Boka Tov:
Well I'm up at 0:00 early again.
But that's ok. I have some cleaning to do as well as making some plans for the week.
I'd slept better these past few evenings; no more horror dreams. I believe the turkey helped me sleep better. So I plan to add on my shopping list this week turkey wings and legs for turkey soup.
Yesterday, I met with a friend at Starbucks. I haven't seen him in a while and we we needed to catch up. He's going through a rough period and so we just listened to each other, cried with each other and finally laughed. Because the weather is summer like once again, I ordered the Iced Tea Lemonaide. A first for me. I had it with green tea, since is supposse to be quite healthly.
Well it eas very good and I am going to start making it for home enjoyment.
Amoung the things my buddy David and I talked about yesterday is our words.
Have you ever had in the guise of 'cheering you up' 'giving you an encouraging word' what was really a correction-a sermon- and/or lecture? And you end up feeling worse?
Think Job's friends.
There was once a rightous man named Job.
satan felt Job was rightous because of all of the wealth G-d gave him.
So, knowing Job's heart, G-d allowed (did not cause, allowed) satan to steal his wealth.
Job praised G-d.
So satan came back and claimed it was because Job was still healthy.
G-d once again allowed satan to touch Job, this time it was his health.
Job praised G-d.
Next, satan went after Job's children.
Even Job's wife turned on him.
Job still praised G-d.
So here came three of Job's freinds.
For one week, they sat with him, mourned with Job.
But on the eight day, they blew it.
Their words were of no comfort to Job. In fact, they blamed Job for his troubles. The three would have done better to keep their mouth shut.
In Hospics Care, there is a saying: if you don't know what to say, say nothing.
How often I have caught myself giving pat, spiritual answers, when the person just needed a hug, for me to hold them their hand or find out how they like their Starbucks coffee.
Sometimes, I just need to use my two ears and my heart.
Monday, 30 November 2009
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Another Weekend
Lailia Tov;
Well it is the end of another evening. Soon the weekend will be over and another week begins.
I had a hard time sleeping last night, so i began a new book, one I'd read before and it was time to pick up again.
There are those times you just need to reconnect to who you are and Who's you are.
Mark did call this afternoon. How good it was to hear his voice.
I told him I had one of "those dreams" and we talked about it. One of the thing I love about Mark is that I don't have to worry about "it's just a dream, Laini, get over it!" He knows as well as I it happens and the the best think is to allow me to talk about it.
My sister-in-law reminded me of a song, years ago, called The Warrior is a Child. I love that song and need to dig it out.
It tales the tale of a warrior Who runs to her Heavenly Father for healing, to be picked up, for strenght. That no one sees what she/he goes through but G-d. We as believers are His arms, His eyes. We are to embrace each other when hurting, pick up the fallen and heal the sick. But too often, we tend to cause more hurts, let each other down, even leave each other in the mud. And it has nothing to do with being imperfect or human. It is pure and simple failing to live up what we claim to be.
And there are folks watching to see if we are who we say we are.
I have to remind myself of that when I'm at the UPS store.
So I am doing my hair and calling it an early night.
I think I shall sleep this time.
Well it is the end of another evening. Soon the weekend will be over and another week begins.
I had a hard time sleeping last night, so i began a new book, one I'd read before and it was time to pick up again.
There are those times you just need to reconnect to who you are and Who's you are.
Mark did call this afternoon. How good it was to hear his voice.
I told him I had one of "those dreams" and we talked about it. One of the thing I love about Mark is that I don't have to worry about "it's just a dream, Laini, get over it!" He knows as well as I it happens and the the best think is to allow me to talk about it.
My sister-in-law reminded me of a song, years ago, called The Warrior is a Child. I love that song and need to dig it out.
It tales the tale of a warrior Who runs to her Heavenly Father for healing, to be picked up, for strenght. That no one sees what she/he goes through but G-d. We as believers are His arms, His eyes. We are to embrace each other when hurting, pick up the fallen and heal the sick. But too often, we tend to cause more hurts, let each other down, even leave each other in the mud. And it has nothing to do with being imperfect or human. It is pure and simple failing to live up what we claim to be.
And there are folks watching to see if we are who we say we are.
I have to remind myself of that when I'm at the UPS store.
So I am doing my hair and calling it an early night.
I think I shall sleep this time.
Friday, 27 November 2009
Second Day of Thanksgiving
Shalom:
The morning didn't start well.
I had one of 'those dreams.'
If you are a military sponse, child and/or parnet, you know what 'that dream is.'
It is the dream where your loved dies.
My ended with having to tell Mark's parnets of his passing.
I awoke rather early, trying to remind myself that it was just a dream.
But I just couldn't shake off that feeling of dread.
So I prayed and prepared for the day.
I had to go in for blood test before my doctor's appointment next week, so this morning was an early one. I showered, dressed and headed out for the Lab, which wasn't far.
I kept with the 'shaking this off.' Yes, one has to go through the emotion, but not stand there.
After blood work, I headed for the bakery to pick the Challal and stopped for Starbucks.
I thanked the dear lady who made my coffee; it was the best Peppermint Mocha I'd ever had.
I then came home and made another cup of coffee, this time to go with a slice of the cranberry-nut bread mum Reel send me home with.
By this time I had shaken off the dread and could once again move on with my plans for the day.
Since I have plenty of leftovers, there is no need to cook. So I plan to crochet this afternoon and watch a movie.
I plan a nice quiet weekend, because next week gets busy.
I start Operation Love Afghanistan. It isn't just school supplies needed, but also candles and blankets, sweaters, socks, shoes. Afghanistan is one of the poorest nations and this is why the Taliban is so appearing to many of the people: working for the Taliban gives one the money one needs to live. Much like many of our poor here get involve with gangs and drugdealers to feed and cloth their families.
So next week I begin to shop and collect blankets, candles, clothing, school supplies and even toys to send as well as sending Hanukkah cards to our Jewish soldiers.
I rather like being part of the work my hubby is doing.
I think I shall pull out the army boots Mark brought me.
I feel like I'd earned now.
The morning didn't start well.
I had one of 'those dreams.'
If you are a military sponse, child and/or parnet, you know what 'that dream is.'
It is the dream where your loved dies.
My ended with having to tell Mark's parnets of his passing.
I awoke rather early, trying to remind myself that it was just a dream.
But I just couldn't shake off that feeling of dread.
So I prayed and prepared for the day.
I had to go in for blood test before my doctor's appointment next week, so this morning was an early one. I showered, dressed and headed out for the Lab, which wasn't far.
I kept with the 'shaking this off.' Yes, one has to go through the emotion, but not stand there.
After blood work, I headed for the bakery to pick the Challal and stopped for Starbucks.
I thanked the dear lady who made my coffee; it was the best Peppermint Mocha I'd ever had.
I then came home and made another cup of coffee, this time to go with a slice of the cranberry-nut bread mum Reel send me home with.
By this time I had shaken off the dread and could once again move on with my plans for the day.
Since I have plenty of leftovers, there is no need to cook. So I plan to crochet this afternoon and watch a movie.
I plan a nice quiet weekend, because next week gets busy.
I start Operation Love Afghanistan. It isn't just school supplies needed, but also candles and blankets, sweaters, socks, shoes. Afghanistan is one of the poorest nations and this is why the Taliban is so appearing to many of the people: working for the Taliban gives one the money one needs to live. Much like many of our poor here get involve with gangs and drugdealers to feed and cloth their families.
So next week I begin to shop and collect blankets, candles, clothing, school supplies and even toys to send as well as sending Hanukkah cards to our Jewish soldiers.
I rather like being part of the work my hubby is doing.
I think I shall pull out the army boots Mark brought me.
I feel like I'd earned now.
Thursday, 26 November 2009
Thanksgiving Thoughts
Boka Tov:
The collard greens are done and at the moment safe in the Fridge.
Onion and Sage Stuffing is baking in the oven and smelling very good.
I just hope they make it to the folks.
I spoke to Mark last night. The phone kept dying (network was down) But we did manage to share Thanksgiving memories.
This time of the year holds special meaning for us. It is the time we realize we were more than friends. When Mama Jordan and Mark met for the first time. We had just learned Mark had cancer and weren't sure if this would be his last with us. It is when Mark said he did wish to marry me one day.
It is when we shared our first thanksgiving not just with family, but held a Thanksgiving Dinner for the Seniors at Beth Messiah. It is when I make the biggest pots of collard greens and pull out the recipe for Onion and Sage stuffing I found in an old english cookery book.
It is watching videos of the Thanksgiving From the History channel and The Mayflower; The Untold Story.
It is the time when I have send and recieved Thanksgiving cards during three different deployments. Including this one.
It is late night hot Turkey sandwiches and coke with my beloved.
Next year, G-d willing, it will be Thanksgiving in Williamburge and one day Plymouth. Then we shall have more memories to share with the children we still pray G-d will give us.
Memories we shall share over and over.
On a quiet night as we cuddle on the sofa.
Or over the phone during another deployment.
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Happy Thanksgiving
Lailia Tov;
I am taking a break from preparing for tomorrow to share some of my thoughts on Thanksgiving.
I love this time of the year. Oh not the weather, but the quiet that begins to settle upon the earth. I think of late Autumn and Winter as Shabbat for the earth; so that she may also sleep, she may also rest.
People become reflected this time of the year; looking back over the past twelve months and looking to see what changes they would like to make in the coming year.
But for the Jew, we have already done that. The month of Ehud falls between August and September. This is the last month of the Jewish year. The month is used to reflect over our deeds and the beginning of the time of repentence. Our New Year (Rosh HaShanna) begins at the same time we start to bring the harvest. It is also the beginning of the Days of Awe leading to the Day we stand before G-d. Then a week later, it is Sukkah, rejoicing in the hravest and the blessings G-d has brought in our lives.
In fact, our modern Thanksgiving is model after Sukkah; the thanksgiving feast.
I always find it interesting when folks try to divorce the biblical meaning to this day. The Pilgrims, who model their lives are the Children of Isreal, chose to follow their example to give thanks to G-d for all He has done.
And will do
In our home on this day, there is no Football. It is a Day given to G-d and Family. For the sharing of stories, playing games, enjoying the blessing of our table and talking to family in Ohio, South Carolina, Montanta and Afganistan.
So to all of my beloved friends and family who read this blog, May the Holy Bless you richly and Happy Thanksgiving.
I am taking a break from preparing for tomorrow to share some of my thoughts on Thanksgiving.
I love this time of the year. Oh not the weather, but the quiet that begins to settle upon the earth. I think of late Autumn and Winter as Shabbat for the earth; so that she may also sleep, she may also rest.
People become reflected this time of the year; looking back over the past twelve months and looking to see what changes they would like to make in the coming year.
But for the Jew, we have already done that. The month of Ehud falls between August and September. This is the last month of the Jewish year. The month is used to reflect over our deeds and the beginning of the time of repentence. Our New Year (Rosh HaShanna) begins at the same time we start to bring the harvest. It is also the beginning of the Days of Awe leading to the Day we stand before G-d. Then a week later, it is Sukkah, rejoicing in the hravest and the blessings G-d has brought in our lives.
In fact, our modern Thanksgiving is model after Sukkah; the thanksgiving feast.
I always find it interesting when folks try to divorce the biblical meaning to this day. The Pilgrims, who model their lives are the Children of Isreal, chose to follow their example to give thanks to G-d for all He has done.
And will do
In our home on this day, there is no Football. It is a Day given to G-d and Family. For the sharing of stories, playing games, enjoying the blessing of our table and talking to family in Ohio, South Carolina, Montanta and Afganistan.
So to all of my beloved friends and family who read this blog, May the Holy Bless you richly and Happy Thanksgiving.
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
The Week That Was
Lailia Tov:
As you can see from the above, this is the aftermath of the Nor'Easter that blew through a few weeks ago.
I actually took a picture of this tree a few days before the storm. This tree, like some many here in Ghent, was over one hundred years old. This tree, along with another at the corner, blocked off the street. That's its root in the picture above.
We are still cleaning up.
If you read the last entry, you knew I had a mini crisis during this time.
A time of tears and fighting fear. Crying out to G-d and wondering if He heard me or even cared.
There are many who would question my "lack of faith" or my "failing to trust G-d."
But I am reminded of the Song Book, Psalms. There are hundreds of songs and prayers crying out to G-d such as I did and in the end, G-d meets them, just as He met me.
As I laid in my bed Thrusday night, I realize what I was going through was pure hell. This is what Hell is like; cut-off from everyone, from light and life, sound and touch. Even the face of G-d.
A place I do not wish ever to go.
But the next evening, as I crawled into the warm, sweet smelling bed in the guest bedroom of mum and dad, this is heaven. It is light and life, surrounded by people who love you.
And it is warm!
Since Dad allowed me to use his computer, I was leave a message for Mark that I was home with his folks. I was so tired that the first time he called my cell-phone, I slept through the first ring and by the time I realize the phone was ringing the second time, he'd rung off when I answered.
But he finally got through and was relieved to know I was safe and with his parnets.
I stayed with mum and dad until Monday. By then, the lights were back on and the heat was on by that evening. I had gone to church with them that Sunday. It was good to see old friends.
I truly loved being with mum and dad. They showered me with love and I truly felt I was home and welcomed.
I confessed to both mama Jordan and mum Reel my meltdown that thrusday night, friday morning. Both lovingly assured me that given the circumstances, they could see how one could react as I did and it wasn't a lack of faith. It was a holding onto what I knew to get me through.
Lessons learned?
Keep a flashlight in the house (Mark took our with him)
Keep plenty of C batteries.
Keep my over night bag packed.
Stock up on Wine Coolers.
The Nor'Beaster
Shalom:
Well, I'm back.
Last week, we were hit here in Virginia with an Nor'Easter. It rolled in Wednsday.
I'd seen the duck in the canone that morning and was a little concern that I had somehow missed the notice to build an ark. Many of my friends in Virgina Beach lost power and even had lakes in front of their homes. Some even flooded.
In my neighorhood, we got the wind, the rain and even streets flooded, but we were riding it out.
Realizing that this wouldn't blow through before the weekend and I did need a few things from the store, I decided to Man-Up and headed out that afternoon.
Seemss many of my neighors had the same idea.
I had just gotten bak to the apartment, popped the last of the frozen Chili in the micowave to heat up and begun to put the food away when the power went out.
It was 4 pm.
I didn't think it too bad. We usully get power back on within four hours. I even saw the Power company truck in front of my house.
At eight p.m. I began to become concern. The Power truck had long left.
No phone. No lights. No heat.
Using my cell-phone and called my mum so she wouldn't panic and then again using my cell phone, I was able to log onto facebook and leave a message for Mark to call on the cell, since the power was out.
I laid in my bed, under a blanket, the apartment now icy cold.
It was that ickly dark that you can't see your own hand. Thankfully, I did have candles. But darkness swallowed its light up. We had D batteries.
I needed C.
So it was dark and as silient as the grave.
Cold.
For the first time I understood why some many military spouses turned to drink. I could have used a wine cooler at this moment.
This is what Hell feels like.
I began to cry, I don't know for how long. Just that my throat began to hurt.
My prayer was my tears.
And then I began to sing the songs I knew as a child and felt asleep.
Hours later, several loud booms woke me, lighting the ebony sky an eerie green. Several generators had explosed, one right after the other, filling the air and shaking the buildings for several blocks.
I checked my facebook via and found that Mark had left a message on my page, trying to reach me.
And my cell phone battery was dying.
Again I fought fear and tears and lost the battle. Again crying myself to sleep.
Friday morning found me groggy and heating water on the store.
Thank G-d the gas was still on. But we had no hot water. So I had to heat water for not only tea and chili for my am meal, but to wash up.
I debated whether to go and get batteries when a screw fell out of my glasses and they fell off.
Another tantum.
Once I pulled myself together, I headed out the door to get an eyeglass repair kit and batteries. On the way to the store, I walked the full lenght of of street and found two older trees and two power poles had been uprooted and fell against power and phone wires.
That explains why it was taking so long to get the power back on.
On my home, I stopped at a Pay phone and called my in-laws to assure them I was OK.
Who was I fooling? I couldn't assure ME I was doing OK.
Thank G-d my sister-in-law, who lives in Ohio, saw my message to Mark and called his folks. So they knew my plight.
I told mum not to come and get me, since I wasn't sure what the roads looked like in their area. But after I got home and realize; 1. I didn't buy enough batteries and 2. it was even colder in the apartment and 3. with those trees and power poles, no telling when the power would be back on, I had enough juice in the phone battery to call mum back and asked them to come and get me.
A few hours later, after gathering some laundry, picking up the apartment as much as I could, I laid down on the sofa and waited.
Mum's knock on the door was music to my ears.
Well, I'm back.
Last week, we were hit here in Virginia with an Nor'Easter. It rolled in Wednsday.
I'd seen the duck in the canone that morning and was a little concern that I had somehow missed the notice to build an ark. Many of my friends in Virgina Beach lost power and even had lakes in front of their homes. Some even flooded.
In my neighorhood, we got the wind, the rain and even streets flooded, but we were riding it out.
Realizing that this wouldn't blow through before the weekend and I did need a few things from the store, I decided to Man-Up and headed out that afternoon.
Seemss many of my neighors had the same idea.
I had just gotten bak to the apartment, popped the last of the frozen Chili in the micowave to heat up and begun to put the food away when the power went out.
It was 4 pm.
I didn't think it too bad. We usully get power back on within four hours. I even saw the Power company truck in front of my house.
At eight p.m. I began to become concern. The Power truck had long left.
No phone. No lights. No heat.
Using my cell-phone and called my mum so she wouldn't panic and then again using my cell phone, I was able to log onto facebook and leave a message for Mark to call on the cell, since the power was out.
I laid in my bed, under a blanket, the apartment now icy cold.
It was that ickly dark that you can't see your own hand. Thankfully, I did have candles. But darkness swallowed its light up. We had D batteries.
I needed C.
So it was dark and as silient as the grave.
Cold.
For the first time I understood why some many military spouses turned to drink. I could have used a wine cooler at this moment.
This is what Hell feels like.
I began to cry, I don't know for how long. Just that my throat began to hurt.
My prayer was my tears.
And then I began to sing the songs I knew as a child and felt asleep.
Hours later, several loud booms woke me, lighting the ebony sky an eerie green. Several generators had explosed, one right after the other, filling the air and shaking the buildings for several blocks.
I checked my facebook via and found that Mark had left a message on my page, trying to reach me.
And my cell phone battery was dying.
Again I fought fear and tears and lost the battle. Again crying myself to sleep.
Friday morning found me groggy and heating water on the store.
Thank G-d the gas was still on. But we had no hot water. So I had to heat water for not only tea and chili for my am meal, but to wash up.
I debated whether to go and get batteries when a screw fell out of my glasses and they fell off.
Another tantum.
Once I pulled myself together, I headed out the door to get an eyeglass repair kit and batteries. On the way to the store, I walked the full lenght of of street and found two older trees and two power poles had been uprooted and fell against power and phone wires.
That explains why it was taking so long to get the power back on.
On my home, I stopped at a Pay phone and called my in-laws to assure them I was OK.
Who was I fooling? I couldn't assure ME I was doing OK.
Thank G-d my sister-in-law, who lives in Ohio, saw my message to Mark and called his folks. So they knew my plight.
I told mum not to come and get me, since I wasn't sure what the roads looked like in their area. But after I got home and realize; 1. I didn't buy enough batteries and 2. it was even colder in the apartment and 3. with those trees and power poles, no telling when the power would be back on, I had enough juice in the phone battery to call mum back and asked them to come and get me.
A few hours later, after gathering some laundry, picking up the apartment as much as I could, I laid down on the sofa and waited.
Mum's knock on the door was music to my ears.
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Happy Veteran's Day
If you can read this thank a teacher. If you can this in english thank a Soldier.
Thank you to all who have served, serving now and their families.
Boka Tov:
It is a cold, rainy day here in TideWater; someone forgot to send me the notice to build an Ark. I had planned to go to a Veteran's Day Parade in Portsmouth, but what we believe to be an NorthEastern blowing in, stopped me.
So today is a day of coffee and quilting and maybe some writing. I have a few movies I rented and this is a good day to get into them.
Today I wish to give thanks to all the Veterans both here in America as well as thoses Veterans of other courtries, who served with us.
Ninety-one years ago today, at 11 AM on the 11th day of the 11th month, the armistice that ended World War 1 went into effect. To commemorate this, congress declared Nov. 11th Armistice Day, thus beginning what has become known as Veterans' Day. The date was declared a national holiday in many allied nations, to commemorate those members of the armed forces who were killed during war. In many parts of the world, at 11:00 am, there is two minutes of silence, to remember the twenty million who died.
Also known as Remembance Day, this day is not just a day to remember American Veterans, but those of our Allies, to whom I also salute and give thanks to all who fought and have fought for our freedoms.
I also thank and salutes those left to man the homefront.
The military is a family busniess: we are make sacrifices to see that our nation is protected and defended.
I remember when the War on Terrisiom began. There were Protesters along the streets of downtown Norfolk, speaking out against the War.
There was, as always, a yelling mate between those who stood behind the choice and those against.
A teenager walking up to an older man, and said: "my dad is going to miss my 18th birthday because he is defending your right to protest." And then the boy walked away.
Silence.
So, as my Mark, my soldier would say: "To those who serve or have served, thank you. For welcome else. Your welome."
Thank you to all who have served, serving now and their families.
Boka Tov:
It is a cold, rainy day here in TideWater; someone forgot to send me the notice to build an Ark. I had planned to go to a Veteran's Day Parade in Portsmouth, but what we believe to be an NorthEastern blowing in, stopped me.
So today is a day of coffee and quilting and maybe some writing. I have a few movies I rented and this is a good day to get into them.
Today I wish to give thanks to all the Veterans both here in America as well as thoses Veterans of other courtries, who served with us.
Ninety-one years ago today, at 11 AM on the 11th day of the 11th month, the armistice that ended World War 1 went into effect. To commemorate this, congress declared Nov. 11th Armistice Day, thus beginning what has become known as Veterans' Day. The date was declared a national holiday in many allied nations, to commemorate those members of the armed forces who were killed during war. In many parts of the world, at 11:00 am, there is two minutes of silence, to remember the twenty million who died.
Also known as Remembance Day, this day is not just a day to remember American Veterans, but those of our Allies, to whom I also salute and give thanks to all who fought and have fought for our freedoms.
I also thank and salutes those left to man the homefront.
The military is a family busniess: we are make sacrifices to see that our nation is protected and defended.
I remember when the War on Terrisiom began. There were Protesters along the streets of downtown Norfolk, speaking out against the War.
There was, as always, a yelling mate between those who stood behind the choice and those against.
A teenager walking up to an older man, and said: "my dad is going to miss my 18th birthday because he is defending your right to protest." And then the boy walked away.
Silence.
So, as my Mark, my soldier would say: "To those who serve or have served, thank you. For welcome else. Your welome."
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
NaBloPoMo: A Hard Day, A Painful Reminder
Lailia Tov:
If you watched the Memorial Service on the Telly this afternoon, you know how painful and yet moving it was.
I cried through the whole thing.
The blowing of Taps always rips at my heart.
For 13 families, this is just the beginning and I pray for each one.
It is hard enough dealing with a loved one in harm's way.
But to have on our shores...by one who wore the umiform....
I sat there, mourning with mums and dads, sisters and brothers, children, friends. Fellow soldiers. Our hearts are broken, but not our spirit.
As always we shall go on.
Our fallen soldiers would expect nothing less of
If you watched the Memorial Service on the Telly this afternoon, you know how painful and yet moving it was.
I cried through the whole thing.
The blowing of Taps always rips at my heart.
For 13 families, this is just the beginning and I pray for each one.
It is hard enough dealing with a loved one in harm's way.
But to have on our shores...by one who wore the umiform....
I sat there, mourning with mums and dads, sisters and brothers, children, friends. Fellow soldiers. Our hearts are broken, but not our spirit.
As always we shall go on.
Our fallen soldiers would expect nothing less of
NaBloPoMo: Healthcare
Shalom:
After reading and hearing about the Healthcare Bill, I decided to add my two cent.
I come from another point of view.
As a single parent, we lived on Welfare for several years, that included Medicaid.
Medicaid was created July 30, 1965 to meet the needs of low income and poor families.
Hower, poverty alone does not necessarily qualify an individual for Medicaid. It is estimated that approximately 60 percent of poor Americans are not covered by Medicaid.
Like many insurers, Medicaid has services they do not cover. And like insurers, there have been times my doctors had to fight to the services me or my son needed.
There were doctors that wouldn't even touch a Medicaid patient; the reimbursement is poor at best. As one of my former doctors told me: he just couldn't allow to take care of Medicaid patients
And in some cases the care is poor. In fact, I almost lost my life if it wasn't for another doctor stepping in. The reason? The first doctor didn't take the time to run the test needed. In his words, "medicaid patients aren't worth it." My doctor referred me to another for the operation I needed. This doctor performed the needed operation for free, so upset he was about about my treatment by of his own.
Not don't get me wrong, I had some very fine doctors and fine Social Workers. But it is government run. And if you have ever dealt with the government.....
I have also been in Public Housing and have nightmare stories as well. That which was suppose to make sure every person has a home, makes one jump through hoops to get an apartment. Again, because of the poor reimbursement, many landlords will not enroll in the HUB program.
Once I got off welfare and started my own busniess, I began one of those 60 percent who could not get medicaid.
So I had the choice of no insurance ( I have asthmas, not an option) or find another means. The medical school here in my city has a low income clinic where I could pay a small fee and be seen. There was also Satate and Local care that covers such things as a visit to the ER or an operation. But that's if there is money for the services.
This year, there is no money.
Several years ago, I was able to get insurnace and now, being married to Mark, I am covered.
But I know what it is like to have the "Public Option." I know what it is like to have the government as your father and husband, telling you what you can and cannot do, where you can and cannot live. An like the rebellious teen straining at the bit, break off the lead and get out on my own.
My advise to Mr. Obama, to Congress, to the House, would be to expland the programs that you already have. Make it easier for the 60 percent of Americans to obtain Medicaid. Pay Healthcare providers better.
But then again, why would anyone listen to me? I'm just a bitter old white man who's mad because their party lost the election.
After reading and hearing about the Healthcare Bill, I decided to add my two cent.
I come from another point of view.
As a single parent, we lived on Welfare for several years, that included Medicaid.
Medicaid was created July 30, 1965 to meet the needs of low income and poor families.
Hower, poverty alone does not necessarily qualify an individual for Medicaid. It is estimated that approximately 60 percent of poor Americans are not covered by Medicaid.
Like many insurers, Medicaid has services they do not cover. And like insurers, there have been times my doctors had to fight to the services me or my son needed.
There were doctors that wouldn't even touch a Medicaid patient; the reimbursement is poor at best. As one of my former doctors told me: he just couldn't allow to take care of Medicaid patients
And in some cases the care is poor. In fact, I almost lost my life if it wasn't for another doctor stepping in. The reason? The first doctor didn't take the time to run the test needed. In his words, "medicaid patients aren't worth it." My doctor referred me to another for the operation I needed. This doctor performed the needed operation for free, so upset he was about about my treatment by of his own.
Not don't get me wrong, I had some very fine doctors and fine Social Workers. But it is government run. And if you have ever dealt with the government.....
I have also been in Public Housing and have nightmare stories as well. That which was suppose to make sure every person has a home, makes one jump through hoops to get an apartment. Again, because of the poor reimbursement, many landlords will not enroll in the HUB program.
Once I got off welfare and started my own busniess, I began one of those 60 percent who could not get medicaid.
So I had the choice of no insurance ( I have asthmas, not an option) or find another means. The medical school here in my city has a low income clinic where I could pay a small fee and be seen. There was also Satate and Local care that covers such things as a visit to the ER or an operation. But that's if there is money for the services.
This year, there is no money.
Several years ago, I was able to get insurnace and now, being married to Mark, I am covered.
But I know what it is like to have the "Public Option." I know what it is like to have the government as your father and husband, telling you what you can and cannot do, where you can and cannot live. An like the rebellious teen straining at the bit, break off the lead and get out on my own.
My advise to Mr. Obama, to Congress, to the House, would be to expland the programs that you already have. Make it easier for the 60 percent of Americans to obtain Medicaid. Pay Healthcare providers better.
But then again, why would anyone listen to me? I'm just a bitter old white man who's mad because their party lost the election.
Monday, 9 November 2009
The BookSeller of Kabal: My Thoughts
Lailia Tov;
It has been a good and peaceful day. It's get everything done, but hey! there is always tomorrow.
I finally dragged myself through the Bookseller of Kabul. The book ended on a very bad note. Rather depressing, filled with dread, like Leilia, the youngest sister: one's heart turns to dust and it is swept out with the morning dirt.
If you have read my first review on this book, you know I didn't care for it.
Now allow me to say: I hated it.
Ms.Seierstad choices to narrate from an fly on the wall viewpoint. She does not appear in the story, nor does she become part of the family, but remains a stranger looking in, a ghost if you will.
She remains.....a reporter...
A reporter, cloaked in speculation and condescension with a veneer of journalistic self-rightious.
Ms.Seierstad delivers on golden plates the warm, juicy, sensationalism she knows we Westerners will eat up.....
There is Sultan's being the favorite son and showing a head for busniess early on....
A split with a younger brother who will not respect him. The courtship of the 16-year-old who became his second wife, against the wishes of his mother and the pleas of his first wife. Together with the Taliban book-burning, within the first several pages.These events, she did not witness, but reported upon.
And then there is the scene in the bath house. The english translation, tame conpared to how it is really written in the author's mother tongue, makes one blush, but for such a modest culture, this scence would feel like a rape. Yes, I said rape. For I have several muslim friends and such things are just not discussed. There are other scences I will not mention. Let's just say they shame not only Sultan Khan and his family, but thoughs around them as well.
Having cared for my mother in my home for several months after her stroke, I utter at the thought of such a scence written about us.
I have been told by many who have been to Afghanistan that polygamy is uncommon, that the middle-aged men they have met had grown old with their wives and love them dearly. That they will sell everything they own to make sure their children recieve an education and they adore their wives, children, and their parnets. There is no reason why Sultan wishes another bride,
What truly sadden and yes made me angry is that the author never tried to find out why Khan and his family did the things she describes. Sultan Khan himself remains an enigma, a man who endured two prison terms for selling books by immersing himself in Persian poetry. A man who demands respect, yet shows none. Willing to pay for his young bride to learn to read and write, yet pulled his sons out of school to mind his shops. The author never took the time to find out who Khan was, or to try to explain his contradictions.
Contradictions that truth be told lie in all of us.
I felt cheated, betrayed. This was not the story I was expecting. And I am sure Ms. Seierstad could care less. In fact, she would take one look at me and think me as oppressed and as backwards as the women of Afghanistan.
For me, The Bookseller of Kabul was like watching CNN.
Which I hadn't watched in years.
Interesting, Mr. Khan has written his own book, There Once was a Bookseller in Kabul.
Now that should be an interesting read.
It has been a good and peaceful day. It's get everything done, but hey! there is always tomorrow.
I finally dragged myself through the Bookseller of Kabul. The book ended on a very bad note. Rather depressing, filled with dread, like Leilia, the youngest sister: one's heart turns to dust and it is swept out with the morning dirt.
If you have read my first review on this book, you know I didn't care for it.
Now allow me to say: I hated it.
Ms.Seierstad choices to narrate from an fly on the wall viewpoint. She does not appear in the story, nor does she become part of the family, but remains a stranger looking in, a ghost if you will.
She remains.....a reporter...
A reporter, cloaked in speculation and condescension with a veneer of journalistic self-rightious.
Ms.Seierstad delivers on golden plates the warm, juicy, sensationalism she knows we Westerners will eat up.....
There is Sultan's being the favorite son and showing a head for busniess early on....
A split with a younger brother who will not respect him. The courtship of the 16-year-old who became his second wife, against the wishes of his mother and the pleas of his first wife. Together with the Taliban book-burning, within the first several pages.These events, she did not witness, but reported upon.
And then there is the scene in the bath house. The english translation, tame conpared to how it is really written in the author's mother tongue, makes one blush, but for such a modest culture, this scence would feel like a rape. Yes, I said rape. For I have several muslim friends and such things are just not discussed. There are other scences I will not mention. Let's just say they shame not only Sultan Khan and his family, but thoughs around them as well.
Having cared for my mother in my home for several months after her stroke, I utter at the thought of such a scence written about us.
I have been told by many who have been to Afghanistan that polygamy is uncommon, that the middle-aged men they have met had grown old with their wives and love them dearly. That they will sell everything they own to make sure their children recieve an education and they adore their wives, children, and their parnets. There is no reason why Sultan wishes another bride,
What truly sadden and yes made me angry is that the author never tried to find out why Khan and his family did the things she describes. Sultan Khan himself remains an enigma, a man who endured two prison terms for selling books by immersing himself in Persian poetry. A man who demands respect, yet shows none. Willing to pay for his young bride to learn to read and write, yet pulled his sons out of school to mind his shops. The author never took the time to find out who Khan was, or to try to explain his contradictions.
Contradictions that truth be told lie in all of us.
I felt cheated, betrayed. This was not the story I was expecting. And I am sure Ms. Seierstad could care less. In fact, she would take one look at me and think me as oppressed and as backwards as the women of Afghanistan.
For me, The Bookseller of Kabul was like watching CNN.
Which I hadn't watched in years.
Interesting, Mr. Khan has written his own book, There Once was a Bookseller in Kabul.
Now that should be an interesting read.
If The Shoe Don't Fit,.... It Ain't Your Shoe.
Boka Tov:
Well once again I'm up at 0:Early.
I know the reason; mourning.
Mourning the deaths of 13 Amercian heroes. As I learn of each of their stories, I realize how much we truly lost. A young woman who told her mother she was going to find Osama Bin Laden herself. A young woman having her first child, a baby that died before it was born. A soldier who was married two months ago. A 54 year Nurse Practitioner. This is what we as a nation have been robbed of.
That same evening I learned of the death of a sweet little girl, just 15 years old.
No wanted to discuss how she died or what happen. The silence told all. A few days ago I would learn the whole story. A story I already from the silence. I story I'd heard too many times having worked with teens. I hope this causes parnets to talk to their kids, I mean have real, heart talk with their children.
So I have been doing a lot of praying this weekend.
I rmember Amir and his Baba from The Kite Runner. Baba is explaining to his son that there is only one sin. Stealing. All sin is rooted in stealing.If you, you rob someone of thier right to know the truth. When you kill, you have robbed a husband, a wife, children and friends of their love and support, you have robbed the world of a soul. You rob joy and replace it with grieve. Our actions do affect those around us; for good or evil. I continue to pray for all who mourn.
It is a new week, that means a new beginning. It's a nice sunny day and I need to pickup boxes for Mark's CarePackages and start getting them ready this week. I might even do some shopping for me as well.
I started a puzzle last night. The gathering of the animals for the Ark. I had brought the three part series a few years ago, but haven't don them yet. So this week is a good week.
As I worked, I was reminded of all the life lessons I'd leanred doing puzzles. It was something my sister, my mum and I could enjoy without War World III breaking out.
And one of the things I was reminded of is: if the piece doesn't fit don't force it.
How many times do we try a force things to fit, to work; a career, a friendship or relationship, too small jeans. It just isn't going to work.
Find the piece that does.
I remember during Mark's last deployment, I went out to find some boots. There was this cute pair I really wanted. And they were my size.
Or so I thought. Becuase of the way the boot was made, I really needed a larger size.
I didn't want to admit that. So I tried to force that boot on my foot.
After a few minutes I realize, these aren't my boots.
If the shoe don't fit, (or in this case, the boot) it ain't your shoes.
Well, after a few weeks of searching, I did find just the boots I wanted. Costed alittle more, but better made and very comfortable.
Now I need to find another cute jean skirt to match it.
Enjoy your day :)
Well once again I'm up at 0:Early.
I know the reason; mourning.
Mourning the deaths of 13 Amercian heroes. As I learn of each of their stories, I realize how much we truly lost. A young woman who told her mother she was going to find Osama Bin Laden herself. A young woman having her first child, a baby that died before it was born. A soldier who was married two months ago. A 54 year Nurse Practitioner. This is what we as a nation have been robbed of.
That same evening I learned of the death of a sweet little girl, just 15 years old.
No wanted to discuss how she died or what happen. The silence told all. A few days ago I would learn the whole story. A story I already from the silence. I story I'd heard too many times having worked with teens. I hope this causes parnets to talk to their kids, I mean have real, heart talk with their children.
So I have been doing a lot of praying this weekend.
I rmember Amir and his Baba from The Kite Runner. Baba is explaining to his son that there is only one sin. Stealing. All sin is rooted in stealing.If you, you rob someone of thier right to know the truth. When you kill, you have robbed a husband, a wife, children and friends of their love and support, you have robbed the world of a soul. You rob joy and replace it with grieve. Our actions do affect those around us; for good or evil. I continue to pray for all who mourn.
It is a new week, that means a new beginning. It's a nice sunny day and I need to pickup boxes for Mark's CarePackages and start getting them ready this week. I might even do some shopping for me as well.
I started a puzzle last night. The gathering of the animals for the Ark. I had brought the three part series a few years ago, but haven't don them yet. So this week is a good week.
As I worked, I was reminded of all the life lessons I'd leanred doing puzzles. It was something my sister, my mum and I could enjoy without War World III breaking out.
And one of the things I was reminded of is: if the piece doesn't fit don't force it.
How many times do we try a force things to fit, to work; a career, a friendship or relationship, too small jeans. It just isn't going to work.
Find the piece that does.
I remember during Mark's last deployment, I went out to find some boots. There was this cute pair I really wanted. And they were my size.
Or so I thought. Becuase of the way the boot was made, I really needed a larger size.
I didn't want to admit that. So I tried to force that boot on my foot.
After a few minutes I realize, these aren't my boots.
If the shoe don't fit, (or in this case, the boot) it ain't your shoes.
Well, after a few weeks of searching, I did find just the boots I wanted. Costed alittle more, but better made and very comfortable.
Now I need to find another cute jean skirt to match it.
Enjoy your day :)
Sunday, 8 November 2009
My Thought For the Evening
Lailia Tov;
It is the eveningtide here in Virginia.
I just finished a yummy suffer supper of pasta and sauce I made a few nights ago. Always better the next day. The kettle is on boil, plannig a nice cup of hot chocolate. My aunt Michael makes the best hot chocolate and I hope I do her justice in my efforts.
It is a quiet night here.
But then, it always is. Even when Mark is home.
For believe it or not, Mark and I aren't loud people.
Oh, we do know how to have fun, we have been out with friends and gotten into fits of giggles that causes heads to turn. But all and all, we know how to have fun and yet there is a peace in our lives. In our home. It is a peace one chose's, a peace G-d gives.
And even with Mark being deployed and we live our lives often moment to moment, I do have a wonderful life, one I would not trade for all the Mint tea in Morocco.
For my life is filled with purpose and love, joy that takes the string out of pain.
I once told Mark I would go with him through Hell itself; for I knew on the other side is Paradise. My devotion and love for G-d is even greater.
It is quiet in my house. It is peaceful and warm.
Yes, I miss my beloved. He is in my heart and I am in his.
It has been a good day and a good evening. I shall spend the evening with the Lover of my soul.
And hopefully, my beloved will call.
Night all.
It is the eveningtide here in Virginia.
I just finished a yummy suffer supper of pasta and sauce I made a few nights ago. Always better the next day. The kettle is on boil, plannig a nice cup of hot chocolate. My aunt Michael makes the best hot chocolate and I hope I do her justice in my efforts.
It is a quiet night here.
But then, it always is. Even when Mark is home.
For believe it or not, Mark and I aren't loud people.
Oh, we do know how to have fun, we have been out with friends and gotten into fits of giggles that causes heads to turn. But all and all, we know how to have fun and yet there is a peace in our lives. In our home. It is a peace one chose's, a peace G-d gives.
And even with Mark being deployed and we live our lives often moment to moment, I do have a wonderful life, one I would not trade for all the Mint tea in Morocco.
For my life is filled with purpose and love, joy that takes the string out of pain.
I once told Mark I would go with him through Hell itself; for I knew on the other side is Paradise. My devotion and love for G-d is even greater.
It is quiet in my house. It is peaceful and warm.
Yes, I miss my beloved. He is in my heart and I am in his.
It has been a good day and a good evening. I shall spend the evening with the Lover of my soul.
And hopefully, my beloved will call.
Night all.
A Bright, Bright, SunShiney Day
Shalom:
It is a beautiful November day. I walked out with a Peacock blue shawl, thinking the day cool and found within minutes I was carrying it on my arm.
I attended a service at the Church my friends attend. The sermon was wonderful and I enjoyed the hymns. I'm going to call later in the week and ask if I may come in and take pictures for my blog, A Jew With a View. The inside is amazing. I reconnected with my friends; it had been so long since we'd seen each other. Turns out the Church is starting an outreach to military wives and families. Something that is truly needed in this area.
Now that I'm home, I am planning a quick lunch and then getting down to the busniess of cleaning my house. One of the disadvanges of not having children, I don't have little ones for whom I need to keep myself and the home together for. I have to remind myself I have to take care of me, for G-d, for my beloved, for myself. And that included our home.
And it is a beautiful day for it; the Sunday is high and warm, there is a nice, soft breeze. A good day to draw back the curtains and open the windows.
LoveFromIraq: Your Son, Your Friends, Your Husband, The Killers#links
LoveFromIraq: Your Son, Your Friends, Your Husband, The Killers#links
Boka Tov:
This morning I got up bright and early.
A change of pace for me.
I have reconnected with some friends I lost touch with years ago and I am meeting up with them at their church. Which is a 20 minute walk from my home. It will be so good to see them again.
Then I come and clean the apartment. I confess, I have not been keeping tidy as I should.
No one is here to care.
And then I remember: I am Somebody and I care.
Chat with ya later.
Boka Tov:
This morning I got up bright and early.
A change of pace for me.
I have reconnected with some friends I lost touch with years ago and I am meeting up with them at their church. Which is a 20 minute walk from my home. It will be so good to see them again.
Then I come and clean the apartment. I confess, I have not been keeping tidy as I should.
No one is here to care.
And then I remember: I am Somebody and I care.
Chat with ya later.
Saturday, 7 November 2009
Captain's Visit
Getting ready to start my day. Soon I will go on patrol to look for suitable places to emplace a karez (an ancient form of water storage and distribution).
Mark
Lailia Tov:
Mark called me about an hour ago.
This is his second day at a Army Camp that, on a fact finding mission. On this Base, he can even get on facebook briefly and we were able to chat after we got off the phone. The above is the message he left for our friends.
Mark was telling me that one of the main problems in Afghanistan is water. It isn't that they don't have any; it is storage. Because of the mountians and the snow that is gathered, plus the rain, the people of Afganistan don't how to collect and store the water and snow that could reduce their water problem greatly. So today, Mark is going out into field with a gentleman who can help improve the water storage for the people and their use. This will go a long way in also improving the people's over all health as well as their crops.
As we were talking on the phone, LoneStar's I'm Already There, began to play. Mark said; "their singing our song."
It was then I realize I haven't sung to my husband since just before he left for Afghanistan. So I sang our song to my Beloved.
It felt good and he loved it.
It's moments like this that I miss the most.
Mark
Lailia Tov:
Mark called me about an hour ago.
This is his second day at a Army Camp that, on a fact finding mission. On this Base, he can even get on facebook briefly and we were able to chat after we got off the phone. The above is the message he left for our friends.
Mark was telling me that one of the main problems in Afghanistan is water. It isn't that they don't have any; it is storage. Because of the mountians and the snow that is gathered, plus the rain, the people of Afganistan don't how to collect and store the water and snow that could reduce their water problem greatly. So today, Mark is going out into field with a gentleman who can help improve the water storage for the people and their use. This will go a long way in also improving the people's over all health as well as their crops.
As we were talking on the phone, LoneStar's I'm Already There, began to play. Mark said; "their singing our song."
It was then I realize I haven't sung to my husband since just before he left for Afghanistan. So I sang our song to my Beloved.
It felt good and he loved it.
It's moments like this that I miss the most.
Friday, 6 November 2009
Me and My Sari
Lailia Tov:
First, thanks to welcome who is praying for the soldiers and their families at Fort Hood. We are still trying to wrap our brain around the fact that one of our would do such a thing. Right after this, I learned that a sweet young girl I knew had died that evening as well. Out of respect for her family, I cannot go into details, just ask for your prayers for her family and friends who are left to mourn.
This morning was the day of having my protrait taken.
Last night I decided to wear the Sari Mark brought for me at the Indian Feastival in April. He hasn't seen me in it and so I thought this was a good time.
A Sari is a strip of unstitched cloth, ranging from four to nine metres in length that is draped over the body in various styles. The most common style is for the sari to be wrapped around the waist, with one end then draped over the shoulder baring the midriff.
I'd wore it once, having finally learned how to wear it period. And I love the look.
However, when I arrived at the store, putting on my lovely garment, it had a mind of its own. I realize too late that the petticoat I chose was too heavey and fought againt the Butterfly soft material of my Sari. It took 35 minutes and then my hair, which had been spilling over my shoulders like waves, was a massive mess and I had to rebraid it.
Anyway, the shot was over in 20 minutes. It was a lot of fun and I truly hope Mark his latest "Pinup."
Tonight I am making roasted chicken with stuffing and streamed veggies for Shabbat Supper.
And thinking about my beloved.
First, thanks to welcome who is praying for the soldiers and their families at Fort Hood. We are still trying to wrap our brain around the fact that one of our would do such a thing. Right after this, I learned that a sweet young girl I knew had died that evening as well. Out of respect for her family, I cannot go into details, just ask for your prayers for her family and friends who are left to mourn.
This morning was the day of having my protrait taken.
Last night I decided to wear the Sari Mark brought for me at the Indian Feastival in April. He hasn't seen me in it and so I thought this was a good time.
A Sari is a strip of unstitched cloth, ranging from four to nine metres in length that is draped over the body in various styles. The most common style is for the sari to be wrapped around the waist, with one end then draped over the shoulder baring the midriff.
I'd wore it once, having finally learned how to wear it period. And I love the look.
Anyway, the shot was over in 20 minutes. It was a lot of fun and I truly hope Mark his latest "Pinup."
Tonight I am making roasted chicken with stuffing and streamed veggies for Shabbat Supper.
And thinking about my beloved.
Mail Call!Supporting the Troops: Keeping the Ft. Hood community in my prayers...#links
Mail Call!Supporting the Troops: Keeping the Ft. Hood community in my prayers...#links
For anyone who would like to send a card, teddy bear, blanket, to comfort a family, a frighten child, please go to the above link. Many say they support our troops; this family puts feet to prayers.
Laini
For anyone who would like to send a card, teddy bear, blanket, to comfort a family, a frighten child, please go to the above link. Many say they support our troops; this family puts feet to prayers.
Laini
Thursday, 5 November 2009
Murder At Fort Hood
Lailia Tov;
Around 1:30 p.m. at Fort Hood, Texas, there was an attack on Base, at this time, a lone gunman.
At first the reports were he was shot and killed. Now he is alive and in stable condition.
A muslim man in his late 30s, single, no children.
He joined the military agianst his family's wishes. After the War on Terrorism began, his views on the service changed. He did not believe we should be in Iraq and Afghanistan and fighting his deployment. He hired an lawyer to fight, but no go. He had hoped Mr.Obama would quickly return the troops from Iraq and Afghanistan. But when that did not happen, he began more angry and was known to exchange angry words about the war, about Amercia.
He had served in Walter Reed for six years, leaving the hosptial in July for Hood.
There are many Amercians, both muslim and non-muslim who are against the War, yet they do not set out to kill Amercian servicemen and women.
I have not written his name. By choice. For his has dishonoured and disgraced the umiform he once wore. He has killed his brothers and sisters, killed fellow Amercians. He has brought shame to his name, his family and his faith.
I pray for the families who have lost loved ones and for us; for the military is a family and one of our own has turned his weapon on his fellow soilders. A thing that is not done.
I am sure there are those who would try to explain or defend his actions.
Don't bring it here! I have a dog in this fight. I am married to a soldier, the daugher and granddaughter of soilders, the mum of a navy Chief. And the excuses don't fly here.
May those who died rest in peace and may G-d comfort the living.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)


