Candle of Hope

Here's wishing you all good happy holidays. Despite all the pain and disappointment from 2020, I believe we can always hang on to HOPE. Start out 2021 with a little candle, share it, and it will shine brighter and brighter.  Let's go into this New Year with our Candle of Hope, and pray for kindness and goodness to be shared among all. Peace to all. God bless.   Love, Theresa M

📸 Joyce Meyer Ministries

By the Grace of God

 Another life taken

another dream unspoken.

Whispers of sadness stream,

fires of anger are stoking.

If only more would care

to show a bit of concern

lives could be saved, treasured.

Does anyone ever learn?

Self-centered ones we beg

some space apart and a mask.

Just moments of your time.

Is this too much to ask?

You do this for the least

among us in all places,

the Lord will see your deed

and anoint you with his graces.

Theresa M

📸 Canadian Cemeteries on twitter

And Now We Can Move Forward

 

It's time to set sail in a new direction.  We are winding down 2020 (thank goodness!). We have a lot of work to do to combat the covid-19 virus.  And so much else.  Ending child separation; getting back to protecting our environment, including animals; time to increase minimum wage and protect social security; time to address the real and ever present danger of racism and prejudice.  So very much to do.  And now we can. And we can do so with dignity and respect.  We can do this without the name-calling and blaming and lack of taking responsibility.  We can do this now with hope.  We must all Keep the Faith.  Keep our country as the United States of America.  Have our Allies trust in us again. We're all in this together for the good of this nation and for the whole world.  God bless us all.

Theresa M

Helen Reddy, Forever

There comes along in many people’s lives a song or a singer who forever inspires, delights, and warms their hearts.  For me, that singer is Helen Reddy.  She passed away Tuesday September 29, 2020. 

Although I feel a bit heartbroken, I do feel some peace, knowing she is at rest now in heaven, free of earthly problems and pains.  She is likely singing for the angels there, as she is being welcomed by family, friends, and fans who have preceded her in death.

I never got to meet her but we did make a connection early on.  You see, this shy lonely teenager wrote her a letter in 1973, telling her how much I loved her singing and I asked about her albums.  Helen wrote me back, thanking me and answering my questions.  Also an autographed photo was enclosed.  I felt that somebody in this world heard me, listened to me, and answered me.  I mattered to someone way over there.

Many songs on Helen’s multiple albums that didn’t become radio hits were just as wonderful if not better than those which did.  To this day I sing them, hum them, they play on my internal radio quite often.  And of course, occasionally I’ll listen to her on my mp3 or prime music.  If I were ever in a coma, and people would wonder if I’d come out of it, tell them to play Helen Reddy on loop on headphones for me. Either I’ll find the strength to come back or I’ll simply die happy! 😃

Through the 1990’s and some of 2000’s I didn’t listen to Helen as often, although I did occasionally remember some songs.  In spring 2016, cleaning out some boxes I found a cassette tape I had made of my favorite HR songs.  (I’ve kept the collection of records and her letter all these years.) I listened and again felt that deep warmth in my heart, my soul was in such delight!  Only problem was the cassette had a scratchy noise constantly throughout.  So I decided to look up getting CD’s and/or mp3 music.

And I found these awesome 2-disc sets that had most of her albums on it.  I purchased several and spent hours and hours listening to all the delightful songs.  What a joy!  I rediscovered Helen Reddy!

That fall in 2016, knowing Helen’s birthday was coming up on October 25th, I decided to send her a birthday card.  I had to search online for where to send.  I found out she lived at the Motion Picture &TV Home.  I called there to find a more specific address and was asked to leave my number.  I was told they would have Helen call me back.  WHAT!?

And she did.  She left a message on  my phone, giving me her personal phone number.  I got the message after work that day and was so excited, I trembled!  Well, I called her back early evening.  Brief talk.  But memorable.  Once again, she heard me, she listened, and she answered me.  I mattered to Helen once again, way over there.

My only regret is that I never met her in person.  But that’s ok, I can see lots of video clips of her performances online.  Lots of interviews too.  And I can always hear her keep on singing.

Helen, you are like a long, lost friend having come back into my life for awhile, only to leave again, but this time leaving the world stage.  Have I lost an old friend?  Yes and no.

I’ll see you for real someday, in heaven.  We’ll pick up where we left off on our chat October 17, 2016.  And hey, maybe sing a duet or two with you.  😊🎶

God bless you, your sister Toni, son Jordan, daughter Traci, and granddaughter Lily. 🙏💙 Love always,    Theresa M

The film "I Am Woman" is about the life of Helen Reddy. It is out in select theaters now and also On Demand and Prime.

Happy Fall Ya’ll! 🍂🍁

 My favorite season is the autumn: 

cooler days with brisk breezes.  Even cooler nights.  Changes in the color of leaves and the delight watching them float and fall all around.  As much as I love the crickets and cicadas singing at night, they unfortunately start to wane, but the birds still sing in the daytime.  The squirrels chase around, up and down trees, hiding their treasures.

Days start getting shorter but that's okay.  After time spent in fall’s beauty, I love the feeling of going inside my home, ready to start the evening with dinner.  Get tucked in all warm and snug, watch tv, read, or write.  Leave nature out there magically changing the scenery and the weather.

Though the summer is behind, and winter is yet to arrive, with its cold, snow and ice, in this moment is the autumn air, a transition from summer heat and storms.  This is the best of seasons, although spring is almost as equal, as it is a season of renewal. 

 Fall is the time to enjoy the gifts from the previous seasons of surviving cold hardship, spring beauty, summer ripeness.  Bring in the harvests, put a log on the fire, drink a warm beverage. Rest. 

Find solace in this moment.

Theresa M.

PS - And if you have a cat or two to snuggle with - oh, that is even more delightful! 🐱

   🧡❤💛🧡❤💛🧡❤💛

Fable of Silly the Squirrel

The crisp cool air was starting to stir and bring about a breeze.  Squirrels playfully danced up and down tree trunks, as birds sang sweet melodies, enchanting the afternoon forest.

Silly, the younger squirrel, tried hiding the nuts he found, by burying them under colorful leaves.  “Don’t bother with that!” cried out his older sister Sway.

“Why not?” asked Silly, holding a nut in his paws.     

“The leaves will die and crunch to pieces, then the nuts will be discovered by others,” Sway explained.

Silly the squirrel thought this over.  “Then I shall borrow the human’s pillows from their patio to cover them,” Silly stated.

“Don’t bother with that either!” his sister Sway said with a laugh.

“Why not?” Silly again questioned his older sister.

“The humans will put away their pillows and chairs at the end of autumn,” Sway replied.

Silly the squirrel thought over what his sister Sway told him.  “Then I will just eat as many as I can now and hold onto the rest of them in my cheeks!” Silly exclaimed.

Sway shook her head.  “You might fatten for the autumn, but you’ll go hungry through the winter.”

Silly gave that some deep thought.  He knew his sister meant well and was wise.  “Perhaps you could show me how to store these nuts for the winter.  I would gladly share them with you,” Silly asked of his sister.

“Well I’d be delighted to help.  I was hoping you would ask me.  Come, let’s go gather more nuts.”  Then Sway ran through the grass and yellow-gold-red leaves, as Silly chased close behind her.  They gathered a lot of nuts, and hid them in tree trunks and other safe places throughout the bright and beautiful autumn afternoons.  And when winter came all was well for the squirrels.

moral of the story:                              

Dont't be silly! Ask for help

when you need it.  Or it

could drive you nuts! 

          🍁🍂😊

Theresa M

The Fable of a Furry Flea

There once was a cat named Flea.  He went about his merry way, day after day into his human’s garden.  There he delighted in the smell among the flowers and vegetables.  He listened to the birds merrily chirp as they flitted about.  The trees always invited him to climb and watch his whole kingdom from above.

One day, sitting on a broad strong limb, Flea lay down to take a long nap.  But he felt annoyed.  Itchy.  On his ear.  On his stomach.  On his leg.  So he started scratching his ear.  Then he nibbled on his stomach.  He chewed on his leg.  There.  Settle in now for a nap.  No!  Not again.  He furiously started his scratching routine again.  Then out popped a tiny little bug from his ear.

“Are you, tiny varmint, the cause of my itching?” asked Flea the Cat.  “Me?  I’m just a tiny thing.  What harm could I possibly do?” replied the little bug.

“Well, you popped off of my fur when I was scratching.  Now I do not feel as itchy.  So it must be you,” cried Flea, and he swatted away the little varmint.  “There!”  Now I can nap in peace.”

Moments later, Flea started to feel itchy again.  He drowsily started scratching his ear.  Then he nibbled on his belly, and then chewed on his leg.  As he started repeating the cycle, out popped another tiny little bug.

“So you must be the buddy of the other tiny varmint causing my itching,” Flea accused the bug.  “Me? I’m just a tiny thing!  What harm could I possibly do?” the little bug replied.

“You are the second little varmint that popped off my fur when I was scratching and now I no longer itch.”  So Flea swatted away the second little varmint.

Not long after dozing off, Flea felt itchy once again.  He started furiously scratching his ear, ferociously nibbling at his stomach, and frantically chewing on his leg.  He started to repeat this ritual when out from his leg popped a third tiny little bug.

“Aha!  You must be the cause of my itching!  You are the third tiny varmint I have caught!” snarled Flea the Cat.  “Me?  I’m just a tiny thing.  What harm could I possibly do?” cried the third little bug.

Flea reflected on the bug’s statement.  “That is the third time I’ve heard that today.  All from tiny little varmints.  And all three of you have lied to me.  You all are the cause of my itching, yet deny you’ve caused me any harm.  Away with you too!”  Flea the Cat exclaimed, as he swatted away the third varmint.

Flea the Cat returned to his attempt to nap on the long broad tree limb.  A neighbor cat named Doggie snuck into the yard and saw Flea up in the tree scratching.

“Hey, what are you doing up there?” shouted Doggie, the neighbor cat. 

Flea opened one eye and replied, “I’m trying to nap.  But I found three nasty little tiny varmints on my fur making me itchy and I swatted each of them away. But I’m itching again.

Doggie laughed.  “What’s so funny?” hissed Flea the Cat, as his eyes widened, now fully awake.

“Well,” replied Doggie, “those little tiny varmints that make you itchy are your namesake--Flea!”  Doggie the neighbor cat laughed even more.

“I’m named after a little tiny itchy-causing varmint?” howled Flea the Cat.

Doggie, still laughing, replied, “Yes you are!  You need your human to help you get rid of those fleas, and change your name.”

Flea contemplated the plight he was in.  He needed a plan.  In the meantime, Doggie the neighbor cat was startled by a canine growling at him, so he ran off, with the canine barking in pursuit.

Later, back in the home for the evening, Flea curled up on his human’s lap.  She was delighted with his company.  But then she saw Flea scratching his ear.  He nipped his belly.  He chewed on his leg.  He started the routine over again.  The human felt itchy as well, and started scratching her arm.

“Oh my!” exclaimed the human.  “Flea has fleas!  He must be cursed by his namesake!  Oh Flea forgive me.  I must help you get rid of these fleas!  And Flea itself.”

Flea the Cat gave his human an angry glare and pawed at her hands with his sharp claws.  He then leapt from her lap, and sat there with his back to her, as if rejecting his human.

“Oh Flea!  Please!” the itchy human cried.  “You misunderstand.  I want to get rid of the fleas in your fur, and get rid of your name, not get rid of you.”  She stood up slowly, reaching out her arms.

Flea meowed softly, then brushed by his human’s ankles.  The human was happy, and declared, “Yes.  Yes you now understand.  From here on I will call you by a different name.  I will call you….CatNip.”

 

And from that day on, CatNip lives a blissful life, with his human.  He is prowling in the garden, smelling wonderful flowers and plants, listening to the delightful chirping birds, climbing sturdy trees, while watching over his kingdom, itch-free.    The End

Moral of the story:                                         

  Be careful what you name someone. 

  It can come back to bite you. 😸                    

               Theresa M 😊

ps - What?  Is there another point that can be made?  

Why yes there is:  

  A house is not a home without a happy cat. 😺 

Sweet Blissful Memories

Sweet memories. Embrace them. Life is hard enough. 🙏🏼❤️🧸🐱 https://t.co/WR7JmPLurv

— Theresa M ☘️⚜️🐱🌲 (@thetreezz) July 23, 2020

A recent tweet put me into a moment of memory bliss.  Why waste time thinking of so many bad things, hardships and hatreds, all the what-if’s and could-haves, when there is so much more to life?  Spend time not on regrets and old wounds, but on good memories.  Why not make yourself feel a bit better this way?

I remember when working in a psychiatric unit, we would have patients who would hallucinate in their dementia.  It was horribly sad to see them stuck in negative “places,” feeling paranoid, confused where they were, not knowing people around them.  I always thought that if I were to ever start getting dementia I hope I won’t experience those unpleasant symptoms.  I’d rather be in a sort of ignorant bliss.

Now I’m not saying that practicing happier memories would affect the outcome of dementia.  But what if it did?  Regardless, pleasant memories can enhance your life for today.  Why not try?    Theresa M

😎🐾🌞⛈🌟⛱🎈🔭🌴😎

Speaking of memories, some of my best               

were as a child visiting my mom's

childhood home.  So I again share

this post, originally from July 8, 2018...

“That Tiny Texas Town”       

(also includes my poem “No Answers”)

   When I was a child I loved visiting relatives out in the country. Way out there. Where highways were distant, houses far apart, and there was only one gas station that doubled as a small grocery store. And one bar (there’s always a bar.) A few abandoned buildings were around which were fun to explore (the town died down after the 1929 crash). I especially loved the old-fashioned cash register still sitting on the counter of an abandoned store.

   And at my uncle’s house (where my mom once lived with their whole family) the attic was a treasure trove - but only part of it admissible - it was dark and scary (no electricity up there!). I’d go through the rooms where sunshine entered, discovering an old telephone (the kind with the oblong speaker you held to your ear, the separate box to talk into). There were writings from another uncle (he went to college, wrote a book, became a civil servant). I wish I’d kept those things. They’re all gone now - so is the house.

   Also in that town was a two-room schoolhouse, with old-fashioned roll-top desks, all facing the chalkboard. It sat there for years - decades - but it too is gone now. To think my mother and uncles and aunts went there. Got their education there. Sat in those rooms, likely longing to be out in the country, in the fields. My mom actually used to pick cotton out there in her youth!

   The old cotton gin was another place to explore in my youth. On weekends when no one was there, my sisters and I would climb up the ladder and dare each other to jump into the bale of cotton below (complete with those hard crisps still sticking onto them). It was a delight to jump onto the softness of cotton, even though we were scratched in the process.

   I always wanted to live there in that tiny Texas town. That was my childhood dream. But it never turned out that way. I still dream of it. Sometimes in my dreams the house is a little different, but family is still alive, the fields still call to me, to run with the local black Labrador who would go through a tank (small ponds) and fully wet come running right towards us only to playfully pass us by, splashing us silly with water! To hear the crunch of walking on gravel roads, finding pieces of flint rock to marvel at the sparkle.

   In studying my ancestry this was a not too distant place that I actually had visited as a child, but very little of it exists now. Even the land my relatives had owned have been sold off. 

   But in my mind, my dreams, I’m there. I’m a part of something from the past that brings me to the here and now. It’s all relative.         Theresa M.

********************************************

                   “No Answers”

There I sat on the old school’s steps--

   gazing past weeds and bugs

      and hazy air,

Towards the low sun making its way to rest--

   that day.

A part of my mother’s past, sitting quietly behind me

   in a one-room school

With oak-wooden desks and a chalkboard erased

   over and over,

Filled with lessons still echoing--

   repeated till one learned enough

      in there.

Getting up from the steps I take another look

   behind me through

   the old paned windows

That let children just like my mom

   see the weeds and fields and life

      out here.

While numbers, words, dates, times and nursery rhymes

   all vied for attention from

   youth so eager to come live

      out there.

Now through the glare and tint of evening’s colors

   I see the empty chairs;

   desks drawn closed;

Words in white smeared over the

   answerless slates.

The children gone,                                       

📷 Robert Madden, 1979

 now adults somewhere someplace,      

   where weeds grow tall

   across fields of endless space.

   Life as it was

      in there

   Left more lessons to learn

      out here

   repeated and repeated,

   before being permanently

      erased. 

Theresa M.

The Summer of Bummer

It’s summer!  Time to be outdoors, in the sun, swimming, playing, tanning.  All of it can be done safely if only people choose to be aware and care.  Yeah, I know.  Some people just don’t give a hoot.  Here we all are still in the midst of a pandemic.  We never even got over the so-called first wave, we’ve just been surfing onto higher ones (no pun intended).

📷 AnnaliseArt on  pixabay

We just cannot make people care.  We can’t do it.  We can only do our best by doing our part, setting examples for others (you know children are watching all of this) and hope to bring awareness to more people.      

If you have a backyard, good for you.  Maybe you don’t have a pool but you can get a baby pool.  Have silly fun!  Splash around with the dog and kids, or partner.  Try water hoses, water pistols!  Cook out.  Go further from home, take a drive to a forest, a park, somewhere out there.  Just be ready to be safe around other people.  No matter where you go, some idiot is bound to be refusing to wear a mask.  Pfft!  Get away from them and live your life.  Don’t let stupid, uncaring people make your summer a bummer.  Be aware and care.     Theresa M       

Bear splashing in backyard tub  on youtube

                                        😷😷😷😷😷😷

To all who have lost their jobs during this covid crisis, hang in there.  You can get through this.  To those who lost loved ones, we are saddened for your loss.  Prayers for all, and hope you find the strength, love and support you need.  God bless.  💙🙏💞🕊TM

                              👒👣💐🌞🌠🌅🌼🍉🐾🌴🏊🎆

To lighten your heart, here is a previous post of mine about summertime memories.

Please enjoy.  😊

 

                              Weather - It Is Summer 

                               (prev posted July 15, 2018)

 Hot, hazy summer days are here. Some people revel in them, swimming, beaching, cookouts, just being outside. Some dread them, sweating, difficulty breathing, lack of energy. Hard to control that climate!

   As a kid I belonged to the first group. Maybe I liked it mostly because school was out. To be outdoors was pleasant. But without shoes or only sandals, ouch! Those sticker burrs were everywhere! I must have removed thousands from my feet.  Ah, but the simple pleasures of childhood!

   We moved around a lot when I was young. Some places did have big backyards (or maybe they seemed big to little me!) One place had different fruit trees - I remember apple, peach, and what I didn’t know then but do now as pomegranate. (Didn’t like it then, and don’t like it now). There was also a small stretch of trees which I called a jungle. I’d pretend I was on an expedition of sorts. Near there was a rotted-out tree trunk. I dug and dug and made a pit to hide in. Actually the dirt was cool - nice break on a hot summer day.

   Another place we lived had a shed with an evergreen tree next to it. I loved climbing the tree to get on top of the shed. I felt like I could see so much around me. But alas, too hot!

   Then there was the duplex house across the street from a local park. This backyard had huge trees and we got to have a swing - wow! The simple joys of life - I loved that swing. But going across the street to the park was great fun too. My sisters and I would venture all over the park. There were fountains everywhere. We weren’t supposed to but of course we did splash around in them to cool off. I didn’t like going to the pool, as a bully once dunked me in water - I thought I would drown.  Water hoses were more fun!

   The park was a respite from life. But not near as wonderful as being out in the country (I wrote about this in “That Tiny Texas Town.”) Freedom to run in the fields, bluebonnets everywhere, tanks (small ponds) to explore, endless gravel roads. And quiet, except for nature - birds, frogs, cicadas, crickets.  And beautiful fireflies at night!  I find those sounds and sights soothing, unlike the city life noise.

   Now I dream. Today the hot, humid days of summer are to be endured. I could turn on the air-conditioner (I do if above 90+) but it’s costly. I do feel fatigued. Plenty of water, fans of course. There were places I worked before that were so dreadfully hot - never did understand why those companies couldn’t get their climate under control.

   But at least we can appreciate that seasons change. Fall is my favorite, so there is something to look forward to. All through life we need to have this: Hope, Anticipation.  Things change, we adjust our behaviors to accept life as it happens.

   At least I can still hear the birds singing, and soon the night will bring the crickets and tree frogs chirping, and fireflies glowing, leaving me feeling peaceful. No matter what the weather. 

           Theresa M 

Struggle

I’ve been thinking lately about the word “struggle.”  It must have different meanings for people, and certainly has various levels of hardship.  Some struggle with their studies, some work hard to “make ends meet.”  Others find difficulty trying to understand dilemmas in their daily life, while listening to ever-changing problems reported in the news.  There are those who struggle to live, maybe from a terminal illness, or dementia, or perhaps just to breathe.

📷 geralt on pixabay

We cannot avoid struggle.  It’s a part of life, part of the process of growth.  Being victorious over it certainly can be joyful.  But I think it is also humbling, when one realizes that it takes much more than willpower.  It involves help and direction from others, a willingness to work on problems, and a bit of hope and faith.  It takes a belief in a Higher Power - if one doesn’t have that, perhaps their struggle can seem even more difficult than it has to be.  

People’s struggles in life can be similar, some are way different, and certainly the intensity will vary.  For instance, I had a painstaking time all throughout school with fitting in or feeling a part of others.  Shyness was a factor, but so was being poor, feeling unloved, unwanted.  Whereas, there were those who were awkward with fitting in but had encouragement and support and eventually integrated well. I do okay now, but don’t have an interest in being social so much.  😌

 📷Myriams-Foto on pixabay

I think if one hasn’t had similar experiences in the level of intensity of certain people’s struggles, then they are less likely to understand, or even care what people are going through.  It takes a higher plane of personal growth, where one has empathy, compassion, and selflessness to stand outside the realm of one’s own life to fully view the life of those who are suffering.  Mother Teresa was certainly a great example of that kind of human being.  The old saying, “Walk a mile in someone else’s shoes” certainly is a wise adage.

We hear stories that XYZ happened, but have no identification with X or Y, maybe with Z.  We don’t see the whole picture; we don’t feel the range of emotions.  We don’t understand, and rather than try to see or feel or understand by further investigating, we end up not caring.  Not caring can lead to plain old apathy.  And with that nothing happens.  Nothing changes.  Growth is stunted.  And others still struggle.  Days, weeks, months, even generations go by with very little change in people’s understanding and attitudes.

The person experiencing the struggle may have been learning from it, dealing with it, praying.  And that person does grow but can still run into another level of difficulty when encountering the apathetic person, or even a whole society, that blocks them out.

📷 geralt on pixabay

No wonder change is so hard.  Someone struggling needs the help of others.  Society’s attitudes towards certain people - race, creed, socio-economic status, sexual orientation - affects not only the individuals who are trying to become accepted by others but also affects the level of society’s humanity as well.  Thus everyone is responsible, everyone has a role in dealing with one another’s struggles. Discrimination and prejudice hasn’t changed as much as it could in being eradicated if only people would be willing to learn history, see the whole picture, feel the emotions of those who have struggled from hundreds of years to simply become equal, be recognized as a fellow human being.

We can all grow together.  Learn.  Read.  Listen.  Awaken.       Theresa M

“The struggle of my life created empathy - I could relate to pain, being abandoned, having people not love me.” - Oprah Winfrey

📷 cocoparisienne on pixabay

I'll Leave You in Peace

Sometimes it's soothing just to look through pictures. Old, new, people, places, nature. Often I find it comforting to see nature photos. Trees are of great interest to me, as is the moonlight. So rather than a writing, here are some pictures I've come across through mostly pixabay and twitter (as I am not much of a photographer myself). Enjoy some moments of peace........

📷Nicolas Storbjork

   

📷 MDevost on pixabay

📷 Vassilis Tangoulis on twitter

📷 Jay Jivara on twitter

  

📷 Christian Lindsten

Blessings.  🙏💗     Theresa M

Mewsings

My cats have a secret life.  They may seem quiet, sleepy, lounging around all the time.  But while I’m sleeping, they’re off doing their own thing.

I found evidence of them having a career in writing books!  Yes, both of them, pawing out their own mew memoirs.

Luke wrote about his time thus far in quarantine:

Oh my!  He’s showing how huge he is!

And Lilly, that little stinker!  How dare she:

She’s telling her versions of events.  Shenanigans indeed!

How they have been able to do this I have no idea.  And to be able to publish these books under Penguin.  A bird!  Clever.

I’ve since discovered that other cat owners have cat authors as well.  It seems the cats are definitely into #CatWorldDomination (as twitter shows).  Don’t let their quiet, yawning, cat-napping moments fool you.

They are watching us closely.  And meowing all about it.

Purrposely.        Theresa M

Are You Worthy?

Worth

There's something about tomorrow

that keeps me up at night

It feels a bit like sorrow

As tears slide down candlelight.

Who is more important than I

Or who's beneath my place?

Who determines life worthwhile

Making choices to erase?

There's something about time borrowed

Or bargained for a day,

Waiting for some tomorrow

As they take my life away.

📷 Frantisek Krejci on pixabay

📷 geralt on pixabay

As the decisions to re-open “the economy” bear down, I wonder who is at home fearing for their lives.  The choices are made without input from the most vulnerable, the elderly, health-compromised, the children.  Those lives, actually everyone’s lives, are being placed as pawns to play in a drama about what our lives are worth, versus “the economy.”  Yes, it is quite the hardship on those dependent on a weekly check for very basic needs of groceries, rent, utilities, and various bills.  There has been but a minimum of help for them.  The rich feel victimized, oh my, the stock market, the vacation houses! 

The sacrifice is simple: time and money.  The rich and government could help the poor to get through this.  We can all get through this.  Everyone’s true personal values will be exposed as this pandemic runs its course.  Everyone’s life will be changed, for better, for worse, forever.    Theresa M 🙏❤

📷 Canadian Cemetery on twitter

THANK YOU:  to all those on the front lines, risking your lives every day, many unnamed:

nurses, techs, aides, doctors, janitors, cashiers, product distributors, delivery clerks, postal carriers, pharmacists, restaurant workers.  THANK YOU. 💗

Stay, Just a Little Bit Longer

Stay home.  Stay safe.  Stay protected.  Stay connected.  Stay healthy.  In other words, stay right there.

This is the time for quarantining yourself.  Some are with families who are driving each other crazy!  Will this be the new way to live life indefinitely?  Everyone is trying to figure out how to make a living from home (I’ve always wanted to), and trying to find ways to deal with kids’ learning needs, all while also desperately searching for quiet time (boy, am I glad I live alone!)  I guess our priorities are earning (an income), learning (our kids’ education), and yearning (for sleep, relaxation, and a sense of well-being).

This is the time to practice acceptance, tolerance, gratitude, appreciation, meditation, negotiating, and surrendering.  You know, we could all come out as better human beings on the other side of this pandemic.  Set a daily schedule to fit in everyone’s needs.  And relax in the evenings and on weekends.

We can do this.  Good luck to all.  And prayers.  Lots and lots of prayers. 🙏💞   Theresa M

📷by skeeze on pixabay

The Sorrow of Losing a Pet

The past few weeks I found myself grieving old losses.  Pets that I had years ago, still get me feeling a little sad when I think of them.  They were such a joy in my life, each having their own distinct personality, their own way of interacting with me.

The anniversaries of getting them also come to mind, bringing bittersweet memories.  Today I have two cats and a dog, so I still have the joy of animals being in my everyday life.  But never does one substitute another.

Luke, Bailey, & Lilly, my current pals

When I lost my first pet (by death, although as a child having them taken away is a horror all of its own) I felt I couldn’t share the reason I was so sad.  I ran into one or two people with the “it’s only a cat” or “it’s not like someone close to you died” responses.  Yeah, there really are people who are that out-of-touch with understanding and consolation.  “Get another pet,” was also a frequent response, as if substituting someone so precious with another would wipe away all that sadness.  I’ve always wanted to ask those people if they lost a child should they just get another one?  Harsh, yes. So be it.

Those of us who lose our dear pets know what I’m talking about.  Who do you talk to about your sorrow, without the fear of being looked at as being wimpy, or foolish, or weird?  I have major depression disorder, and in times of grief, symptoms can exacerbate. 

Bon Ami & Chelsea

When I lost Bon Ami years ago (my tiny Norwegian Forest Cat) I went to a counselor.  Sure he listened at first, but by the second or third session, he tried to persuade me to take one of his cats.  Yes, really.  A therapist minimizing my grief.  Good grief!

Mostly through the years I kept it to myself, when a pet died.  When I found Twitter two years ago, I found a community of pet lovers, freely expressing their feelings.  A lot of it is fun, silly stuff of what we pretend our cats or dogs are saying and doing, but when one dies, the grief is expressed, the sorrow is shared, and the condolences are lovingly posted.  Aren’t we mere strangers in a social media connection?  Yes, but I do believe the care is real.  There is a positive use of this social media that brings those who grieved in the shadows into a light of candlelit vigils that honor and understand our deep committed love to our pets.

Snapper & Nikki

Sometimes you do find there are people who understand.  Thank goodness my family does.  And where I used to work recently, we had a therapist who had patients expressing their grief about their loss of a beloved pet.  And he was gentle and understanding, helping them through their pain, not trying to side track it with a replacement pet.

There are those who care.  Finding them can be difficult.  Come look for us on Twitter if you need to start.  Our pets are a huge part of our life, and we “furever” love them. 🐱💖
Theresa M

This is dedicated to all our beloved pets

who have gone over the rainbow bridge

🌈💖

#OTRB

We know our pets will be there to greet us home.

I, for one, look forward to that.