never about the money it was about keeping my word, the word I gave my father when I was in trouble and need his help. I wish I could brag about financial accomplishments but I think most small businesses in America usually are poorly compensated for their efforts despite what is assumed by many. So I do believe My God compensated me by arranging the opportunity to babysit my grandchildren and prepare the older generation for their death. It was a time of roller-coaster emotions yet I found peace, Several time I could feel My Lords presence and physically feel peaceful and strong when needed. So if someone ask me if I believe in Christ I have to answer How can I not?He was with me when no one else was.
My forties was a blur , only to find myself broken. I laid on a gurney, blinded because of a mild stroke, I laid there asking myself what next. I felt a great peace come when I said. God will be done, realizing that I could not fix this. I couldn’t. I will never forget that peace, except with a verbal confrontation with the doctor who was scolding me for not taking care of myself , which I reminded him he doesn’t work for free, I had just got on my wife’s insurance policy and was about to set up going to the family Physician, Another by-product of small business un-affordable health insurance. The doctor left quietly and I laughed at the nurse when she asked me to sign the release documents. I had to have her put my hands where I needed to scribble. I sat in the same chair three days then decided to find a way into work and gradually my sight returned to a less efficient but ever so workable miracle, yes miracle in my opinion. It probably was the mortal nail for my fathers business, I was no way the man that I was before the stroke. I didn’t like this time of my life either, and I was wrong to say this then as well for many events happen that where good that followed that day on the gurney.
My thirties I really don’t remember to much other than I worked , and worked and worked . My kids were being raised, we didn’t have much but we all had full tummies and plenty of interesting times. I somehow found out that I like to paint and draw, and wasn’t that bad at it . I didn’t have much time but found it possible to get lost in the basement and paint away.We had build a good size business and I would find myself being on call 24/7. This pattern caused me to develop the attitude if I can’t get it done in a day don’t bother,bad attitude that I still haven’t been able to undo. This should have been the prime of my life, maybe it was but I can’t remember much. At times I struggle to find memories of the kids and I. I can remember some of the bad moves and struggles at work but very little of my personal life. I didn’t like this time either, again I am grateful I made it pass this without doing to much damage
Many go on about their fun times the twenties were, Me not so. I was building a family, actually I had been daddy since I was eighteen and found work was the reward for having such a good time a few times. I think the twenties was the age of stupid mistakes, arrogance and fruitless dreams. It had some good times of course. I bought my house by my 21 birthday and found myself growing and growing,Physically of course. I had abandon my Catholic faith years ago. I never stop believing but was totally frustrated with the Church I belong to. It always seemed that when I need help I couldn’t find it. So I started to explore some other alternatives till I just closed the door to God till I received that day on the gurney. Nope I didn’t like the twenties either.
Now my youth was very interesting and to say I like my youth would be a big lie. I was born a pre-me and because of incubator burns I was left with one eyes that has little vision and required me to wear coke-bottle glasses to this day, my other eye was and is fantastic. My parents enrolled me into a Catholic School and I was one of a few that went to school in a white shirt and tie in a blue-collar military town so running for my house which was at the other end of the development was the norm. I gotten used to being called names and bullied both at home and believe it or not at the Catholic school because I was a kid from that side of town. The nuns even treated me different as if that what is the use, after all the kids thought it was cool to drink cough syrup, I just laughed as I lit up. They made me bathroom monitor I think one kid smoke in the school, me. I just didn’t fit in till I left Catholic school and went to public high school, there skipping school, getting high and surfing was all I wanted to do, And that is what I did do till I found myself needing to grow up and be a man, be responsible . I did not like this either, but I am grateful that God’s lessons that I did learn while going to that Catholic School at least steered me in the right direction. I was not a good Catholic, a bad Catholic but Catholic I was, I am , As God wills it.
Actually So what does this little rant have to do with anything, for most that read this nothing. I really do like this time because it is the only time, there is no other time it all is one time, each period formative for the next, each a chance to correct, learn and benefit from the other. I live in a time where I can type or post if you like a little about life and sail it out there into the universe, perhaps it will be saved and returned and read by someone whom I care about and cares about me , you got to like this. I think !
Tranquil Thoughts make my pencil dance in a world of peace ,quiet and dormant memories. If the world could dance as my pencil does when in such a blessed mood perhaps there would not be so much weeping,anguish and pain.
Is not life hard enough without someone throwing shards of glass into the wind ……… something to think about
Putting on my pants, I realized just how depended on others I am.
Who was responsible for the material my pants were made from?
Who cut up the pattern of the pants that my legs I did jam?
Who was the seamstress , where are those lovely folks from?
Wonder who was the packer who folded and wrapped those stylish pants?
Was it forklifted and boxed and ready to ship?
How many supervisors, managed and danced and went of rants?
How about the broker and lawyer and all that legal stuff on the slip?
Yet I feel I need no one , well that a joke.
I like to have the talent to create out of air,
there was so many task,many hands that carried this yoke.
They provided me these pants, to spare you from seeing me bare.
No one can live on this earth alone.
Even today’s hermit isn’t capable of providing everything
less he wears pants from plants,dead animals or stone.
and that still came from the Almighty God our King!
May a Loving Christ hear our prayers and grant peace and healing
To all my friends from A Devoted Life:
I would greatly appreciate prayers from you all.
My Dad is critically ill and in the intensive care unit (ICU) at the hospital. He has a gangrene infection in his gall bladder. He is too ill for them to operate and remove his gall bladder. We were just told that he is on life support and is experiencing organ failure of the kidneys and heart. We understand that due to low blood pressure there may be other organ damage.
My Dad has loved his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ for as long as I can remember. He is the one that showed me what it looks like to truly love God. His destination is assured. Yet, we selfishly desire to keep him with us and earnestly desire our Lord to heal the infection within his body and restore his health.
We serve the King of kings and Lord…
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I don’t remember when I first heard my inner voice. I cannot remember the first time I laid my eyes on my mother’s face. I remember little bits and pieces of my life before I entered school. I remember my little hat falling into the water of an amusement ride and crying my eyes out. I remember going to the next door neighbors to play with a boy about my age and his matchbox cars . I remember at the age of five, in the hospital, blind because of a procedure and my parents bringing me chocolate milk shakes which I drank with a paper straw, to this day my favorite drink and I search for paper straws. Often when I watch my grandchildren I ask how much will they remember of this moment I shared with them. Is it normal that I don’t remember so much of those formatives years?
From the very moment I started watching and caring for my grandchildren I noticed that they were more than a little body that stumbled, and struggled to communicate, I would almost recognize a human whom was more fully formed than I expected. They would often behave as an adult whom was struggling with a traumatic situation and was struggling to grab on to what ever works to communicate . I could almost see a light in their eyes at times as if their soul was welcoming my efforts to make them comfortable and entertained. I often stated and would like to believe that they just arrived from Heaven and they’re adjusting to life here.
As a caregiver for dying loved ones, I could almost see a similarity. The task where similar and their challenges to communicate, function and find comfort was little difference then the small children except more awkward. The light in their eyes would seem distant often as if they were in a different place, an another dimension. I would equate the last stages as if they were beginning their journey down a new birth canal, and at times it look like they were really working hard to accomplish some trek.
It is assumed that when I die that my inner voice leaves my body, after all it will be cold and stiff, not functional and decaying . It is speculation that at our last breath we depart with our inner voice (soul), to a destination that has been a mystery since the first death. Most faith’s profess that our inner voice has a path, a preferred more comfortable and wondrous destination.
The assumption of when our inner voice arrives is even more of a mystery, and one that has an unsettling debate with todays culture. I do not know when I arrived in my body, I cannot declare if I was a thinking mind while swimming in my mothers womb, Did I arrive when my parents fluids united , did I arrive just after I was introduced to the world, was I present while my father was looking for a suitable place to live and raise me. I don’t know this and neither doesn’t anyone else. I don’t remember crying in the incubator nor do I remember much till as stated above. This has always concerned me and truly wish I knew. Not knowing when I arrived makes me to lean to the assumption that life could very well begin at inception and need to be treated as a life .This is an unpopular view and unacceptable by many and I certainly can understand the rational of many viewpoints, but till I know for just when the inner voice arrives I can’t accept the pro choice view.
As a Catholic, my faith leads to believe that our souls are able to return to God, to be filled with Love and eternal happiness. My faith also expects me to follow the guidelines of the Church as laid out 2000 years ago by Christ and the Apostles, and parts of the Torah or Jewish Scriptures. Catholic believe that life begins at inception and if you are a true follower of the Catholic faith you should accept the dogma. Even without this dogma I still would question and ask for solid proof just when does our inner voice arrive.
This essay is not meant to be judgmental nor will it address most concerns and justifications of pro-choice.I did not write this to condemn but to offer a pro-life view or explanation. This essay is my inner voice speaking and it finds a need to speak.