Your Moving Where????? Part 3

Shalom:
As I look out the bedroom window, beholding surrounding mountains surrounding our new home, I recall all that brought us here.
Hearing soft breathing behind me, I turn to behold my beloved Mark sleeping, Monti laying aside him.
G-d has brought us so much these past three years. Trials, storms, lessons. Sometimes all three rolled into one.
But we have made it through them all. Holding onto His hand.
And onto each other......
During the past few weeks I have seen both the hand of the devil and the Hand of G-d.
How do you tell someone to get out of the home you provided, when they are moving into said home instead of attending church service? We had to move out that very night and because we didn't go to church, we lost our home, my husband loses his job? A job he hadn't even start?
Where is the Love and Mercy of G-d in that?
 And yet, another mission, one that also helps the homeless, stepped up and offered to pay for a hotel room until they could help move us to Montana. They moved our things to a holding place and even when we didn't make it to the deadline of getting the rest of our things out, we did have friends who helped move the stuff sitting on the street before it was picked up for trash day.
The Hand of G-d. When the devil was all set to rage his final blow upon us, G-d stepped and with His mighty strong arm, swept the devil away instead.
Once our things were moved to a small cottage at Hope Haven, the Adult Assisted Living where my mother lives, we were able to relax a bit at the hotel, knowing G-d was working.
I remember the drive to the hotel that Monday evening. I was thinking about all we had gone through.
Monti was staying with friends who offered to care for him.
We were homeless. We were really homeless. I thought I would never see these days of lack again.
My mother often said G-d would bring one to place where the only thing one had to rely on was Him.
And He did.
Once in the hotel room, (after having to be upgraded because our room was given to someone else, Mark held me and allowed me to cry.
It  didn't seem fair.
But who said life was fair?
How could G-d, our Father, allow this to happen to us?
For His Glory.
A friend had given us a couple of dinner cards and they came in handy. So, while I showered, Mark went out to Olive Garden and got supper.
Those four days at the hotel were in many respects like a second honeymoon, the very start of our new beginning.

The future was a clean sheet of page before us.

A new adventure.
It was during our stay at the hotel that we learned why we were called to Montana. The aunt and uncle that raised Mark the first several years of his life, needed help. His uncle was in hospital, quite sick and would need help in the house and in the garden.
There was truly a place for us.
And with the blessings of my mother and all who knew us, we were on our way home to Montana.

Your Moving Where????? Part 2

Shalom:

Come to the edge, He said. They said, We are afraid. Come to the edge, He said. They came. He pushed them... and they flew. Apollinaire, Guillaume

For the past few months, there had been an increasing uneasiness growing in our family.
The house we were living in, really wasn't our home, but shared with others.
The newest roommate didn't like dogs and Monti was being to show signs of stress; we couldn't leave him alone, lest he bark the whole time we were gone. He wouldn't let me out of his sight.
Doors were closing left and right; Mark couldn't find a job, we couldn't find a home, not even a room. The deadline for our moving out was closing in and we were not sure what G-d was up to.
But now we know; like a Mama bird who after teaching the baby birds how to fly, breaks up the nest so they can head out on their own, G-d was destroying our nest, taking us to the edge, pushing us off so that we would fly.

Finding we were now without a place to move to, that Sunday, Mark called his aunt and uncle in Montana, telling them about what happen. His aunt asked the name of the ministry we were to work with. When Mark told her, she said, not only had they had dealings with this group, but would have warned us not to get involved with this group.
Turns out several people we knew had been mixed up with this group. We were told we got out easy.
The next day, Monday, I told our landlord what happen.
"Why does a church kick someone out of a house you haven't moved into?"
"Because we didn't attend church."
During this time we were still trying to reach the pastor, feeling that there was some misunderstanding we could clear up. There was another local ministry helping us with the move pastor that was helping us offered to go with Mark, but they never met. This pastor had dealings with this ministry and advised we concern ourselves "saved" from a worse fate. The pastor asked if there was anyone else we could move in with. When I mention family have opened their home to us, he offered to help get us there.
So with the help of Union Mission, our things were moved to a short terms holding place. The plan was for the crew to come back Tuesday or the next day and we would be on our way.
But things didn't work out for Tuesday.
While our former landlord was gracious in giving us an extra day, we really were trespassing and when we could not get the U-Haul or any other help that day, he was within his rights to evict us from the house.
And he did.
 The only thing we lost that meant anything to me was the black and gold marble dresser Mark gave me as a gift. We just couldn't get it out of the house in time before the door was locked behind us.
It broke my heart to let it go. Mark allowed me my tears, promising to make all of this up to me. I smiled and reminded him, "it's OK I can always get something better,"
Union Mission paid for a room for us at a local hotel and  friends took care of Monti. Knowing Monti would be with a 13 year old boy and permitted once again to run, play and bark like a little dog, gave me great peace. 
The next few days were busy as we hurried to get our things off the property by Thursday morning. Friends helped Wednesday, Thursday, we were able to rent a U-Haul to get the rest of our things.

Friday afternoon, we had to move out of the hotel. Since Union Mission didn't wish to separate us, moved us to Hope Haven, where my mother lives.
The staff went out of their way to prepare our room, such loving touches, making Mark and I feel quite at home.

We were there a week as we packed and repacked decided to take, put into storage or give to Union Mission. 
At first, Union Mission was moving us to Montana, but learning that the cost of moving all of our things was way too much, they helped us with the cost of a storage unit, moving our things there until as such time Mark can go back and bring them to Montana.

There were so many nights I just fell into bed, exhausted.
"This can't be happening!" Often I thought all of this was a bad dream and I would awake in my old bedroom in Ghent, in Mark's arms.
But it wasn't a dream. G-d closed every door in Virginia and we were moving to Montana.
To be continued.....

 

 

Your Moving Where?????? Part 1

Shalom everyone:
Well, I know it has been a while since I have written. If you are friends with Mark and I on facebook, you know why.
For those who aren't on facebook as well as who are just getting up to speed, our lives have been turned upside down, inside out and now righting itself.
In short, we are moving to Montana.
MONTANA?????

Yes, Montana.
In February, our former room mate informed us that there was a major change with his family and he was given all the roommates 30 days notice. During this same time, that same week, Mark was fired from his job. He had back into a car he that was in his blind spot.
So we were looking for a new place to live as well as a job.
 Despite so many leads, from churches, temples, apartments, we could never find a place to live. Not even a room. Many of our friends didn't have an extra bedroom to offer. Many did, but for various reasons could not offer us a place to live.
My mother, who lives in an assisted living home, could not offer us a room. My sister who lives in Boston, really didn't have the room for the three of us, but told me if we could find our way to Boston, her door was open to us.
It was a hard place. There were even cold statements made that I shall not repect, but leave in the Hands of G-d.
Soon, we found ourselves on a count-down. I just couldn't believe G-d would allow us to sleep in our car. But it was beginning to look like we were.
And then, four days before we had to move out, Mark was handed a flier from a small handyman business. The business was connected church had an outreach to those suffering from addictions or coming out of jail. It offered a training program and housing for up to six months to help those on the program to get on their feet.
Since Mark and I didn't have either of these problems, we would not need sort of help. But knowing they helped the homeless as well, which we were about to become, Mark called the number and spoke to the pastor. We prayed, really believing this was an answer to prayer. Since the pastor told Mark he could use Mark's help now.
One hour later, after meeting the pastor, we were offered a home and Mark a job. The house and job were for a one month period. This would give all a chance to see if we would work out. With the ministry.  A U-Haul was even going to be rented to help us move over the weekend.
But I had this growing unease feeling in the pit of my tummy. The first red  flag was the question: "are you willing to give up being Jewish?"
Ah, no. Yeshua was Hebrew. So were His followers. This was an non-starter.
And yet I was almost begging this man for a home for my little family. Would our hebrew faith really keep us from having a home. No, I couldn't believe that.
The second  red flag was Mark would have to work on Shabbat. We talked this over with our rabbi. He said right now, you two need a home. When you get back on your feet, you can then move forward with our lives. We were thinking one, maybe two months.
The third, as we found out more about the program, the job, it meant Mark would have to attend bible classes Tuesday to Friday, after work. How do you have a marriage when your life is work and church? We were told that we were suppose to attend services and had agreed.
But we didn't know it all week?
The next day, Friday, we went to pick up the keys to the house. At this time, we learned that the church could not afford the truck,  we would have rent it ourselves. Since we had to move by Sunday, this meant we had three more days. 
Saturday, Mark dropped me off at our new home, (a beautiful victorian home) so I could begin cleaning and he could find a truck and help to move. Mark did get a truck and help, but it was a ministry team and they couldn't help us move until Monday. I was still working on getting help for Sunday.
Sunday morning, Mark went to church while I still worked to get a truck and help for the afternoon.
 The pastor was upset because I wasn't at church. Mark again, explained that I was  still working on our move since we had to be out of our old place that evening.
 Sunday afternoon, very dear friends were able to help us begin the move. Since our roommate was understanding that we couldn't be out until Monday, no one could fore see what would happen next.
 The move ran into church service time. Since we just couldn't leave our friends who came to help us to continue the move without us, we missed the evening service. Plus, we needed gas. 
We were not aware that we should have called the pastor to say we would not be there.
On the way to drop off another load, we received a phone call. The person we spoke to told us, since church wasn't important enough to attend (even though we had to move that night) we had to move our things out of the house and turn in the keys. This person had spoken to the pastor and told him that he didn't think Mark would work out and the pastor said ok.
So we were out of not one, but two homes.
To be continued....

The Greening of Ghent

Shalom:
Yes, I know, this is a few days late, but after I share in the next few post, I believe all will understand.
Last Sunday was St. Patrick's day. In cites like Boston and New York, the day calls for a huge celebration; parades, green beer and little green people running amuck. On this day, everyone is Irish.
And here in our beloved Ghent, it is no different.....
Friday evening, Mark and I did a little walk about along Colley Ave. Since the weekend would be cold and wet, plus we would have a busy few days, we decided just enjoy a few moments in the wee Irish Ghent.....

These lovely people were sitting out the Red Dog and allow me to take their picture... it was the Mohawk that caught my eye.

Then there was this beauty....

Check out the fish tales.....

Kick stand.....

The the owner, holding a box of Girl Scott cookies (thin mints)
Even our favourite video store, the Naro got into the act.....

 

David: My Brother, My Friend

Shalom:

It has been a busy week, one I hope to share about in a few days.
But right now I wish to share more about David.
My brother David Walton wasn't an easy man to know, understand and somethings, even to love.
I often thought of David as this rare gem, burial deep in the earth and one really had to work at digging it out. Like burial treasure, David was worth minding.
He had a great mind, a beautiful. A creative soul that found its full expression when he sang. And sang David did. David sang not just with his vocal cords, but with his whole being; body, soul and spirit. David didn't just sing, he sang praises to the L-rd. He didn't just sing; David worshipped.
David loved to pray. He was known to go to the church and see who needed prayer. Even when his voice was weak and he shouldn't have been on the phone, he would call and ask me what he could pray for me, Mark and Monti. Even until the night before he died, he took my hand and prayed for Mark and I.
He loved to read and he loved to give books. He would give me a book and a few weeks later, we would be in a heavy discussion about the book.
David loved a good laugh and he looked to eat.
But those last few years, we came to know each other best of all. He loved to watch Mark and I just hug. Delighted in playing with Monti. He told me one day how blessed he was to be included in our family. How he came to love us. He even began to call himself "the old man" and would send us "kids out on a date."
I remember one day, he told some money a friend gave him, handed it to Mark and said "take your lovely bride out for a date."
A few months before David passed, when he could still get about, Mark took him to the bank and then shopping. When Mark came home, he was loaded down with food.
David blessed us with fine cuts of beef, fresh fruit and veggies, even juice. Again, someone gave him so money and he wanted to bless us. To say thank you.
I cried, You see, David had just been taken off a feeding tube and could not share our table at the time. But for him to give such an amazing gift, well, that was David.
More next time.

David; Brother of My Heart

Shalom;

There is the family we are born into; we really have no choice and if we are blessed, we get to call some amazing folks, mother-father-sister-brother.
Others, are born from the heart. That HaShem knits our souls together with those who become family by choice.
Such is the case with David Walton and I.
Someone once asked my mother if she was sure David and I weren't separated at birth. Mother said she was pretty sure we weren't, but there were moments even she wasn't sure.
For as mother herself would point out: 'when you saw David, you saw Elayne. And when you saw Elayne, David wasn't far behind."
No, there was never anything more than a deep friendship. I remember someone asking David if we were dating and he screwed up his nose and and said; "that would be like dating my sister."
It just wasn't something that occurred to either of us.
Our bond was more than faith, a love of the bible, singing, music, history or books. It went deeper than that.
For David and I understood each other.
While I could never get him to go for treatment, I knew he was bipolar. Having the disorder, I knew the signs well. When we were growing up, teens like David and I were label "difficult and moody." Today we know that a moody child or teenager is suffering from form of depression. The treatment is now there to help teens and their families.
It really wasn't there for people like David and I.
Often, we could talk about things that others would think odd or strange. We both would escape a world that didn't know what to think or make of us, through music, the stories in our head or through the world of books.
 In reading, we found people and beings like us, people that accepted us just as we were and did not demand we change and conform to what they thought we should be. The problem with such a love of books, of reading, is that it can become an addiction, a way of escape and not dealing with our problems, with our lives.
Like many, David told me he came from a family where the expression of love didn't come easy. Which is why it was hard for him to say I love you.
But he had his own way of telling you.
I have a small librany of books that David gave me, books he knew I would be interested in reading. Or he would have me a brown paper bag with a CD of jewish music. That was his way of saying, "I love you, Elayne."
Last Sunday was the first Sunday I had been to KPC since David's memorial. The choir sang and of course I looked for his face, forgetting he wasn't there. I half expected him to come over and give me a hug, then remembered there was no hug coming.
David is now at peace and I am still missing him.





 

David; Still Missing you

Shalom:

It has been six and a half months since the passing of my best friend and big brother David Walton. It has been hard for me to really share about those last several weeks until now.
And frankly, it is still hard.
This all began the summer of 2010. David had gotten quite sick and ended up in hospital. Mark was just home from his last deployment when I received the message David was in a coma and if I wanted to see him before he died, I needed to get to hospital.
That was a Friday afternoon and all Shabbath plans went flying out the window.
But David didn't die. He recovered and gave to live with us the rest of that summer until the beginning of autumn.
Because he was doing so much better, David went back to live at his old apartment. Mark and I had prayed that David would give the apartment up and move in with one of his family members. He really needed to be with friends or family and we just couldn't afford to take care of him. Plus our apartment was so small.
But it was not to be. David chose to stay here in Virginia. His doctor suggested he apply for Social Security, since he wasn't healthily enough to continue working, but he didn't want to leave his job at the Comic Book store, a job he loved.
So his health went from bad to worse. I had my hands filled dealing with Mark, for he was in a bad way with the PTSD at the time.
We would see David from time to time, we both becoming alarm by David increasing poor health. But there was just so much we could do. Mark didn't have a job, we had little money. We couldn't take care of ourselves, let alone David, as much as we wanted to.
In January of last year, after returning home from an military event, we learn David was back in hospital. We knew this was it.
He faced so many battles; his heart and kidneys, one inflection after another. Once stable, the hospital would move his to assistance living. Once stable and against doctor's orders, the social workers at the assistance living told David, because he had no insurance, he to leave.
That was the end of May. Three weeks later, he was back in hospital, battling high pressure and again, yet another infection.
In August,  our phone was turned off and we lost contact once again. We knew he was being moved to a nursing home and was planning to see him when I got word he was taken to DePaul Hospital. Here, I knew he would not only receive good care, but not get kicked out.
Mark was in school at this time, but we still made it to see him.
That Thursday morning, I received a call from his doctor, saying that they had done all they could do and were just keeping himecomfortable.
David knew he was dying. That same evening, he squeezed my hand and told me he loved. He then looked up and told Mark to take care of me.
I cried myself to sleep that night.
The next morning, I found our phone was out of minutes and when Mark got home, he hurried to the store.
It was Shabbath. Montague and I were standing outside. I looked into the sunset, feeling a peace I hadn't felt in a year.
I watched as a sudden breeze came up, playing with Monti's ear, reminding me of how David loved to play with Monti's eyes.
It was then I felt something soft brush against my cheek and somehow I knew it was David. Mark arrived home with more minutes for the phone and we went to bed.
The next morning, I called the ICU and was told that the doctors tried to reach me; that David had passed away the night before. When I asked what time and was told 10pm, I smiled through my tears. That is the time Monti and I were standing outside.
He had stopped to say goodbye and I love you.

Yoseph; The Saviour Part 1

Shalom:
Gen;37: 1-11 "Jacob lived in the land where his father had stayed, the land of Canaan.

² This is the account of Jacob’s family line.

Joseph, a young man of seventeen, was tending the flocks with his brothers, the sons of Bilhah and the sons of Zilpah, his father’s wives, and he brought their father a bad report about them.

  Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, because he had been born to him in his old age; and he made an ornate^[a] robe for him. ⁴ When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him.
  Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers, they hated him all the more. ⁶ He said to them, “Listen to this dream I had: ⁷ We were binding sheaves of grain out in the field when suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright, while your sheaves gathered around mine and bowed down to it.”
 His brothers said to him, “Do you intend to reign over us? Will you actually rule us?” And they hated him all the more because of his dream and what he had said.
 Then he had another dream, and he told it to his brothers. “Listen,” he said, “I had another dream, and this time the sun and moon and eleven stars were bowing down to me.”
 When he told his father as well as his brothers, his father rebuked him and said, “What is this dream you had? Will your mother and I and your brothers actually come and bow down to the ground before you?” ¹¹ His brothers were jealous of him, but his father kept the matter in mind.

When I think of all Mark and I are going through, I not only think of Job, but also Yoseph. As per my last blog entry, Mark and I know that G-d has the way worked out for us. It is just so hard to see how. Butt then, my thought turn to young Yoseph. 
When the then 17 year old Yoseph was thrown into the pit by his older brothers, knowing they would leaving him there to dies, he thought back to his father, Yacob. How would he take the news that his favourite son was dead. How would his older brothers explain it to their father?
Yoseph no doubt wished he had kept his mouth shut about the dreams he'd had instead of sharing them. He wished he haven't paraded about with the chieftain coat his father had given him. He didn't have to rub it in that he was father's favourite.
I am sure Yoseph prayed that Yahweh would get him out of this pit and return him safely back to his beloved father.
That was oldest brother Reuben's plan. Maybe then he could get back into father's good graces.
Yoseph did get out, but not the way he had hoped.
Knowing they really couldn't kill their little brother, the other men (the brothers were between 30s and 50s) they took Yoseph out of the pit and sold him as a slave.
Once the money was divided, the brothers killed a goat and dipping Yoseph's coat into the blood, these men went to their father to deceive him, to make believe that an wild animal killed Yoseph, that he was no more.
They thought they had killed the Dreamer and his dreams, that Yoseph was out of their lives once and for all:
²⁵ As they sat down to eat their meal, they looked up and saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead. Their camels were loaded with spices, balm and myrrh, and they were on their way to take them down to Egypt.
 Judah said to his brothers, “What will we gain if we kill our brother and cover up his blood? ²⁷ Come, let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites and not lay our hands on him; after all, he is our brother, our own flesh and blood.” His brothers agreed.
 So when the Midianite merchants came by, his brothers pulled Joseph up out of the cistern and sold him for twenty shekels of silver to the Ishmaelites, who took him to Egypt."
Yoseph no doubt thought this was the end of his life as well. The golden boy no longer golden, no longer the little prince, he was now a slave, and the fate of a slave was no better than a dog.
What Yoseph thought as the end, was only the beginning of the salvation of the family of Yacob.
And G-d would use the very one that was casted away to do so.

 

The Caravan

Shalom:

Well, we are still making our way through hell; every time we think we are making some head way, we find ourselves force a few steps back.
Last Thursday, we found what we thought would be a very nice apartment. With Mark's tax return, we were beginning to believe we just might make the move out deadline.
And then it happen; there it was in Saturday's mail. An old Army Exchange debt claimed the whole of the tax return. So the 2,000.00 we were counting on to live on, to move with, Uncle Sam took away. 
So now, we have nothing, not a place to live, no money to live on.
We went to see my mother and after getting over her shock, she prayed for and with us.
We needed it.
Yet, despite how dire it looks, I continue to pray, to trust G-d shall deliver us through this.
And then, this morning, I found a program from Beth Messiah, the Synagogue we use to attend some years ago.
I saved this and many programs because I love rabbi Rosenfarb's teaching and sermons notes; there is not only such rich teaching, but wisdom in what he shares.
 This one comes from February 2007 (I think) and when I read it to Mark while he took his shower, we both knew that here lie the lifeline we need....
 "In the Torah, Joseph interprets Pharaoh's two dreams and predicts a famine. Pharaoh puts Joseph in charge of handling the famine. Joseph has a family and seven years of plenty are followed by seven years of famine, as predicted. Jacob sends ten of his sons into Egypt to buy grain, but the sons do not recognize Joseph.  But Joseph recognizes his brothers. As a test, Joseph gives back their gold and demands that they bring Benjamin be brought to him. Later the brothers return and are thrown into prison.
The story is moved forward by desperation. At every turn the brothers are thwarted in their simple desire to to buy grain. Yet even to the point of bringing Benjamin into Egypt the Jacob family moves on to what they must to save their family.
The circumstances must have weighed heavily upon the family hearts as their caravan travailed the long journey back and forth.
All the while, salvation was already guaranteed, but they could not possibly have known it. Joseph was going to save his family.
Our journey does not differ. The hard circumstances of life which makes us travel the same roads over and over can steal our hope. But, we must remember this story. G-d has prepared an end to the struggle and a way to deliverance.
Let us continue to walk the caravan with G-d at our side and find our resolve in Him. It will come."
This word gave Mark and I hope, a lifeline to hold onto. I share this with all who are travelling the caravan through hell with us.
Thank you, Rabbi Rosenfarb

79 Years and Counting

Shalom:

Today is my beloved mother's 79th birthday.
I don't believe it is no accident that her birthday falls dead in the middle of Black History Month.
The grand-daughter of former slaves, born during the Great Depression, so much of what we read in history books, she has lived. And has lived out with grace.
When she was born, black amercians still had to sit at the back of the bus, there were stores they could not go into. Schools and Churches for "colours" were normal when she grew up.
But that never held her back or made her bitter.
Mother made friends where-ever she went; of every skin colour and culture. She went on to break the colour barriers in her own life without press or fanfare.
When the first black Barbie dolls were released, she made sure my sister and I had them. When I showed interested in Black History, she made sure I had the books to increase my knowledge.
She has gone through her own trials with an abusive marriage, a marriage she had the courage to leave. She took care of an ailing mother while raising two teen-age daughters and did it with such grace I still marvel how she did it.
Even with three strokes 14 years ago, her lovely smile remains. The pose and grace of African queen, the humble spirit of a daughter of HaShem, I can only and pray to be half the woman she is when I grow up.
When I was a teenager and thought I knew everything, I thought my mother was the meanest thing walking on two legs.
Today, I realise how very wrong I was. In a world that would judge me, not because of the content of my character, my mother strive to instill in me a spirit of excellence. That because of the colour of my skin I would have to be twice to be considered good enough. Sad, but true. And in many corners of this country today, that sad fact is still true.
"You have to be calm, you have to cool, you have to keep it together."
These are the words my mother taught my sister and I.
May we be faithful to them and make her proud.
 

Pookies Don't Leave.

Shalom:
For family and friends who celebrate Valentine's Day, I hope it was a blessed one for you. Yes, for my friends who do not celebrate, I know of its pagan roots as well as of its christian roots. For Mark and I, it is the time we decided to join our lives together. And therefore, the day holds its own special meaning.

Usually, we go away to Williamsburg for  a few days, but without money, this is the second year we remain home. I made a special meal of roasted veggies over cous-cous that both Mark and Montaque enjoyed.
It has been hard on Mark these few days, not being able to buy me a flower or a card. I thought him, for me it is indeed the thought that counts. Just knowing you want to.
Now get me wrong, I enjoy receiving roses and card like any woman. But I also know that at the moment, pulling what little money we have left into the gas tank, to look for a job is more needful than flowers. Making sure we have food to eat is far more important than a box of chocolate.
I know my husband loves me. And I don't need Valentine's Day for him to show it.
Making sure I have a roof over my head is just as romantic as dinner and a movie.
This morning, Mark looked at me and said: "you really do love me, don't you?"
"Yes, I do."
"Your amazing, another woman would have left a long time ago."
"I'm not another woman, I'm your Pookie Bear. And Pookies don't left."

Rainy Days, Rainy Nights

Shalom:

Eight years ago this evening, during the Blessing Dinner, hosted by our former place of worship, Mark shared with all those presence his feelings for me, not realising he was asking me to share the rest of my life with him.
Eight years ago, I agreed.
And with all the highs and downs, the illness, deployments, unemployment's, deaths and family drama, and of course the fusses, I can honestly say, if I had it all to over again, I would.
This morning we stood in a kitchen that isn't ours, sharing a cup off and a chocolate doughnut together, remembering that special night that began our journey together.
Can't say it has been dull.
When I think about it, it was a rainy night the evening we were engaged. And while it was the fourth day of summer, it rained all day the evening we got married. Even the days leading up to our wedding day were filled with tumult.
The storms of life. As one preacher said: "your either going into a storm, outing out of one or about to enter one."
How much easier to face the storms of this world with someone you love, someone you can depend on. To get to the other shore, like Northern fishermen, we have to be willing to work together to get over to the over side.
I confess, there have been moments I have been ready to abandon ship. Or toss Mark overboard.
But, those thoughts only last seconds and I throw myself back into making over to the other side with my beloved.
Marriage is indeed hard work. It takes two adults and isn't for the faint of heart.
But it in the end, it is a union, blessed of the Creator and made holy by His touch.
And eight years ago this evening, The Creator took our hands and joined us together, walking within our mists.
And I think He likes coffee.

 

     Worth Repeating:
The story of Carter G. Woodson                                                       

By Korey Bowers Brown
During the dawning decades of the twentieth century, it was commonly presumed that black people had little history besides the subjugation of slavery. Today, it is clear that blacks have significantly impacted the development of the social, political, and economic structures of the United States and the world. Credit for the evolving awareness of the true place of blacks in history can, in large part, be bestowed on one man, Carter G. Woodson. And, his brainchild the Association for the Study of African American

Life and History, Inc. is continuing Woodson’stradition of disseminating information about black life, history and culture to the global community. Known as the “Father of Black History,” Woodson (1875-1950) was the son of former slaves, and understood how important gaining a proper education is when striving to secure and make the most out of one’s divine right of freedom. Although he did not begin his formal education until he was 20 years old, his dedication to study enabled him to earn a high school diploma in West Virginia and bachelor and master’s degrees from the University Recognizing the dearth of information on the accomplishments of blacks in 1915, Dr. Woodson founded the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History, now called the Association for the Study of African American Life and History (ASALH).


Under Woodson’s pioneering leadership, the Association created research and publication outlets for black scholarswith the establishment of the Journal of Negro History (1916) and the Negro History Bulletin (1937), which garners a popular public appeal. In 1926, Dr. Woodson initiated the celebration of Negro
History Week, which corresponded with the birthdays of Frederick Douglass and Abraham Lincoln. In 1976, this celebration was expanded to include the entire month of February, and today Black History Month garners support throughout the country as people of all ethnic and social backgrounds discuss the black experience. ASALH views the promotion of Black History Month as one of the most important components of advancing Dr. Woodson’s legacy.In honor of all the work that Dr. Carter G. Woodson has done to promote the study of African American History, an ornament of Woodson hangs on the White House's Christmas tree each year.

Keep Going

 When going through hell, make sure you have plenty of Hebrew Nation Hot Dogs and Kosher marsh mellows; you never know when you have to share.
Laini

Shalom:
I posted the above quote from Winston Churchill because; 1. It is my favorite and 2. it is where Mark and I are at the moment.
Since we have lost our Internet and I can only get on a few times a week, I find myself having so much to share.
I continue to heal from the flu. Seem I had a rather nasty bout of it. My blood pressure is coming back under control and I am hopeful that the medication will be lower soon as well.
When we were first married, we brought a Select Comfort bed. Over the past three years it has been nothing but trouble, to the point it doesn't even hold air. I found we aren't the only ones who has had a problem with the bed, but we can't allow to buy another bed at this time. So we padded it down the best we can and pray for a good night sleep.
 A few days ago, our landlord and roommate came to Mark and I with some news. There has been a situation that has arisen in his family, that affects him personally and as a result, he has to give us and the other roommates thirty days notice.
While I cannot share the reasons, Mark and I truly understand and support his descion. I just wish there were more stand up guys like our roomie.
Then, Thursday, Mark backed into a car at work with the company trunk. While he did scratch the bumper, no one was hurt. He had to have an urine test to make sure he wasn't taking anything. It is just standard policy.
What we didn't expect was the next day, Mark would be at work long enough to receive the news he was being fired for the accident.
So now we have little less than a month to find a new home and Mark has no job.
But we were blessed with two big boxes of meat, so we will at least be eating well the next month or so.
So, once again we are going through Hell, longing for Paradise to be on the other side. And I must confess, I really don't care for the place.

Much Better

Shalom:

Thanks to everyone who has prayed for Mark and me.
I am pretty much over the Flu, though I have a cough that is still hanging on.
Blood Pressure is slowly returning to normal. It seems the Flu as well as the stress raised it. The doctor is quite pleased with the lower numbers, but it still needs to go lower.
We have lost Internet service for the time being, so I get online as I can. Our local market, Harris Teeter offers free WiFi for two hours at a time.
So I am now writing my blog at home, saving the entries on a file that I can cut and paste to this blog when I get a chance.
I am relearning what it means to be contend in whatever state I am in.
I, who have been on welfare, public housing, raised a son as a single parent. Surely I can regather my inner resources, lean onto the everlasting arms of my Heavenly Father and know He will see us through this as well.
It is in the Desert that HaShem drives His servants, His prophets, His children, the nation of Israel, to burn away all that is vile and unholy, to forge His children into His image, to make us Holy as He is holy.
It isn't an easy progress. But there are not only lessons, but beauty in the Desert.
If only we would open our eyes to see it.

Black History Month. Day 1

 

Today is the first day of Black History Month.

 

This is the year 2013. We have indeed come a long way.

Today, the first bi-racial President has begun to serve his second term with our first African American first lady by his side.

 

Today, men and women of color are serving in places and positions we could not even have dreamt of twenty years ago. Even in my own family, Mixon and Prude men and women who have served in circles of leadership in the military, churches, government and education.

And for all the gains, we still have a long way to go. While more women of colour are attending college, more men of colour are in jail. While we have black doctors and nurses, we also have drug dealers. While we sing the songs of Zion, there are also the vile tunes that spring from the pit of hell.

The doors of education are now wide open to us, but how many of our children are dropping out of high school.  For all the struggles our great-grandparents and grandparents went through, wanting to make a better life for us, many have not taken advance of them. Yes, there are those who would love to see us back in chains, sitting in the back  of the bus once again, the truth is, the ones stopping us from moving forward isn’t from outside the black community, but from within.

I am giving fair warning; my post this month is not going to be easy reading.  There will be those I shall make rather angry. That is fine.
There is a saying I love; the truth shall set you free. First, it shall piss you off.

 

While I am Lay Recovering

Shalom:
Right now, Mark and I  are at Mark's parents' doing laundry.
We are going through a very difficult time, so for those who do, I ask for your prayers.
But when I am home, laying in bed, trying to get well, I am either sleeping or reading.
I return to one of my favourite books, Hinds Feet On High Places.
In this most difficult place in our lives, I myself returning to the story of Much Afraid, servant of the Good Shepherd.
Much Afraid longs for the day she is able longer fellowship with the Shepard, longs for the day her crooked feet and mouth are made straight and whole. She dreads marriage to her cousin Craven Fear, who delights to abuse her.
Sharing the desire of her heart with the Shepard one day, He surprises her that He too longs for her healing and offers her the change to be made whole.
But it wouldn't be a Benny Hinn miracle; where she is slapped silly and someone man cries "HEAL."
No, she, Much Afraid must do the work for her feet to be transformed into "hind's feet." To do some, she would have to walk the path of the hind and face and overcome the fears that whole her back.
  Our life of faith is liken to the path that the deer and hind travel. In order to take those breathtaking leaps, they must learn to leap over the stones and branches along their path. A young buck is insecure and nervous when taking those first leaps. But he has the best teachers in his parents, who show him how it is down, First the dad takes son to easy paths, easy branches and rocks to jump over. As his legs get stronger, the young buck is able to take on steeper paths with ease,
It is the reason we go through trials, to strenghten our faith muscles so we can leap over the stumping blocks that are thrown in our path.
The past few days, I have found myself battling the rise of my blood pressure, the stress that briefly left our lives, returning into weeks of our move and has settled in.
So as I recover, this is a good time to revisit my friend Much Afraid and the Shepherd.
This is a rather steep path.

Slow Recovery

Shalom:
Well, friends, I am still alive.
Though there are times I wonder.
Friday morning as the sun rose, so did the pain in my head. Having had a headache all week, I knew it as blood pressure, the stress in my life continues.
Fearing I was heading for another blood pressure crisis, when Mark came home, I had him check my blood pressure.
And it was as I feared, quite high.
I wasn't able to reach my doctor, she had left for the day, but Mark's doctor was free and willing to see me if we could get there quickly.

Once there, I was tested for and found to indeed have the flu. And was told my blood pressure medication would be increase to help get my pressure back to normal.
So I returned home with medication for the flu, orders to take in plenty of fluids which includes chicken soup and orange juice and to bed rest, for that I can fully recover from the flu and get rid of the stress.
Of course, that is easier said that done.
So I have been doing as the doctor said, Monti resting next to making sure I obey doctor's orders.
And though I am receiving excellent care, I still feel like a truck hit me.

The Flu Comes to Visit

Shalom:

I had plan to do a follow up on my last post, but since then, I have been hit hard with the Flu. A few days ago, I thought I was doing better. But last night, it doubled back.
So until I am back at the keyboard, everyone remain well and happy.
Blessings to all,
Laini