Undoubtedly Debra

Slowly, silently, you creep to the existence of my soul with subtle clues of direction, pointing the way. A word, a phrase, a comment.. all have meaning. Were the clues already present in my existence or suddenly did they appear as though a mist floating on the sea. You see, I like to ignore things. I like to paint pretty pictures of reality that assure me that life is safe, I am safe and all in my world is good, pure and right. The illusion of perfection is a fast running banshee that hides for awhile only to present herself with a fury of reality. There is light and there is dark. I prefer to live in the light but sometimes in doing so, ignore the darkness of her incessant influence on my life. There can be no light without dark. Dark sheds her skin like overwhelming sorrow, the loss of a loved one, the pain of a failed marriage, the sadness of watching someone you love in pain or a story of dire and strife in another's life. That darkness is taken within like the food that nouri

Recently a friend posted that losing a marriage is as though you lost a family member. It truly feels that way... its as though a limb or part of your being has been cut off. Something that you yearned for your entire life, to be a wife, to love someone unconditionally and be forever there for them is no longer a dream but rather a distant memory. It feels as though your soul is dying, the very part of you that was filled with joy and love for this person hurts as though it will never cease. It's like a bleeding wound that will never heal, a feeling so strong that you are certain it will swallow you whole. That was me. That is me. That will always be me. The friend said grieving is a process where we go through the loss of not only our spouse but the loss of our dreams and what we envisioned our life would be. I've been there. For the past nearly 9 years, I have hurt, cried inside and out, felt like I let down my faith, my family and all that I value. I've felt lost at

The sounds of country music and Alabama drifts into my subconscious delivering nostalgia that only some " Mountain Music" can. The words drift across the tip of my tongue with a Southern accent and a tapping foot. The sound of my daddy's voice as he strums the guitar, singing just like Alabama fills my mind with joy and of days gone by. I'm fairly certain, my dad sounds better than Alabama, can play a mean acoustic and electric guitar and knows every lyric to every country song that ever existed. I'm reminded of sitting on the side of the dirty tractor, the radio cranked up, riding the fields next to my dad singing country music. The smell of the freshly shucked corn, the sounds of the corn rustling in the wagon, the powder of it blowing on the wind. Reminded of times, working on on our farm, watching my dad deliver baby pigs and thinking, he can do anything. Always working, always watching, the memories of my dad. Sitting at grandpas pond,under the pine trees, ta

Growing up I was surrounded by beautiful, kind loving women that most often stayed home with their kids, baked cookies and dressed for church on Sundays. I was the one that read fashion magazines, dreamed of traveling the world and knew that God didn't care if I wore dresses to church, he knew my heart. A small town girl that dreamed of the city. A girl that couldn't wait to escape and see the world. The girl that felt at times like an imposter in someone else's life. I craved to meet people that were different then me, visit places I'd never been and do things I'd never done..In many ways, I dreamed of being exactly where I am now. Blessed to have a strong, powerful group of women to raise me, they lifted me up when I cried, made me strive to accomplish goals and taught me how to love others and spread God's word through actions. Looking back, I remember the first time I knew my mom was a powerful woman. She was going to school full time, working a full tim

Nightly I pray before I go to bed, sometimes I pray my childhood prayer, others I pray for a list of those that need prayer more than I do, often I pray for peace. I pray for his will and I too have prayed for you. My prayers are for that someone who I can pray with, pray before bed, pray before food, he who holds my hand in church and prays with me. One who loves my loud, silly hymn singing and doesn't care who hears me raise my voice to the heavens. One who loves the tears I shed as I listen to the sermon because I literally feel like the guiltiest person ever, always needing to be better. One who understands my innate need to help others, go feed the homeless, travel to countries to visit with orphans and hold them in my arms and hug those dying of aids. My heart yearns to give others hope, teach them God's love and let them know that I am the image of his love in how I love them. I pray for he who will understand this side of me and share in my love for others. One who

This... day. Forever carved and etched in my pysche as a remembrance of things lost. My grandma. The smell of lily of the valley wafts through the air like the butterfly floating on its endless breath of air towards the flowers. Endless, beautiful rows of roses, red, pink, orange, yellow... rows and rows of glorious beauties. Beautiful to look at but harsh if you touch them in the wrong way. Perhaps that's like me. Blonde hair, blue eyes but saucy and fierce if you hurt me. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens... the melody lingers in my mind.. if pianos keys touched my her beautiful hands, groomed perfectly with that little white pencil under each tip nightly. A lady must look like a lady you know.. I hear her voice in my mind when I look in the mirror, I see her in my mind. The perfect perfection of a classically beautiful lady.. who endured.. Endured endless years of health issues, pain, frustration. I remember mom telling me once that when getting dialysis( the old way)