Today is Tell a Story Day!

"It takes a thousand voices to tell a single story." ~ Native American Proverb

"There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories." ~ Ursula K. LeGuin

"Stories live in your blood and bones, follow the seasons and light candles on the darkest night -every storyteller knows she or he is also a teacher..." ~ Patti Davis

Today is tell a story day. Everyone who knows me well, knows I love to tell stories. I will admit that every once in a great; great; while I will even add the teeny tiniest bit of fiction to a boring story to make it tell a little bit better. Never making up a lie but some stories just have to have a little bit of dressing I think.. For instance, The last time I flew I was searched over and over for what seemed like a hundred times..... ~ I was actually searched only three times! But being that they took a flip flop and my bra every time; it surely seemed like a hundred times and you have to admit that the first telling sounds better.... Today I am sharing with you a story that I wrote a while ago when I was sent some very detailed instructions by a friend. I was to write a story, at least two of the characters had to have names from the Bible but this could not be a Bible story. It also had to either be about the future or the past, and it had to be about re-incarnation. It also had to have a cat in the story. Not too much to ask for is it?? Only a very few people have ever heard this story before today and yet it is one of my favorites that I have written.

Please enjoy my story for today. Today; if you get the chance; tell a story to a child or maybe ask an elderly person to share a story with you. The elderly have so many wonderful stories to tell and not nearly enough youngsters with time to listen. Storytelling is fast becoming a lost art in this new world of cell phones and the Internet. I hope I will always have a story to tell and a willing ear to listen! Have a great day!
Patsy


A Bad Day to Be a Barber


Delilah was a barber. Not a beautician, not a massage therapist, not a tattoo inker. But a Barber! She hated it when people came into her shop here in the green zone and asked for any of the other services. She had her red and white flag flying outside. Didn't that tell them that "Delilah's Den" was a barber shop? "Let today be a good one!" she said to herself as she turned the knob to enter her shop, "A good day to be a barber!"

She had discovered her career quiet by accident when she was four years old and had found scissors in her Mother's work basket. She had cut her brother, Paul's hair and it had been so skillfully done that her path had been decided by her Dada right then. Delilah loved cutting hair. She hadn't counted but she was almost sure she had cut at least a million heads.

"We're open again." she told her big, bronze colored cat. "You have to let me use the chair for a while."
" Yea Whatever." Cringle replied, leaping from the chair to lie along the window sill in the sunlight. Delilah laughed at him. " Be nice Cringle!" she told him " Not all cats have it so good!"

Delilah went about her morning cutting and trimming hair for the many men who came in and out of the shop. Tossing a mouse here and there to Cringle when she found them lurking in the beards of the old ones. Laughing at the same old jokes she had been hearing for years. Listening to the sad stories of love and hate that the men would share as they waited for their turn in her chair.

It was as if she were an equal with them. She liked that feeling. Delilah liked feeling equal with the men. She wondered how much longer she would hold that joy, a joy unknown by most women in the green zone.

Delilah's Mother had warned her that Dada was looking for a mate to match her with. She hoped to put him off just a little bit longer. She had hoped to marry for love like her parents had. She knew that love was rarely found any more but still she hoped. Her brothers had both been matched by the old ones. Paul to a lovely young girl from the red zone who had been traded for food; and Noah to a ship builders daughter who had wound up here, an orphan, when the family's ship had crashed. They had been traveling to the red zone from the blue zone far away. It was possible that Ruth had left family behind in the blue zone, but that wouldn't matter here. Since she had no cat to look after her she had been declared an orphan and had been mated just as soon as the old ones could find a single male who would take her as his mate. Even though her brothers had both been matched by the old ones, they seemed happy. Their wives were grateful to be counted as wives and not as orphans. Both families were expecting their second sons this year; their first sons now several months old.

Delilah knew Dada would make sure the old ones made a good match for her as well but she wanted to hold off just a little longer. She was only twenty seven ages this year. She still had a little time. A little time to find love.

Cringle lay in the warm sunlight and worried about his lady. He knew she would never be happy matched with any man without love. He dreaded that day for them both.
"Delilah?", Cringle asked, When I have to become a house cat, will you still allow me to talk?"
" OH Please Cringle!" Delilah muttered, " could I or any mate they might match me with stop you?"
"Probably not!" he answered rolling away with a swish of his long tail and swirl of worry hanging over him. Cringle had been around. He knew that most house cats were silenced unless they were sent by their mam to carry a message to her mate. Most men wouldn't allow their wives to continue her special relationship with her cat once she had been mated to him. Why even Dada had silenced Mother's cat for a full month last year after it had repeated to Mother some words it had over-heard him say. " Let him try!" Cringle muttered to himself, turning his eyes to the street; watching the men and the occasional cat carrying a message hurrying by. "Just let him try!"

Delilah picked up her sweeping stick as Cringle closed his eyes for a nap. She always cleaned the shop during lunch time. No men would visit the shop for those two hours. The single men were somewhere seeking a mate and the mated men would be in their own huts, mating or resting and having a cup of tea with their lady. Sweeping floors and dusting counters, she was unaware of the vision she gave to the watcher across the way. The silvery hanging orbs that the customers used to look at themselves captured her beauty and tossed it back to the watcher. Her hair hung in raven waves to pool softly around her slim hips. Her green eyes flashed as she talked and laughed with her beast.

"I'll silence that soon enough." Sampson said to himself. " No cat will hold such a high spot in my mates heart." Sampson was spoiled. The son of a rich man and his lady, Sampson had always been given what ever his heart or body desired. Today he had decided that he desired the beautiful barber. He had decided that he would have her for himself. " Very soon..." he promised himself. " Very soon you will belong to me. I will pour my body into yours. I will pour my life into you. Very soon You will do as I say!"

Delilah pulled the brush again through the long thick hair hanging over the stranger's shoulder. His locks hung almost as long as hers and not a mouse to be found. Something very strange was going on here. Delilah knew this was no ordinary man. He had come striding into the shop demanding a brushing as soon as she had re-opened. He had slammed through the front door disturbing Cringle and causing him to roar. Delilah couldn't remember the last time she had heard the big cat roar. Even now he was eyeing the stranger with Hatred. Something seemed almost familiar about this stranger, she felt that she knew him deep with-in her soul. Delilah joined him in a delightful shiver as his eyes met hers reflected from the orb hanging before his face.

"A trim stranger?" she asked seeking a truth in his eyes. " or just a brushing?"
"I'll have a trim." he agreed " But silence that beast!" he added with an authority not yet his
"or I will!"
"I would know your name stranger" she said as she reached for her bearding knife I would know your true name."
"I am Sampson." ha said, realizing too late that he was out numbered by the lady and her beast.
"I am Sampson of Nazarii" he repeated as her bearding knife sliced his throat; his life blood flowing hotly across his belly and down; forming a scarlet puddle at Delilah's feet.


"Pull her up Gabe!" Sampson said, sucking in the sweet breath of life that had been restored to him as soon as he had reached this place. "Pull her up before a customer finds her there."
"The boss won't like it" Gabriel said "Why do you always have to bother the cat."
" You know she has to finish this life," Michael added from the shadowy corner of the room.
"Why?" Sampson insisted. " She Killed me again. We may as well go ahead and start over right now. Sooner or later she will get it right." he added, " I know she will. Give her one more try."

"You win Sampson" Michael said flicking Sampson straight away into the arms of a new Mother, "You Win."
"The boss is not going to like it" Gabriel repeated , worried that he would be blamed. "he's going to be angry!" he added with a shudder " I hate it when he's angry."
"He won't be angry" Michael replied hopefully. "just pull them up and send them after him. I'll go talk to the boss."

"Hey Michael?" Gabriel asked ; his hand hovering over thew two heart stones blinking as one in the life orb. " They almost had it this time didn't they? It's him that needs to change isn't it? Will they get it right this time?"
"I hope so!" Michael said as he reached the door. " What are you going to tell her when she gets here?"

"I think," said Gabriel with a chuckle and a lop-sided grin, That I shall say it was a bad day to be a barber!"


written by: Patricia Sawyer
2-7-2008

Blessings Rambling Through My Mind Today.!

" Our Greatest Glory in not in never failing but in rising up every time we fail." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson~



" Expect trouble as an inevitable part of life and repeat to yourself the most comforting words of all " This too shall Pass." ~ Ann Landers~





Troubles of one kind of the other come to every single one of us at some point in our lives. For some of us it seems to be a constant companion but it visits us one and all. It likes to surprise us. We worry over our children fearing they will find trouble. But Trouble will always find them. For some of us we also have the extra trouble of worrying over our parents. Maybe they are old or just forgetful. Maybe either the children or the elder is Ill? Illness in the lives of either can devastate us.



Illness in our lives can bring financial difficulties. Sickness can strike quickly and wipe out any savings quick as a wink. For those without savings even minor illness can spell disaster. I have heard many people say that they can't afford to be sick. I have tried and I really can't think of any one, That I know, who can afford to be sick. But Sickness passes. Most people do recover. The debt is repaid even if it is done slowly.



Most of us feel afraid sometimes. We fear many things. We fear what we don't understand. We fear the future because we don't know what it will bring to us. Will it bring Blessings? Will it bring Troubles? We are scared to imagine what it might deliver to us. We can also fear the things we have already lived through. If you have survived a violent storm you may become afraid of even the mildest thunderstorm. I actually like storms myself, but I understand why some people don't. I'm sure if I ever survived a really violent storm I would feel differently about them too. Some people fear flying, some fear heights. Some fear bugs or spiders or snakes. I knew a lady who was in a car accident and who feared driving or even riding in a car for a very long time afterwards. People can fear absolutely anything. I personally am not afraid of many things. I hate crowds of strangers and mice. I am afraid of both. I don't know why. I Just know that I loath both of them. It is troublesome to fear crowds. That means I hate malls and Christmas shopping. I do those things but they are hard for me.



When we are young we often fear failure. AS we get older and look back we sometimes don't like the way things have turned out. Many things we planned while young , simply didn't come to be. Other things are different than we had hoped for. My Daddy used to say. " God works all things together for Good." What we thought was a failure maybe was part of a bigger and better plan. Daddy also said " Nothing beats a try, But a Failure, and nothing beats a failure, but a try, try again." I have tried and I have failed But I accept that. I have learned from my mistakes. I think That's what my Daddy meant. I have beat a failure By a try try again. I don't fear failure. I do fear not trying.



When my children were small we were often separated for periods of time. A hospital stay with one meant being away from the other two. I hated it then. I am not fond of separation even now. I hated the fact that Anthony lived on the other side of the Country till I went there for a visit. He misses us who still live here in this tiny town where he began life. He however loves it there. "THERE" has become his home. I realized that long before I visited there. I knew his heart was there long before I accepted it. When I visited him in his new home I accepted that he would Most likely always live there. Cooper joined him there this year. Cooper is still dealing with the separation issues in his own way. New Mexico may not capture Coopers heart like it has his brother's But I am almost sure that if it isn't there, It will most likely be some other place besides here. They aren't like me. They enjoy the crowds of the city. I don't. It is only miles that separate us. We talk to each other almost daily. Memories keep us close. Love binds out hearts together even though we are far apart.



I love my children. I loved them when they cried and I loved them when they Talked back to me. I loved them when they did what I hoped they would and I loved them still when they did what I prayed they wouldn't. I let them know when they did wrong. I even let them know loudly some times. But they always knew, even when they were in the wrong that I loved them. They didn't get into trouble often. I count that as a blessing! None have ever been in jail. I count that as a Blessing. I am also blessed that they are all grown now.



I am at a point in my life where I can look back and see some things that I thought of as horrors at the time in a different light. So many trials and troubles have become over time another blessing. Socrates said "Our prayers should be for blessings in general, for God knows best what is good for us!"

Sometimes troubles weigh heavy upon our hearts. Sometimes they cast a shadow that hides our many blessings. It is up to each of us to remember that our blessings are there. I was going to try to day to count my blessings but I ran into a Small problem. I can't count that high. Don't fear failure unless it's the failure to try. Remember you can only be separated from those you love by miles. Love is a binding bond. When you have troubles, meet them head on.
For troubles are quiet often the escort of another blessing. To the world I am sure that I do not appear to be a wealthy woman. My life is rich with blessings and joy. Have the courage to count your blessings. Troubles visit us all. Sometimes they seem to move in to stay. It is natural to feel scared. The most frequently repeated command in the Bible is ~ Be NOT Afraid~ and remember that no matter what the problem is, "This Too Will Pass!" Have a great day!
Patsy

The Long Way Round

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be. ~ Doulas Adams -( 1952-2001)

When I was around five I wanted to be a trapeze artist. I had heard of them from my brother David, He had been to the circus and seen one there. I had never seen one but I knew I wanted to be one. I would hang upside down from the top of our swing set and flip and pose for the entire Back yard to watch in wonder. Of Course the only watchers were the chickens and hunting dogs But still I put on a pretty good show. My brother Frank saw me from the garden where he was hoeing one day and with some rope and an old broom handle he made me a swing high up in the China berry tree. I would climb up the boards he nailed to the tree and climb out onto my swing and practice my moves for hours. I could hear the roar of the crowds and the applause in my young mind. I just knew I would be a famous circus performer one day.

A few months later I decided I wanted to be a ballerina. Jimmy nailed a couple of wedges of wood across the back of the smoke house and after adding the handle from daddy's best shovel he declared that it was now my studio complete with a practice barre. I had discovered Ballet while looking through the New World Books Daddy had bought from a salesman. I would hang onto My barre in the back of the smoke house as I ignored the canned goods lining the walls and the ropes of sausage hanging from the ceiling. I could do all of the basic moves. I could twirl and stand on my toes. I was convinced I'd be a great dancer some day.


I was always changing my mind about what I wanted to be. When I got an easy bake oven I swore I would be a great chef some day. My Oldest Sister Trudy would help me mix up cakes and I'd bake one of the cookie sized cakes for every member of the family. I loved My oven till the light bulbs Burst inside the little oven and Daddy took it away. They made a new version after My own children came along. Both my daughter and my step daughter had their own. They too wanted to be chefs for a short time!

I wanted to be many different things. But I always from my first day of school wanted to be a writer. When they made me read ~run spot run ~ I wanted to be a writer. I told the teacher, Miss Dunbar that I would write better stuff than that . I despised Dick and Jane. I whined over Sally and Spot. Finally Miss Dunbar gave me a book from her shelf. It was called " The Big Yellow Umbrella". She told me that if I could read it and tell her what it was about she wouldn't make me read Dick and Jane any more. I read her wonderful book about an Umbrella and was in love with words. From the day I stood in front of her desk with my hands clasped behind me and told her about the book that she didn't think I could read, I never had to read Dick and Jane again. Miss Dunbar was a great teacher. She realized that I had five siblings older than me. She realized that I might already know how to read some words. She even allowed each of us to write something for the class to read aloud. My sentence was " One day I will be a writer and write sentences that will be read a lot by other people." I was the only one who could read it. But Miss Dunbar let me read it to the whole first grade class. I thought they would cheer; they frowned at me.. They called me names. I was different they said.

I was in love with words. I would read every word I could find. I would write words on the wall inside the smoke house when I was supposed to be practicing my Ballet. I would write words in the dirt with a stick beneath the shade of my china berry tree. The rope and broom handle swing rotting away above my head. I wrote poems and stories for my neighbors children and later for my younger brother and sister. I wrote extra stuff for school. Sometimes writing two or three for each assignment then choosing what I thought was best. I even decided to change the smoke house from a ballet studio to a writers studio. Dragging myself a peach crate in there and setting up my own office. I was going to write a mystery book and My sister Mary who was handy with a pencil and could draw anything at all was going to illustrate it. We were talking about it a while back she thinks we could still write a book like that, maybe one day we will..

And then I became a teenager. I was a good teenager. I always did my chores. I helped out in Mama's daycare center with the small kids. I loved to read them stories or make up stories for them.My youngest brother Reuben,would beg me for stories and I would make them up as I went along. I'm sure sometimes I had facts confused but little kids didn't care they loved my stories. I would write things for school and the teachers would tell me that the stories were wonderful, But that I HAD to write in proper form. I hated that too. It was as bad as reading Dick and Jane. And then I discovered the boys. Writing wasn't as interesting to me as were the boys.

I got married the first go round at sixteen. That marriage lasted for eighteen years. I actually did a good bit of writing during those years. Besides the stories I wrote for My oldest son , who came along when I was almost nineteen, I actually wrote a few times for money. I wrote for a newspaper for a while. My Sister-in-law, Camella, and I often working together. We liked to expose things that we thought were secrets or injustices. We would sometimes cause a stir here in this small town. People thought we were trouble makers. I wrote short stories for a couple of magazines and was published quiet a few times. But even though I was writing, I was way off track. Life wasn't taking me where I wanted to go. I wasn't headed in the right direction and I knew it. But I was; I thought; trapped . Finally I bought a lock box and pushed everything inside it and found me a job in a factory. Living takes money and writing was just for fun. And I was a mother with a child so I had to have steady money. I would write sometimes on my napkin as I ate supper in the green walled cafeteria where I worked. I would toss the napkins into my box at home and never look at it again. I wanted to write but I couldn't, life was leading me down another road.

Life took a big turn for me in nineteen ninety. My youngest child Emily was born just after the new year. Emily was sick from day one. I had two other children too and they had almost become my Mama's kids. Anthony was twelve and Cooper was sixteen months old. I was at the hospital and they were with my parents. I missed them But life was taking me where it wanted me to go. I wasn't writing now. I was to busy worrying about my sons, watching over my daughter, and learning to be a single Mother. I was divorced with a sick child and two sons besides her. I was way too busy to write.

I did keep a diary all those years. I pulled out some of the old ones a few months ago. I laughed about some of the things I wrote there. Entry's like ~Thanks God Cooper isn't a midget~ caused me to roll across my bed as laughter pealed from my lips. Cooper is well over six foot tall. But I remember when the nurse told me they thought he would be a midget. They measured him constantly until he grew a tiny bit.. He grew slow.. He took the long way round to get there but now he is Tall. Other entries caused me to cry. ~ Mike died cause we didn't match~ caused me to hang my head and weep remembering the little boy who was Part of Emily's cancer support group. We were all tested for a bone marrow transplant but none of us matched. I was devastated when he died. I was so afraid that Emily would be the next one to go.. And yet she recovered and will graduate from high school this year.

I married for the second time in nineteen ninety four. This Husband, who remains the best thing in my life, came with two more children and a whole lot more work required as a stay home mom. And even the diary stopped for many years. I didn't miss writing. I was way to busy being a Mom and step-mom and wife. I was off on a new path. I read every thing I could get my hands on and I even have some books where I wrote an extra bit in the back. I guess I didn't quiet like the ending of those so I "fixed" it. But I wasn't doing any real writing.


Last Summer, Dave and I went to the beach for a week-end, Taking Cooper and one of his skater friends along. Dave and I were going for a relaxing rest and the boys intended to skate. We even checked into a motel right across from the skate park so that they could run across to it without us having to drag them every where. Something happened that week-end. I was watching Dave sleep and the boys were skating. words began to pour through my mind. I hunted a pencil and searched the room for paper. I finally found a pen but no paper. I made so much Racket that Dave woke up and offered to take me to wal-mart to get what ever I wanted. He had that, I think she's lost it look on his face but still he was willing to haul me, in my crazy state, to wal-mart. I was ready and in the car before he could get his shoes on. I bought paper and two pens. I bought a folder for finished stuff and a pencil with a packet of erasers in all shapes and sizes. Rushing to get it all and get back to the room Just as my mind went Blank. I managed to hold on to one poem as all the other words ran away. But they were only hiding for the week-end.

I have wrote something every single day since then. I have learned something about me too. I was always a writer. I was writing when I rocked Emily in intensive care and told stories that the nurses would sometimes stand still and listen too. I was writing when I explained to my children that sometimes people just have to move into new houses and families have to divide. I was writing when I explained to my new love what Life meant to me and how he would have to act if he intended to share this wonderful life with me. I was writing when I mitigated problems between his children and mine convincing them that we were all going to make it.. I was taking the long road, But I was headed in the right direction.

Last night I sat in my Baby sisters living room and watched her youngest son climb up and down on Dave's knee. He took a liking to Dave last night like never before. Dave has that effect on children sometimes. All of mine say he's a hero. His know he is the greatest dad. And I tell everyone he's my soul mate. Martha had been sitting quietly watching them, when suddenly she asked me. "Patsy, do you remember taking me, when I was little, to run through Emmett's wheat field?" I smiled because I had forgotten till she mentioned it. She talked about how the wheat felt so silky as it brushed against her skin. She said she remembered that I took her there and told her to run and feel the wheat brush against her. She said I took pictures of her there so we could remember the fun that day. She's ten years younger than me so her memory is better. I asked her where we were heading. She laughed and said.. " We were walking to Grand-ma's House." I frowned and said "well we were way off track for Grandma's house.. We could have been to Grandma's house quicker another way." She just laughed and said.. "Yea Patsy, But you ALWAYS took the long way round!"

My sister was right. I always took the long way around. If I was sent next door to borrow sugar I would go way out in the woods behind our house and then run back to the neighbors house. Being sent to grandma's house just a small distance away often meant a trip to the railroad tracks or through My uncle Emmett's fields. I always looked for something more. I was on the right track all along. I was just taking the long way around! Don't be afraid to try paths you haven't walked before. Never fear the unknown. Sometimes there is a short way to reach your destination. But I'm sure you will have more fun and maybe learn something extra if every once in a while you will take the Long way around! Have a great day!
Patsy

Happy Easter as time Marches on!

Our old history ends with the cross; our new history begins with the resurrection. ~Watchman Nee

Today was Easter. I have always loved Easter. When I was a child I loved the candy and the pretty new dresses and the New shoes. We knew the meaning of Easter. But we were Kids. We loved the other things that were part of the celebrations.We would hide Dozens and Dozens of eggs when we were children and then count the found ones over and over till we found them all. Daddy and Mama would take turns hiding them and then Us kids would run like wild thing to try and find them all. Daddy would give a dollar to who ever found the prize egg and we all wanted that dollar. I was one of the smaller ones of eight kids so I didn't Manage to get the dollar very Often. Both of our Grandma's would come home with us after Church on Easter. It was an all afternoon event. We would have so much fun together. But time marches on.

When We were grown and all of us had children of our own we would gather at Mama and Daddy's House and they would have Plastic eggs all filled with candy and always a Easter gift for every Grandchild. My Brothers would hide the eggs and our own children would run wild everywhere till all the eggs were found. My brother Frank was always the best hider. He would always pick out a very small child and walk around with them sometimes giving a nudge or a whisper when they were close to an egg. I once told Frank that he was cheating. He laughed and said He wasn't cheating he was assisting. Frank has one Grandchild now. Everyone knows when they see them that she is the apple of his eye. I hope they hid eggs together today. I hope they made memories. We each have to build our own History. Because Time moves on for all of us.

I was a single Mom of three for a few years. Those years were tough. I would hide eggs and they would find them. My two little monsters running around like crazy while the big monster laughed at them because he already had all the eggs spotted. Anthony would always give a third to each of the other two so that they all had the same amount. He was always a good sport. He didn't care about the eggs. I always gave him the dollar for the prize egg. He was older I figured he needed it. Then I remarried and Had a new Husband and two more children and Easter began to be another holiday that had to split between houses. And
I worried about what history that was bringing to my five children. We always tried to have something special with all of them on holidays and time marched on for us too.

All of my Children are grown now.. All five live somewhere else.I had one Grandson here this week-end with Me. Mason. Dave hid the eggs for Mason. Mason said Grand-daddy hid them too easy so he was going to hide them for us. We did our best not to just bend over and pick them up since they were in plain sight. Pretending we didn't see them. He was very excited that he was a better hider than Grand- daddy. Then came my turn to hide them. I walked around carefully looking for the kind of places we would find them when we were small. The kind of places My Daddy or my Brother Frank Might hide them. I laughed as they ran around looking in all the places they had already hidden them. They managed to stumble over all but four of them. I kept telling them. " I can see them from here." Finally Mason came and stood by me and looked around high and low and spotted one sitting carefully way up on a tree limb. He then spotted the two in the goldfish's waterfall. I laughed as they walked and re-walked all over this yard searching for the one egg. Finally after they had both gave up and were about to go inside I walked over to a tree stump sitting in the middle of a flower bed and next to the stump sitting in a yellow daffodil was the final bright yellow egg. I picked it up and tossed it to Mason. He said I was the very best egg hider this year. And I was happy because even though we don't always see it Mason and the other children are growing up And time still marches on.

Times Change. Families change. Lives Change. Holiday traditions change. My Easter's now are usually spent Just me and Dave here at home. This year for a change we had Mason here. We had fun with him like we haven't had in a while. Our own children Out grew Holidays Early. When children have to split Holidays in two houses that happens. It's no one's Fault It just happens. But We always made holidays special in our house. We dyed eggs even if it would be too late Easter to hide them when they all came home. We could hide them Monday. Fun is important to children. I do remember some times that I was in trouble as a child but Most of all I remember the fun times. So try as often as you can to have fun with a child. Who knows you might even enjoy yourself.. And better yet the child might with a grin and a hug declare you to be the best hider of the day! And Even time can't march faster than good memories. Time can't erase the loving history you build with a child!
Happy Easter!!
Patsy

Give me time.

Whatever you are, be a good one.--Abraham Lincoln

Wow. I sit here staring at my new blog page and suddenly I am silent. I know some of you find that hard to believe. Yes my children and My beloved Dave I am talking about each of you. I have always wanted everyone to hear me. Maybe this is the way To finally be heard by all.. I can imagine the looks of pure pleasure on all of your faces thinking of me sitting here with nothing to say. But just give me time. It will come. And I will be a blogger. I will be a good one! I will tell tales that everyone hoped I had forgotten. I will repeat stories that everyone else has long forgotten. And I will write new stories to be told and re-told from now till all blogs end. So I ask that you give me a little time to get the hang of this.. Then sit back and watch me roll.
Patsy