When Life Hands You Car Wrecks, Part Two

People came running. I was trying to get my kids to stop screaming to see if they were hurt or not. Bird was talking.

“Mom, was that a car wreck? What happened?”

“Bird, are you hurt? Your sisters, are they hurt? Don’t move, Bird, we gotta wait for help!”

A man’s voice, talking to my son.

“Can you unbuckle buddy?” the man asks.

“Don’t move them!” I say. All my first aid training that I have ever taken teaches that unless there is smoke or fire DO NOT move the accident victims. Hidden injuries of the skull or spine means moving them could kill them.

“Mom! My head hurts! What happened? Where’s Birdie and Bunny? Are they okay? I’m scared.”

“We’ve been in an accident, it’s ok. I think they are ok.”

A man and woman leaning in front of the sunroof. Some guy asking me if I can turn the ignition off. I try to reach and my neck screams in protest. But I can feel my arms and legs, I think it’s not broken.

People everywhere. this woman is telling this man to try and get Butterfly out. I hear someone helping Bird out of the back but I can’t see! I think I ask about my kids in the back, someone tells me they are ok.

This woman! She is telling this man how to try and pull my daughter out, my daughter who keeps saying her head hurts, who keeps asking me the same questions, My God! I think, Head injury.

I tell them again to wait until medical personnel arrive. This woman and man act as if I am not even speaking! They are trying to move my daughter even though she is telling us her head hurts. I try to get my seatbelt undone. It’s stuck. Anger welling up in me again. Fear for my daughter. I try to say the one prayer that sticks with me from childhood, the one that used to calm my fear, the Lord’s prayer and my head hurts and I can only think, “I don’t remember the lyrics!” Later I will remember it was the words I forgot, it wasn’t a damned song.

“Ma’am!” I snarl at this woman, “Are you a nurse?” I can hear sarcasm in my voice. She stutters a moment then tells me “I’m a Nurse Practitioner.“ I know this woman has just lied to me. Unless she is a Nurse Practitioner with an overblown hero complex. Trained nurses identify themselves immediately in situations like this and a trained nurse would know not to move someone saying their head hurt. I check again for blood on Butterfly, looking at the roof under her head. See none.

“Mom, I’m scared. My head hurts. Where’s the kids? Are they alright? What happened? Mom! Are you okay? Mom! Am I okay? Mom! What happened? How did we wreck? I’m scared!”

These people are messing with my daughter, trying to get her to crawl out. This time anger in defense.

“YOU PEOPLE NEED TO BACK THE FUCK OFF AND LEAVE HER ALONE UNTIL MEDICAL PERSONNEL ARRIVE!” I roar.

“They’re here! Right here!” says the woman and now a new man comes in, wearing a fireman’s helmet. Hero Nurse goes away. Good riddance. My younger kids are pulled from the car without a scratch. Someone tells me they are sitting in a patrol car and are fine. I send up a prayer of thanks.

Every ten seconds Butterfly is asking me how we wrecked, if she’s ok, if I’m ok, if the kids are ok. One firefighter asks her questions as the others stabilize the car. Ask me questions. Did I lose consciousness? No. My name. Age. Ask Butterfly what day it is. She doesn’t know. Where she goes to school. She tells them. Good! I think. Maybe just a concussion. She can move her arms and legs.

Then she asks me a new question.

“Mom! Did we have any of the dogs with us?”

Oh no. Copper!

“Hey!” I yell to the general outside and upright world. “We had a small dog with us, has anyone seen him?”

A woman (Hero Nurse?) tells me she saw him run away. Did she really or is this just some ploy to keep the traumatized accident victims from stressing any more?

Somebody asks me for his description and then they tell us to shut our eyes as they cut the windshield from the dash. the firefighter is back with blankets for butterfly, she is starting to shiver from shock.

I hear the firemen start a debate about how best to cut through the wreck to get to us. I can’t believe they seem to be arguing about it, I want to scream at them to just hurry the fuck up and open this tuna can to get my kid out but my head is throbbing and my arms and legs are going numb from hanging upside down in the seatbelt.

Butterfly fires off her repetitive questions again and I answer them again. They try a couple of cuts with the Jaws of Life hydraulic cutter. I stare at the worlds largest shears cutting through the metal of my sunroof. They decide that will take too long, however, then tell me they are going to jack the car up to better reach us and that we will feel it jerking. Every movement brings agony, but it is soon over. A fireman brings a couple more blankets to cover Butterfly and me and, while a fireman shields my daughters body from the sparks they use some rotary metal cutter to cut the roof supports at the car body and lay the roof open.

They take Butterfly first and I am so, so grateful I see no blood where she had lain. They stabilize her and move her to the ambulance while a firefighter comes in to brace his shoulder under me. My head feels swollen from hanging upside down so long, but all I am thinking about is Butterfly. The other kids are fine. Bird even jumped up and down and laughed and yelled about how cool it was to see all those sparks fly when they cut through the metal.

They get a whole lot of young strapping men in to aid me out and have to cut my seatbelt. In my stress I deal with it the only way I know how, by making jokes and generally harassing the guys helping me. I tell the man with my head to quit trying to pull it off and he assures me that he is using very little pressure. My pain receptors say otherwise, but I am not in the mood to argue. I am strapped on one of those back boards and they place a neck collar on me so tight I almost can’t breath and my teeth are held clenched together. I remember one of them saying it was too tight. My inner smartass replied, “No, really?“

It takes six of the poor buggers to lift me onto a gurney. Like pallbearers, I think, but miraculously not. Not this time.

They tell me the little ones will ride in another ambulance to the hospital while I am put in with Butterfly. As soon as I can reach out to her I do, meeting her hand in midair. We only let go when the ambulance crew has to move between us or works on us. They want to stick one of those annoying I.V. stints in my arm, I tell them no. I am hard to find veins on and I can tell there is no deep injuries. My injury is in my neck. He thinks I am refusing for both of us, I clarify with a “Hell no, get one in my daughter, make sure she’s ok.” that I am refusing only for myself.

Butterfly’s repetitive questions are driving me nuts. I am so glad she is conscious and I think I am a complete asshole for getting annoyed. She asks me again how we crashed.

“Because your Mom is a dumbass, baby!” I reply. This makes the guys snicker a bit but I tell them it’s true.

“I was trying to pull over! I was mad!” I say as one EMT is trying to get an oxygen tube to stay under my nose. I am surprised by the tears that start to roll down my temples. “It’s my fault!” I say and lock eyes with the EMT helping me. He is not comfortable with this emotion. He fiddles with my nose tube, breaking eye contact with his hand as he looks away. The emotion is unsettling him. Easier to work the meat wagon when the meat isn’t sniveling.

It makes me think about how he must have to, in this line of work, disassociate himself from the patients, the victims he sees. Make them third person pseudo-fictitious. Just to keep his sanity.

I ask the EMT if this repetitive questioning is common in concussions and he tells me it is. They’ll have to do a C.T. scan at the hospital he says. Still, she is asking me again what happened. I know nothing I tell her will stay with her right now.

“Baby, you want me to sing you a song?” I ask, not sure how I will manage it since I can barely open my teeth. Just knowing that the song would soothe her. Music means a lot to our family.

“Ok.”

We often sing songs before bed at home. They are all Irish or Scottish ballads either having to do with battle or drinking. All I can thing of is a song my kids call Barley Green, one of their favorites and one Butterfly asks for a lot. The actual title is “Wind that Shakes the Barley”.

“You wanna hear Barley Green baby?”

“Yeah. Ok”

And so I sang to my daughter, as I prayed for a simple concussion, a song about a boy who breaks up with his love to go to battle right before they are ambushed and she dies in his arms.

Part of me tried to imagine what those EMTs thought about this crazy woman, singing this gawd-awful blood soaked ballad in an ambulance to an eleven year old girl, on the way to the hospital from a car wreck and then the Mom and me said, “Who the hell cares what they think?” because my daughter fell quiet and it is a song she knows. This is something we sing as a family and it is ours. Not theirs.

After that song ended, I dredged up from memory a song I wrote her when she was very small and her biological father had been threatening to take her from me and leave the state. It was a song I wrote when I went through the custody hearings. When I had to leave her for him to have his supervised visit. When we moved after he found out where we lived. It’s Butterfly’s Song.

Hush now my darling, go to sleep in the car

It’s miles ‘til we’re resting but it’s not very far

Mama’s right here now don’t you be scared,

It’s miles ‘til we’re resting so sleep ‘til we’re there

This long road’s a hard one

it’s twisted and worn

But together we’ll ride it on out of this storm

You and me baby, we’ll ride the night through

Go to sleep now my darling this song is for you

Hush now my darling, go to sleep in the car

It’s miles ‘til we’re resting but it’s not very far

Mama’s right here now don’t you be scared,

It’s miles ‘til we’re resting so sleep ‘til we’re there

The long road’s behind us, the sky’s lightening up

the storm clouds are parting the sun’s coming up

That long road’s behind us, there is new road ahead

soon now my darling, we’ll rest our heads

Hush now my darling, go to sleep in the car

It’s miles ‘til we’re resting but it’s not very far

Mama’s right here now don’t you be scared,

It’s miles ‘til we’re resting so sleep ‘til we’re there

 

I held her hand and I sang to her and I prayed. I worried. I felt tears leaking out of me. I couldn’t stop them. My inner smartass was mostly muzzled but for the sarcastic quip of “Great. It’s Ambulance; The Musical!” before I kicked her back in her closet for a time. The young man who was tending me, when I once again briefly locked eyes with him, eyes that were bloodshot and red-rimmed, didn’t look away as fast. But I didn’t try and hold his gaze, either.

They separated us at the hospital. I could hear my little ones on the other side of the curtain laughing with E.R. staff as they were checked over. Nunkee had thrown up when she came in so they did a C.T. scan on her than came back fine. Bird and Bunny didn’t even have a scratch. Butterfly and I were both scanned. Both came back negative. they did a frontal chest ex-ray of me.

The Highway Trooper came in to tell me that his math and my skid marks said I could have been going 75 and maybe more. I about had a heart attack. the last time I had looked at my speedometer it said 60. Which illustrates how sneaky and nasty anger can be when it gets us by the throat. He also told me it looked like I had let off the brake before I turned the wheel. To me it had felt like the rear-end had started to go. I thought my rear anti-lock brakes had failed. Was it possible I was still thinking of pulling over and turned the wheel after letting off? I was baffled and twice as freaked out. What the hell did I do?

I don’t know. I was cited for careless driving. Bunny had not been in a booster seat. He told me to take the $85 bucks he didn’t charge me for speeding and buy her a booster seat.

Some people had found my dog. He had run to the aviation parking lot and began barking his head off in the driveway. Frantic enough he attracted their attention. The woman told me they figured he was from the wreck and it took them forever to get him to come to them, he just kept barking. Finally, they got him in the car, took him home and called the Sherriff’s office. One of the fireman that was on our wreck and his wife brought Copper to the hospital.

G.M. had gotten a frantic call from his sister after her husband drove by the wreck and called her. G.M walked up to the hospital. We had a whole lot of people praying for us.

Butterfly had a concussion and ended up with a fabulous shiner with purple eyeliner and everything. Her head hurts every now and again.

My neck and ribs hurt a lot. Whiplash I guess. I went to my chiropractor and he got rid of my headache…until I moved my head weird last night. Yoga helps. I haven’t filled my pain prescription yet, I took the last five pain pills left over from my hysterectomy the first couple of days. I may end up getting it filled, I don’t know. Wish I had a Jacuzzi tub. I would live in it. Sleeping and staying asleep is hard. Moving, getting up…I am my slow motion self.

I wanted to write this out. I will write it out one time and it will be done. I need to write about the blessings of this too because I do still believe everything happens for a reason. Even this. Gratitude is on my plate daily. Even my damned dog made it out alive! That is Divinity at work.

The vehicle is a temporary setback. I lost my glasses in the wreck and that is also a temporary setback, although it is one that bothers me more than the care. I feel fuzzy around the edges and not quite awake when I have no glasses. A dear friend of mine let me borrow her because they are close enough I can see but off enough I feel like I have done weird drugs when I wear them.

But I have a tomorrow to look forward to. A tomorrow I can walk into. My children have their tomorrows to look forward to. To walk into.

We lived and we all walked out of that hospital.

Alive. Together.

Where is the Creator taking us next?

When Life Hands You Car Wrecks, Part One

On November 19th, 2009 my four children and I were on our way to the college to pick up my husband from school when we met true catastrophe for the first time.

It had been a bad day all around. We were supposed to have a Family Fun Night hosted by Bunny’s Head Start at the local bowling alley. Unfortunately, Bird had a very bad day at school, having a colossal meltdown over missing three minutes of recess, a meltdown that involved him almost hitting two teachers with his coat as he threw his tantrum, then narrowly missing hitting his own beloved teacher in the head with his locker door as she tried to talk him through it. Upon counseling with her and asking how I could follow through with consistent consequences at home, she told me she thought he ought to miss participating in the Family Fun night bowling activity. I agreed.

Conundrum. With no place to take him, and hell bent on making sure his bad choices at school didn’t make it so his punishment was leaked on my other children who wanted to participate I ended up having to take him to the bowling alley. Originally, we were going to sit in the car, but his constant seven year old pleas of “I just want to watch, please? I won’t play, I just want to watch, I promise I won’t throw a fit…” wore at me. I finally told him I would let him go in, watching only, no playing, no fits, etc.

I am a fucking idiot at times.

His mood sometimes sets my two year old daughters mood as well. I should say, the dynamic of both our moods does. I was trying to keep my cool when in all reality I wanted to choke his little neck shut. I was swinging between patience and fury, dangling on a hinge of sanity.

Then we stepped into the bowling alley. Lights, movement, overwhelming noise and yelling little children everywhere. As soon as we got to the floor and I spotted Bunny’s teacher’s aide I told her of the situation as fast as I could because I now had a two year old clinging to my thigh in terror and a seven year old bawling about how “It’s not FAIR the GIRLS get to bowl and I DON’T!”.

Bunny’s teacher’s aide is a saint and I will one day build her a shrine because she took not only Bunny, but Nunkee who was now totally unafraid and marauding through the place. Butterfly just went on her merry way and blended like she does. On of my old Head Start students, from back in my own teacher’s aide days was there as well and wanted to socialize with me. I love the boy to death, but while juggling Bird’s revolving meltdowns I was not at my social best.

Bird and I ended up outside at one point. Him screaming that I hated him, me telling him I hated how he acted but always loved him, even when he was behaving like an asshole (yes. I said that. To my seven year old son. Mother of the year anyone?). Him, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the cars, sobbing, me, wandering further out into the parking lot to quietly bawl while leaning on the Head Start bus.

Bird, saying in his loudest, most dramatic sobbing Tom-Hanks-as-Woody voice, “ Well I guess I’ll just sit outside here and play with this STUPID TOY I have in my pocket! *sob*” At which point he stands up, turns around and begins pounding his fists on the metal siding of the bowling alley, howling to the heavens ” This is gonna be SOOOOO Fun! *sob, bawl, cry*” at which point, me, ever the sensitive and compassionate Mom, start laughing like a jackal on crack. This of course prompts a scream of rage from my son as he begins trying to pelt down the sidewalk. Which prompts me then to use the Voice of God on him and tell him to stop. He does, and stands there sobbing at being laughed at.

“It’s NOT FUNNY!” he yells at me as I come up to him.

“I know you don’t feel happy right now, Bird, but it did sound funny, with you bangin’ on the wall like that.”

Bird leans into me and wails for a second or two.

“I love you Birdie. You know I do.”

“I know. I love you too.”

We stand there for a moment, gathering ourselves. Leaning on each other in mutual exhausted frustration. We wander around to the back of the building because he has to go pee and wild bikers could not drag me back through that chaotic hell to a bathroom with my boy at this time. Besides, we’re in small town Montana, no street lights, and I tell him his Grandpa, my father probably peed behind that bowling alley a time or two back in his beer drinking bowling days.

“Papa used to bowl here?”

“Yeah. Grammy too. they were on a bowling league for awhile together even. When I was little it was mostly my dad that went. He bowled on these same lanes.”

Bird doesn’t seem more than mildly interested and in fact finds the side double doors much more exciting in all their endless possibility.

“Maybe they load the bowling balls in here! When I grow up I am gonna have a bowling alley and we’ll bring a big truck in to load the balls through that door…” and my little Bird is his magpie self. I can tell he is ready to go back in…it is getting chilly, it’s November after all, though warmer than normal.

Back in to chaos. Bird helps with getting his sister’s their balls on the ball return platform and Nunkee almost gets her fingers smashed repeatedly messing with the balls though I take her from the platform time and again… and pull her back from running down the bowling lane, and listen to her go into toddler deaf mode, yelling “No!” to me with everything I say and trying to run off. The tension that had been loosely capped begins to overflow again and Nunkee goes from bad to temper tantrum shrieking worse and I find myself wishing that I drank. Heavily.

Bunny’s teacher, also a very dear friend of mine, promises me we are soon done. Thank God! I think. Then we can go get G.M and get home! I am tired, the dogs need fed, so do the cats. Wonder if the ferret is out of water. Hope Butterfly’s rat didn’t get out. Copper’s been in the car a long time. He peed though, before we left Mom’s. Need to get these guys food before we go into Kalispell, thought they were gonna have food here, guess not. Damn this place is loud! It’s giving me a headache, where the hell did that baby get to now? Wish I could help Butterfly on her throw, don’t know why Bunny doesn’t use the little kid’s cheater ramp….

Soon it was done and then we were boot and coat wrangling and trying to convince Nunkee it was time to go while my former Head Start boy reminds me I have yet to come by to see his new goats. I put a reminder in my phone for that Friday to come see them and get my kids out to the parking lot. The whole damned lot of them latch on to the one meager parking lot light pole and start climbing and hanging on it. It’s cute for about 5 seconds and then I am done and want them all to GET IN THE CAR NOW!

At which point, Nunkee, oh-so-very-two, begins to arch her back and scream like I am gutting her as I try to get her into her car seat. Now I have the equivalent of an octopus on PCP that I am trying to stuff into a five point harness child seat. After I get her arms in the straps I actually have to push her into a sitting position to get the crotch straps. I snug the chest piece as far up her chest as I can because she is in a mood to try and slip her child restraints as she has done on me in the past. She is still fighting and struggling with me, shrieking like a cat on fire in my ear. I am now speaking in angry hiss because my teeth are clenched so tight. I am furious. I hate this fucking night! I think. Family Fun night my ass! With these screaming little bastards it would have been more fun to stay home and gouge out my own goddamned eyes with a fucking spoon!

I want to hit her so bad. Then I hate myself for feeling that way. Spend a moment cursing my family for raising me in violence and anger. get in the car and try to catch a breath.

Down the road at the grocery store I tell them I will go in and get them some food, I know part of their problem is that it is 7:30 and they have yet to have dinner. We still have to drive 15 miles to the college to get Daddy before turning around and driving the 32 miles home. I tell Butterfly to stay in the car and the younger ones all start bawling when I tell them there is no way in hell they will be going into the store after the way things went down at the bowling alley. I know this isn’t fair to Bunny and Butterfly who weren’t absolute little shits, but I can’t take two in and leave the others. A large population of people would even be horrified that I left my kids alone in the car in the first place to go into the grocery store. In Denver Colorado I wouldn’t. But I live in Montana. In a small community. The odds of someone coming and kidnapping my four children is about as likely as a meteor falling on my house.

Besides, I pity the poor bastard who would even try such a suicidal stunt. My children would probably eat him.

Back in the car I hand Butterfly a bag. I know I was really stressing because I couldn’t think of what to feed them. All I could hear in my head were their little piping voices telling me “Ew! I don’t like that!” and “That’s gross!” and I wasn’t about to pay $10.99 for a bag of jerky. Butterfly looked in the bag at the crackers, oranges and yogurt. Then she pulled out the jar of pickles and gave me a confused look.

“What? You tell me you hate everything else lately. I know you like pickles.”

“Okay…” she said dubiously as put the jar back and got out the crackers.

I passed out yogurt and told them to drink it like cups. I needed to get to Kalispell. The clock read 7:37 and his class got out at 8. I felt we were making pretty good time. I had to yell at the dog once to “Get in back!” after he saw Nunkee, ever the source of Manna from Heaven had something tasty. She was screaming at him, ” NO COPPA MINE!”

We were on the way, for the first two miles they were quiet. I felt like I had that Bill the Cat look on my face. I was so frazzled. I hate crowds and noise unless they involve music. But the crashing bowling alley thunder…

I got on LaSalle and glanced at my speedometer. Fifty-five. I brought it up to sixty before I heard them. I don’t know if it was Bunny or Nunkee who started the screaming fight . I yelled at them to stop. I couldn’t turn around and mediate and neither one of them were screaming any words I could make out. I was so angry with them! Why couldn’t they just eat their fucking food and shut the fuck up? Why was every car ride lately like this? Everyone finding something to bitch or scream about? I felt like I was losing my mind. The shrieking escalated to earsplitting decibels.

“That’s IT!” I snarled.

I meant to do what I have done on occasion when their backseat bickering has pushed me to the point of wanting to beat them until their butts fall off. I was going to pull over to the side of the road. This would either make them all immediately be quiet and stop fighting or it would give me a chance to get the hell out of the car before I got to the point of screaming and not being able to stop.

I meant to pull over. I did not realize just how angry I was. Or how fast I was going.

I heard the brakes lock and the tires began to squeal.

I remember thinking, “Fuck! I could lose control of the car!”

I remember feeling like the rear end was swinging around.

I remember feeling the car swing around and seeing the airport fence go by in front of me.

I remember feeling…something, then it was all noise and I didn’t see anything. I felt my body slam hard into the doorframe. I felt broken glass against me cheek and worse, grass.

Jesus! We’re rolling! My kids! GOD HOLD THEM!

 

Get your head away from that window!

 

Tucking my shoulder to lean toward Butterfly and reaching out to grab her.

My babies, really screaming now.

My babies!

The shock of still, looking at the glassless sunroof and the grass. Try to move, neck hurts. Babies screaming, screaming…hurts, oh God, are they hurt?!

 

“Guys! It’s ok. is anyone hurt? ” screams and crying answer me. I look at Butterfly. I am hanging from my seatbelt, the only thing holding me up. I see no blood on her but for a few cuts on her scalp, she is crying, scared. Lying trapped between the seat and crumpled roof, head on the visor. She’s lying on her right side, facing me.

“Mom, what happened? Mom, my head hurts!”

My babies are screaming and I can see cars stopping through the broken sunroof. I can’t move to turn around to see or help them.

The Voice is there.

They will all live. You all will live. The small ones are fine.

 

“Mom, my head hurts. What happened?”

My Butterfly! My babies. My anger.

My fault!

 

Walking with Divine Guidance

There is a learning process you go through in order to find that connection with the Divine, and it is a lifelong learning process. It will only stall if you stop trying.

One of my prayers had been, ‘Please make the lessons obvious because subtlety is sometimes lost on me and I need obvious lessons!’ Ever hear the old adage ‘Be careful what you ask for…’. Yeah. I got lessons but I didn’t see them as such until much later. I let myself get discouraged and beaten down. At least twice a year I could, without fail, expect all shit to hit the fan, whether it was a job loss or vehicle breakdown. I expected it to happen. I didn’t know then, that my own mindset was part of why it happened. Unfailingly, once in spring and once in the autumn, either one major crisis or a plethora of them would come crashing into my world totally throwing every sense of security out the window.

It’s taken me until now to realize that the voice of the Creator speaks in the events of our lives as well as the quiet of our hearts.

I have been going through a lot of life changes recently, for the better. There are things I am feeling very positive and excited about. There are also daunting tasks (winter is coming, how’s the wood supply?), frustrations (will my house ever get cleaned and will my children ever quit baiting one another?) and setbacks (living on a mountain with 50 plus junk cars, shouldn’t the odds of us having one that DIDN’T need work be better?).

I have plugged into a wonderful group of people near me that I am learning a lot from. I still feel like I need direction and part of me still feels lost, while another part feels like I am on the right path. I know confronting those fears is tantamount to success. To truly believing I am able to pull my family up out of poverty, that nothing will stop me.

It came home to me about three weeks ago when I heard a very wise and honest young man named William Gamble speak. He said, in his presentation, “When the student is ready, the teachers will appear.”

I feel I am a ready and willing student. But there is no hall pass labeled Easy in this school of life. We overcome hardship and are stronger for it. That way, we can overcome the next and become stronger still. Until our spirits burn so brightly we truly shine.

The path I have been on from last year to this, from then to now has been a journey. Self discovery. Forgiveness. Facing your fears. Letting go of things I can’t control. Knowing and really bringing home the lesson that the only person I can truly have a say in being is me. Not my husband. He makes his choices. Not my children. It is my job to teach them right and live by example. That seems to be the bottom line.

Living by example. This means living on faith. Belief. This does not mean discouragement won’t come. As I am writing this I am ending a week that has been very discouraging. I have a lot of questions even yet about the paths I have chosen to take. Keeping the belief in my heart and keeping the faith that life is looking up can be a hard image to hold on to. But it’s not all about me anymore. Not with the passel of kids I have depending on me.

When the student is ready, the teachers will appear.We cannot say who, or what, those teachers will be. When we are receptive to Divine guidance, we must learn to hold faith, believe and receive. When we are ready to receive, the changes come fast. It blows me away. Such are the nature of miracles.

 

There is an amazing video out there that was recommended to me. It was produced in 2006 and it is called The Secret. You can also access information on it at www.thesecret.tv. It will make all the difference.

We have one life to live. We will make mistakes on our journey. We always have choices. If we choose to stay passive and do nothing, that is still a choice and our life will reflect it. However, should we choose to light a fire under our…hearts…we have the power to make changes in our lives that are amazing. We will then be the living example we should be, and the light of the Divine will shine from us on our walk. What a wonderful way to live!