Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Sunday, August 25, 2019
Saturday, January 28, 2017
Mindfulness mindset
The following post was originally shared on JMgallery where I curate art, photography, images that speak to me. Today, these depictions focus on mindfulness which is an art within itself. The above captures my positive mindset and peaceful focus to allow me to become present in the NOW. To be appreciative of the WOW! Yes the quote and the image harmoniously flowed together to create a positive vibe sent out to the universe. I can't do anything constructive about my woes at the moment so you allow it to drift away. Efficiently filed to be handled effectively, like you usually do.
The art of mindfulness
Practicing the art of mindfulness is a lot harder than it sounds. In principle, you are meant to focus on this minute, this second. Building awareness of all things, people, events happening around you in the moment for the moment. Discipline and meditation are definitely helpful to reach this art of being at peace with oneself in the universe. Forgiving, forgetting and forgoing any despondency or regrets, do differently, and if only I had.
Visually, it is easier to center on yourself in the moment. I've gathered some art to forget bitter memories, beating up one's self for mistakes and least of all removing worry about tomorrow. All you have is this moment.
You ARE lucky.
You are here, you are now. What you do differently this very second can bring inner peace and thankfulness for what you have. No allowances for reflections of moments gone past, or fervour on what you desperately want tomorrow. All you have is today.
What can you do differently?
Discarding annoyance is a favor you gift to yourself. Opening up your mind and heart to others that may seem different to you is a gift of mindfulness.
Discover the secret
Let the past melt away. Forget about goals, dreams, wants, needs. What do you have in this present moment? Eyesight to enjoy beautiful images, hands to create beauty, ears to hear melodies that sing to your soul.
Beauty: from within
Is harmony between the heart and the soul, joined in symphony to bring inner peace. The best thing you can do is listen to your favorite music and gaze upon and marvel at the little things that center you, dissuade you from dwelling on the past or striving for that which is beyond reach.
Sunday, September 11, 2016
from ground zero
By Anonymous
By September 2001 I was in a daze. I had just removed myself as an identity synonymous with wife or mother. When you're in doubting mode, the world slows down. Too wrapped up in memeME for a change.
Mount Everest
Solitude was forced on me, not willingly sought. Caught in any 30 somethings years old. If you've ever read or watched anything on the topic of Mount Everest you'd know that it is very formidable and cloaked in disaster and death. Yet any story ever told that we would unanimously agree, from all nations, from all religions, on this fact then and now we would agree that the most bravest of accomplishment from climbing and surviving crown the peak of Mount Everest and sinking a flag at its peak.
Yet in each and every story there has always been one common denominator ::.... Can you guess what it is? I'm being charitable by making a clue front and centre:
Teamwork
Yeah, I know eh? Odd, weird, even interesting. In order for any singular one of us need others to survive. We are not a species meant to do anything but work as part of a major team.
Watching halfway between writing and @CNN 9/11 15 years later. We're you even aware? At what point did you become aware is uncanny when you think about it.
Live coverage
Forged a brave new world. It gave new meaning to live and unedited. I think I was presently OFF on 9/11. It defined solitude in an extremely captivating way.
United cause
Of those who want peace over violence outnumbered by a few percentage.
We watched it live, each to their own bittersweet or horrible spectacle 9/11 became. A flash forward by 40 years when one of the greatest Presidents the United States have ever known ::.... John F. Kennedy. Assassinated by his own people to 40 years later it being an attack of the people.
Majority rule
Would lean in favorite of I being horrific demonic act of the violation of peace. Because there is no world order that is policed more by the people instead of uniform. They'd agree, no excuses or explanation nor narrative allowed.
The act of 9/11 was an act of violence against unsuspecting innocent people. They weren't leaders, rule makers, of one particular race but separated by religion. The VERY thing that should empower the believers of anything, not one thing. Not divisible by anything other than right and wrong.
Anyone who is dedicated to their religion would not be told to kill or maim others is never permissible under any laws.
One day with incredible loss have united a nation once again. No other country in the world has had so many kicks at them (Pearl Habour, 9/11, New Orleans).
I admit that I've never really studied their civil war to gain freedom and democracy. Perhaps sharing enough their air from osmosis dusting me with understanding a little itsy tiny bit by following the news at home and abroad.
Contrary to misperceptions, Canadians consider abroad the same for the U.S. as anywhere else, Paris, Syria, Greece, India or you name it.
Blessings to all
I write about this to bow to the days leading up to then afterwards the tragic destruction in the form of two towers, symbolizing a very real threat to our safety and security.
If everyone could agree between right and wrong, what an amazing and remarkable place the world would be.
The Most Powerful Quotes Remembering 9/11 on the 15th Anniversary
– 0 COMMENTS
Last updated September 9, 2016
On the 15th anniversary of the Sept. 11 tragedy, remember and reflect with these powerful quotes.
“Even the smallest act of service, the simplest act of kindness, is a way to honor those we lost, a way to reclaim that spirit of unity that followed 9/11.”
—President Obama in a 2011 radio address
—President Obama in a 2011 radio address
“If we learn nothing else from this tragedy, we learn that life is short and there is no time for hate.”
—Sandy Dahl, wife of Flight 93 pilot Jason Dahl, in Shanksville, Pa., in 2002
—Sandy Dahl, wife of Flight 93 pilot Jason Dahl, in Shanksville, Pa., in 2002
“My older brother John lived [his life] in Technicolor. … When he walked in the door, the whole house lit up. And I’m sure heaven lit up when he got there too.”
—Anthoula Katsimatides at the World Trade Center site in 2005
—Anthoula Katsimatides at the World Trade Center site in 2005
“Five years from the date of the attack that changed our world, we’ve come back to remember the valor of those we lost—those who innocently went to work that day and the brave souls who went in after them. We have also come to be ever mindful of the courage of those who grieve for them, and the light that still lives in their hearts.”
—New York City mayor Rudolph Giuliani at the World Trade Center site in 2006
—New York City mayor Rudolph Giuliani at the World Trade Center site in 2006
“One of the worst days in America’s history saw some of the bravest acts in Americans’ history. We’ll always honor the heroes of 9/11. And here at this hallowed place, we pledge that we will never forget their sacrifice.”
—President George W. Bush at the Pentagon in 2008
—President George W. Bush at the Pentagon in 2008
“My father, Norberto, was a pastry chef at Windows on the World in Tower One. For 10 years, he made many fancy and famous desserts, but the sweetest dessert he made was the marble cake he made for us at home. … Whenever we parted, Poppi would say, ‘Te amo. Vaya con Dios.’ And this morning, I want to say the same thing to you, Poppi. I love you. Go with God.”
—Catherine Hernandez at the World Trade Center site in 2008
—Catherine Hernandez at the World Trade Center site in 2008
Friday, May 6, 2016
RE-POST from The Zeit
Finding alternative uses for vegetables keeps your taste buds guessing, and boosts your nutrition! Cauliflower contains sulforaphane, which acts as an antioxidant and helps detox your system utilizing enzymes. Cruciferous vegetables are believed to lower risk of cancer due to these beneficial sulforaphanes. Ricing or mashing cauliflower allows you to mold the flavors you desire […]
via I Mashed and Riced Cauliflower – This Is What Happened! — The Zeit
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Farewell 2015, bring on 2016
So close, yet so far away .... the count down to 2016 and the farewell to 2015. Time to fold up the bitter thoughts that may have lingered and shed its unproductive head. Syonara baby to all the naggy little irritants that floated above my head, ready to *PUFF* and become a cloud, waiting to pour the negative imaginations. Take a snow blower to the tenacious icicles that make you freeze, instead of live high on life. Hit those memories like a volleyball.
You know you have some, we all do. Granted, some seem to have more than others. Is it because they exhaust them, some appear to be too willing to share their grief? When so many others, will bottle it up and without a leak, the smallest of shaddow will egnite an explosion of rage, or rant, or retaliation. How calm those can seem unless you are around when it catches alight.
You wouldn't be harboring any resentment towards anyone or anything per chance would you? Sometimes masked in blame, you gurgle and ripple when a reminder flickers before you: a transit bus sign, a song soothes you before it reminds you of a time, when things were less complicated.
The burden of security. Laying in our minds in varying capacities. To one it may mean safety, while distinctions apart: a warm bed to sleep in, a healthy meal to eat, the last drag on the cigarrette and the final withdrawal of a needle. Where being clothed is always a choice and having clothes to wash and change is always a blessing instead of a chore.
To have hands to pick out vegetables or fruit because we are grocery shopping. The littlest things gone missing. New ones to be discovered.
Let 2016 be a time of peace. A peace of mind, a peace sign, a peaceful time. Void of explosions, where those in need are given safety and men and women are only friends.
Rejoice in the peace sign. Let it be renewed symbolism of hope. Those who want * P E A C E * have their wishes granted. Let art and music along with all means of expression carry that one unified theme * P E A C E * to you, to me, to your neighbour, to mine, to your church, to my prayers, to your job and all that entails: be paid, love what you do, help others become better.
2016 brings about a freshness and spirit. Avoid casting a noose around your neck called "Resolutions" that are high, wide and difficult to reach. Instead find steps you can make in that ultimate destination. Health equals exercise, mental health, security, love, vegetables, fruit and food we can learn to like.
Replace "Resolutions" with absolutions. Things that are possible for you to accomplish one minute, one hour, one day, one month, arriving at another year. You have cast aside the negative in 2015's wind, to allow the sun to shine on optimism, hope, pride, and opportunity.
Look into your left hand. It is almost time to blow the molecules left of 2015 away. Your right hand trying to force you to look ahead. Don't look down, look up. The horizon is changing with you at the wheel. Of your destiny.
You know you have some, we all do. Granted, some seem to have more than others. Is it because they exhaust them, some appear to be too willing to share their grief? When so many others, will bottle it up and without a leak, the smallest of shaddow will egnite an explosion of rage, or rant, or retaliation. How calm those can seem unless you are around when it catches alight.
You wouldn't be harboring any resentment towards anyone or anything per chance would you? Sometimes masked in blame, you gurgle and ripple when a reminder flickers before you: a transit bus sign, a song soothes you before it reminds you of a time, when things were less complicated.
The burden of security. Laying in our minds in varying capacities. To one it may mean safety, while distinctions apart: a warm bed to sleep in, a healthy meal to eat, the last drag on the cigarrette and the final withdrawal of a needle. Where being clothed is always a choice and having clothes to wash and change is always a blessing instead of a chore.
To have hands to pick out vegetables or fruit because we are grocery shopping. The littlest things gone missing. New ones to be discovered.
Let 2016 be a time of peace. A peace of mind, a peace sign, a peaceful time. Void of explosions, where those in need are given safety and men and women are only friends.
Rejoice in the peace sign. Let it be renewed symbolism of hope. Those who want * P E A C E * have their wishes granted. Let art and music along with all means of expression carry that one unified theme * P E A C E * to you, to me, to your neighbour, to mine, to your church, to my prayers, to your job and all that entails: be paid, love what you do, help others become better.
2016 brings about a freshness and spirit. Avoid casting a noose around your neck called "Resolutions" that are high, wide and difficult to reach. Instead find steps you can make in that ultimate destination. Health equals exercise, mental health, security, love, vegetables, fruit and food we can learn to like.
Replace "Resolutions" with absolutions. Things that are possible for you to accomplish one minute, one hour, one day, one month, arriving at another year. You have cast aside the negative in 2015's wind, to allow the sun to shine on optimism, hope, pride, and opportunity.
Look into your left hand. It is almost time to blow the molecules left of 2015 away. Your right hand trying to force you to look ahead. Don't look down, look up. The horizon is changing with you at the wheel. Of your destiny.
Monday, November 23, 2015
Footprints in the soil
I was first given the gift of the poem "Footprints in the sand" when I left a company with many friends, advocates and supporters about 15 years ago. It was the image from the same poem. Not long after, this poem was chosen by my mother-in-law for the keepsake for a man whom she had been married to for 40 plus years as her farewell gift of love:
Footprints in the Sand
One night I dreamed I was walking
along the beach with the Lord
Many scenes from my life flashed
across the sky. In each scene I
noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of
footprints, other times there was one only.
This bothered me because I noticed in low
periods of my life, when I was suffering
from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could
only see one set of footprints.
So I said to the Lord: "You promised me
Lord that if I followed you, you would
walk with me always. But I noticed that
in my most trying periods of my life
there have only been one set of footprints
in the sand. Why, when I needed you most
have you not been there for me?
The Lord replied: The years you have only
seen one set of footprints, my child,
is when I have carried you."
How lucky and amazing it is that one's farewell in unique circumstances and miles apart were given as a gift, as a send off to someone beloved or held dear.
I was thinking, how lucky one is when there is someone who wants to follow in their own unique path, with the imprint of your wisdom imparted to them. Really, footprints in the soil.
The soil, because of the wisdom can become deeply rooted in the receiver's philosophy to bloom at times of despair, discouragement and perhaps depression. We dig deep to find the wisdom of those before us to provide inspiration when we are grasping at something that we are unaware, yet desperately seeking.
How lucky one is to have someone who seeks your advice and an ear to listen as they sort out their feelings, their goals and struggling for a path or confirmation we are on the right one. We all wonder. We all seek guidance.
As we grasp for understanding for what unsettles us, we are seeking that one person who can understand our restlessness. Fortunate are those who find that person, whether it is a parent, a friend, a sibling, a mentor, spiritual guider or willing advisor.
When we realize that there is someone reaching out to grasp your hand to guide you upon self reflection and seeking understanding. Some people don't have that gift to receive. Others, don't appreciate that they have that gift to give.
Recognize that you have had agony, frustration and strongly desire to extend that guidance. When it is before you, take it. Similarly, don't disregard the kind words of encouragement or discredit the accolades that person extends to you. Remember you are not in the best frame of mind or self-belief. They may not be bias by love, but objective in understanding. You just may need those words of encouragement when you find yourself at the bottom of the valley with a mountain of optimism before you that you cannot climb on your own.
Help others plant themselves in the soil of your wisdom. Don't force upon them your passion for wanting them to avoid the same pitfalls you have found yourself in. That exuberance may alienate the opportunity for them to absorb your wish for them to avoid the same pain you have experienced. They have to be willing and accepting of your inspiration. They will not accept any words of encouragement until they are willing to embrace them. You may need to repeat those words more than once until they can see it for themselves.
Frustrating as that may seem, the want to clear the soil so that optimism may bloom, patience may be needed. Hold on dearly to their need to reach out as a small bud would in soil. You can nurture that need and wet their appetite to your desire to help them bloom. Reach their fullest potential.
You cannot force them to see. No matter how hard you try. No matter how much you want to help them avoid the pain that you have had. They will only accept the advice when they are open to it.
Don't take it as disappointment or a sign that your experience isn't worth listening to. Understand that it will sprout and bloom on its own accord and in its own time. Sometimes it is delayed, sometimes immediate. You nor them can bend it to your will. It happens at the right time.
Yes, you see the flower that is before your eyes. It may be that the flower does not see itself as such because it is merely a sprout and cannot see the beauty that is unfolding.
Patience is wisdom. Understanding is enlightenment. When they both meet, wonders can happen.
Neither can embrace it or help it to be without understanding the other's role in footprints in the soil.
Be thankful that you have someone seeking your guidance. Appreciate that you have someone whom you can reveal your deepest desire for them to reach their maximum potential. Together, you can uncover what may be hidden in a seed. Ready to bloom. Likely to flourish.
Footprints in the Sand
One night I dreamed I was walking
along the beach with the Lord
Many scenes from my life flashed
across the sky. In each scene I
noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of
footprints, other times there was one only.
This bothered me because I noticed in low
periods of my life, when I was suffering
from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could
only see one set of footprints.
So I said to the Lord: "You promised me
Lord that if I followed you, you would
walk with me always. But I noticed that
in my most trying periods of my life
there have only been one set of footprints
in the sand. Why, when I needed you most
have you not been there for me?
The Lord replied: The years you have only
seen one set of footprints, my child,
is when I have carried you."
How lucky and amazing it is that one's farewell in unique circumstances and miles apart were given as a gift, as a send off to someone beloved or held dear.
I was thinking, how lucky one is when there is someone who wants to follow in their own unique path, with the imprint of your wisdom imparted to them. Really, footprints in the soil.
The soil, because of the wisdom can become deeply rooted in the receiver's philosophy to bloom at times of despair, discouragement and perhaps depression. We dig deep to find the wisdom of those before us to provide inspiration when we are grasping at something that we are unaware, yet desperately seeking.
How lucky one is to have someone who seeks your advice and an ear to listen as they sort out their feelings, their goals and struggling for a path or confirmation we are on the right one. We all wonder. We all seek guidance.
As we grasp for understanding for what unsettles us, we are seeking that one person who can understand our restlessness. Fortunate are those who find that person, whether it is a parent, a friend, a sibling, a mentor, spiritual guider or willing advisor.
When we realize that there is someone reaching out to grasp your hand to guide you upon self reflection and seeking understanding. Some people don't have that gift to receive. Others, don't appreciate that they have that gift to give.
Recognize that you have had agony, frustration and strongly desire to extend that guidance. When it is before you, take it. Similarly, don't disregard the kind words of encouragement or discredit the accolades that person extends to you. Remember you are not in the best frame of mind or self-belief. They may not be bias by love, but objective in understanding. You just may need those words of encouragement when you find yourself at the bottom of the valley with a mountain of optimism before you that you cannot climb on your own.
Help others plant themselves in the soil of your wisdom. Don't force upon them your passion for wanting them to avoid the same pitfalls you have found yourself in. That exuberance may alienate the opportunity for them to absorb your wish for them to avoid the same pain you have experienced. They have to be willing and accepting of your inspiration. They will not accept any words of encouragement until they are willing to embrace them. You may need to repeat those words more than once until they can see it for themselves.
Frustrating as that may seem, the want to clear the soil so that optimism may bloom, patience may be needed. Hold on dearly to their need to reach out as a small bud would in soil. You can nurture that need and wet their appetite to your desire to help them bloom. Reach their fullest potential.
You cannot force them to see. No matter how hard you try. No matter how much you want to help them avoid the pain that you have had. They will only accept the advice when they are open to it.
Don't take it as disappointment or a sign that your experience isn't worth listening to. Understand that it will sprout and bloom on its own accord and in its own time. Sometimes it is delayed, sometimes immediate. You nor them can bend it to your will. It happens at the right time.
Yes, you see the flower that is before your eyes. It may be that the flower does not see itself as such because it is merely a sprout and cannot see the beauty that is unfolding.
Patience is wisdom. Understanding is enlightenment. When they both meet, wonders can happen.
Neither can embrace it or help it to be without understanding the other's role in footprints in the soil.
Be thankful that you have someone seeking your guidance. Appreciate that you have someone whom you can reveal your deepest desire for them to reach their maximum potential. Together, you can uncover what may be hidden in a seed. Ready to bloom. Likely to flourish.
"Just as treasures are uncovered from the earth, so virtue appears from good deeds, and wisdom appears from a pure and peaceful mind. To walk safely through the maze of human life, one needs the light of wisdom and the guidance of virtue."
~Buddha
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Lest we forget .... or NOT
Happy Remembrance Day to my fellow Canadians and anyone else who takes the time today to honor the bravery of all soldiers who fight for freedom and peace.
My father passed away 5 years ago and up to his last breath, was proud of who he represented, after 35 years with the Canadian Armed Forces. In our home, we were unable to forget.
This year marks the 100th Anniversary of one of the most well known poems "In Flanders Field" by Lt-Col John McCrae.
The poem is a poignant reminder to us. If not for the bravery of many men and women, our lives would not be the same today. It reminds us that those people were brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who gave up their lives for others.
In peacetime, we can all assume that the life of our military personnel are laid back, living day to day in simplicity and beyond the toils of having a corporate or artistic path. Yet, those who are given glimpses, with guarded privacy and confidential, there were and are still many who are sent on missions or tasks to uphold our freedom. They are not heralded as heroes and are obscure from the media eye that they too have done much to keep the evils of war at bay. Our safety taken for granted.
These same men and women should also be honored because they are behind the scenes to keep us safe daily. A day like Remembrance Day should also celebrate those who are never credited for what they encounter, what they do, in order to keep our lives safe and carefree.
As the daughter of my father, I know he went away for days, weeks or even months on assignment. It was the way of life, without questioning why. Unlike those who drive into an office, maybe work late, and come home at the end of their day, our military is often tasked with going away to do exercises, safety missions and peacekeeping. Some don't come home. They are a statistic and number who don't come home. Only the family and loved ones left to grieve. While politicians, media may have a glimpse of their bravery, they often go unheralded for what they continue to represent.
I am not minimizing the cause or bravery that stemmed the poignant poem of "Flanders Field". I just want to acknowledge and pay tribute that there are far more unofficial acts of bravery that go unnoticed, while we contently live our lives in the arrogance of safety. Sometimes, there is a mention by name, but more often grouped in a category that doesn't distinguish them from what they contribute, or the sacrifices their families encounter.
My skin crawls and the back of my hair stands up whenever someone wants to call me an "Army Brat". I find it distasteful and disrespectful to what my father had done. In his twilight years, he wanted to exorcise his memories and told us more stories of his life than we could possibly have known. The burden my mother had, raising four kids, primarily alone. My father's return quiet, unassuming and without fanfare. It was a way of life. Not anything I would have given up. I owe it to my father, to celebrate his contribution to our peaceful world.
I love you dad. I still miss you. You have not been forgotten.
My father passed away 5 years ago and up to his last breath, was proud of who he represented, after 35 years with the Canadian Armed Forces. In our home, we were unable to forget.
 |
| Lt.-Col. John McCrae, author of the famous poem 'In Flanders Fields,' wrote the iconic work after the death of a friend during the second battle of Ypres in the spring of 1915. (National Archives of Canada/Canadian Press) SOURCE CBC Canada |
This year marks the 100th Anniversary of one of the most well known poems "In Flanders Field" by Lt-Col John McCrae.
The poem is a poignant reminder to us. If not for the bravery of many men and women, our lives would not be the same today. It reminds us that those people were brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who gave up their lives for others.
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunsets glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
in Flanders Field.
In peacetime, we can all assume that the life of our military personnel are laid back, living day to day in simplicity and beyond the toils of having a corporate or artistic path. Yet, those who are given glimpses, with guarded privacy and confidential, there were and are still many who are sent on missions or tasks to uphold our freedom. They are not heralded as heroes and are obscure from the media eye that they too have done much to keep the evils of war at bay. Our safety taken for granted.
These same men and women should also be honored because they are behind the scenes to keep us safe daily. A day like Remembrance Day should also celebrate those who are never credited for what they encounter, what they do, in order to keep our lives safe and carefree.
I am not minimizing the cause or bravery that stemmed the poignant poem of "Flanders Field". I just want to acknowledge and pay tribute that there are far more unofficial acts of bravery that go unnoticed, while we contently live our lives in the arrogance of safety. Sometimes, there is a mention by name, but more often grouped in a category that doesn't distinguish them from what they contribute, or the sacrifices their families encounter.
My skin crawls and the back of my hair stands up whenever someone wants to call me an "Army Brat". I find it distasteful and disrespectful to what my father had done. In his twilight years, he wanted to exorcise his memories and told us more stories of his life than we could possibly have known. The burden my mother had, raising four kids, primarily alone. My father's return quiet, unassuming and without fanfare. It was a way of life. Not anything I would have given up. I owe it to my father, to celebrate his contribution to our peaceful world.
I love you dad. I still miss you. You have not been forgotten.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Monday, July 6, 2015
Angels among us
I was offline for a few days. Mostly because we had a wicked thunderstorm that took my internet and TV for a tailspin. TV I don't mind. You may as well cut my right hand off when it is the internet connection.
Funny how important being online becomes. Call it an addiction or a very strong desire to be connected. I'd like to think it is a little bit of both.
The other matter why I was distracted was because of a tragedy that struck my sister. I've been known to give her a lot of credit for years because she has the patience of a saint and is truly an angel among us. Both her and her husband.
As a bystander, sister, and family member, it has been amazing to watch how she could be a Foster Mom to special needs children and those nobody else would want to help. I have to sadly admit that if I were to lend a hand for a child, I would be inclined to help a fully functioning one. Not my big sis. She reaches out as a Foster Mom, with her strong religious beliefs to give her strength and her genuine big heart, to help those children that fall into "the system" because of the shortcomings of their natural parents. She has had kids envelope into her home that had moms that were prostitutes and abused. She has opened her arms to those that have severe disabilities that are scratched off of anyone looking to adopt a child because they want a brand new baby, like a clean slate, to enter into their homes. Not my sister. She didn't debate or reflect on the impact, she just brought them in.
I always admired her and her husband's patience, love and strength to bring a child into their home that was not of their making but to make the most of the child. It extended beyond them to their own three children who made it a part of their family and brought acceptance into their world.
Over the years there have been some sad situations these children were born to. They were never sad to my sister or her husband, they were children that needed help. They opened their arms, gave them their heart and absorbed their needs as their own.
We hear about Foster Parents. Often it is shocking, rarely is it about the ones that are angels. My sister is such an angel. Gifted with children as others are talented building businesses, amassing money, or finding fortune. She should be rich as a reward for what she has done for these many lost children from lost souls called parents.
The "system" takes these kids from parents that cannot cope with them. Whether it is because they have trouble with addictions, poor lifestyles, or simply unable to nurture the child that they brought into the world. Thank heaven their are angels like my sister who reaches out to bring them into her arms and love them. Unconditionally.
Such was the good fortune of a young boy when he was four. His mother had already four children by different fathers and she was only 24. Social services decided that she was not fit for this boy and he was put out into the system. Thankfully, my sister was there.
At four, he was unable to speak or communicate his needs nor accustomed to a loving home. That changed when he walked into my sister's home. He learned sign language and his frustrations were minimalized by just being able to express himself. Eventually he could say a couple of words, only a couple, yet Ma-Ma and Da-Da meant the world.
He had a unique smile and it reached the soul of anyone he shone it on. He had a goofy, fun personality that even my own kids grew to adore and accept. Our family knew that a visit from my sister and her family was sure to include him. It went without saying.
Lucky for me and my children, we learned from him. Sure he did things that were different - from a boy with special needs. Certainly, he had a contagious smile that allowed any of us to forget that. He touched others in a way that extended beyond words. He tested our boundaries on what is normal. He taught us acceptance.
This boy grew and grew. He was perhaps bigger than many his same age, with a bigger heart than most. Unfortunately, he started to have seizures. Often unprovoked, unexpected and without cause. This was distressing to my sister, but never faltered her love or commitment to help this boy.
This past week, on the morning of Canada Day, July 1st, my sister was making blueberry pancakes, the boy's favorite. Oddly, the smell didn't bring him to the kitchen so she asked her husband to go wake him up. Sadly, he couldn't be woken up. He had passed away during the night from a seizure.
My sister's heart is broken. He was the love of her life and every new gesture, sign or smile showed promise. It was never clear whether he was her angel or she was his. What was to be was there were two angels among us.
Funny how important being online becomes. Call it an addiction or a very strong desire to be connected. I'd like to think it is a little bit of both.
The other matter why I was distracted was because of a tragedy that struck my sister. I've been known to give her a lot of credit for years because she has the patience of a saint and is truly an angel among us. Both her and her husband.
As a bystander, sister, and family member, it has been amazing to watch how she could be a Foster Mom to special needs children and those nobody else would want to help. I have to sadly admit that if I were to lend a hand for a child, I would be inclined to help a fully functioning one. Not my big sis. She reaches out as a Foster Mom, with her strong religious beliefs to give her strength and her genuine big heart, to help those children that fall into "the system" because of the shortcomings of their natural parents. She has had kids envelope into her home that had moms that were prostitutes and abused. She has opened her arms to those that have severe disabilities that are scratched off of anyone looking to adopt a child because they want a brand new baby, like a clean slate, to enter into their homes. Not my sister. She didn't debate or reflect on the impact, she just brought them in.
I always admired her and her husband's patience, love and strength to bring a child into their home that was not of their making but to make the most of the child. It extended beyond them to their own three children who made it a part of their family and brought acceptance into their world.
Over the years there have been some sad situations these children were born to. They were never sad to my sister or her husband, they were children that needed help. They opened their arms, gave them their heart and absorbed their needs as their own.We hear about Foster Parents. Often it is shocking, rarely is it about the ones that are angels. My sister is such an angel. Gifted with children as others are talented building businesses, amassing money, or finding fortune. She should be rich as a reward for what she has done for these many lost children from lost souls called parents.
The "system" takes these kids from parents that cannot cope with them. Whether it is because they have trouble with addictions, poor lifestyles, or simply unable to nurture the child that they brought into the world. Thank heaven their are angels like my sister who reaches out to bring them into her arms and love them. Unconditionally.
Such was the good fortune of a young boy when he was four. His mother had already four children by different fathers and she was only 24. Social services decided that she was not fit for this boy and he was put out into the system. Thankfully, my sister was there.
At four, he was unable to speak or communicate his needs nor accustomed to a loving home. That changed when he walked into my sister's home. He learned sign language and his frustrations were minimalized by just being able to express himself. Eventually he could say a couple of words, only a couple, yet Ma-Ma and Da-Da meant the world.
He had a unique smile and it reached the soul of anyone he shone it on. He had a goofy, fun personality that even my own kids grew to adore and accept. Our family knew that a visit from my sister and her family was sure to include him. It went without saying.
Lucky for me and my children, we learned from him. Sure he did things that were different - from a boy with special needs. Certainly, he had a contagious smile that allowed any of us to forget that. He touched others in a way that extended beyond words. He tested our boundaries on what is normal. He taught us acceptance.
This boy grew and grew. He was perhaps bigger than many his same age, with a bigger heart than most. Unfortunately, he started to have seizures. Often unprovoked, unexpected and without cause. This was distressing to my sister, but never faltered her love or commitment to help this boy.This past week, on the morning of Canada Day, July 1st, my sister was making blueberry pancakes, the boy's favorite. Oddly, the smell didn't bring him to the kitchen so she asked her husband to go wake him up. Sadly, he couldn't be woken up. He had passed away during the night from a seizure.
My sister's heart is broken. He was the love of her life and every new gesture, sign or smile showed promise. It was never clear whether he was her angel or she was his. What was to be was there were two angels among us.
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