I should be dead but the Lord sustains me
I am grateful for HIS mercy EVERYDAY
I am alive because of HIM
HE has a job for me to do
I will follow wherever HE leads
In the midst of adversity we often lack the objectivity needed to see beyond our immediate pain and suffering. Hence, we fail to remember the vital truth that only a survivor of hardship can honestly comprehend. A truth that requires faith and patience; a truth that will set us free; a truth that is so simple and pure; a truth that ideally reads… ‘This too shall pass.’
If we look to nature, we see this truth as the circle or cycle of life: the birth, the growth, the beauty, the strength, weakness and frailty, the death. Then life springs forth again! Nature has come to terms with this inevitability but we humans resist or have somehow forgotten. However, the sooner we understand or remember that the cycle must take its course we’ll allow adversity to teach us new ways to survive – to seek strength – to rise after the fall revived – refreshed – renewed!
Here’s to new beginnings — Happy 2015!
Contents written 10/11/2010. Edited 1/1/2015 | Copyright 2015 Moylom Enterprises
My job requires me to be on the clock 24 hours per day, 7 days per week. I will never get fired unless I mess up majorly but yet my paycheck is very small and if I call in sick I don’t get paid. My responsibilities range from mundane, to silly, to absolutely disgusting and the only ones who truly understand my plight are those who work in the same field. Quitting is frowned upon and in extreme cases can result in short to long-term imprisonment — a huge deterrent in my opinion but some are simply too unqualified or irresponsible and the end result is to their detriment. There is no glamour, nor glory, very little thanks and a huge mountain of responsibility. To say it’s a juggling act is an understatement for it is not a job for the weak of heart.
I was never formally interviewed for the position, I simply showed up and was hired on the spot. I never received any formal training, which is sometimes scary beyond belief, but I simply use trial and error to figure things out as I go. There is no management to report to, per se — I am left to operate without supervision. But if something horrible goes wrong then the authorities are called and all the blame rests on me.
I tried to take a vacation once, seven years ago, but was informed that that was not allowed — even if I went to a vacation destination, I would have to pay for everything myself and I would still have to work. I gladly agreed to those terms since I desperately needed a break from the routine and if that was the only way to get it I’d just have to make the best of it. I had “fun” and vowed to do it again as soon as I could afford to but that day hasn’t come yet since the demands of the job have been extremely unforgiving.
I daydream of vacations more than anything else, or spa days or simply an hour or two to have my thoughts be my own. But alas, the only escape I have is when business is slow in the overnight hours and I can sleep for a little while, not soundly, but at least it’s better than no sleep at all. I’ve also found that reading and writing are great ways to escape but I usually have to trade sleep for one or the other — a very high price to pay given my impossible schedule, but the sacrifice is well worth it. I’ve since learned that the more escapes I can create for myself, as small as they may be, the better I am able to continue doing my job to the best of my ability.
One may find it hard to believe, but despite everything I’ve just described, I do enjoy my job. The level of satisfaction I feel far outweighs all the crappy stuff I experience — well, at least, most of it! And every time I try to hatch a plan to quit, knowing fully well I can’t without serious repercussions, I try to think of those marvelous times of great joy to talk myself off the proverbial ledge.
Recently, however, (perhaps a month or two ago) I stumbled upon a system that can give me the break I desperately need without getting me in too much trouble. Every Saturday I QUIT! I am on the job yes, but I don’t do any work. Well, there ARE a few things I MUST do, but beyond that I exert as little energy as possible. I call it “taking a mental health day” and by golly IT WORKS! By Sunday I feel so refreshed (a little guilty and apologetic too) that I’m back to “push til I crash” mode and all is well with the world. No (major) policies violated, no authorities called, no pending imprisonment, just sweet bliss!
Why I hadn’t figured this out before is beyond me, but I guess it has to do with my obsessive-compulsive-perfectionist-dysfunctional upbringing. My role models are all workaholics and it would appear that that has been encoded in my DNA for better or worse. I can’t see that something needs doing and leave it undone. I guess perhaps this is why I am so well suited for the job — perhaps why I was hired on the spot without a lengthy interview. Whatever the case, I’m here reporting for duty and thankful for the opportunity to serve as long as I’m needed.
I am a single parent.
Contents written: 12.26.2014 | Copyright 2014 Moylom Enterprises
We are all drawn to the defect within us that we see in others. Not necessarily because we don’t want better for ourselves, but because we need to know others are flawed so we can boost our self esteem.
For instance, a guy may see a beautiful woman walking down the street. He is absolutely captivated by her. He would give anything to meet her, date her, make her his own, but he hesitates. He thinks for a moment that he may not be worthy. He thinks there is no way such a beautiful woman would want to be with some one like him — so average. Then something interesting happens, she is absolutely lost, needs directions and she asks him for help. Bingo! She is no longer perfect. She is not all knowing or all powerful. She is human just like him and in this case can’t follow directions to save her life. He is no longer intimidated to ask her out. He no longer feels inferior, because as luck would have it, he is great at directions and leads her to the destination safely. In that instant her flaws are what made her perfect, for had she seemed infallible his self confidence would not have improved.
Initially he, as we all do, have an idea in our minds as to what perfect is. But in reality, we don’t want perfect, we subconsciously want ‘flawed’ since non of us is perfect, especially not when we compare ourselves to God. And what we seek isn’t really perfection but actually acceptance, respect, equality, connection — love. We all need it, we all want it, we all seek it, but so few find it or if they do it’s not a version they are happy with.
God knows all our flaws and doesn’t care for HE loves us just the way we are. HE stands with arms outstretched waiting to give us the sweetest embrace EVER! In fact HE KNOWS our flaws make us feel inferior to HIM but wants us to come to HIM to make us feel complete — to make us feel ‘perfect’. He wants to ease our pain, mend our broken heart, soothe our soul, calm our spirit, lighten our burden. HE wants to be our EVERYTHING! HE wants to hold us in HIS arms and never let us go. HE wants to be the one we run to, the one we choose to be our guide, the one we whisper to when we are afraid, the one we celebrate with when we succeed, the one we discuss huge decisions with, the one who is always first and foremost in our lives. HE wants to be our one and only GOD, our best friend our Savior. We are beautiful to HIM no matter what anyone else says. HE loves us unconditionally flaws and all.
Can you imagine what it feels like to be loved before you even existed? Well God loved us before we were even born. A love like that, so strong, so complete, so pure is by far the best love of all. The great thing is, God doesn’t need us to be flawed to make HIMSELF feel better for HE is already perfect. Instead, HE needs us to be flawed so we can be humble and accepting of others — perfectly flawed to love unconditionally the way HE loves us.
Contents written: 12.23.2014 | Copyright 2014 Moylom Enterprises
I’ve seen his face before… Perhaps on this same train… Not sure. I’ve always been drawn to him – to his face, not out of attraction but because of its peculiar shape – an upside down pear.
“What an oddly shaped head! ” I’ve always thought. But then I reconsider, ” what if he thinks my head is oddly shaped too? ” Then I smiled as I pondered my silliness and remembered that we were all beautifully and wonderfully made by our Almighty creator.
He made us different so we could learn to appreciate diversity. He made us different so we can understand the depth of his beauty. He made us different, each one of us unique – special in our own way.
So the next time I see that familiar face I will see it in a new way – – something beautiful – – a work of art!
Contents written: 12.11.2014 | Copyright 2014 Moylom Enterprises
I recently read an article that explained how to get a toddler dressed in 50 steps. I was immediately confused and intrigued and therefore understood why some persons commenting on said article were angry. Just reading the topic alone, like I did at first, makes the average parent say “HUH? Why so many steps? ” But after actually reading the article, I realized that it was meant to funny, sarcastic and an article that ONLY a parent (with patience) could read all the way through.
Dealing with toddlers isn’t easy. And because of the huge 14 year gap between my second and third child I had almost forgotten how terrifyingly frustrating it could really be. So, the only way to keep my head from falling right off my shoulders is to STAY ORGANIZED. Also, a little planning ahead of the actual “event” of getting dressed usually makes the process a lot easier.
Here’s my strategy :
So there! Five steps not fifty. Not as funny as the article, but a lot less stressful.
This post was based on the following article: How to Get a Toddler Dressed in 50 StepsBY SUMMER BELLESSA |
Contents written: 12/21/2014 | Copyright 2014 Moylom Enterprises
Insanity does not run in my family but the way I’m feeling lately I think it may very well be starting with me.
I’m broke – so broke that I’m behind on all, and I mean ALL my bills. I’m tired – tired to the point of feeling worn beyond my years. I try to sleep to separate myself from my worries, if only to seek solace in my unconsciousness, but sleep does not come because my mind keeps racing – it just won’t turn off the noise of my life. So I try to pray and for the most part all I can say is JESUS HELP ME! He knows all the details so why bore him. He knows I need help but sometimes He just wants us to ask. So because I am so ashamed and feel sorry for myself I cry. I cry uncontrollably to the point where I feel like I’m losing my mind. I cry because I know I’m supposed to put my troubles to God and have faith that He will deliver me in His own time, but my faith is weak, so I ask His forgiveness as I cry.
I cry a lot now, mostly in the shower when I think no one can hear me or wouldn’t discern the noises mixed and muffled among the other shower related ones. Or when I lay my head down to sleep praying to God for a miracle, the tears trickle down my cheeks, slow at first, then fast as though in a rush to soak my pillows as if to keep me awake even longer with the mundane chore involved in replacing the wet with a new one that’s dry. But why bother, it will soon be wet again.
I don’t like crying. Some say it is good medicine for the soul. Some call it therapy. I say yes to both, for the flood of tears releases pent up emotions which I cannot process and for which I have no solution. But crying makes my head hurt. It makes my eyes puffy. It makes me feel ugly and helpless. I don’t like feeling weak. I don’t like having to depend on others to help me. And I most certainly don’t like bothering God with my little problems. Why can’t I be tougher? Why wasn’t I born into a rich family? Why am I alive?
I remember when I was younger that my tears used to be of a broken heart — of young love – a boy. Or my tears would be for the simple sadness for the loss of a loved one. Very rarely were my tears of joy except when a lot of blood sweat and tears had gone into a major accomplishment. But now my tears are of deep sorrow: the loss of a marriage that was based on a lie; the loss of all the love that I gave but never got back in return, at least not truly; the loss of all my possessions as I start all over from scratch; the loss of my feeling of safety as I now feel like I must live my life in hiding to survive for the sake of those that remain to put the pieces back together – my children. Alas, I cry because this is not the life I expected, not the life I imagined, not the life for which I asked. I cry because the overwhelming sadness I feel only surfaces when my strength is low and my will to survive is being challenged by forces beyond control.
I survived a lot. But in retrospect the key word is SURVIVED. At the hands of the one I loved I was assaulted, raped, cursed and left to hide in shame – to retreat in fear. But I did not retreat. I hid only long enough to resurface to face him — to tell my story IN COURT. The first day I saw him I trembled inside for all the horrid memories surfaced so fast as if to burst out of me and into the sky. But I prayed and God gave me the strength to press on, to face my fear, to face the monster of a man who promised to be my everything but instead caused me to lose it all. I faced him that day then never saw him again. The trial ended with a hung jury and then I cried.
How could they after seeing all the images of my attack, after hearing me pour out my soul, after hearing him tell so many lies, have the nerve to say, even partially, that what he did to me was okay? How could I face him again for a new trial? My lawyer’s answer to my questions astounded me to no end. She said that because I am articulate and able to explain myself well and obviously have a hire level of education than he does it is quite possible that all those attributes, though desirable, may have worked against me. Some may think that I used my intellect to get him to do this to me. Huh?
The irony is that I don’t consider myself that intelligent, at least not to the level to which she eluded. I never even finished college, although that was for financial reasons, yet I never finished! And since when is it a crime to be intelligent? I was furious! I could not believe what I was hearing — And then I cried. I cried so much my chest hurt…as though my heart was about to burst. But reality soaked in. I had kids depending on me to care for them and keep them safe from all the chaos that was now spinning uncontrollably all round me, around us. So I picked my self up, prayed, put one foot in front of the other, prayed and kept on praying. They needed me to be strong and the only way I could do that was to hold on to God. I needed him to carry me for my legs were weak, my heart was frail, my spirit was broken, my soul was sore. I ached all over emotionally — the agony was unbearable — And so I cried. I cried out to Jesus to save me.
A few weeks later I got a call from my lawyer. My ‘so called husband’ was arrested for possession of a weapon. No one knows for sure what he planned to do with that gun but you and I both could justifiably imagine what he planned to do. He was coming for me — To shut me up; To end the nerve I had to speak ill against him – me a little black girl from the country, how dear I speak ill of him to an open court? Him, a white man of much more significance than I ever could be – at least I’m guessing that’s what he thought for that’s the way he treated me in the end. But little did he know that while he was planning to shut me up, God was planning for him. I cried out to God and HE saved me – HE saved me from my husband, HE saved me for a purpose, HE saved me because there was a job HE needed me to do. He needed me to stand my ground and fight for my right be treated as a human being and not be silenced by violence. I am not a rag to be used and tossed aside; I am a human being who did nothing to deserve the poison which he spewed from his mouth upon me – the verbal abuse (while pregnant), the mind games, the constant trying to get me to spend more time with him and less time with my family or friends. The good Lord knew all and answered my prayers.
So today I am thankful. Thankful for it is my belief that God allowed these circumstances to befall me to draw me closer to HIM. He saved me so I can sing of HIS mercy to others, so I can teach HIS love to my children, so I can remember each day that life is a gift – a precious gift we should never take for granted. I still cry on the tough days, when the burden seems too much to bear; when my mind feels frazzled by the frustration single parents know all too well; when my body is so tired I can barely get out of bed. But I am also learning to sing — to praise the wonderful name of the ALMIGHTY, for without him I would not be alive today. I am safe in the arms of JESUS , I need not fear for HE is with me always – even when I cry.
Contents written: 12/9/2014 | Copyright 2014 Moylom Enterprises
She looked up and saw that I was there – – in the room, close by. There for her if she needed me: her mom, her comfort, her guide, her provider, her protection. So she lay her head back down and drifted off back to sleep confident that she was safe – – no reason to worry.
So, like her, I too lift my head up and see that you are there. You are my LORD, my heavenly Father, my strength, my comfort, savior, my provider, my guide. I have no reason to worry.
You know everything about me: the good, the bad, the awful but you love me anyway. You’ve shown mercy and blessed me in so many ways my mind can hardly comprehend. And like the diligent father you’ve scolded me when I’ve done wrong. Your unconditional love floors me.
My humble desire is to always find favor in your eyes so I may one day see you face to face — to be with you, my heavenly Father, forever.
Contents written: 12/2/2014 | Copyright 2014 Moylom Enterprises
So this week I witnessed something wonderful. My daughter and I saw a caterpillar crawling along the wall by the kitchen window and deduced we may have brought it in with us when we picked flowers earlier in the day. So we decided to take care of it — give it food and water and a place to live – a covered bowl with air holes into which we put leaves and water in a bottle cap.
The next day, to our amazement, the caterpillar wasn’t moving! It had crawled under a leaf and appeared dead. We were both a little sad but I decided to touch it just to make sure. Fantastic, it was still alive! Upon further investigation, it turned out it had shed its skin and its shape was slowly changing. We kept observing for a few more days, all the while doing the touch test to make sure it was still alive. Amazingly, shapes of little wings were becoming visible. It was transforming into a butterfly.
I wasn’t sure how long the entire process was supposed to take, and kept forgetting to do the research. And then TODAY we saw the butterfly! It was healthy, and beautiful. My little munchkin wanted to do the honors of releasing her into the sky and so she did. And then our little ‘foster child’ flew off ready to live the next chapter of its life. Transformations are wonderful. Nature is wonderful. Life is wonderful. There is still beauty amid the chaos you just have to know where to look. Enjoy!
Contents written: 8/23/2014 | Copyright 2014 Moylom Enterprises
I have three kids: nineteen, seventeen and two. I also have a dog, age eight, so technically I have four kids. Of the four, my two year old is by far the biggest handful. She’s loud and boisterous, plays really rough, tosses clothes and toys and anything else she can find and has the really annoying habit of running off DIRECTLY TOWARDS THE STREET! These are the things that annoy me the most since I fully expected, from previous experience, to deal with the issues of tantrums, fights for independence and resisting authority. The problem is, I’m struggling to stay sane since she’s throwing so many other behavior issues at me that I didn’t have to deal with with the other kids (boys), at least not until later. It’s almost as if she is developing at a much faster rate than the boys and now that I’m much older and slower, albeit wiser and more patient, she is throwing so much at me at once I’m feeling out-matched and overwhelmed.
There are days I can DEAL and keep all the madness in check: barking orders, explaining consequences for bad behavior, doling out punishment for ignoring aforementioned consequences, and of course executing executive orders since I am the president and commander in chief of my household. Then there are days I have no problem with her at all: she’ll be sweet, kind, respectful, and an absolute princess, which leaves me with a euphoric happily-ever-after feeling that I’m doing okay as a parent. However, there are times I can barely get out of bed just from sheer exhaustion and I have no fight in me at all. I’ll look at her having a meltdown over WHATEVER and all I want to do is have a meltdown of my own…just lay on the ground flailing around as I scream at the top of my lungs. Come to think of it, I might have to try that one day…
Well it’s safe to say that I’ve met my match with this little girl. She has made me question my sanity, and hers, on many occasions, and she has already learned how to push my buttons in ways that only her father (separated, soon to be ex-husband) knew how to do and that worries me tremendously. This behavior she exhibits at age two is the exact behavior he exhibits at age forty two which leaves me bewildered. Is it possible that his upbringing was a hit and miss, leave him to do whatever he wanted, no behavior correction type of parenting? Or was he just incapable of being trained despite his parents’ best efforts? Is this how my daughter will be in the next forty years regardless of my best efforts to instill values, decency and self control in her now? Or did something happen to her father to flip his script which transformed him into the monster he became? Either way I’m worried and I think for good reason– her genetic makeup is fifty percent his!
My mom, a hard-core christian, has taken it upon herself to pray consistently for her (and me) because she believes it’s only the mercy and love of God that can keep my monster child (my words, not my mom’s) calm and transform her into a decent human being despite having genes that give her a predisposition to be beyond control. Her brothers (from previous marriage) and daycare teachers think she’ll be just fine and say this is just a phase she’ll soon outgrow (from their lips to God’s ears). And I say, “This is war!” It’s messy, it’s exhausting, it’s ridiculously frustrating, and I’m not sure who’s going to ultimately win. I guess only time will tell and I am extremely grateful for that since I still have time to mold her. But in the mean time may God help us!
Contents written: 11/22/2014 | Copyright 2014 Moylom Enterprises