A Little Humor for Your Day – ‘Top Thirteen Reasons To Be Pagan’

Top Thirteen Reasons To Be Pagan

13. I live for persecution!
12. I’m a night person at heart.
11. We respect our elders…and alders, and willows and oaks.
10. I just love explaining that a pentagram is NOT evil.
9. We do more after midnight than most people do all day!
8. Being burned at the stake is a great way to roast marshmallows.
7. We can talk to Elvis (and he IS dead).
6. You live, you learn, you die, you forget. Then you come back…
5. Double the deities, double the fun!
4. We get more holidays.
3. Brooms get great mileage.
2. We were here first!

A Little Humor for Your Day – ‘Remove The Curse, lol!’

Remove the Curse

A pagan goes to a Wizard to ask him if he can remove a curse he has been living with for the last 40 years.

The Wizard says, “Maybe, but you will have to tell me the exact words that were used to put the curse on you.”

The old man said without hesitation, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

May The Goddess’ Blessings Rain Down On You Today, dear Farmily & Friends!

I will try my best not to be too long winded this morning. HA! I just wanted to announce to the world that my son and his wife had their third child. It is a boy. He weighed 8 lbs. and 2 oz. and was 21 inches long. He has a thick head of brown hair and he is so adorable. I am going to run and squeeze him some more in just a little bit. Mommy had to have a C-section so they are going to be in the hospital a few more days. There was nothing wrong Mom had already had two children by C-section and the Doctor said it was just customary to do the rest by C-section too.  I had been after my son for weeks now what they were going to name the baby. He wouldn’t tell me for nothing. Finally Thursday night  he told me the baby’s first name and I asked him about the second. He would say anything. I got after him and told him he would tell me because they were going to name the kid after her daddy. Which by the way, my son would never have lived that down. These people don’t like me because I am a Witch. Back to the story, he told me yesterday what the baby’s middle name was. And I like to have went through the roof with joy, the baby’s middle name is the name of my hubby’s father. I was tickled to death and my husband was crying. It was great!

So if I cut things short today, hopefully not as short as yesterday. Yesterday the winds were up and the power lines were swinging. Which meant power and cable comin’ and a’goin’! I finally shut down the computer because I didn’t want to burn it up. We have surge protectors but I feel much safer turning them off than being sorry later.

Well I am going to be good to my word today. Short, well so of short, but short for me, lol! Ya’ll have a very happy Sunday and a very Blessed week ahead……..

Luv & Hugs,
Lady A



P. S.

I should mention, I am not that old. I just had children young. The reason being is because when they left home, I would still be young enough to enough life. My plan worked for a change! And my son’s wife heard me say that and she thought that was a marvelous idea. So that is what they are doing! Who knows we might start a trend here, lol!


More Sunday Comments

How About A Little Humor – Women Compared To Men :)

Women Compared To Men


Women have strengths that amaze men. They carry children, they carry hardships, they carry burdens, but they hold happiness, love and joy.

They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry.

They cry when they are happy and laugh when they are nervous.

Women wait by the phone for a “safe at home call” from a friend after a              snowy drive home.

They are child care workers, executives, attorneys, stay-at-home moms,              biker babes, and your neighbors.

They wear suits, jeans, and they wear uniforms.

They fight for what they believe in. They stand up for injustice.

They walk and talk the mile to get their children in the right schools and for getting their family the right health care.

They go to the doctor with a frightened friend.

Women are honest, loyal, and forgiving.

They are smart, knowing that knowledge is power. But they still know how              to use their softer side to make a point.

Women want to be the best for their family, their friends, and themselves.

Their hearts break when a friend dies.

They have sorrow at the loss of a family member, yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left.

A woman can make a romantic evening unforgettable.

Women come in all sizes, in all colors and shapes.

They live in homes, apartments and cabins.

They drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how much they care about              you.

The heart of a woman is what makes the world spin!

Women do more than just give birth. They bring joy and hope. They give              compassion and ideals.

They give moral support to their family and friends. And all they want              back is a hug, a smile and for you to do the same to people you come in contact with.


Men are good at lifting heavy stuff.

“Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater.  Give her sperm she will make a baby.  Give her a house she will give you a home.  Give her groceries she will give you a meal.  Give her a smile she will give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what she is given. So if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit.”


Turok’s Cabana

What A Wonderful & Blessed Day, Happy Thursday, dear friends!

Good Morning Images, Quotes, Comments, Graphics
Good morning to you! How is everyone doing this morning? I got up at 5:00 a.m., said the heck with this and went back to bed, lol! Of course, to actually get in the bed, I had to move critters. I am going to take a picture of all them asleep in the bed and post it. You will laugh your rump off. Kiki (little Pom) sleeps at the head between the pillows. Then I have Stinky (cat) and Razzy (bobcat) stretched out all over the bed. Stinker might just be a cat but he is huge too. Between the two of them, the floor looks pretty good at nights, lol!

Anyway how do you like this morning’s graphic? I had someone the other day leave me a comment. The comment stated I was the most negative person they had ever seen in their life. Threw me for a loop anyway! I didn’t think I was negative at all. I try to bring a very positive vibe everyday to the blog. They were referring to my post about “Spellcrafting, spellcasting and the Spellcaster.” I went back and re-read it and I couldn’t find anything negative about it. I still am baffled about that one.

Well I haven’t had much time to talk to you recently. So I figured what the heck I would stop and smell the roses for a minute or two. Around here all you smell is stinkweeds (ah, I see the negativity coming through now, lol!). I just have a very dry sense of humor, or so I have been told. Or perhaps they mean, I have a very strange way of looking at the world. But don’t we all? That’s what makes us individuals. I would hate to think we all thinked alike, looked alike and acted alike. What a boring world that would be!

Well speaking of boring, the only excitement I have had around here was Mother’s Day.  I figured Mother’s Day would be very quiet and peaceful. The day before, my daughter and husband caught me at the Dollar Store. They bestowed my Mother’s Day gifts there in the parking lot. She told me that she wouldn’t be out because she was staying home. They had been to Nashville the day before and her house was a mess. So she was going to clean house. So I figured since I had seen her the day before, Mother’s Day would be quiet. I didn’t think my son would make an appearance. Heck, I am just his mother why should he??? We have quiet a few new readers and I should explain this real quick. You see my son married into a very religious family and the religion isn’t mine. And he opened his big mouth and politely told them I was a witch. Well you can imagine how that went over, like a lead balloon! They don’t want him to have anything to do with me, his own mother. Up until recently he hasn’t but things have now changed in his marriage. He is starting to become close with me again. So back to the story, he up and calls on Mother’s Day. He wants to know if it would be alright for him and his dog to come out. I asked him how his dog got along with cats. He responded, “Oh, just fine!” Lying little, I let that one go! He comes out and brings the dog in the house. The first thing, Kiki tries to jump it. I caught her in mid-air. I had to hold her the whole time he was here. Everytime the dog got close to me, she would try to tear it up. I could tell this was going to be a long five hours, oh brother! We went in the living room and sit down. I looked around for the cats and didn’t see them. I thought they smelled a strange dog, they would stay hidden. Yeah, right! After about two hours of bonding with my son, here comes Razzy sneaking down the hall. Before I could even get up, she had rounded the corner and was heading for the washroom. Well my son’s dog broke loose from him and went right straight for Razzy. He pinned her up against the screen door. All you could see was fur flying and a very loud and angry bobcat shrieking. You would have to hear one to know what I am talking about. But they were both going at it in the corner of the door. Finally the dog backed off and Razzy flew to the washroom. My son’s dog had his face mauled. It was horrible. I got the paper towels and started to look at the dog. He needed stitches unfortunately. I offered to sew the dog up (since I doctor all the wild animals that come from the vets’ to me), I thought I would offer. “Heck, no!” He was taking his dog to his vet. So he left and I tracked down Razzy. She had jumped behind the dryer and couldn’t get out, not to mention she was wild. She was snarling and growling, so I knew she had to be hurt. I pulled the dryer out and as I put my leg down she smacked at my leg. I asked her who the heck did she think she was smacking at. Then she sort of calmed down. I slowly picked her up and she would occasionally growl. I would stop and talk to her and she would quit. Well I got her out and looked at her. Her shoulder was dislocated and she had been bit through her paw. I put her shoulder back in place and started making poultices to put on her paw. By this time she had jumped off the table and had run to one of the bedrooms. I was in hot pursue. I tracked her down and pulled the bed out. She did the same thing again, growling and snarling. I talked to her again and she calmed down. I picked her up and we started back to the kitchen were I could doctor her paw. Going through the living room, it was all I could do to hold her. Her back paws got loose and she cut the living crap out of my face. But I was still nice and loving. I got her to the table and I had already had a sedative out for her. I got her all doctored up and she went to sleep. While she was sleeping, I got to thinking how quickly she converted back to being wild. That scared the crap out of me. She has always had a wild side to her that I haven’t been able to reach. So I started to cry thinking she could never stay in the house. Then I remember the wonderful Goddess Bast. I prayed and prayed to Her. I asked Her to bring my Razzy back to me. After all night of praying and crying, Razzy woke up. She was not the same cat at all. She was the tamest I had ever seen her. Even now, she is still a totally new cat. Oh, how I thanked and thanked the Goddess for bringing her back to me. I gave the Goddess Bast an offering of gratitude. I even found a small figure of a cat and dedicated it to Bast and put it on my altar. I was never so happy in my life. What a miracle worker the Goddess was. She had brought Razzy back to me but even better than ever. I had told Bast about the wild streak Razzy had and how I couldn’t reach through it. But the Goddess did and Razzy has such a beautiful personality now. Oh, I still can’t get over it. I am so grateful.

I am still amazed at how something so bad could turnout to be something so good. Since that experience, I feel very humble. We all know the Goddesses exist but to actually see their work right before your very eyes. It is something else. I believe the experience left me feeling very loved because you know the Goddesses are listening and ready to help at a moment’s notice. It reassures your beliefs and also let’s you know that you matter to Them. You are truly one of Their children. It is just a wonderful feeling, I know that much. It also reassured me that my life might seem like a mess right now. But everything is going to work out. With the Goddesses on your side, how couldn’t it?

Daily Feng Shui Tip for Sunday, May 13

I simply don’t have the words to express my sentiments about today’s ‘Mother’s Day’ celebration. Sometimes just writing or saying the word ‘mother’ speaks volumes. Today I honor, appreciate and applaud every single one of us who have taken on the task of mothering. Some will be spending time with their own mothers today, the same mothers who sacrificed and snuggled, smiled and supported, no matter what. And then there are those of us who are living without our mothers, and our lives are definitely not quite the same. We miss them every day. I know I do. Happy Mother’s Day to every mother who walks this whole wide world. You make all that’s wonderful in the world even better — and most of the time you don’t even know it. Lucky bamboo is a great gift that is believed to bring solid support to every area of Mom’s now lucky life. There are even numbers of stalks you can give to show her support in specific endeavors, or oddly enough, other numbers that can also create great fortunes. Two stalks if she’s looking for a partner, five if her health is of concern and eight if she could use a little cold, hard cash. She warms your heart, holds your hand and cries whenever you do. Like I said, just read the word and feel the love. Mother. Happy day devoted just to you!

By Ellen Whitehurst for Astrology.com

Good Thursday Morning to all my dear friends!

Hello Images, Pics, Comments, Graphics
If you didn’t notice yesterday, I went a little crazy with the pics I used. The reason being, I wanted to get a response out of you. Yes, you! It just seems like it has been too quiet around here recently. I found myself this morning check the blog’s stats, believe it or not. The blog is getting the hits, thousands of visitors but no response, no “I like it” click or nothing. I thought using the graphics might heat things up a little bit. Then I got to wondering if they might run people off. It is one of those situations were you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. What’s a witch to do?

Then I got to thinking perhaps I don’t tell you enough about myself? Perhaps I don’t tell you all the weird and crazy things that happen to me being a witch. My husband even made the comment the other day, that we definitely have some strange stuff that goes on around here. I just looked at him and said, “I wonder why?” You have a Druid and a Witch living under the same roof what do you expect?  My aura is bright enough that it attracts ever-living “dead” thing within a hundred mile radius. Most of them resemble shadow people. There are a few that I admit are actually scary. That is why like clock work every Full Moon, I do my house blessing. It keeps the biggest part of them out but I have family members and one dear close friend that are permitted to visit. Well, I really don’t permit them. They just cross over when they get good and ready. I normally can’t smell anything (that is a long story on why I can’t smell, I will tell you that some other time). But I can smell my relatives. My mother has a very sweet smell to her. It is very comforting when I feel her presence. My father has a very carnation smell with pine mixed in. I have learned their smells and they don’t bother me. The special friend I was telling you about, he does bother me. He has no smell, he just appears as a mist. You can tell it is in the form of a man but it is still a mist (if that makes any sense). When I was separated from my husband, I dated this man. I know I told you about it. I don’t know if it was love or lust but I know I never felt that way about any man. Even today thinking about him, that feeling comes back. To make a long story short, he found out that my husband and I got back together. That same day, he got killed in a motorcycle wreck. And he is my special friend that now visits me from the afterlife. I wondered for the longest time who that mist was. One night, I was all alone and it appeared. It formed enough, I knew who it was. He could never stand my husband and my husband could never stand him. When he visits the first place he heads for is my husband’s den. Which drives me absolutely crazy! Hell, am I going to have to put up with this the rest of my life.

My dear, sweet (using these terms loosely) husband will yell and curses at the spirits. I just grit my teeth. I keep telling him not to do that but it doesn’t do any good. It only provokes the spirits and that is what he wants. I finally told him what goes on when he goes to bed. I told him about my special friend and my father trying to get in his room. Yes, my father, he and hubby didn’t get along either. And hubby calls him by name and curses him. I told him about me running and getting the first thing I could find and driving them out of his room. About me backing them up into the library and holding them there till I can get my shit together to banish them for the time being. They will never be banished permanently because of me. I have my heart open to them and I love them. I would enjoy their visits if they would behave theirselves. If my husband would behave himself too. He got up one morning and saw all the diced onion on the floor. He asked me what when on last night and I told him. I told him that one of the spirit (which will remain nameless) decided they wanted to visit him. One he has cursed. He wanted to know if I had gotten rid of it and I told him yes. Since then he has calmed down on cursing the spirits. Thank the Goddess! But I do know one thing, spirits hold grudges or else they don’t forget. I know I still catch one every now and then trying to sneak into his room. And here I got making a frantic dive for the kitchen.

Oh, it’s such a wonderful life, lol! Now you know why I occasionally fall asleep at the computer! After a night like that, wouldn’t you too?

Dog-gone Doggie of the Day for Spring Equinox!

Taggart, the Dog of the Day
Name: Taggart
Age: Three and a half years old
Gender: Male Breed: Australian Shepherd mix
Home: Concord, California, USA
Hello! My name is Taggart. My mom volunteers at a shelter called ARF and was working one evening for a special event in November of 2008. I was brought out to meet people and when I met my mom I put my head on her leg and that was it. She came back the next day to adopt me and I’ve been happily living in my new home for over three years. I will be turning four in May of this year.

I live in a house with one other dog and two cats. I like to play with the cats but only the boy cat will play with me. The girl just runs and hides. Right now I am the only dog in the house. My sister, Zoee, has been at grandma’s house since Christmas. I’m not sure why, something about her knee, but I know I miss her. I’m so bored all the time with no one to play with. But mom takes me on walks and sometimes to the park to play with other dogs. That’s so cool! That’s not something we do when Zoee is home.

My mom and dad always say how silly I am. I sleep in funny positions and make strange noises when I yawn. Mom also says I sound like Chewbacca (whoever that is).

The picture of me with the tennis ball is when I first came home. I sure have grown! Mom says I’m a little chunky right now since I’m not getting as much exercise with Zoee being gone. She even cut back on my food! But I still get a carrot every day.

Well, I’m going to go bug mom to take me for a walk since the rain has stopped for a while. Talk to you later!!

Eliminate Bad Spending Habits

Eliminate Bad Spending Habits

To help eliminate bad or careless spending habits, pull out one basic denomination of paper money (one dollar, one euro, and so on), and place it on your altar. Light a white candle and look into the flame. Meditate on any recent spending habits that need to change. Write these items down, and when the list is full read through it again. Light a green candle, and start reading these items out loud. As you speak, see the habits disappearing into the air and leaving you. Then say:

Open my eyes,
Lend clarity.
I will find just what I need.
What I don’t need,
I will leave.
Visualize yourself spending your money only on those things you need, and so finally bringing your spending habits under control.

By: Jenna Tigerheart


Spirit of Spring

Spirit of Spring

Author: Ceru

It’s an odd time of year to share a ‘ghost’ story but springtime reminds me of an experience I’d like to share as the trees bud.

In the early spring of 2008, I was asked to housesit at the family home of a dear friend. They were going to leave for the week and visit grandparents some distance away and felt uncomfortable leaving the house and the dog alone for that long. I gladly accepted thinking it would be like a mini vacation, it ended up a disturbing job.

My first clues should have been the event of the week before when my friend (we will call him Jake for confidentiality) and I were watching a movie. The both of us heard glass shattering and I was sure the carnival glass his mother collected had fallen off of the shelf and broken in the computer room. When I checked, there was a pile of green iridescent shards in the floor, the neat pile should have struck me as odd but the only thing on my mind was his mother and how she might cut her feet if she got up. I walked around the jagged threats and woke his mom up to tell her about the incident and told her I’d clean it up. She got up to help me but when we returned to the spot all of the glass had simply vanished.

I stared blankly at the floor unsure of how to react. I’m sure you can imagine how insane I felt. Jake still sat on the couch. I told him what happened but he shrugged it off saying that maybe we heard it coming from outside but it still didn’t explain what I seen. I analyzed it and decided I seen the glass because I thought that it would be there.

Before Jake left with his family he said to me “If the dog wakes up and starts barking late at night just ignore her, she does that sometimes.” The comment should have been red flag number two but it never went up.

My first day in the house went well. Jake’s family had bought the house next door and started renovations (Now that I think about it I guess I was double house-sitting) . They were paying me to paint Jake’s room and do some cleaning which helped to pass the time. After a days worth of painting, I went back to the main house, peeled the paint cloths off and took a hot shower. By 8:00 p.m. my little girl was tired from playing and watching cartoons and dancing while mommy painted so I put her on a sleeping mat in Jake’s bedroom and sang her to sleep; I put myself to bed shortly after.

At 2:15 a.m., I woke up hearing my little girl wondering through the house. The sleepwalking wasn’t unusual and two-year-olds have a reputation of waking at random hours looking for ‘momma’. So I wondered into the dark living room and called out to her. I heard her little feet running. I followed them into the kitchen and called for her to come to me. Then there was laughter aS she managed to get around me and head to where the kids slept. I followed again and told her to come to mommy. The pitter-pattering of feet were then suddenly on the other side of the house. Without a doubt, fear struck me. I thought to myself she couldn’t move that fast.

In a dire attempt to check my sanity, I ran back to Jake’s bedroom and crawled around on the floor looking for my daughter. She had simply pushed herself into the doorway of the closet; she had been there the entire time. Fear struck me again. What had I been chasing? I feel asleep beside her, asking my guardians to protect and shield us.

Morning came and so did a visit to Nanna’s house. I took my little girl to stay with family while I finished housesitting. I returned with the intention of discovering what exactly was going on in the house. I wasn’t disappointed. The second day went completely normal. There were no disturbances in the house but I found it hard to sleep and woke every few hours.

At 2:22 a.m. the next morning, the dog growled under the blankets. In fact she didn’t just growl she came completely unraveled jumping from beneath the blankets, and her hair stood on end. My first thought was someone was trying to break into the house (as I’d been through that before and I wasn’t too far off) . I checked the doors and windows, and in the stillness of a dark room, I listened but by this time all was quiet -including the dog.

Approximately an hour later, it was a repeat experience but I didn’t bother checking entrances. The ‘logic’ was thrown out the window and I did what I should have done in the first place: I followed my intuition and followed the dog.

Growling and dashing here and there, she steered me through the kitchen to the doorway that led to the computer room (the same room where the broken glass was piled) and there in the door way was a looming, smoky shadow. The dog was growling at it ferociously. It felt angry and towering and it communicated with me both through the pain in my stomach and striking mental images that didn’t make bit of sense to me immediately.

In my mind I saw the house next door and the yard. The focus was the work being done to the property. I didn’t sleep at all for the rest of the morning but with coming light and a few cups of coffee, I managed. The smoky figure had dissipated from my vision but I still felt its presence. When the sun came up I took my cup of coffee and in bare feet and walked to the house next door. The presence didn’t seem to be anywhere in the house.

I exited through the back door and started to walk the property; the visions returned to me. An extremely large hole had been dug on the property and Jake’s parents were filling it with trash they had found in a storage shed that they intended to demolish. Several trees had been completely pulled up and one tree, a walnut tree and the largest on the property had been terribly burned on one side from the burning of the trash.

My stomach ached standing before this tree and I found myself very upset as tears started streaming down my face. Without any words, it had told me. I could see that this spirit was trying to get the attention of Jake’s family for some time and they ignored it. When it realized I could sense it, it lashed out desperately this is what I could hear and feel.

I left but returned later with small tokens, water, milk, honey, silver and energy for healing. I promised to tell the family what I had learned.

The spring time is the awakening of the plants, nay, for the very earth itself. It is said that the Morrigan wakes them by striking them at Imbolc but perhaps the next time we carelessly pull up a plant or knock over nature in any form we might consider those beings who are a living part of their physical element and treat them as we would a deer slain for food, with respect, an offering and a prayer.

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Always At My Back

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Always at My Back

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Dad

BY: Wendy Walker

What a child doesn’t receive he can seldom later give.
~P.D. James,
Time to Be in Earnest

My relationship with my father is complicated. It always has been. We are alike in many ways and this only adds to the complications. But there was one time when it was simple, when I was just a daughter and he a father, and it is this one time that I remember with great affection.

I was in college, probably my freshman year. I attended school only two hours away from my parents’ house, so I came home every break I got to see friends from high school, or to sleep and eat free groceries. Occasionally, I brought friends with me. It was a great place to escape the many pressures of college and growing up, and to be someone’s child again.

On one break, I came home early to catch up with my best friend from high school. My mother’s sister was visiting, so I camped out in the basement bedroom — which was just fine by me because it made for easy entry in the early morning hours. My friend’s mother took us to a movie and we made it an early night. The house was dark when I came home, but David Letterman was still on. I watched some TV and then went to bed myself.

A few hours later, I woke up with a horrible pain in my gut. I didn’t know this at the time, but it was similar to labor contractions — only it didn’t come and go in waves of torment. The torment was constant. I tried to get comfortable and fall back asleep, but that wasn’t happening. So, clutching the walls as I walked, I made my way up two flights of stairs to the bathroom medicine chest. I scoured the shelves for anything that might help — antacids, Tylenol, Motrin. My aunt, who was sleeping in the next room, heard the commotion and came out to see what was going on. She had been a drug counselor at one time in her life, and had keen hearing for roaming teenagers. By the time she found me, I was doubled over and getting dizzy. She rushed down the hall to my parents’ bedroom, and by the time they arrived, I had passed out on the floor.

I woke up in the nearest bed with all three of them around me. They immediately began questioning me. Where had I been? What had I done? What had I eaten? Did I take any drugs (that one from my aunt)? The answer was, simply, movie and popcorn. They checked for signs of appendicitis and gave me some Motrin. I can’t remember whether I fell asleep again or just waited out the night, but in the morning the pain was still there, full on.

My father was dressed for work, but he called in to say he would be late, then bundled me in the car and drove me to the emergency room at one of the local hospitals. It was the usual scene — crowded, chaotic and filled with the distinctive feeling that comes from being at the mercy of a headless bureaucratic machine. We checked in and sat in the chairs waiting for our turn. The one thing about my father that is easy to understand is that he has never been a patient man, and this is especially true when someone he loves is suffering. I was far too distracted by my own pain to notice it then, but his patience was depleting as the minutes, then hours ticked by.

We made it, finally, to an exam room and that’s where the waiting really began. Seeing that I needed observation, the first doctor came, then quickly left us in a line for admission to a regular room. Only the line was very long. Four hours passed. My father came and went from the room as I lay there in fetal position, breathing through the pain and freezing cold with only a hospital sheet and my father’s coat to cover me. Out of everything that day, the pain in my gut, the eventual needle sticks and IVs, it’s the cold in that room that I remember most vividly. Eventually, I began to shiver and my lips started to turn purple. I needed to be admitted, and soon.

Typically, my father’s lack of patience resulted in, let’s say, fervent advocacy. But not on this day. On this day, there was no arguing with nurses or yelling at desk clerks. Instead, my father asked someone if they were prepared to admit me that moment. When they couldn’t give him an answer, he simply grabbed the bag with my clothing, draped his coat around me, and carried me — out of the room, past the hospital staff that tried to stop him, through the security doors, the room with the chairs, out the front door and into his car.

With me dressed in a hospital gown and his overcoat, he drove to a second hospital, a second emergency room. He carried me again to the admitting desk and within an hour, I had been admitted to the hospital for observation. I stayed there for two days, at which point the pain was gone and written off as a stomach bug. But that’s not why I remember the story.

People who know me well know that I am no shrinking violet. Had I been capable of removing myself to a second hospital that day, there is no doubt that I would have done it and that my father would have encouraged me to do it myself, taking pride in having raised a strong, independent woman. But on that day, I was not a strong, independent woman. I was a child rendered helpless by pain. I was a daughter in need of protection. There was no one in the world I needed more than my father, and he was there.

It’s not often that people are put to a test. Indeed, it is precisely those rare times that make the headlines — heroic firefighters storming a building, pilots landing planes under extreme duress, bystanders pulling a stranger from the train tracks. I can’t imagine any comfort greater than knowing there is someone in your life who will never fail to have your back and do whatever is needed to protect you. I had that in my father.

I am a mother now, and I know what it feels like on the other side of that equation. I can feel it inside me, this likeness I have to my father. Some of it presents an ongoing struggle. Lack of patience probably tops that list. But I gladly take it all to have that one thing of his that I can bestow upon my own children. There are times when I can see it on their faces, this knowledge that I am strong, and that no matter what, I have their backs.

Chicken Soup for the Soul – The Long Road Home

Chicken Soup for the Soul

The Long Road Home

As I arrive home from college for the first time, I realize many things have changed—in my family and in myself.

BY: Lia Gay

I find myself packing again.  Well, let’s be completely honest, this isn’t really packing it’s shoving three weeks’ worth of dirty clothes into a suitcase and having my roommate sit on it so I can get it to close.

This time is different; this isn’t the same nostalgic trip down memory lane as when I packed before college.  This is the “night before my first trip home frantic pack.”  So you get the idea—my plane leaves in two hours, and no, college didn’t teach me to procrastinate.  I was experienced in that art long before I stepped onto my college campus.

So now that I’m packed, I have a minute to examine my emotions about my first trip home.  I’m excited.  My best friend, Matt, picks me up, groggy, for our 4:00 a.m. drive.  My expectations are that I am going home to what I left: my parents, home-cooked meals, friends with whom I shared distinctive bonds and my long-distance boyfriend, whom I have been dying to see.  I am happy at college, but a trip home, to my family and friends, sounds like just the thing I need to prepare me for the pre-finals crunch.

I think I will catch up on the missed hours of sleep on the plane.  Instead, I look around and realize that most of the exhausted passengers are students just like me.  Below us, in the cargo bin, sits a year’s worth of dirty laundry at least.
I miss my connecting flight, so I am later than expected.  I step off the plane to find my mom frantic, thinking I had been “abducted” on the trip home.  I look at her puzzled.  I guess in a mother’s eyes there is no logical explanation for being late, such as the obvious flight trouble.  I assure her that I am fine and that I don’t need to fly as an “unaccompanied minor” on the way back.
A few hours later, I’m back at the airport, waiting for my boyfriend’s arrival home.  He steps off the plane with the same groggy but excited look I wore hours before.  We drive over to see my dad, who seems calmer than my mother had been.  I ask to see my room, expecting to find my shrine, my old pompoms, prom pictures, candid photos of friends and dolls scattered about.  To my surprise, everything is gone; there’s not even a trace I had ever lived in the room.  I’m starting to wonder if I really had been abducted on the way home.  It’s as if the second I became a “college” student, I had ceased to exist.

I start to wonder what else had changed since I’d been gone.  My parents are in an awkward transition, wondering how to treat me now.  They wrestle with whether to treat me—still their daughter—as one of them, an adult, or as the child they feel they sent away months earlier.

I run into two of my best friends from high school; we stare blankly at each other.  We ask the simple questions and give simple, abrupt answers.  It’s as if we have nothing to say to each other.  I wonder how things have changed so much in such a small amount of time.  We used to laugh and promise that no matter how far away we were, our love for each other would never change.  Their interests don’t interest me anymore, and I find myself unable to relate my life to theirs.

I had been so excited to come home, but now I just look at it all and wonder: Is it me?

Why hadn’t the world stood still here while I was gone?  My room isn’t the same, my friends and I don’t share the same bond, and my parents don’t know how to treat me—or who I am, for that matter.

I get back to school feeling half-fulfilled, but not disappointed.  I sit up in my bed in my dorm room, surrounded by my pictures, dolls and mementos.  As I wonder what has happened, I realize that I can’t expect the world to stand still and move forward at the same time.  I can’t change and expect that things at home will stay the same.  I have to find comfort in what has changed and what is new; keep the memories, but live in the present.
A few weeks later, I’m packing again, this time for winter break.  My mom meets me at the curb.  I have come home accepting the changes, not only in my surroundings, but most of all in me.

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Forever Changed

Chicken Soup for the Soul: Forever Changed

Chicken Soup for the Soul: New Moms

BY: Michelle Sedas

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.

On March 9, 2004, the day my first child was born, I became forever changed. As I held my newborn baby, I recalled a moment, nearly two years before, when I was hospitalized for a second time in my life for depression. As I stood waiting to be discharged, I vowed to get better, to never return physically or mentally to that place. It was on this day that I made a promise to myself to do whatever it took to overcome this debilitating illness so that I could one day be a depression-free new mom.

As I built my new life, I went to counseling, twice a week at first, and less frequently over time. I worked on my counseling exercises at home. I read uplifting books, exercised, ate well, and began to interact again socially with others. I started a new, part-time, low-stress job where I felt I was making a difference. Months later, to my delight, I became pregnant. And for nine months, in preparation for first-time motherhood, I continued to improve upon my mental state of mind.

Then the day came when my baby, Diego, was born. It was like a scene in a movie. The doctor set him upon my chest, and I looked in awe at this tiny creature who moments before had been nicely snuggled within my warm womb. I soaked up his essence, the tiny fingers and toes, the soft, damp skin, and something inside of me clicked. My old self faded away, and a new person emerged: “Michelle the Mother.” At that moment, I knew in my heart that those turbulent, depressed years were in the past. I was now a mother, responsible for taking care of a helpless, innocent baby, and I wholeheartedly accepted this job. My focus was now on providing the most wonderful environment I could for this precious one that God had entrusted into my care. I knew then that I would love this baby with all of my heart and soul, and that I would continue to keep my mind healthy so I could be the best mother possible for him.

As the days passed, I sang him made-up songs. Cheerfully, I woke up in the middle of the night to feed him. I gently rocked him when he cried (which was often!). I had fallen completely in love with my angel. Many of my family and friends saw the change within me. My mom said my face looked different. I “glowed.” “Michelle the Mother” was a title that suited me well. But as much as motherhood had changed me, and as happy as I felt, I knew that I was predisposed to postpartum depression. I vigilantly kept a check on my state of mind, doing whatever I could to stay healthy, allowing me to remain a depression-free new mom.

Becoming a new mother has proven to be the most positive, life-altering experience of my existence. While there are times when those clouds of depression still threaten to overwhelm me, my love for my children propels me forward. My two angels have rekindled my inner light and left me forever changed.