I'm finished, done! I will no longer call everyone when no one calls me. If people want to talk to me, they have my number. I am tired of hearing people tell me they love me, they care about me, blah, blah, blah. Their actions prove otherwise. No one calls to see if I'm okay. No one ever calls to ask how my day has been. IF someone calls it's to complain about something, to talk about what's going on in their life, but they don't want to hear about what's going on in mine.
I'm tired of trying to make friends with people who promise they'll call but then my phone never rings. And if I finally break down and call them, I'm interrupting something, or they have something they just have to do, but then they never call back. I'm sick of those people who were friends for a long time but they got mad at something and just ghosted me, then they contact me and say they'll call "tomorrow." But, unlike the musical "Annie," in real life, tomorrow never comes.
I'm tired of feeling like a failure because other people don't do what they say they'll do and then I wind up wondering what's wrong with me!!! Whatever is wrong is obviously with the people who say they'll do something but then never do it and never bother trying to explain why they didn't. They just never call or come by. But, if I see them somewhere they'll be like, "oh, I love you so much. I know I should call but I just never seem to have time." Yet, they have a huge circle of friends they do things with and post about online. It's only me they don't have time for, so they won't have to worry about that, anymore.
I'm sick of being lied to, is what it boils down to. When someone says they love me, but they never call to check on me, they can't love me very much. When I love someone I try to stay in touch with them. I may not be as good about that as I used to be, but the phone lines do work in both directions!
Thursday, October 22, 2026
The Hurt
How I wish I could say it don't hurt, but I can't say that because the pain is real. I wish I didn't feel the pain when someone talks about me behind my back, saying bad things about me that aren't true. I wish I didn't feel the pain when someone walks out of my life without giving me a reason for them walking away. I wish I could say it doesn't hurt when someone tells me they'll do something and then they don't do it and they never tell me why.
I wish I could say it doesn't hurt when family members shun me or turn their back on me. It hurts that family members will talk about me but won't talk to me. It hurts when family believe something about me when they don't take the time to get to know me. I feel the pain when family members talk about something that isn't true because they never took the time to ask me if it was true or not. I feel the pain when family members won't talk to me because they believe the lies told by someone they know is a liar.
I do not wish that I was less sensitive about things. I'm proud to be a sensitive person who has feelings. God and me have done a whole lot of work changing the person I was into the person I am. (I said what I said.) I don't want to undo a single thing that we've changed. No, I'm not all the way "there." I have not yet arrived at where I want to be someday. I'm not there, yet. But I continue working toward getting there. That should count for something, but no one bothers to check and see where I'm at now. They just cling to what they think they know and the truth isn't relevant, as far as they're concerned. But, I'm only supposed to see who they are today and forget their past. Why is mine the only past that matters?
I also hurt when I see someone who professes to be a follower of Jesus treating me in a way that Jesus does not approve of, but that hurt is for them, not for me. I hurt when I see someone in need and I don't have the ability to meet their need. I hurt when I see someone mistreated for things that are beyond their control. Again, the pain is for them, not for me. I hurt when the people who mistreat me don't get what they want or need. And I hurt for them when they tell me I need to be less sensitive, because I know that they have lost their sensitivity.
I know that those who mistreat me aren't "there," yet, either. I know that we're all a work in progress, especially those who are Believers. So I forgive those who hurt me, whether intentionally or not. And I treat them as if they have never hurt me. Or I try my best to. And I pray for all of us to get better, wiser, smarter. I pray hardest that I can somehow touch someone's life in a way that shows Jesus to them and they will know Him and trust Him and follow Him.
Yes, I get hurt, but I also get healed. I get blessed. And I continue.
I wish I could say it doesn't hurt when family members shun me or turn their back on me. It hurts that family members will talk about me but won't talk to me. It hurts when family believe something about me when they don't take the time to get to know me. I feel the pain when family members talk about something that isn't true because they never took the time to ask me if it was true or not. I feel the pain when family members won't talk to me because they believe the lies told by someone they know is a liar.
I do not wish that I was less sensitive about things. I'm proud to be a sensitive person who has feelings. God and me have done a whole lot of work changing the person I was into the person I am. (I said what I said.) I don't want to undo a single thing that we've changed. No, I'm not all the way "there." I have not yet arrived at where I want to be someday. I'm not there, yet. But I continue working toward getting there. That should count for something, but no one bothers to check and see where I'm at now. They just cling to what they think they know and the truth isn't relevant, as far as they're concerned. But, I'm only supposed to see who they are today and forget their past. Why is mine the only past that matters?
I also hurt when I see someone who professes to be a follower of Jesus treating me in a way that Jesus does not approve of, but that hurt is for them, not for me. I hurt when I see someone in need and I don't have the ability to meet their need. I hurt when I see someone mistreated for things that are beyond their control. Again, the pain is for them, not for me. I hurt when the people who mistreat me don't get what they want or need. And I hurt for them when they tell me I need to be less sensitive, because I know that they have lost their sensitivity.
I know that those who mistreat me aren't "there," yet, either. I know that we're all a work in progress, especially those who are Believers. So I forgive those who hurt me, whether intentionally or not. And I treat them as if they have never hurt me. Or I try my best to. And I pray for all of us to get better, wiser, smarter. I pray hardest that I can somehow touch someone's life in a way that shows Jesus to them and they will know Him and trust Him and follow Him.
Yes, I get hurt, but I also get healed. I get blessed. And I continue.
Thursday, October 15, 2026
Legacy
Well, the end is in sight. Received the draft of the affidavit for succession for Dad's estate yesterday evening. It made me realize that even when someone passes, there's still a lot to do, and once that's done, then the end is truly done.
Eighty seven years of life reduced to 7 pieces of paper. Seventy years of relationships, marriages, divorces and children reduced to two paragraphs. Sixty-two years of my life reduced to black and white, waiting for signatures and notarizing.
Back when I was preparing for Dad's Memorial, I tried to think of his legacy, and I've thought about it, frequently, over the past nine months. A whole lot of heartbreak, heartache, pain, suffering and missed chances. Six legitimate children, nine grandchildren, a few great-grandchildren. Two surviving sisters, two surviving brothers out of seven total siblings. None of his wives or relationships survived him. All of them, except Charlynne, passing away long after the relationships ended, but before he passed away.
In the end, he had a relationship with one of his children, none of his grandchildren and one reluctant relationship with his late girlfriend's granddaughter. Only one of his offspring chose to stay in touch with him. Almost every person he had known or had relationships with had closed the door on him by the time he passed away.
He was not the same man in those last four years that he had been throughout most of my life. Yet, his change came too little too late for most of the people who had known him in life. His desire for success, wealth, renown had cost him everything and every one. His need to control had stripped away everything worth having, in the end.
The worst part of it all, as far as I can tell, is that the one person he thought the most of and the most about, while there around him, did not want to be there with him, at all. She was there because he was her only hope of gaining her grandmother's estate. In the end, he let her down on that, as well.
When I hear people talk about him, I don't hear happy stories. I don't hear people talking about the good he did. And I don't hear people talk about the changes in him over the last few years of his life. He talked about making amends, but he never got around to actually doing so. I may be the only person he apologized to.
Some say even that was too little too late, but for me it wasn't. It was something I had waited 62 years for. It was something I never thought I'd hear him say. No, it wasn't worth waiting all those years for, but it was worth hearing him say it. It didn't wipe away everything that he had said and done or didn't do, but it was healing to hear him say that he regretted those things.
The tragedy of it, really, is that his passing won't leave much of a hole in anyone's life. Truth is, almost everyone who knew him has gone on with their lives without much notice that he's gone. Only two people have even noticed that he's missing, really. Charlynne's granddaughter and myself. I do miss him. I miss talking to him on the phone, I miss knowing that I can get in the car and drive to Louisiana and see him. Help him with things. Serah doesn't mention him, much. Other than to talk about how he was supposed to get her grandmother's estate switched from her father to her. And complaining because she doesn't have her grandmother's money. She never says she misses him.
My uncle Harry told me that he had gotten to where he wouldn't talk to my Dad because he got tired of hearing all Dad's lies and his bragging about things that he never did. But, he did tell me that Dad would brag about raising Serah and Uncle Harry said he really wanted to ask Dad why he didn't raise his own children. Because Dad never raised any of his own children. Three daughters with his first wife, Linda, were raised by their maternal grandmother, their mother and step-father. Two boys with his second wife, Sue, were raised by Sue, Bonnie, Dad's sister, Tene, Dad's parents and Dad's girlfriend, Ann Hanson Hale. One child by his third wife, Bonnie, was raised by Bonnie and Tene. Out of the six kids, I was the only one who was around him, much, and that was only because Ann was raising me and Dad lived in the same house.
But was being in the same house with him worth the price I had to pay to say I lived in close proximity to my father? Most people would answer with an expletive. I still carry the physical scars and the emotional and psychological scars will never heal, completely. I share one additional thing in common with Dad's youngest daughter, Karen, other than parentage. He tried to kill both of us. Her before she was born and me at 17. She still carries that emotional and psychological scar.
Dad left a legacy, as almost every person who lives does, but it's not one that has any good in it. It's not one that anyone would want to share. He lived 87 years, 11 months, 2 days. A wasted life. A life that left broken, hurting and scarred people in it's wake. A life that moved like a hurricane across the face of the planet, leaving destruction, pain and misery behind.
Eighty seven years of life reduced to 7 pieces of paper. Seventy years of relationships, marriages, divorces and children reduced to two paragraphs. Sixty-two years of my life reduced to black and white, waiting for signatures and notarizing.
Back when I was preparing for Dad's Memorial, I tried to think of his legacy, and I've thought about it, frequently, over the past nine months. A whole lot of heartbreak, heartache, pain, suffering and missed chances. Six legitimate children, nine grandchildren, a few great-grandchildren. Two surviving sisters, two surviving brothers out of seven total siblings. None of his wives or relationships survived him. All of them, except Charlynne, passing away long after the relationships ended, but before he passed away.
In the end, he had a relationship with one of his children, none of his grandchildren and one reluctant relationship with his late girlfriend's granddaughter. Only one of his offspring chose to stay in touch with him. Almost every person he had known or had relationships with had closed the door on him by the time he passed away.
He was not the same man in those last four years that he had been throughout most of my life. Yet, his change came too little too late for most of the people who had known him in life. His desire for success, wealth, renown had cost him everything and every one. His need to control had stripped away everything worth having, in the end.
The worst part of it all, as far as I can tell, is that the one person he thought the most of and the most about, while there around him, did not want to be there with him, at all. She was there because he was her only hope of gaining her grandmother's estate. In the end, he let her down on that, as well.
When I hear people talk about him, I don't hear happy stories. I don't hear people talking about the good he did. And I don't hear people talk about the changes in him over the last few years of his life. He talked about making amends, but he never got around to actually doing so. I may be the only person he apologized to.
Some say even that was too little too late, but for me it wasn't. It was something I had waited 62 years for. It was something I never thought I'd hear him say. No, it wasn't worth waiting all those years for, but it was worth hearing him say it. It didn't wipe away everything that he had said and done or didn't do, but it was healing to hear him say that he regretted those things.
The tragedy of it, really, is that his passing won't leave much of a hole in anyone's life. Truth is, almost everyone who knew him has gone on with their lives without much notice that he's gone. Only two people have even noticed that he's missing, really. Charlynne's granddaughter and myself. I do miss him. I miss talking to him on the phone, I miss knowing that I can get in the car and drive to Louisiana and see him. Help him with things. Serah doesn't mention him, much. Other than to talk about how he was supposed to get her grandmother's estate switched from her father to her. And complaining because she doesn't have her grandmother's money. She never says she misses him.
My uncle Harry told me that he had gotten to where he wouldn't talk to my Dad because he got tired of hearing all Dad's lies and his bragging about things that he never did. But, he did tell me that Dad would brag about raising Serah and Uncle Harry said he really wanted to ask Dad why he didn't raise his own children. Because Dad never raised any of his own children. Three daughters with his first wife, Linda, were raised by their maternal grandmother, their mother and step-father. Two boys with his second wife, Sue, were raised by Sue, Bonnie, Dad's sister, Tene, Dad's parents and Dad's girlfriend, Ann Hanson Hale. One child by his third wife, Bonnie, was raised by Bonnie and Tene. Out of the six kids, I was the only one who was around him, much, and that was only because Ann was raising me and Dad lived in the same house.
But was being in the same house with him worth the price I had to pay to say I lived in close proximity to my father? Most people would answer with an expletive. I still carry the physical scars and the emotional and psychological scars will never heal, completely. I share one additional thing in common with Dad's youngest daughter, Karen, other than parentage. He tried to kill both of us. Her before she was born and me at 17. She still carries that emotional and psychological scar.
Dad left a legacy, as almost every person who lives does, but it's not one that has any good in it. It's not one that anyone would want to share. He lived 87 years, 11 months, 2 days. A wasted life. A life that left broken, hurting and scarred people in it's wake. A life that moved like a hurricane across the face of the planet, leaving destruction, pain and misery behind.
Wednesday, October 7, 2026
Why?
Why do we look for what's wrong with a person instead of looking for what's good in that person? Why are more concerned about the sins of the person than we are with sharing love and salvation with them? Why will talk about what someone did wrong more often, and quicker, than we will about what they do right? Why are we so quick to list the failures of a person than to list the successes?
The Bible tells us to meditate on whatever is good, holy, of good report, so why do we give so much of our attention to what is bad, degenerate and of bad report? When we talk to others about someone, why can't we talk about the good things they've done, the great plans they have or just the good way they love instead of talking about their missteps, their stumbles or their wrongdoings?
Why can't we behave the way we want others to behave?
The Bible tells us to meditate on whatever is good, holy, of good report, so why do we give so much of our attention to what is bad, degenerate and of bad report? When we talk to others about someone, why can't we talk about the good things they've done, the great plans they have or just the good way they love instead of talking about their missteps, their stumbles or their wrongdoings?
Why can't we behave the way we want others to behave?
Tuesday, October 6, 2026
What Is Art?
Music, poetry, paintings, drawings, sculptures, dramas, comedies. All of those and more are The Arts. But the arts are so much more. Art is the emotional expression of the people who create them. Art is about the human condition. Art is the manifestation of what is in someone's soul.
Art is what people cannot say in a one on one situation. Art is learning. Art is passion. Art is searching. Art is healing. Art is pain. Art is human.
You may not like some art, and that's okay. You may love some art that others don't like, and that's okay. Art is personal. Art is connection. Art is reflection. Art is rarely about perfection.
Every single person on the planet creates some type of art, almost daily. Others may not think of it as art, but it doesn't truly matter what others think. Art is personal. Art is grand. Art is simple. Art is many things to many people and seldom do two people see a work of art and feel the same thing. Because it is personal. To the one who views it and the one who creates it.
Art is beauty. Art is wonder. Art is love.
Art is what people cannot say in a one on one situation. Art is learning. Art is passion. Art is searching. Art is healing. Art is pain. Art is human.
You may not like some art, and that's okay. You may love some art that others don't like, and that's okay. Art is personal. Art is connection. Art is reflection. Art is rarely about perfection.
Every single person on the planet creates some type of art, almost daily. Others may not think of it as art, but it doesn't truly matter what others think. Art is personal. Art is grand. Art is simple. Art is many things to many people and seldom do two people see a work of art and feel the same thing. Because it is personal. To the one who views it and the one who creates it.
Art is beauty. Art is wonder. Art is love.
Tuesday, September 29, 2026
Living With All Known Spinal Conditions
I have never been under any delusions when it comes to the issues I face with my spine. I know I have a very aggressive case of degenerative disc disease. I've lost 21 of the 24 discs I was born with. That's pretty strong proof of the DDD. Also have stenosis, double scoliosis along with the disc disease. Then I developed arachnoiditis in the late 90s to go with it. I've known for 28 years that it will cause me to progressively lose the ability to work for very long. I'm currently at a point where 10 to 20 minutes is about all I can muster before I have to sit down and rest. For at least 2 to 3 hours. But, I've also beat the odds because God has kept me on my feet these last 26 years, when I should have been in a wheelchair according to x-rays, MRIs and CT scans. No doctor who looks at the images of my spine would say that I'm able to walk, much less work.
And I want to say loud and clear: I'm SO SO SO SO SO GRATEFUL! I just wish I could still be going at least an hour or two of working before having to sit down and rest. I miss being able to get things accomplished in a single day versus a week. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, because I really do have way to much to grateful for to allow or justify any complaining. I just get frustrated with my spine, with my small amounts of being able to work before sitting. I want to keep going even though my spine refuses to go any further. But, I will be okay. God still has His hand on me. Actually, I'm kinda sitting in His hand.
It has been a tough journey, one that truly began on 18 October 1987 on Buncombe Road in Shreveport, Louisiana, right in front of First Assembly of God church (now known as Shreveport Community Church.) In just a couple weeks the 39th anniversary of that wreck will be here. Thirty-nine years of pain. Thirty-nine years of gradually losing the ability to do the things I love to do. I'm 63 years old and I am physically able to do what a 90 year old can do. I've prayed for healing. I've had others pray for my healing. And I know my healing was accomplished before Jesus was hung on the cross. His stripes were taken for my healing. So I know I am already healed. I'm just waiting for the manifestation of it. And sometimes I'm patiently waiting.
I sometimes grimace when someone says I'm living with it, because at times it doesn't feel like living, it feels like existing without living.
And I want to say loud and clear: I'm SO SO SO SO SO GRATEFUL! I just wish I could still be going at least an hour or two of working before having to sit down and rest. I miss being able to get things accomplished in a single day versus a week. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, because I really do have way to much to grateful for to allow or justify any complaining. I just get frustrated with my spine, with my small amounts of being able to work before sitting. I want to keep going even though my spine refuses to go any further. But, I will be okay. God still has His hand on me. Actually, I'm kinda sitting in His hand.
It has been a tough journey, one that truly began on 18 October 1987 on Buncombe Road in Shreveport, Louisiana, right in front of First Assembly of God church (now known as Shreveport Community Church.) In just a couple weeks the 39th anniversary of that wreck will be here. Thirty-nine years of pain. Thirty-nine years of gradually losing the ability to do the things I love to do. I'm 63 years old and I am physically able to do what a 90 year old can do. I've prayed for healing. I've had others pray for my healing. And I know my healing was accomplished before Jesus was hung on the cross. His stripes were taken for my healing. So I know I am already healed. I'm just waiting for the manifestation of it. And sometimes I'm patiently waiting.
I sometimes grimace when someone says I'm living with it, because at times it doesn't feel like living, it feels like existing without living.
Sunday, August 23, 2026
The United States of America is Not a Christian Nation
Military service runs in my family. During almost every generation of my family going back to World War I, there have been members of both sides of my family who have served in the military. Air Force, Navy, Army, Marines and Coast Guard. (Yes, Sarah, the Coast Guard is part of the military.)
But, it goes deeper than that. Yes, I had relatives who fought in the Civil War, on BOTH sides. But, I also had relatives who fought in the War of 1812. And the Revolutionary War. While I don't know the names or specifics, I'm almost willing to bet that I had forebears on both sides of the Revolutionary War since I am descended from Irish, Scottish, English and Welsh bloodlines.
On both sides of my family, military service meant a lot. Not just the idea of getting education, having employment, etc., but the idea of defending the principles this country was founded on. The rights and freedoms that Americans have, not granted to us by the government, because we are the government. From Day One of this nation, the people have been the government. So, we grant and guarantee ourselves the rights and freedoms we cherish and defend.
Ours is a unique nation. Before the founding of these United States of America there had never been a nation founded on the principle of "government for the people by the people." Yes, there had been democracies before, and republics. But none were founded to be a democratic republic governed exclusively by the citizenry of the nation.
In 1797, President John Adams, who was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and was a devout Christian wrote into the Treaty of Tripoli, "As the government of the United States of America is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion."
To bolster the fact that the United States was not founded as a Christian nation, the Name of Jesus nor the word Christian or Christ does not appear in any of the founding documents of these United States; not in the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution of the United States of America and not within the first few Amendments among the Bill of Rights.
The war of Independence was not fought on religious grounds. Inasfar as I can determine, there was no hostility from the King of England toward anyone's religious practices within the 13 colonies, so to declare that this nation was founded as a Christian nation escaping religious persecution is a distorting of the facts that brought about the formation of America.
I served in the USAF. During my oath I swore to uphold the Constitution of the United States of America, and I asked for God's help in doing so, but I did not swear an oath to the Christian faith or any religion. When I read the Declaration and the Constitution I read about the God of Nature and the Creator, but I have never read the name of Jesus, the word Christ or Christian and I have never read where the foundation of this nation was based upon religious grounds. In fact, the first mention of religion comes in Article VI of the Constitution which states, "no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States."
IF the United States were founded as a Christian nation, the founders would not have included that wording within the Constitution. America was most decidedly and purposely founded as a non-theocracy. A democratic republic which from 1791 has an Amendment to the Constitution, the FIRST Amendment, even, which states that the US shall not ever establish a state religion nor impede the free practice of any religion by the government. Freedom of religion also means freedom from religion.
The saddest part of this whole argument, to me, is that those who want to declare this to be a "Christian Nation," are the very ones who refuse to obey the commands of the Christ. They don't love their enemies. They don't love all people. They do not feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, take care of widows and orphans. In fact, they are adamantly against doing anything to help those who are poor. How could they claim this is a Christian nation when they refuse to let this nation do what Christ commanded His followers to do?
But, it goes deeper than that. Yes, I had relatives who fought in the Civil War, on BOTH sides. But, I also had relatives who fought in the War of 1812. And the Revolutionary War. While I don't know the names or specifics, I'm almost willing to bet that I had forebears on both sides of the Revolutionary War since I am descended from Irish, Scottish, English and Welsh bloodlines.
On both sides of my family, military service meant a lot. Not just the idea of getting education, having employment, etc., but the idea of defending the principles this country was founded on. The rights and freedoms that Americans have, not granted to us by the government, because we are the government. From Day One of this nation, the people have been the government. So, we grant and guarantee ourselves the rights and freedoms we cherish and defend.
Ours is a unique nation. Before the founding of these United States of America there had never been a nation founded on the principle of "government for the people by the people." Yes, there had been democracies before, and republics. But none were founded to be a democratic republic governed exclusively by the citizenry of the nation.
In 1797, President John Adams, who was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and was a devout Christian wrote into the Treaty of Tripoli, "As the government of the United States of America is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion."
To bolster the fact that the United States was not founded as a Christian nation, the Name of Jesus nor the word Christian or Christ does not appear in any of the founding documents of these United States; not in the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution of the United States of America and not within the first few Amendments among the Bill of Rights.
The war of Independence was not fought on religious grounds. Inasfar as I can determine, there was no hostility from the King of England toward anyone's religious practices within the 13 colonies, so to declare that this nation was founded as a Christian nation escaping religious persecution is a distorting of the facts that brought about the formation of America.
I served in the USAF. During my oath I swore to uphold the Constitution of the United States of America, and I asked for God's help in doing so, but I did not swear an oath to the Christian faith or any religion. When I read the Declaration and the Constitution I read about the God of Nature and the Creator, but I have never read the name of Jesus, the word Christ or Christian and I have never read where the foundation of this nation was based upon religious grounds. In fact, the first mention of religion comes in Article VI of the Constitution which states, "no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States."
IF the United States were founded as a Christian nation, the founders would not have included that wording within the Constitution. America was most decidedly and purposely founded as a non-theocracy. A democratic republic which from 1791 has an Amendment to the Constitution, the FIRST Amendment, even, which states that the US shall not ever establish a state religion nor impede the free practice of any religion by the government. Freedom of religion also means freedom from religion.
The saddest part of this whole argument, to me, is that those who want to declare this to be a "Christian Nation," are the very ones who refuse to obey the commands of the Christ. They don't love their enemies. They don't love all people. They do not feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, take care of widows and orphans. In fact, they are adamantly against doing anything to help those who are poor. How could they claim this is a Christian nation when they refuse to let this nation do what Christ commanded His followers to do?
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