The Winds of Change

Have you ever felt as if the winds of change have begun to blow? Change is inevitable. Yes? But, has there ever been a time when all your senses have been alerted to the inevitable? This is me. Now.

So much has changed in the last couple of years. Covid19 brought with it an undeniable NEED for change. We all (well, most of us), listened and followed protocol. But, that is not what I am talking about.

There are "seasons of life" that we all must walk through. Some train us. Some educate us. Some prepare us for challenges to come. Not many of us can see the future, or foretell it. But some of us CAN predict it, if our spiritual eyes and ears are open to understanding, and our common sense is well attended. We can "see where this is going" kinda thing. 

What we can't predict is how we will get there. We can plan for it. We can prepare for it. We just can't see how it will all play out. But at least we won't be surprised when it arrives. There may be a few surprises along the way, but hey! Last season prepared us for it! Right?

I'm pretty sure I have lost many of you, if not all. "Is she talking about herself, or just in general?" Or, "I think the winds have blown her off her rocker." 😉I, too, wonder that myself, on occasion. 😂

I used to worry some, about the fact that I was quickly coming upon the marker that my female siblings arrived at, and then left the planet. I have now officially passed the years any of them were able to live beyond. The winds that I love, when they visit me, have left me standing here. For the time, at least. And I know I am going to get some push-back from my girls for even talking about this. But it is a reality of life. We are born, we live, we die. This is not meant to be morbid, but real. And the sooner we face that fact, the sooner we can live our best lives while stationed here. I've finally accepted the fact that I am on God's timetable, and I'll go home when He says it's time. And no sooner...

When we face the fact that life is short, will it make a difference? Will we continue to live our lives focused on ourselves instead of those we love? Will we make different decisions, based not on how it makes us feel, but rather on how it makes them feel? Will we see each new day as an opportunity, or just another day to deal with difficulties? Will we begin to understand that humanity is broken, and possibly defeated, and begin to see with eyes of compassion instead of hatred?  

The Bible says there are 7 things that God hates, found in Proverbs 6:16-19

• Eyes that are haughty (arrogantly superior)
• A tongue that lies 
• Hands that shed the blood of innocent people
• Hearts which plot evil
• Feet that run to do evil things
• People who lie as witnesses
• One who causes strife in his or her family (ouch!)

Now that we know all this, will it better prepare us for seasonal changes? The winds that blow through the years we've been granted, will they whisper "change" to us?

Listening to the winds of change, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

🎶You Make It Feel Like Christmas 🎵

Dennis and I are coming up on our 47th year as husband & wife. December 14th, 1974, was when it all began. That's more than a few years! In all of our "disagreements" (let's be real...ARGUMENTS), we have stuck like glue to each other. We've never given up on each other. It's true that humanity is broken, at best, but that doesn't mean there is not a whole lot of good in us.

Just a few days ago, someone very close to me, said, "I don't like Facebook because most of it is lies. People create posts and  pictures of themselves that leads one to believe they are so happy, and in reality, they are miserable." 

I get it. I really don't want anyone thinking otherwise of me, either. Do you? But, I have never believed anyone that has told me they have a perfect marriage, never disagreeing on anything, always happy. The simple truth is, we don't become strong without challenges. We don't learn to truly love another, without weathering the storms that can change a person in the blink of an eye. Dennis is my rock, even when we don't like each other. I depend on him as much as I depend on myself. Some things I must weather alone. I must deal with my own insecurities, my own weaknesses, my own imaginations. Yet, I know he will always be there for me at the end of my battles. Even THROUGH my battles. And he can always count on me to be the stone around his neck. WAIT! Uh...what I meant was that he can always count on me to weather whatever storms he must face, by his side. Around his neck...😉😂

Some years ago, after our girls had both moved to North Carolina, I allowed a melancholy spirit to attach itself to me during the holidays. I didn't want to decorate for anything. There seemed to be no reason for festivities. I remember one particular Christmas I voiced my discouragement with the putting up and taking down of decorations. I didn't want to. Didn't see the point. It was just me and him. My rock said, "But I enjoy it. And so do you, once we get it all up." That gave me purpose. Knowing that, yes, there was still someone to enjoy the holidays with, and he was right there in front of me. He makes it feel like Christmas.

Now, we have a couple of grand-girls that put a lift in our steps and a twinkle in our eyes. They more than make it worth climbing up and down on ladders, circling a Frasier Fir Tree numerous times while stringing lights, garlands, and ornaments. Not to mention the smiles we get from our girls, now women with their own families. 

Our oldest granddaughter, Reagan, helped with decorating this year. She's 5, and is the most patient little girl this Grams has ever seen. Patient with her Grams wanting everything perfect. But it is with only a look from her, and the ornaments I don't particularly like, goes on the tree because she wishes it. Expensive glass balls she handles with such care. Less breakable ornaments, she finds a "perfect" spot for, and beaded garlands she loves to trail behind her as she walks/runs around the race track in our home that she is so accustomed to as a baby learning to walk, then run. She makes it feel like Christmas.

Love is a choice. Happiness is a choice. We forget that, sometimes...

Happy 47th year of counting it all blessings when various trials come your way, DW. You make it feel like Christmas.

Still loving Christmas, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.

The Season of Mixed Emotions

 

Fall...it's most likely my favorite time of the year. It clears out the heat of long summer days, and ushers in the cool breezes that stir the quickly changing colors of our backyard leaves. Thunderstorms that bring rain, sometimes drizzling rain, sometimes torrential rain, always bring with them a sense of peace. Of solitude. Of grounding strength. This time of year always calms my spirit and causes a refocus for the days ahead that will hopefully bring in some snow that will mound as it falls. Snow that our littles and their parents, can make snow angels in. And build a snowman in. It's rare, here in North Carolina. But one can always hope. Right?

While the last months of the year bring family gatherings that feast at a Thanksgiving Table, and opening gifts during the Christmas holidays, they can also bring with them a melancholy spirit. Especially when family has grown and have others to consider being with during these festive times. Gratitude says enjoy the days you are given, while jealousy tries creeping in because of feelings of least importance. Least resistance has made it easy for those with too much to organize (on that ever growing totem pole), to place you at the bottom. Yet, when we take a step back and take a good hard look, this could actually be seen as a good thing. Even a great thing. Without the security, the balancing anchor, at the bottom of the totem pole, all would fall over. Scrambling to put it all back together would rob one of the joys of these beautiful holidays. 

Steeped in tradition, most of us desire to have our loved ones close on the actual day of Thanksgiving, and Christmas. What makes us not want to share those we love, especially when these holidays are all about love? Is it because of traditional values? Or is it because we desire family around us on these special days? To celebrate these actual dates set so very long ago? Why does it matter if we celebrate on those particular days, or days before (or after), as long as a slice of time is carved out for us to be together? 

This blogger is grateful for any day she gets to be with her family. But, something about Thanksgiving and Christmas, just leaves a hollow spot when not with family on those days. I've tried shaking it, but oh my, how it clings to me! 

I'm not going to place my life along side those that have less (or more) than me, or those that have lost much (or gained much) in this life, even though I could, and would be ashamed I am even making this a thing. But, this is the life I live. Yes, it could be soooo much worse. However, that fact doesn't diminish the feelings of loneliness any of us feel. Rich or poor. Young or old. We all have our own set of emotions we must deal with. Our own "why". So, let's compare (if we must), apples to apples. 

After thinking about this, I have decided that:

This year, I will refuse the temptation to mourn, or be jealous of the empty days. Instead, I will create a life outside of what tradition has wrapped me in. Maybe I will find a soup kitchen to volunteer my time in. Or make my "years ago" usual pumpkin and apple pies, and take them to a family that struggles to get by day-to-day. Maybe my husband and I will visit Cracker Barrel for Thanksgiving, sit and play checkers outside until our table is ready, and when finished stop by the neighbors and visit. So many ways a person could turn their complaining into gratefulness.

Counting my many blessings, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

The Semi-Saga of Recent Days

Disclaimer:

I should have flown the friendly skies, instead of being cared for on my life's journey, if you know what I mean. Hint: United Airlines verses American Airlines

I don't even know where to start. Maybe I'll just report on the interesting trip home from Missouri, where I've been for the last 5 days. Oh, wait. Make that 3 days. The 4th day had been in Charlotte, NC, after my Saturday flight had been canceled 30 minutes before boarding. The plane had been struck by lightening, either on its descent, or once it landed. Either way, that's not a great thing. And the 5th day, I spent half of it in that same airport thinking my rescheduled flight would actually get me home. Nope. The second half of the day was on the road in a rented car. But, let me back up so as not to confuse you. Too badly...

This past Saturday I was scheduled to arrive in Raleigh by 5:17 PM. That clearly wasn't going to happen. Even though I had a full schedule of clients to get to on Sunday, with few spots to put them (in the next several weeks), it looked like I was going to need to work on normal days off. Difficulties arise, right? No problem. 

As I move toward the line forming at the information desk, where I was told I'd have to go to get another flight booked, first-born daughter, Lindsey, was sitting at home in North Carolina (I think...she may have been getting groceries for all I know). She messaged me, to say no cars were available for me to rent, so she was going to book me a room at the Hilton. It was probably best since I was ready for the day to be over, AND I would have to drive in the dark. In the pouring rain. In the lightening filled atmosphere. She did all the virtual leg work; the least I could do was to obey and move forward by way of shuttle to the luxury bed awaiting me. I just want to acknowledge, right here, that my husband does worry about me. I didn't think he ever did. But he was clearly concerned about me walking outside the airport by myself. Even a bit nervous, I think, about my navigation skills. He really didn't need to be, but I found it endearing that he was. He wanted to take care of me, but couldn't, 'cause I left him back in Missouri, helping his sis with important things needing done. AND...we have a couple of daughter's that are always watching out for us.

So...ya want to know how to tell a country girl from a city girl? Hand her a bill for a sleep over with the price tag of $236.42. Country, and very conservative, girl says, "Say what? Does a dinner and breakfast come with that?" City girl just hands it over with a nice hefty tip.  Oh well...they DID give me an awesome nights sleep. Which I desperately needed. No breakfast. Just bed. And TV. And, I did have a very awesome grilled cheese sandwich with fries, the night before, charged to my room...so all was good...

So...I'm now booked for a Sunday departure and should be home by noon! Whoop!!! I'm excited! EIGHT (8) MINUTES before boarding the plane, an announcement comes over the loud speaker. You couldn't really hear it because a siren had been going off for nigh on what seemed to be an hour. It was probably more like 15-20 minutes. It just seemed much longer because it was so loud, and I was pretty sure we were under a terrorist attack on the west end of the airport. Then, I saw an American Airlines attendant's mouth moving, so I knew she was making an announcement. I just didn't know what that announcement was. Neither did any of the other passengers. We just looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and sat wide eyed while waiting for our plane ride. Until...I saw people leaving that had been standing in line. So, I go up and ask what was going on. "FLIGHT 1894 HAS BEEN CANCELED," she yelled. Well, great!

Not willing (without having an alternative) to spend another $236, I asked Lindsey if she could see if there were any cars available to rent, while I stood in another line that circled the airport, to get yet another flight booked. While I waited, Lindsey was booking me a car rental. It took her all of 4 minutes to rescue her momma, once again. It was booked for pick up at12:44, but was ready for me by 11:30. I should be home within 3 hours, given good traffic movement and no crazies on the road.

MEMO: The night before, no cars at all were available. Out of the 7, or more, car rental businesses at the airport, NO ONE had a car to rent. Holy wow! I really doubt I would have tried driving in all that stormy weather, anyway, so it didn't really matter that there were no cars available. I just found it interesting...

The story gets better, now. *Whew...

I make it to the booth where my car was being held for me. Imagine, if you can, a young girl sitting behind a large plexiglass, wearing a mask (or 3...couldn't really tell), and using the lowest tone of voice possible when she spoke. Add to the mix, a hard hearing, emotionally bankrupt, (the last week had been excruciating), 74 year old woman, that was also wearing a mask. The girl seemed to be rattling off so many instructions, half of which I actually heard (didn't care, really, I just wanted a car). I have no idea how I was charged (but NOT charged), for a full tank of gas at the tune of $57. Alrighty. Just give me some keys or point me in the right direction. It's time for me to be home. Ugh! Can this day get any more complicated? 

Turns out it was a really nice, smooth riding, Buick. I was able to travel at 80-85 miles per hour (shhhhh) most of the way. It was a straight shot, mostly. I did drive very carefully, always knowing the distance between me and any other car. It seemed like the road just opened up for me. And everyone else was traveling at the same speed. Well, most people. Not all, I suppose. It was a beautiful day outside and I was ready to be home. Past ready. I did have one small stretch of only going 60-65 miles per hour. Seemed like I was crawling. The car was mostly soundproof, and must have had great tires, because it felt like I was riding on a cloud, slowly drifting along, waving to cars filled with people as I slipped past them.

Just to be clear...I don't normally drive this fast. It could be a recipe for disaster. But so could driving 55-60 on an interstate where cars are moving much faster. Okay. I'm done with that news.

When I pulled into our driveway, our neighbor across the way, waved and shouted, as he clapped his hands. He was glad to see I had made it back safely. I strolled across our newly paved street and went to fill him in on the latest happenings in our family and a tad about the trip. Still asking when Dennis is coming home. I think he's missing his shootin' the breeze buddy. 

I returned the Buick that evening, after Meg and Reagan watched Bray's ballgame. Happy to have a couple of girls watching out for their momma, there was no problem waiting. AND, I was HOME!!! Super glad that part of my journey was over. Once I actually got to The Raleigh Hertz drop-off, the attendant informed me, because I had not refilled the 1/4 of a tank of gas I used, she was going to have to charge me $9.99 per gallon to fill that baby back up. The multi-protected person at the Hertz counter in CHARLOTTE had told me I wouldn't have to fill the car back up because I had pre-paid for the gas (remember the $57 charge?) The Raleigh attendant decided some compassion was due me, and (hopefully...I'll know in a couple days), she corrected the mistake and only charged me $15 for the gas I used. Again...*whew

 Are you up for a little back story? 

The day Dennis flew out of Raleigh, NC to Springfield, Missouri (3rd time in 2 months), I dropped him off at the airport at 4 AM, came home, ate some breakfast, and headed to the salon for a full day of clients. As soon as I was finished there, I decided to go shopping for a shelf needed for some new spa products I was adding to the salon's retail line. After securing my find, I headed home. While waiting in a merge lane for traffic to slow, a car across the median came flying out of nowhere, rammed the backside of another car heading the same way I would be going, consequentially catapulting her car into mine. Took me out in a matter of seconds. I was unharmed, just couldn't get out of my car, since the driver's door was bashed in at the hinged part and shoved into the front fender.

Lindsey closed down her photo shoot in Raleigh, to come get her mother. I just can't believe how much our girls are willing to sacrifice for their momma. They worry about me I think. This was the first wreck I can remember being involved in since 1996. The one in Texas, where 3 young, and very drunk boys slammed into the back of our vacationing van full of people, ended a bit differently that this one. Yet, neither that accident, nor the most recent one, was my fault. I really am a good driver, despite that earlier account of driving from Charlotte to Cary. 😁

Side Note: There WAS that one time my back up beeper (that warns when I am getting too close to something), went off, and I just kept backing up. The tires were barely moving. Really. I was just trying to turn my car around on Meghan's narrow street that was lined with large plastic trash cans. I bumped one over. Don't believe anyone telling you any different. I just bumped it. That's it. Anyway...

Back to that day when the car hit the car that hit me. That was a Saturday to remember. Still working on getting my car back, or a new one...2 weeks later. But, I've been in Missouri. Soooo many wrong reports circling that accident. From the onset, the police officer got 2 of the insurances written out wrong, got my phone number wrong, then the middle car's driver, was suing MY insurance instead of the perps, etc. etc. Guess since the perps insurance was wrong, she'd take her chances with MINE! What the what?! Took me 2 days to find out the perps real insurance. But I did it! I've given my statement to 3 different insurances, but yet the one that is having to pay for this mess thinks I was hurt and needs "more information to send to Medicare" before they can process my claim. WHAT????!!! I wasn't hurt, and I don't think Medicare is going to care about your report.

Well....there is so much more that has happened in the last couple of months, actually the last year, but I'm thinking it was about time. Seems like life has been so very good to us, for such a long time. Not that it isn't still. Oh my! I (we) have so much to be thankful for. To be grateful for. These happenings were just little bumps in our road. True, there may have been a couple of mountains to move, recently, but mostly, just bumps. My sister used to say to me, "Mary, is this just a bump in your road? Or is it a mountain that needs your total attention?" They're just bumps, Beck. Just bumps. Mostly...

Except that time Walmart fired the wrong guy (my husband) and caused us to be without insurance and sent us a check to clear out all his PTO time. He didn't even KNOW he had been fired. He went to work, as usual, and wasn't allowed to clock in. So he went to the office to find out why. What a shocker. They had meant to fire another guy, but instead fired the best employe they may have ever had. Thirty plus years in and they fired him. Accidentally...How does one mix that up??? Anyway, everything was reinstated, and all is well. That was a few years ago. But, that's another story.

Okay...I'm needing to get ready for Enterprise to take me to the rental I will use until a verdict comes down on my abused Equinox. Wondering what this day will bring, I am at total peace and looking forward to seeing my Dennis tonight (hopefully). He is also flying with American. And boy, do I have a story about that initial trip! 😂 Can't say our lives are boring! Enough for today!

With grit and gumption, as always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

The Restless Dream Land

Weird back-to-back dreams last night. All having to do with the salon. Yes, I'm going to share them, because they are seriously kinda funny. In a scary kind of way...

Dream #1:

I get to the salon. Many, many (maybe 20+) people (don't ask how they fit in there...it was a bigger place than I have now), were waiting for me. No appointments made. Just waiting for me to arrive. Expecting what, I'm not sure. I tell them to get out. 😂 I'm kind, like that. 😂

They had made a mess of the place, having brought in food and drink, and a bazillion kids. As I'm cleaning up after tossing their complaining whinnies out, I find almost ALL of my plastic color gloves in heaps on the floor, and strewn virtually everywhere. Good thing I believe in stocking plenty of everything I need to do business with.

Dorothy, a gal down the hall from me (who now works for me, I guess), told them not to leave, this was "a community effort". Oh yeah, Dorothy? Last time I checked, I was the owner and actual boss of this place. But she had already told them "WE" would charge $240 for them all. 😳. I think it was way back in the 1900's that I charged only $12 for anything.

Now...those of you who know me, know that wasn't going to fly. This bit of news didn't sit so well with me, simply because I couldn't believe she had decided it was her place to include me in a price she believed to be good. As I come face to face with her, looking her square in the eye, I say, "I charge $240 for ONE person, not 20! Her eyes widen...and I turn to walk away. Ugh! That was pretty mean of me. I guess in dreams we become who we really are inside, without control. Maybe?????End of Dream #1...

Dream #2:

A very faithful client of mine (we'll call her Carrie, to protect the innocent), had come to the salon for her monthly color services. We had decided to do a full head of foil on this particular visit, along with the retouch. Her husband had come with her on that day. Being the patient man that he is, he sat calmly scrolling through his phone, as I worked. Don't even know if that is relevant in this dream. But he was there, regardless.

Just as I finished putting 150 (or thereabouts) foils in her hair, and clipping the front foils from her face, the sconces on each side of the mirror started smoking and catching fire. I grabbed a paper towel so I wouldn't burn my fingers while getting the bulbs out before they exploded. Too late. They shattered just as I reached for the first one. Tim (we'll call him), just sat and watched it all. He's a very calm(ing) guy.

My mind was telling me I still needed to get the retouch product on Carrie's hair. Fire blazing, I turned to whip up the formula, Carrie and Tim left. WHAT?! ...Dreams are so crazy... 🙄

Next thing I know, some guy that is also in my employment, I guess, came up to me apologizing all over the place about Carrie's hair. I just looked at him and blinked. First of all, I didn't know who he was. And secondly, why is he apologizing for Carrie's hair? What in the world was he talking about? Then Carrie shows up, begging me to forgive her. Which, in real life, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't do, simply because there would be nothing to apologize for. But there she was, blazing red roots and the now, non-existent highlights of which I had just done a fabulous job with. Whoever this guy was, he had finished my job for me. Really finished it... End of Dream #2

So, you may be wondering what the moral of these two stories, er, dreams are. Or why I felt the need to share them. Me too. If anyone has any idea(s), besides me eating 7 Chicken and Cheese Taquitos last night, please divulge in the comments below. Maybe God just thought I needed a good chuckle. 😂

P.S.

I'm looking for anything. And, as always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

Facing the Darkness: Heading Up...Volume 3

 

Even though I have not told everything I encountered during my walk on the dark side of life, I think perhaps I have shared enough. Until I feel a necessity, a God prod, those memories will be still. 

It's been almost 3 months since my last entry of Facing the Darkness. My last look back on the life that almost killed me. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. And, I am now anxious to share how God delivered me. How He called my name and set me in a place of real living. A place not free of trials, but a place of peace while walking through anything life places in my path. 

I will never forget the drive down Rush & Linda's (brother & sister-in-law) lane, coming "home" from a long day at Miami Beauty College. I was crying. So very lonely, still. I had asked God to guide me, to protect me, to please never leave me, to take charge of what was left of me. I had offered Him brokenness, and He was carefully picking up the pieces of what was left of me. But the journey I must take to get to the place He had pre-ordained for me, was not going to be easy. As I cried, driving down that lane filled with potholes, I simply said, "If only I could sit with my Father (meaning my dad). He would know what I should do." There was an immediate response to my spirit, that said, "I am your Father. You can talk to me anytime you want." There was an instant calm that came over me, even though I wasn't sure I would know any answers. I couldn't explain it any further than that. Still tears, yet instant calm. 

Only a few days after my return to Oklahoma, back in 1973, either my sister, Becky, or brother Ken, (maybe both), had asked me, "If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?" Since I had always dreamed of becoming a hair and skin care specialist, that was my reply. So, they contacted other brothers and sisters (I had a bunch), and they all agreed to secure me a place in the local beauty school. Even back then, it wasn't cheap! Yet, they were there for me. For their little wayward sister that had gotten her foot stuck. They knew I needed something to put my hands and mind to, to keep me from wandering back into the very dark abyss. I will also never, ever, forget the times my brother Ken, would find opportunity to stick a wad of bills in my hands, "to put gas in your car" or "in case you would like to go to lunch with someone".  Just remembering these times, has brought tears to my eyes, this morning. My heart is so full, because God put me in a family that loves unconditionally. I never felt I deserved them. I never felt deserving of what they selflessly gave up so I could stand up. I will be forever grateful. They grabbed me out of a pit so deep, so dark, and faced me toward the light of God's saving grace, His provision (with their hard earned dollars). That is how God chooses to provide. He uses His own family. We are His. We are His hands extended. And my family was willing...

I had just begun attending Commerce Community Church with a few of my family members, when a traveling minister came into town. After the meeting one evening, my sister-in-law and I were visiting with him. He asked us to come to where he would next be holding a tent-meeting revival. It was an old-time-sawdust-floor tent revival. We agreed to go on a Wednesday evening. This would turn out to be another event that has been burned/seared into my conscience. I was a new convert that was still wearing mini skirts, and looking much like a street walker. Linda was a lady that just loved looking nice. You would never catch her out and about without dangling earrings, red lipstick, hair properly fixed, and dressed to the nines, with matching heels.  

I was pretty bold/stupid/naive in those days, and being a new convert, I wanted to hear EVERYTHING, regardless of how I was dressed. So we marched our colorful little selves right up to the second row from the front. Sat in the middle of the row so we could easily hear the preacher speak and would have no problem seeing him. We were early. But then...the tent began to fill with its attendees. Little did we know we would be sitting in a pentecostal event where the women mostly wore long dresses, no makeup, and had long hair wrapped up in a braided bun on top of their heads. We felt as if we had walked into a black and white picture and a spot light had been turned on us, as we sat there, innocently, in vibrant living color. Linda immediately reached up to her dangling earrings, and with one smooth motion, pulled them gently off her lobes. Well, my ears were pierced, so that wasn't going to work for me, and I really didn't care. Still very young in Christendom. 😉

It was there that I met my forever husband-to-be. My eyes were on him the minute he pulled the tent curtain back, and walked to a seat directly in front of me. He was tall. He was blonde. His shoulders were broad, and his hands massive. I loved his hands! Every time he raised them in worship, I stared. I could feel the tender strength they embodied. He introduced himself to me 3 times that night. Every chance he got, he turned, reached out his hand for mine, and re-introduced himself. I think I must have confused the poor lad. Or he just wanted to hold my hand. Or look at all the color I brought to the room. I'm not sure. Maybe he just couldn't believe I was wearing a mini skirt to  a revival. 

The following week, the minister came to dinner at my brother and sister-in-laws house. One of the first things he said to me, as he sat down to eat, was "Do you remember the guy that sat in front of you at the meeting last week?" I said, "Yes. Dennis?" He confirmed that was his name (didn't have to, cause I remembered), and then said, "He asked me to set him up with you for a date." My heart may have jumped just a little. Dennis' church was having a pizza get together the following week where I agreed to meet up with him. I remember watching him chew on a drinking straw. I think I was really just taken with his lips. We've been together ever since that night, with only one little blurp along the way. It was right after his birthday, and I had given him a bracelet with his name engraved on the underneath side, along with a secret message. I had pooled my tips together to buy this very special gift for him. That moment in time lasted only a couple of weeks before he was back asking for me to go out with him again. Seems like several members of his church, along with another churches pastor, thought we would be a bad fit, and said he should break it off. That is a story I may talk about later. Or maybe not. Not sure...

My beautiful husband and I have been together for the better part of 47 years, now. I think we might make it. Like most marriages, we have had our tough places, our awesome sauce places, and our soul searching places. But we have had them ALL together!!! No partner should ever say, "I need some space," and then separate to "clear their head", or "see if we are meant to be together" kind of thing. That is ludicrous. How does one work things out when they are separated? Makes no sense. The only time I think one partner should leave the other, is when the marriage vows have been broken through mental, physical, or infidelity abuse. 

I will end this session with letting you know that I have no idea what a "honeymoon" is. Unless it is a description of choosing happiness, over sadness, and not just for the first month of being married. Our first date was July 3rd, 1974, and we married on December 14th, of that same year. Our first night of wedded bliss was in a local motel room, so we could move from our consecutive homes the next day. He had to go to work the following day, so a destination trip was out of the question. We had very little money, anyway. Dennis had sold $200-$300 in bonds, to pay for wedding decorations, pictures, and the wedding cake, and I had just graduated beauty school a few months before and was working for peanuts, as they say, then quit to move to Granby, MO. We would be living on his income for awhile. We had each other. That was enough.

 I will say this. We were both fairly new Christians. Ironically, we both gave our hearts over to God, in 1973, having never met until the following year. He came out of a world of drugs, and I from a world of loose living. What a pair! But God was moving us toward His purpose for our lives. Little by little.

I have no idea when the next entry will be, nor what it will be about. I'm just taking my cues from the Lord, who seems to have a mission, where my life's journey is concerned.  

As always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

Facing the Darkness: Heading Down ...Volume 2

So...I have changed the title of this "novel". It began as, "My Journey to the Light". It is now, "Facing the Darkness", since that is what I did. Yes, it led me to the truth that lives in the light. The light that God instilled within my being, at conception. The light that I turned my back on as life continued to whip its furry upon me. 

This is actually the 3rd entry, even though it says Volume 2. The first was a preview of things to come.

My last entry most likely left you with either feeling sorry for me, or scratching your head wondering how in the world I could stay, knowing the abuse of a very conflicted husband was inevitable. Regardless of the threats. Well...I was raised to be an obedient child. Children were to be seen and not heard, and girls not even seen, if possible. That stuck with me through most of my young adulthood. I have no doubt our parents loved us deeply. It was just the era I was born in. Looking back, it now seems those years to be an entirely different world. And even though women have advanced by leaps and bounds and for the most part, have the respect of their husbands, during the 60's & 70's, there was still that naive little girl inside of me that bowed to her oppressor. Feeling trapped. 

Thinking about the wedding vows, I wondered why the male even bothered repeating them. That does sound harsh, doesn't it? It's just how I perceived life to be. We girls were expected to honor the vows, but it didn't seem as though the guys had to. Those vows were for the "weaker" sex. And being the weaker sex, we respected the men folk as the stronger ones and we had no place questioning that. Things began changing when the women folk began their journey into the work place, leaving their children for others to raise, as they helped "bring home the bacon." Only problem was, they still had to fry it up, as well as tend to the children, do the laundry, clean the kitchen, etc., when they got home. The family unit was about to be broken, or rearranged, at the very least. Progress, they said. It took a lot of years for men to finally realize that if their wives had to work outside the home, helping them with the financial part of the marriage, then they needed to help with the children & the house work, just to keep things running smoothly. But that's now. And this story is about then...the late 60's and early 70"s. Mostly...

The years spent in darkness wrecked me. I didn't feel repairable. I felt numb, without hope, lost, and very bruised. I had no one to lean on. Coming out of the abusive marriage, I was at a crossroads, of sorts. Which path do I take? I chose the wrong path, as I absorbed all the compliments given by various men. No one had ever told me I was beautiful. That I had a great smile. No one had told me I was too good for a place such as this. It was amazing to me. Little did I know it was only a ploy to get me believing yet another set of lies. Lies that would cause me to believe this was what I was meant for. No commitments, just fun. I really did think I was living the life. A boyfriend got me an interview at Roger Miller's King of the Road Hotel, working as a cocktail waitress at the Roof. This was a lounge located on the actual roof of the hotel, where singer/songwriters, like Charlie Pride, Dottie West, Ronnie Milsap, Tanya Tucker, Charlie Rich (The Silver Fox), and Kris Kristofferson, to name a few, would come to preform. I got to meet so many of these music stars, serving them and their friends from the bar, and of course all the locals who came to listen and drink. It seemed safe to me. No one ever threatened me or spoke with anger to me. They all seemed to actually love who & what I was. I looked forward to my job, my friends, my life. Until about 3 years into it and finding out this "no commitment" deal wasn't something to be desired. This life I found myself to be enjoying, was a life of loneliness. A life where others used you for what you could do for them, not because they valued you. I had walked out of the frying pan and into the fire. Then God began to call my name.

Letters to my sister was a common occurrence once I began my downward spiral. She was the one person I knew I could trust. She had always been my protector, remember? The letters were desperate letters, to which she would always respond with, "Mary, Jesus is the answer you are looking for." At the end of myself, I remember writing to her (a letter I still have, by-the-way), that ended with, "Please HELP me!" Yes, I was a bit dramatic, but the cry came from deep inside me. She called me. Told me to start packing, that she, along with my brother and sister-in-law was coming for me, to bring me home. She was hoping this was the right decision, I learned later on. She, nor my brother and his wife, had any idea what they were going to do with me once they got me back to Oklahoma. All they knew was they had to get me out of the dark pit I had fallen into. I couldn't even bring myself to start the packing process. That's how torn I was. Linked to the life I was living yet knowing I needed/wanted more for my life. Somewhere deep inside of me was still that innocent little girl needing someone to really love her for who she was. 

As my family packed FOR me, I sat in a corner and cried, never lifting a finger to help. I was so deeply lost. Once again, Beck rescued me, and we started the long road trip back to Oklahoma. As the years flew by, I began to realize just how much I WAS loved, and how God's grace had covered me in many instances all those years of walking down a path that would take me to the end of myself. That's where He meets us. When we finally give up our rights to ourselves...

Remember the gold trimmed Family Bible that sat on my coffee table? After my encounter with it, that one eventful afternoon, I began questioning how God could use me for anything. Total sadness surround a feeling of defeat, of a life filled with failure. I was certain He couldn't, and the dreams wouldn't leave me alone. They were continually consistent, and all happened between the years of 1971-72. 

Most of the terrifying dreams were of water rising up around my feet and I knew I was going to drown. When I was a mere 9 years old, one of my prankster brothers threw me into the deep end of a swimming hole we used to go to at the end of a hot day. "Sink or swim," he had said. I was sinking...going down for the 3rd time, when my sister, my protector, swam out to me and grabbed me. I've been afraid of water ever since that day. 

So many dreams about rising water. In one such dream, I was walking across a bridge that covered a large expanse of water. Water as far as the eye could see. The problem was that the bridge stopped somewhere far away from the shore and hovered over the water with no support at all. When I got to the end of the bridge, with no place to go, it began crumbling into the water and I went in with it. As I was swallowed up, I realized I had a baby in my arms that needed saving. I stretched as far as I could, with baby in between my hands, lifting her head just above the water. I knew she was safe. I had this dream night after night. Same dream. Always. This dream usually lasted 3-4 nights at a time. Recurring from time to time. At that time I had no idea what it all meant, but now I know that it was God showing me that I would be okay, and that I was worthy of saving. The baby was me. I was about to be reborn. Given a fresh start, with all my sins against myself and my God, forgiven and made whole.

Another dream that kept coming was one where I was walking alone somewhere in a wooded area. The ground was mostly sand. All of a sudden, the ground opened up and swallowed me. I begin to try and climb up the sides of this sandy pit. As I put my hands to work, reaching above my head and digging my fingers into the walls, the sand began to fall in on top of me. The more I tried getting free, the more it swallowed me, until I was completely buried alive with nothing but darkness to comfort me. I was so afraid I was going to die there. They say you can't feel pain in a dream, but I felt as if I was suffocating. Without actually hearing the words, I knew to turn to my left. To look away from my situation. What a wonderful surprise! An archway filled with light that came streaming into my grave, stood waiting for me to pass through it. I simply turned and walked out. Free! That's all it takes, folks. We just have to turn from where we find death all around us, and walk away.

As I'm reliving these dreams, I am reminded of the constant companion dream I had as a child. Any time I was afraid, any time I felt in danger, I would simply lift myself up off the ground by waving my arms in the air until they lifted me up into the sky, far above the trees and far away from danger. Those dreams always gave me hope. As I soared above the tree lines, I could look down and see the confusion of my enemy. Even then, God was making a way of escape for me.

God never left me after being brought back home to Oklahoma. Soon after arriving, I took a job in a local bar (it's all I knew, besides factory work...which I hated). It was an "okay" job, but nothing like I had experienced in Tennessee. Here, all the girls put their tips together and shared them at the end of the night. The seasoned waitresses knew how to manipulate and I could see what they were doing. I was given all the tables the first night. "Training" they said, as they stood at the bar and giggled. They worked very little the first week of my employment there, yet was allowed to take home tips I had earned throughout the nights of working my hiney off. Since I knew how to work a table, the tips were good. Not as good as I was used to, but good. I decided being made a fool of was for the naive, and I wasn't going to allow it any longer. So, I quit. No notice, no phone call to my employer. I just didn't show up. That night, the establishment was raided and all the girls were taken to jail. I still don't know the full story on that one, but the irony was more than a coincidence in my opinion.

As the years went by, any time I found myself sinking back into a pit of despair, God would visit me in my dreams. One such dream that I had when facing depression, was of my Mother. Any time I would have flash backs of the years lived in Tennessee, I would experience terrifying nights. The demons I faced were extreme. Satan had lost his battle with me and God had pulled me to Himself. Just beginning my journey into the light, the darkness I had lived in for so many years, attacked me with very frightening images while I slept. Some would call them night terrors. Whatever they were, I would wake up screaming. Blood curdling screams...but then Mom arrived.

I was with a bunch of people I didn't know, yet followed them into a cave that appeared to be a house. I was left alone and trapped, with no way out. Then I "heard" my Mom calling my name. It was just knowing she was calling out to me, rather than an actual voice saying my name. I looked out through the muddy tunnel that was gradually filling with water, and saw her surrounded in light with her hand reaching out to me, beckoning me to come to her. Showing me the way out, she stood with a gentle smile on her face. I couldn't believe my mom was there, yet there she was asking me to come toward her. "Mary, come this way." Mom had been deceased for many years, living with her Creator, yet she appeared to me in this dream with instructions on what to do. On how to survive. Again, I had no idea what that could mean. As a young Christian, the choices of days gone by, haunted me. They invaded my new life as I was being renewed from the inside out. I believe God had sent her to show me what needed to be focused on. I needed to follow the light. Not the darkness. Darkness hides our deeds, light exposes them. Good, or bad.

All these dreams were metaphorical, of course. God was entering my world to pull me out of that sandy pit that sought to consume me, up out of the dark waters that were drowning me, but saving the new life that was mine, and then called to me through my Momma to come up out of the dark, smelly cave that I had willing walked into. What do the metaphors relate to, you ask? 

1) The sand pit was the life I was living, and as I tried to free myself from it, it only encompassed me more. I was trying to do it on my own, and clearly that wasn't working.

2) The partial bridge that ended in the middle of the sea, was the road I was traveling at that time. It was leading me to certain death. Death of who I was created to be. The baby was the spirit God had placed within me during the knitting together time in my momma's womb. God was helping me save that part of who I was born to be. He was giving me a second chance at getting it right.

3) The muddy, water filled "cave" was once again, the choices I had made that resulted in me being trapped in a lifestyle that produced only loneliness at the end of the day. There's always a way out, we just can't see it when we are bound and blind. And the consequences of seeds sown, must also reap a harvest that takes time to destroy, so a new crop can come up. My mom was sent as someone I trusted to be a gentle soul, with only truth spoken, or implied. The fact she was encased in light, was symbolic of the place she now resides, with God. I never felt more loved than in that dream, even though I was about to die. All I need do was to choose to obey her, because she was sent from a loving God.

4) Dreams of flying, when I was a child. I just think was a way of escape for me. When I couldn't outrun my problems, I found a way to rise above them, not allowing them to hurt me. I wanted to stay there forever.

Welllll...that's enough for today's snippet of doing life without the life giver. I promise this will all be over soon, and I will get on with posting lighter content.

As the years fly past me, I want more and more to help someone, anyone, that may be having thoughts of suicide, or giving up, or having feelings of worthlessness, or having virtually no hope. I want to be one that reaches out a hand of hope, one that brings truth into dark places, into the dark recesses of the mind, and position them face forward into the light of redemption.

Travel with me, here, in Mary's World...