Too Much Time Has Passed

While providing this blog address to a friend, I realized more than a year has passed since I posted here. Knowing the thoughts, feeling, emotions and craziness have been archived in pictures or quick notes to myself, letters to friends and emails to associates, but it hasn't been typed out and placed here.

The past year has rapidly passed as I have traveled to the islands twice and lost my soul in the desire to live there as a full time resident. At least for a year or two, maybe longer. I have founded, opened and am operating a nonprofit clothing closet for people in transition. Hours and energy have been spent on marketing and advertising, connecting with social groups/networks and other agencies all while asking God to bridge the gap to place me with the ones that can make a difference in other folks lives, including my own.

This past year has brought with it much change within my family and social world. There have been births and deaths, new friendships made and old friendships ended, growth has occurred and life has died. As the seasons of the sun glide from one to another, so does life as we slide through the tides in our minds.

I miss writing and vow to return for I know it is my soul calling. It helps sort out the craziness I live with from caring deeply for others. For being concerned if this person is eating tonight or sleeping in the cold or if that child is sick to the women that need help to the men that are victims of childhood abuse to the ones that deal with life threatening and chronic illnesses. Everyone that comes into my life makes a mark ~ only because I care for their soul.

Postcards from Mo

Mo is an affectionate name my mother acquired about seven years ago when I tried adopting and domesticating a feral cat I had named Moses. Somehow in the naming of that cat, from it came my mothers’ new nickname of Mo. The cat could not be domesticated and eventually returned to the wild yet the nickname has hung around for my mother. That explaining who Mo is.

Mo has passion for most everything she does. She is one to put thought and feeling into her words prior to speaking, her postcards before sending and her love before giving. This is what makes her postcards, letters, emails, pictures and packages so special.

She recently took a trip to New York City. She had the privilege of staying on Broadway at Times Square at the Marriott Hotel. We talked daily and she would share with me the daily events as if I were with her. She took in a Broadway play and the sights and sounds of NYC. She observed the mass of people and cars and the trash on the sidewalks. She dined in elegant restaurants and shopped on 5th Avenue alongside other tourist and locals. She had her first ride in a limousine, took fabulous pictures and she bought postcards.

Each postcard was selected with each person she would send it to in mind. She would mull over the entire picture and description of the card prior to making her selection ensuring it would have a special meaning, phrase or notation of a connection she and the receiver would understand. Mo would then wait till the timing was right when she could sit down quietly and add her personal words of thought, love and meaning as if the receiver was experiencing or could experience the scene on the card with her. Her handwriting is flowing and beautiful with an elegance all its own.

Once the postcard has the sentiments written on it, now is the time to locate a stamp and send it on its way. Again, this is not something to be taken lightly. Mo wants the stamps to represent the postcard, trip and a memory made. It is important for her to select the right stamp symbolizing something significant, as with the postcards. Oh yes, the postmark is as important as the process of selecting the card, stamp and right words. She wants to ensure the postmark is from the place in which she is visiting. She creates a unique souvenir for the recipient thus being the small, flat package of a postcard decorated with meaningful words and stamps sent with love from Mo.

Mo mailed two postcards to me while she was on her trip to New York City. She was home at least a week or so prior to them showing up in my mailbox though. I still enjoyed opening the mailbox door and seeing the postcards waiting for me with their bright and sunny greetings and love from Mo. I examined the postcards and took in each word she had written. I observed the stamp and smiled at the small gift sent from New York City, stamp, postmark and all. Each card was meaningful in one way or another. I could feel her enthusiasm as I took in the contents and meaning of each postcard fully decorated from Mo to me. I thanked God for giving me a mother that found joy in small acts of kindness in something as simple as a postcard.
The next time you receive a postcard from Mo, take a good look at it and see if you can recognize the connection she is making with you. Know the gift was not a frivolous act grasped at the last minute but a cherished momentum selected and sent with much passion to someone she cares a great deal about.

Why I Do Not blog Daily

Each morning I review my To Do List and see what agenda lineup is on the days forecast. For the past several weeks, I continue to carry forward the item noted as BLOG. Day after day, I find myself taking care of most every thing on each daily list with only a few carrying over to the next day’s list To Do. I am the type of person that strives on accomplishing everything possible plus a few extras on my To Do list but lately it has bothered me that I continue to put on the bottom and carry over the item noted BLOG.

As some of you know, I started this BLOG at the encouragement of a friend of mine. My initial thought was it would be easy to post something daily or at least every other day. After all, I am a woman with a voice and with much to say. Loving to write and express my voice, I find myself mulling over story titles, coming up with great one liners and examining the daily events and the people involved in my thought process as my artist mind continuously moves in motions of telling a story whether on paper or my head.

There is a part of me, which feels obligated to my BLOG readers to post something frequently and to feed my loyal supporters the feast in which they come to nourish. As I cook up a new story or express the ingredients of an old recipe, I feel good being able to write with spirit, passion and love. When I write, there is a part of me that stays with the story for I become a part of it in some manner. I write from the heart and with feeling and when the spirit tells me to write. Passion flows from my emotions. Usually, it comes easy, naturally and time permitting. I am guided from an invisible force and sometimes amaze myself as to what ends up on paper and even more excited when it makes profound sense to others and me. I am lifted when I hear from a reader that tells of how one sentence or story touched their lives and made a difference, if only at that moment.
You would think with such passion, support and encouragement from others, it would come easy to post something daily. Well, it is not!

I am the type of person that is moved by other human beings and their passions and pains and by what the Spirit of God asks of me. Since I have chosen to make wiser spiritual choices for my life and not focus on ME as I did when I was younger, my life has expanded to include many different facets of people, places, causes and things. This being the sole reasons I am not capable of posting a positive on my BLOG daily or even weekly. Let me explain.

There are so many opportunities in this world to make a difference whether in your own life or the lives of others. As I have spoke of in past postings on my BLOG, I am a woman with many passions and with expanded interest in all areas of human development. This is where the problem lies with me being able to post something daily.

I am involved as a peer, peer advocate, volunteer and peer educator with Women Rising Project, which is an organization for HIV+ women in central Texas. My passion for writing is not limited to BLOG postings, which is only a small part of where my writings end up. Some are submitted to the projects newsletters and I am always available to write an advocate letter or help others when asked. Well, ok, sometimes I do not have to be asked and I take on the task because it sparks the passion. I am usually good about sending greeting cards and letters via snail mail to friends and family along with keeping up with responding to emails of value. Remembering birthdays is important to me along with acknowledging a special occasion or event. Sending a Thank You card is of utmost importance on my list of common respect and courtesies. It is a good way to show someone you care enough to take the time to give them a bit of nostalgia that has almost gone by the way side these days. And besides, it is always nice to open ones mailbox and find something other than bills, past due and cut off notices and the weekly load of junk mail.

With my involvement at the women’s project come opportunities to attend continuing education workshops and conferences to further my network connections, hone my skills and absorb knowledge and energy from others. I take every opportunity I can to attend these events and gain what I can to make my life and the lives of others better. Last week I was in attendance of a Street Outreach Workers Conference thus taking time away from BLOGGING. I also had a couple of days of down time afterwards for I must have picked up a bug and was exhausted from 3 days of traveling.

For a number of years now, I have had the internal spiritual message to do something to give back to the community, fill a need that is not being met in the general area and provide myself a focal point of which would satisfy some of my entrepreneur appetite. I will soon be opening a clothing closet for disadvantaged folks transitioning into the work force or that are in need of clothing. I can remember prior to my diagnosis and for some time afterwards, my weight had plummeted to below 100 pounds and my clothes were falling off of me. I could not afford to purchase a new wardrobe and it was quiet embarrassing. Even now, my weight can fluctuate due to the medication, aging and other factors throwing me into an entirely different size than I was the day prior. There was also a time in my life that I only had one dress suitable for interviewing so I wore that till I landed a job. Even more embarrassment came when I had to throw together a wardrobe to maintain that position out of bits and pieces of clothing I did have. So, I can understand first hand the need and importance of having clothing that fits. Along with clothing for interviewing and job performance once hired, people in transition usually are in need of self-esteem building and possible professional polishing tips so I will offer a curriculum based on self worth also. Another reason I am not able to BLOG daily, I am working on the paperwork to develop this nonprofit status, locate a building and all the craziness that goes along with starting a business. Any donations of clothing, money or a building in my area are always welcomed.

Take into consideration I am also my mother’s ears and business of life interpreter, for she is hard of hearing (almost deaf in one ear) and does not understand much of the new modern age electronics and how things work in today’s fast paced society. This is fine with me however; all communication is via long distance and snail mail for we live a good 6-hour drive apart from one another. This is time consuming only, I am not complaining. I love my mother dearly and love being able to help her. I only wish we lived much closer geographically so I could help her more and spend quality time with her. She really is a super kind of lady.

In order to maintain a clean, uncluttered and peaceful household, I must partake in domestic engineering duties daily and weekly staying on top of the dirt, dishes and demands of living in a clean environment. My home is very important to my soul and the place I spend much of my time. Treating it with respect and kindness is a small way of expressing the gratitude I have for it being the sanctuary it is for me.

My boyfriend and I live together thus being another distraction of finding time to BLOG. Anyone that is involved or has been involved in an intimate, long-term relationship knows of the time and energy expelled to grow and nurture that relationship. The compromises it takes on both parts to have someone other than YOU in your life, sharing the same space and time. This comes as a challenge some days for choices have to be made as to where and how you will divide your time.

It is not hard to fill a 24-hour day and still have much on your TO DO list. Playing catch up is a never-ending task while living a full quality life. So, please forgive me readers for not posting something to the world on my BLOG daily or even weekly. As you can see, my days are filled and guided by the spirit, which moves me, time permitting. I am appreciative of each day and the events that occur, people that are connected to the joys of living with God. Even if things on my TO DO list do not include BLOGGING or other items, at the end of each day, I know I contributed what I could for that day.

May your day be filled with the spirit of your God.

Christine, July 2008

Forever Positive

Forever positive is the way I will be
A choice not mine but accepting as thee
Down the road it became clear to see
The difficulty of living with HIV

I accept that I will never be free
To live my life without HIV
Forever positive is the way I will be
Regardless of my disease, I have to be me

Accept me for the person you see
Not the label society pushed on me
The woman with the power of three
Living her life forever with HIV

Being positive is a choice for me
One I had before my fate with HIV
God’s love continues to guide me
Forever positive is the way I will be

You wouldn’t think anything good could come from a person having AIDS however; many good things have arrived from my diagnosis and one of the best was the qualification for therapy. The healing, freedom and empowerment that emerged from the sessions have been a bit surprising and exhilarating, exhausting and sad; yet all good. Due to the stockpile of criteria of either not having enough or having too much of this or that, I was not eligible nor could I afford to seek counseling or therapy before HIV entered my life. Prior to becoming a person living with AIDS, I had the same mind set as any other “normal thinking” human being walking the earth. Therapy and counseling were for crazy and mentally ill persons in need of continuous institutionalized care. This was surely not me. I lived alone, maintained a good job, paid my bills, was very independent and was the farthest thing from crazy that I could describe. Keep in mind, I did not realize the need nor understand the benefits of therapy till I was approaching forty years old, had an AIDS diagnosis and started literally falling apart both physically and mentally. I was loosing control with little explanation from the doctors, friends and or family as to what was happening or why. Was this what they called a midlife crisis? Were the genetic crazy genes from one side of the family or other starting to show up in me? I did not like what was happening, what I was feeling or where my thinking was going and I needed answers.

Little did I know the journey it would take for me to go through to get beyond the grip hold I had on the past and live for today so I could dream for the future. Little did I know how holding on with such a grip hold to past negative and destructive thoughts, feelings, people and events was literally polluting my body mind and soul? It was quickly adding to my deterioration fueling the HIV virus and robbing my soul the room it needed from my body to be able to grow. Little did I know, letting go of the grip hold I had on the past would bring about my authentic self and allow me to live as the person I was designed to be by God. This holds true for any person, not only HIV+ individuals.

My viewpoint of therapy has changed considerably over the past 5+ years. I now feel anyone over the age of 21 needs to have some form of therapy to sort out the trunk full of emotional baggage we all carry with us in life and keep accumulating. The earlier we begin sorting out what is important and hold onto only what is truly adding value and that which gives us a positive feeling and let go and discard of the junk, the better our lives will be. Mine has taken a true turn for the better since I have learned to let go of the grip hold of the past, live for the now while dreaming and planning for the future as I continue unpacking that emotional trunk of life. I can now say my emotional baggage has been reduced from a cargo freight container to an over night bag and I am still unpacking. It is an ongoing process.

Therapy helped me make amends with my father as we developed a positive and healthy relationship prior to his death a couple of years ago. I am ever so grateful for the sessions and shedding of tears it took for me to be able to allow it to develop and grow. Both of us grew in spirit and healed the emotional wounds we had been scarred with many years earlier. I now feel my father’s spirit with me quiet often and it is very comforting and peaceful. It was only in the last fifteen years or so of his life did we develop any kind of father and daughter relation. I am sure I would not have this pleasant peace with his death had I not let go of my grip hold of the past.

Therapy helped me recognize long embedded thought patterns I held onto enabling me to remain paralyzed in my thinking and moving forward with what I really wanted from life. My natural and first reaction was I do not think negative nor hold onto anything that is harming me. Boy was I dead wrong! With the help of my therapist, I now see how holding onto phrases such as “That’s just the way I am”, or “What if’s?” or how about the one we all hold onto, the “should have been” or feeding the negative thought pattern to our brain continuously tellingly it “we are not good enough”, or that we are “stupid”? No matter what we feed our brain over and over, we all have the ability to change it and make it better if we choose to. Only if we let go of the grip hold of the past can we live happily in the now.

During the course of therapy I was able to identify people that had entered the threshold of my life with both positive and negative affects. I was able to dive into the core of each relationship and unpeel the layers of laughter, hurtful words, tears of anger and joy and so forth to determine how my mind and body reacted upon each reflection. I was able to become honest with myself as to why I allowed each relationship to be a part of my life and determine if it was a healthy relationship to continue or not. I was also able to develop the emotional tools needed to make the necessary changes to clear the people clutter out of my life and release the grip hold of the past as I held onto the good. I’m still clearing the clutter.

In my own reflecting and healing, I have been able to identify people around me which continue to live with a grip hold on the past. Unfortunately, that is where their thoughts, desires and lives remain, in the past. They may go through the motions of present day however they are forever hording the thoughts, hurts and anguish from yester year allowing themselves to wallow in their own self pity of who done me wrongs and the way things should have been. Sadly, I know a man that is missing out on experiencing a loving relation with companionship of a lady he has known and loved for over twenty-five years; only because he refuses to let go of the grip hold of the past he holds onto. He allows his sarcasm and resentment of his victimization to rule what is in the now prohibiting possibilities of what could be in the future. I know a lady that holds onto her grip hold of the past by reminding her and others of the way things should have been her entire life. She lives with the anguished thoughts that others have done her wrong and the way things should have been according to her. She too sees herself as the victim of the past. There is a man I know that holds onto the thought pattern that he is not good enough therefore instilling his own insecurities into every relationship he enters therefore sabotaging it before it even has a chance to develop. I know others with such a grip hold on the past that it keeps them from loosing weight, kicking drugs, cigarettes and alcohol and keeps them in abusive relationships. We are all guilty of having a grip hold on the past however it does not mean we have to allow it to continue to rule our present day lives. History will repeat itself if given the opportunity so make the changes you wish to see in yourself so destructive history is not repeated.

It doesn’t take years of therapy and counseling to make changes. All it takes is the willingness to be honest with our selves and have the desire to do something about it; and to make changes. It takes the courage to take that first step outside of our comfort zones which is always the hardest and scariest step. It also takes the desire not to be a quitter so when you fall after the first step or two; continue picking yourself back up and going at it again. It does help to have someone knowledgeable and unbiased to help equip us with the proper tools in identifying the destructive and paralyzing thought and behavior patterns we have developed throughout our lifetime. Be willing to ask yourself some valuable questions and be able to look at your life with eyes wide open and ask yourself, “How’s this working for me?” “Am I living life as I desire it to be?” and “Am I willing to do something different to get the results I want and if so what am I willing to do?”

If your answer is the same as it has been with your grip hold on the past, let it go and see how your life changes for the better.

After my parents had been divorced for a number of years and I had moved away, my Daddy met and married a Christian lady named Anita. She is everything I could ask for in a stepmother. It has been Anita’s influence, lifestyle and loving support that guided me back to Jesus Christ even though it has taken me 20+ years to get here.

It has been through Anita’s example and inspiration that I have incorporated into my daily schedule time to connect with God, time to read my bible and time to remember others. Every morning in my prayers, I ask God to use me as a vessel, a tool, to spread his message and to help others in whatever way he sees fit. The morning of April 3 was no exception.

As I flipped open my daily planner, it dawned on me it was the day before my little baby dog Abby had passed away, seven years earlier. I loved that little dog more than anything. Not having children of my own, she was my child, my baby and she had epilepsy. The ten and a half years Abby and I had together are years I would not trade even if I could. That little dog brought tons of joy to my life and many a smile to my face. My love for her and other animals run deep.

Daddy and Anita live with her youngest son and his family and assist with raising the grandchildren. Last Christmas brought a surprise present from the children’s mother, a puppy! The teacup Yorkie named Romo, after the football player, weighed a total of two pounds and followed Anita around the house constantly being under foot. Like most small dogs, Romo had a big ego and an attitude to match, unless of course, he was up against the vacuum cleaner. Then he would tuck his tail and go hide and Anita would have to hunt and seek him out when she finished the floors. It didn’t take long to get attached to Romo. He was cute, little and loving and he was also the first dog I have known of Anita being extremely attached to. Anita loved Romo like I loved Abby.

Later that afternoon, I was talking to my mother on my cell phone when the land line phone rang. Thank goodness for caller ID for I could see what looked like my Daddy’s cell phone number appearing. I did not answer and allowed the call to go to voice mail. Within a few minutes, I finished my conversation with my mother and checked to hear the message I thought my Daddy would have left. I was a bit surprised not to hear a message however; sometimes he doesn’t leave one. I double checked the number to ensure I had noticed it correctly. That is when it dawned on me it wasn’t Daddy calling but it was Anita’s cell phone number that appeared instead. Their cell phone numbers are one digit apart. By now, I was getting a little puzzled since Anita barely has time to look after three grandchildren with hectic and different schedules, a son and daughter-in-law, a husband and tend to a rather large household, give time to her community and serve God much less have free time to have idle chit chat with me or anyone else. Needless to say, her plate is full and over flowing and she deserves and is in much need of a pampering vacation. Knowing this, my first thought was something had happened to my Daddy yet I was questioning in my mind if something like that were wrong, why didn’t she leave a message? I had been meaning to make time to call for it is easy to allow the days to slip past without contact; allowing our busy schedules to come first. I dialed her number. When she answered, I told her I noticed she had called a few minutes prior and was returning her call. After a pause, she said she had not called me. A little taken back by her words, I told her that her number appeared on my caller ID not more than a few minutes before and asked if Daddy could have called me on her phone? She said no, no one had called me as far as she knew and her phone had been with her the entire time. We both sat in silence for a moment when she said, “It was God calling you because he knew I needed someone to talk to.” Instantly I could hear her tear-strained voice. My heart leapt as I as she told me about Romo.

Anita had let little Romo outside as she had many times. Even though great measures had been taken to ensure the holes and escape routes in the fence were repaired so Romo couldn’t escape, he did. That afternoon, he found the one and only hole in the fence that lead to the neighbors’ backyard housing two really big, mixed breed dogs. The dogs are playful and not at all viscous. When they saw Romo come through the fence, they probably thought it was a toy and wanted to play with him. Being the big and clumsy dogs they are, while being playful, somehow Anita’s baby Romo died.

Immediately Anita ran over to rescue Romo’s body but it was too late. While she was knelt down gathering Romos lifeless body, the big dogs didn’t have a clue anything was wrong and continued to be playful while jumping up on her. The dogs did not intend to harm Romo or Anita. Romo is now in Heaven and Anita is unharmed other than her very broken heart.

Did God call me to ensure Anita had someone to talk with that knew and understood the pain her heart was feeling that afternoon? Did God call to give me comfort in knowing Abby was one of his animal angels and she was with Romo as he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge into doggie Heaven? I may never know how the series of events happened that afternoon or why. You might say it was all coincidence and I accept that. For to me, coincidence is God and yes, I believe he does call us.


Christine ~April, 2008

My Friend Insomnia

About twelve years ago I awoke at straight up three in the morning to the silence of the house. The glow of the street lamp post shone through the bedroom window illuminating the room; providing enough light to walk around without stumping toes or banging into furniture. After numerous tosses and turns, I decided to stop fighting my sleepless night and go ahead and get up. After all, what was a couple of hours prior to the alarm going off anyway? Tossing the bed clothes back I got myself out of bed ensuring not to step on the dog curled up asleep on the rug tossed by the bed. At least one of us could sleep I was thinking. As I entered the kitchen, my wits were still in bed as I stood in the middle of the floor scratching my head contemplating what to do at this time of the morning or was it night? Whichever you want to call it, it was still pitch black outside, other homes were dark, the stars were twinkling bright, the cars on the freeway were almost nonexistent and you could hear the sound of crickets chirping in the yard. It was even too early for the early morning edition of the newspaper to be delivered. As time has gone bye, I have grown to think of it as early morning, not the middle of the night.

Scratching my head must have stimulated my thinking enough to make a pot of coffee which came almost automatically as if I had awoke at my usual time. I grabbed a book feeling assured I would get sleepy and could head back to bed after a cup of hot coffee and a few paragraphs. I put the coffee on to brew and headed for the bookshelf. Reading is something I have been fond of all my life yet never really appreciated my love of it till I meet my friend Insomnia. I scuttled back to the kitchen to capture the fresh aroma of the coffee brewing as I could smell the aroma floating in the air of the small kitchen and breakfast nook. It had never dawned on me how refreshing and full of body the rich; delicious coffee smelled. I have drunk coffee most of my life and till that morning, never experienced the engulfing aroma and the pleasurable sensation my nostrils were breathing in. In the years prior, my coffee making consisted of the unconscious motions of going through the process like a robot yet never experiencing the full essence of what the coffee smelled like.

I poured my coffee and took my usual position on the couch, curled my legs under and cozied into the corner leaning right towards the lamp on the side table; opened the book and began reading all while sipping my coffee. Sip after sip, I could taste the coffee in a manner I had never tasted it before. I could taste the freshness of the coffee beans and analyze the flavor as it swept over my taste buds awakening my mouth to the warm sensation. Had I drank coffee for over thirty years to only now be realizing this delicious flavor and aroma? It is after all, the same brand I have drank from the beginning of my coffee sipping days as a little girl sitting with my Great Grand Mother. Could it be that I had never taken the time to get to know what was inside the coffee cup I had used for the last however many years? Was it only then on that morning that I truly became aware of the full bodied flavor of coffee? Could all of these questions be because of my new friend Insomnia? At that time, I wasn’t even aware I had a new friend much less how much I enjoyed sipping coffee as opposed to gulping it down without benefiting from truly experiencing the taste. I had always looked at it as a drink people drank in the mornings to stimulate the get up and go in them. Not a delicious flavorful experience as I had that morning. Strange things occur in the early morning hours.

By the time my coffee cup needed refilling, I had read a good amount of pages and was beginning to get into the content of the book. It was information I had heard most of my life but never really took the time to explore, till that morning. You see the book my hands gravitated to while standing in front of the book shelf in the wee hours of that morning was the Bible; King James Version of the New and Old Testaments. Closing the book and marking my page, I grabbed my empty cup and advanced towards the kitchen with some questions as to what I had just read. These were only the beginning questions as my quest began that morning for the true God, the truth to my own spirituality and to reclaiming my bond with self, my parents and what family ties I had left. Did my new friend Insomnia have anything to do with this? Years have gone by and I have now read the Bible three times cover to cover and still have questions.

By the time I refilled my coffee cup, my little dog Abby was awake and needed outside to take care of her business. Not knowing what may be lurking in the shadows of the yard, I decided to slip my house slippers on and proceed outside with her. After all, it was dark and I was a protecting mother. The early morning air was warm; the night sky clear of clouds as the neighborhood slumbered quietly tucked away in their perspective beds. As Abby sniffed around the yard and did the thing that dogs do, I sat on the step of the porch my Daddy had built and waited for her. Soon my attention went skyward to the brightness of the stars and the blackness of the background they were shining against. The moon was but a sliver of light in the northern sky almost directly overhead. I had watched the stars and observed the moon over the years but there was something about that morning and the presence I felt internally that had an affect on me. Somehow, I felt more connected and aware of the vast sky filled with so many twinkling lights and the energy emitted from the night sky as I sat outside in the quiet; taking in the beauty of God’s Universe. It was that morning my consciousness began an elevating process of my inner thinking, my inner being, my inner essence of self. It was at that moment, I started becoming aware I was merely a small particle of the grand plan and the world was not all about me. I look back now and can thank my new friend Insomnia for introducing me to this early morning beauty and the pleasure I now seek in meeting my old friend on the porch step most mornings each week.

Abby and I sat on that step for the longest time that morning. Contemplating the thoughts going through my mind and trying to process and make sense of the inner feeling I was experiencing. There was a calming yet awareness as if I had flipped a switch and something started a transformation process. Abby had crawled into my lap and curled up to nap till I was ready to make a move. She was such a little baby.

Upon entering the house, I noticed time had passed rather quickly since I had been awake and the alarm would soon be going off at its preset time of Five a.m. As I walked past my desk, I flipped on the computer as I headed to the bedroom to quiet the alarm that was now buzzing and screeching obnoxious sounds as it blared from one speaker while George Jones sang He Stopped Loving Her Today from the opposite speaker. How appropriate this scene was. For the first time, I was aware that this was the mood, the energies which greeted me on a daily basis and welcomed me to the world. I did not like what I felt with such racket going on. What had happened to the peace and comfort I had experienced only a few minutes before? I liked that feeling and wanted to have it again but for now, I had to precede with my scheduled day filled with meetings, traffic and the usual ya-ya of living and dealing with people in the everyday world. A part of me kicked into robotic mode as I checked email, showered and ventured into the concrete jungle and conducted business as I knew it then. I was hoping the loss of a couple hours of sleep would not affect my performance and clarity that day.

My friend Insomnia happened to pick the one morning of the week I had the longest scheduled day to enter my life. I barely made it home by Seven p.m. with barely enough energy to prepare something to eat, spend some quality time with Abby and check email, snail mail and phone messages. I crawled between the sheets a little before the nine o’clock local news and do not remember falling asleep I was so exhausted. Surely my new friend would not visit two nights in a row.

Again, I awoke at three o’clock in the morning to the same silence, lighting and scene I had the previous night. For whatever reason I woke up, I poohed it off to the natural sensation alerting me my bladder needed empting. I did make note the time was the same as it was the night before yet headed back to the cool crisp sheets I had crawled out from prior to Mother Nature calling. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I was quickly becoming aware that a part of me wanted to get out of bed and have the same experience with the coffee, the Bible and the early morning sky as I had previously. How silly that would be when I knew I needed to get the other two hours of rest for the usual recommended amount much less try to recoup the two hours sleep I had failed to get the night before. I tossed and turned for about fifteen minutes and decided to stop fighting it. With that, I started the same process I had the previous morning and had the same wonderful experience with a bit added. For you see throughout the years, I have learned to make the most of my time with my new found friend from that morning long ago. Over time, our visits have brought with it an understanding and deeper awareness of what that time represents and how I allow it to affect me. I started listening to my body and paying attention to the natural highs and lows I experienced throughout any given day. I had always known I was a morning person yet never realized how much I cherished the early morning hours. The hours prior to the rest of the country awakening and the buzz of the craziness in full force starts.

With the many nights of sleeplessness throughout the years, I have grown to utilize my time to be constructive and make it work for me rather than against me. Not only do I enjoy every sip of coffee more, I take that time to connect with God, read, sort out my thoughts and sometimes exercise. I have grown to relish my early morning time as my spiritual time. This is the time I talk to God, hand him my problems, and make decisions about the day or my life without outside influences and noise pollution. It is the time of day I am the most creative and full of ideas. The time I want to write stories and letters. It is the time of day I come alive from my core being and connect with my maker. It is as if God awakes me so I can have time for Him without pushing him to the bottom of the list. It is the time of day I feel he walks the earth checking on his children and whispers in their ears their assignments for the day. It is this time of day in which I grow all while discovering, shaping and molding the authentic woman and human being God intended for me to be. Without this daily connection I feel lost and out of sorts. Without time spent with my friend Insomnia, my days are not as centered or full of life and spirit as they are on the days my friend and I share a cup of coffee. Thank you, Insomnia for becoming my friend.