Giving of Yourself- to Tragedy

       There  are days when I feel blessed and others when I realize I have kown tragedy. Most of my tragedies happned when I was younger and are now long past. More often than not as I get older I hear of others who are younger being touched by loss and devastation. My heart goes out to these unfortunate. I feel we can all do something to reach out and touch whether it is to offer time, words, food, a kleenx.
     I thought I had seen the worst except for such horrors as the holocaust and some of the situations I worked with as a counselor-- such as the child who was beaten until every bone in his young body was broken and the boy whose father tried to choke him, the boy whose face was burned and terribly scarred, the girl who was sexually abused- and on and on the cases go-And yet I think it was when we came here that I ran into the tragedy that has had the most impact on me.
      The tragedy happened to a person who has become a very good friend- I will call  him Paul -Paul lost both of his children before his eyes over the holidays. Both were under the age of six. A father and young executive he traveling with his family on an icy high way when another person slid into the ditch. Due to the kind of person he is, he got out to help the lady. Meawhile, her little girl got in his car while he went to get something from her vehicle. As he did, a truck coming down the road, hit his car, instantly killling a five year old  and two, two years olds,  and severly impairing the mother who never recovered neurologically.. I have gone over and over this in my mind. Post traumatic stress was the result to the man who was sailing along in his job and had the world in his pocket.
     PTSD is when something happens that is beyond one's ability to handle-When the horror is too great for the mind to deal with what has happnened. Some recover over a great amount of time, but it can ruin lives. The Tsunami we saw caused this among thousands and we see it in soldiers. What can we who are blessed do? We can offer our hearts over and over-We can listen, send meals, offer to be a safe person, dry the eyes of the weeping, look for that person's strenghts over time and suggest how they might want to proceded with their lives. We can listen, send prayers, send jokes when the time is right, we can love and love and love them and let them know of our compassion. Learn what tit is they like and give freely.of those things. Be patient and be avaislble, reassure their worth and don't say "get over it." The pain and horror are there, but if we support unconditionally, we are likely to see them start to live again and then who knows? I am so proud of our friend. God didn't do it. It happened and God is there to help and to help us help. Bless my friend who has taught me how blessed I am.templeranch.wordpress.com

Lord-for the Girl I Was

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Lord, I've been sitting by the water since early tonight~I do enough thinking bout me as it is~ But this time, I went back to visit the girl in the picture who was the girl I used to be. Sometimes I think of how much I've grown, but not tonight~ There were so many things you put in her that I've given away. She didn't have as much confidence but she was a lot sweeter than me. She didn't blast from the mouth and she gave a lot of thought to what she would say and how she said it. That girl had just lost her mother-It's graduation night with Dad, and Grandma, and aunt Maxine, and Henry.
That girl had cleaned house for guests coming after the ceremony and in the process, pinned a red rose to the bed~ Thinking that as people brought in sweaters or light coats, how lovely the rose would look. She smiled and said hi and "That's Pretty," she always prayed, and sometimes woke up to finish the prayer having fallen asleep. That she didn't look shy was an act, but whatever sweetness there was-it was as genuine as the leaves turning green on the trees.
  I sat and thought what if I changed and baked those cookies for the neighbors? And what if I gave up writing time _at least two hours-to cook and keep the house as neat as a pin...and what if I made my "Little surprise baskets for hurting hearts and loving friends...and what if I kept a smile on my face, and wrote warm letters telling people how much I care about them...and what if I were to kiss my husband goodbye and hello, and tell him all he's meant to my life...What if Lord? Help me as I reach for you.http://templeranch.wordpress

Inner Joy: Some Wonderfully Perfect People

Inner Joy: Some Wonderfully Perfect People: I am feeling blessed to know some wonderful people. Today isn't one of my better days health wise and when people find forgiveness for t...

Some Wonderfully Perfect People

I am feeling blessed to know some wonderful people. Today isn't one of my better days health wise and when people find forgiveness for the way I can be abrupt, I am so thankful. My M.S. can cause a world of pain as the lesions affect the pain protection and when it's bad, I can bark loud, grow demanding,sharp, impatient, a host of qualities that I would prefer not to admitt to having. So what am I talking about with these good people? I will go in order of my contacts A.God first... B.My husband, Milan whose been gone for two weeks building on a glass heated and cooled porch for our cabin and also a walk in closet-who forgave me for whining about returning to a bit of a mess. He wanted it all clean and spiffy so I could see what he and he the carpenter had done in the burning sun...to make me happy and for a surprise. I would never have his degree of patience or warmth...And I mean it. He desrves a huge hug! and a lot more...He always fogives... C. Cody Lopez who is my I Universe consultant. Cody has sat through the three times when I was going to switch comapanies because of the fact that I bought a costly prodution package-Cody who listened to me threaten and gripe and insult! Cody a twenty-seven year old consultant whom I adore for all of his hopes and dreams for me.He has given me nothing but goodness and an example of how people should and could be... D. Counsel for Indie Authors...Richard and Diane...Editors of my book-Candle Light Dreams- Their traits-insightful; giving; two people who point out mistakes in a helpful way that makes one feel like being in a book club in order to think and express -Two creative, timely, enjoyable, bright, fantastic people who have made me glad I write... E. Carol Doyle-Living Better at 50+ A beautiful magazine and a a fantastic woman. The best words come from her. She is immediate in her appreciation and true to her word. I wish I had Carol's formula because she does so many things successfully and with uttterly amazing ease. I have had the opportunity to be published by her after she read some of my more poetic responses on Twitter. What would the world be like with more Carols? These are my August picks for perfect people. Blessings sent to them...

Ginny speaks out! Candle Light Dreams Nebraska

Once again, I'm the spokes person for Barb's book. My topic for today might shock you and her. It's about my brother romancing my best friend. when Celeste and I were third graders I made her join my "Hate Will Club." It began the day he put a bull snake in the outhouse. Celeste and I were looking at the pictures in the Monkey Ward Catalog when I looked down at something swirling about on the floor. There wasn't much light-just enough for me to figure out fast that a snake was at my feet.We screamed and scurried out half dressed. Celeste and I ran to the house crying. Will had to milk all the cows that week. It wasn't long after that when we were twelve that Celeste fell for Will who had no idea she was alive. I was so mad at her. My best friend thought my brother was CUTE. I would have made her pick him or me but it was then that her parents were killed. How could I blow up at her in the depth of her grief. It wasn't long before her abusive aunt came to take her away. I forgot all about Celeste's betraying our friendship over the likes of my scum brother. He was the star quarter back and stud of Brady high. Will could have his choice of dating anyone. But then I went to Brady a bit later and was just as popular. We matured and became friends. It was five years later when Will met the hatched and beautiful Celeste who was goggling over his pigs at the State Fair..That Thanksgiving Will flew her home to the ranch. When I first saw her-I about dropped dead. She was model beautiful. I was so glad to see her again.We ate dinner... the family teasing her the whole time. We knew how shy she was. We'd just finished when Will kissed her right there at the table She, "Miss Bashful," thought nothing of pressing her lips against his. I couldn't believe it. EvenI,one who is bold and provocative, wouldn't do that. I would not kiss the brother of my best friend in front of her or her family! Did she understand that it was Will's lips she was kissing?? Will is nice, he's handsome, he's a romeo with the girl's but for the life of me, I can't fathom any girl I know wanting to romance the boy I grew up with. It just gave me the creeps. If she had been a stranger it would have been all right. That day I knew that she was the one he'd fallen for and it wasn't going to end. In time I came to terms with the real problem. Will would come to know her better than me; she would share things i would never know about. He would love her more than me or anyone in our family and she would love him more than me. I can laugh now and know that Celeste and I will still be best friends. Better yet, who's she going to rely on during their fights? It's me. And who's going to come to know the real Will. It's her. Lots of laughter-Ginny

Inner Joy: Ginny Temple of Candle Light Dreams

Inner Joy: Ginny Temple of Candle Light Dreams: I'm Ginny Temple of Candle Light Dreams. At present I'm the teacher down at Union School where Celeste the star of the story went to school....

Inner Joy: Ginny Temple of Candle Light Dreams

Inner Joy: Ginny Temple of Candle Light Dreams: I'm Ginny Temple of Candle Light Dreams. At present I'm the teacher down at Union School where Celeste the star of the story went to school....

Ginny Temple of Candle Light Dreams

I'm Ginny Temple of Candle Light Dreams. At present I'm the teacher down at Union School where Celeste the star of the story went to school. Back when we were kids I was the one who led "shy" Celeste around. I made sure she had a best friend which was me. We met the day she moved in to my parents tenant house. Will, my cocky and mean brother, and I walked across the farmyard to meet the new family. To be honest Celeste was a bit messy and bedraggled. Through the years she always had the faded look of a girl whose parents were having to watch every penny. But me, I simply adored her. That first day I learned her doll was tucked away somewhere in a box and by the way she stared at the ground when I asked where her dolls were, I could tell she thought I wasn't going to like her. What I first loved was her hair, Celeste has always had the prettiest auburn hair just the way her mother did. Her sister Bonnie the outspoken brilliant one has the black hair.
Moving.ahead, I forbid Celeste to like Will, my brother. It didn't matter what we were doing, playing Union Aid or using the two seat outhouse, he was a ornery and conceited as they came. I was a third grader when I told Celeste she had one choice.We were walking to school and I said, "So Celeste are you in on my Hate Will club?" She got all shook up and flustered because I told her there was a pig hanger for hogs, a pot to boil them in, and an ice pick in the particular shed we were using for our club house. Well, guess what? She thought I was going to kill Will and hang him on the pig hanger. I told her that was a good idea! Mostly I  wanted to make the gizzard cry.
If I told you the rest of the story about what happened to Celeste and how the story ended, you'd be oh so surprised. But then, it wouldn't be a story would it? Presently,Will, and Celeste and I are in Hawaii; we are being readied by the Indie Counsel for our debut.  So much has happened over the years and now that we're entering WW11 there's so much more happening. Just don't let Celeste fool you. She may be tall and beautiful, but she's got more strength than most anyone I know. To survive her ordeal with her "psyco" Aunt Sylvie and that pedophile pastor she had to. See you in a couple of days for more.

Candle Light Dreams Nebraska-the Villian and Sidekick

      When  you write a book it's possible to spend so much time with your characters that they become real. I know that my husband for one heard me talking to these people in the bedroom where I compose.Sylvie, the socialite, .conceited and evil, .prevented Celeste, a child of twelve, from being the Queen of Hearts in her Union School play Union is the school that;s just a mile down the country road-Celeste's parents had just died and Miss Hattie England wanted Celeste to feel special.Sylvie arrived with Elvira  the day before and took her to her new home in Lincoln. Poor Celeste was so discombobulated by bossy, sassy, Sylvie that she actually trhew up on Sylvie's new alligator shoes. Sylvie's feet stunk all night long. Served her right.
    Elvira, a woman with leg hair so long that it needs braided, is a nothing who gets a kick out of watching /Sylvie hurt people. These parts are written with some humor but beneath the laughs, the abuse is stark and real. At one point, sweet shy, Celeste whose been shut off and isolated from the world, decides to kill herself. Something from the past shows up and she regains hope in her darkest moments. 
   A pedophile pastor gets a hold of her. He grooms her and prepares her for the big moment. I won't say what happens, but Elvira knows what he is and Sylvie doesn't care. she'd rather ruin Celeste than help. I was a child therapist and i write from experience I include  humor to break the darkness of what's happening to a child.
     Part two is joyful and funny as Celeste falls in love with a rancher who comes to Lincoln to court her. Tonight they are all in Hawaii-these people from the 30's and 40's. They're being made perfect for you to meet on paper. Editors from the Indie Author Counsel are babysitting them inside a flash drive. I just hope that they let Sylvie out long enough to wash her head in some smelly fish water, but that they also remember to give skinny Celeste an extra midnight snack. She's my baby. Goodnight...

Cookies for Country School Party-Union School

     The tall stout farmwife had taken this one day at home to bake for the school valentine party tomorrow.  She’d volunteered these same cookies every year since baking them for Will, her oldest son’s kindergarten parties. Even Clark’s dire condition wasn’t stopping tradition. Four year old Howie was nibbling on a cookie, crumbs and frosting bits dropping on the floor. Sylvie chuckled, winking at him. Just up from his nap, Howie wanted Celeste to read him a book.

     “Allow me,” Sylvie said, a huge grin bringing out both a twinkle and a bulge in her eyes making her look like Grandma Wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. “Come sit in my lap and we’ll read,” she said, attempting to coax him, Bev intervening.

       “Sylvie, you don’t want to get frosting on your rabbit fur,” Bev warned.

      “Icky sticky fingers,” Elvira said, wrinkling her nose.

      “Yes, you’re right. It wouldn’t hurt rabbit fur, but this... it’s my newest mink.”

      “Can I get anything right?” Bev asked. “Your mink-it’s different than mine.” 

     Ginny was about to remind mother that hers was rabbit but was topped cold when Sylvie came towards her, ready to apply a strangle hug. “You’re Celeste. I meant to get over here first thing to give you a welcome kiss. Then I thought to hold off. She’s at that age...I told myself. Give her a chance to get to know you. Goodness sakes...you are a cutie. You remind me of Bonnie. My sister did have quite the kids-your coloring, it’s from your father.  We’re going to have a ball. You’ll fit right in with my friend’s children. Most are quite fashionable. It won’t take much with you and ...”

      Ginny stood listening- believing the plans had been changed-She, not Celeste, would be going with this woman, an idea she found tempting and intriguing. Would Celeste be joining them or going with Mom?

     “She means me,” Celeste mouthed.

     “Wait! That’s Celeste,” Ginny stammered. This wasn’t going to be good. Sylvie was sold on her, not Celeste. Worried, she knew that Celeste’s hatching would happen but not yet .She was in a terribly awkward stage; before long Ugly Duckling would hatch and find her mother’s beauty and gracefulness. Auntie was after the hatched and matured “chick,” the one who’d be popular with the right girls. Sylvie turned towards Celeste.

     . “Oh yes,” she said, through a forced smile, appraising the eighth grader, a furrow of letdown forming between thick eyebrows. “My! What have we here? You resemble your mother. Well…Of course. I didn’t look closely at you earlier. The other girl, she speaks up- makes herself known. So you’re Celeste?” The sparkle in Sylvie’s eyes waned, waxed, waned. “Yes. Let me look at you. Hum, you have Shirley’s same curly tangles, the longish nose, the taper fingers, feint freckles.”

Giving My Family Away

     Have you ever had those exhaustive moments when it's so bad that you would give your children away? We hear people say, "I'm so disgusted with Tommie. I could give him away. I had days when my son and I went to the doctor for some attention.He was fussy, the weather was hot, and frankly I thought if it was just a little tummy ache, some Pep to Bis mo would solve the problem, and we'd both get to visit with the doctor-Sort of a secondary gain for a lonely mother on one of those long summer days. Today the kids go to the sitter all year long even on the days mother doesn't work. This new generation has it thought out.
     Well, last night I did what I've been tempted to so. I know some nice strangers who I thought would give my kids a fair shake. I was exhausted. I said, "I can't do this anymore. I'm afraid I will break the computer or do worse if you don't take my beloveds. For more than two years I've  spent eight hours a day with them, talking to them and about them, dressing these kids, feeding them, deciding their activities and hair dos and even crying for one or two...I'd had it. It took courage. I have never seen the people they went to. I said, "take them and I will pay you for keeping them and cleaning up their act". I gave away Celeste whose 12, Howie just one, Ginny also twelve, Mike who was just injured by a bull and might not walk, and Will a tease.,14 They are out of my hands. I have been asked that come Monday, I quit interfering with their lives. So, this is my question to you? Did I do the right thing. Should an author finish her book and turn over her creations? My nose prickled but I trust that Indie Author Counsel will comb their hair, brush their teeth, and polish them up nicely. After that---they go to  press an then to a book shelf.  I did my best. Come meet them. They're precious.

God's Sand hills- From Candle Glow Dreams Nebraska

May 25th-1928   Moving Day

    He figured he’d miss these hills-no other like them anywhere. As a boy who’d stayed alone while Dad went on his drives. Al found them a wonderful source of entertainment. He hiked all day while looking for a nonexistent lake to swim in. And tthere was the time he and a friend  decided to dig to China. Al kept waiting for the Chinese to crawl up out of the earth, their digging going  deeper and deeper. Returning home, Dad wasn’t impressed to find a hole big enough for the foundation of a house. Other fun included sledding, hunting for rabbits, playing at the blowouts, camping under the stars. The delight was endless. Some might find the hills empty and barren, but to a young Al they were the world’s largest playground.

   Suddenly, there it was. The first blush of dawn rolling out over the grassy hills that spread for miles. Yellows, reds, purple, a dab of blue and pink... Blessings, amazing blessings. These hills, their breezes blowing,  the sand sparkling, a windmill whirring, grasses bending with the wind, a cow pond, circles ripping outward, yellow flowers singing. “Lord,” he whispered, looking upwards, brushing tears from his cheeks. This! All this!  The beginning of another day, the unfold. Slowly, then faster, he walked to the house and his sleeping family.

I Love A Rodeo

Rodeos are risk and chance-Man and horse caught in a dance-Romance, Summer nights. Bright lights, Soda Pop, Popcorn, Saddle horns, Star lite,Star brite, Let's go out to the rodeo tonight-

I love a rodeo-
Warm summer nights
A lasso going round and round-Heading for the sky
Then diving down- horse stands still
Man hits the ground-
Ties calf to count of ten-
Crowd laughs and claps
calf jumps up...runs away-Hey
What say-I love a rodeo-

Rodeos are romance on warm summer nights, risk, stars in the sky, a dance to county music, bandstands, parades, cheers, broncos bucking right up to the sky, man twirling down and around coming hard to the ground-Round and Round and Round-I love a rodeo-

Rodeos were part of my life as a c-child back when my father was a winning roper-He donated the land for the Gothenburg rodeo grounds-We used to go when the rodeo was quite  lively in the fifties. Later it seemed to quiet down-It's good to see it alive and thriving-One of my memories was the watermelon contest-i spent many nights in a white t shirt practicing the messy art of fast watermelon eating because i wanted to win and impress my eight year old boy friends-i won but I don't think I much impressed anyone but myself-What I wouldn't give to return to those days of fun, wind, sun, horses, cows, the whole thing-Listening to KRVN-The River-Lexington Nebraska  really makes it all come back-I love a rodeo

50 and over-Life has Begun Anew

If you think you're had you are but if you think creatively a new phase of life has just begun-Think of all that awaits us yet undone-hand quilt a tiny doll coverlet,
write a story, have a dinner with thrift shop settings each in different colors. Get a group of friends together for an elite "junk" garage sale. Give the profits to the hungry, Start an old fashioned club where you embroidery and make valentines and try different kinds of jam, save a cat or a kitten, go bird watching, have a play day with adults, have an intellectual club where you serve tea and discuss the unusual, trade discarded makeups, give yourself a new look and a new hobby, take a trip to where you've always dreamed, adopt an elderly person, adopt a forgotten person, volunteer, write and research for Wikipedia, jump in your car and see where it takes you, fix romantic suppers with your spouse or friend, walk every day, walk a new way, take a camera along and do a book of poetry and pictures, call a friend from the past, make your heart beautiful and your teeth white and make it a practice to smile; keep a list of blessings-Reach out! ,Love.

God on the Prairie

Yesterday while driving to North Platte and thinking my thoughts as I do when driving, I found myself taking in the majestic cottonwood, the wise evergreens, the sleeping berry bushes, brown brush, and looking out over what for me is Forever Nebraska. I was filled with awe as though looking at a painting - impossible to paint. My eyes were mesmerized with this wise and surreal prairie. It was lit by a joyous sun- warming -to the land below. The fields appeared surreal- so clean swept they were. The hills that outlined them were likewise smooth haystacks sitting side by side ever quiet. The winding Platte River beside me was hidden by nature's game of hide and seek. It wouldn't have surprised me to see a deer leap high in the air or up over a fence in this land conducive to wildlife. As i drove on I saw a cattle coral-empty-and then amidst  trees there sat a  blue lake-it's icy water's sparkling clean and cold.  Such a  breathtaking view. Going on past fields I looked to the right and there in the distance a train danced slowly along the track. It could have been a toy train traveling down a child's play tracks. Next an old windmill whirring-breezes turning  rusted blades. At that moment  I thought of God. Before me was a blend of  bucolic beauty that those who aren't Nebraskan's might not know. I felt as though I was in heaven when really I was on earth headed for my monthly tysabri infusion. My heart was singing and I began praying to God. It is something I have failed at since being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Perhaps I am angry and that has been my way of saying Why? But at that moment there were no whys. "Oh Lord" I prayed, "Keep me clean and pure- as lovely as this prairie where I was born and raised.. I spoke to God for some time-It was just He and I. My spirituality was turned the color of glory and I hoped that as a woman I could emulate the humble gentleness and beauty I saw in the picture that God had set before me. "Oh Lord," I said, "Thank you for this my home...The Nebraska prairie-land that whispers-"This is your home. This will always be your home."