Program for Parents with Young Children

Somewhere in the world it’s still Wednesday . . . right?  Hoping so because I can barely remember what week it is – scratch that – I Can’t remember what week it is much less what day it is.  I judge the days by whether it’s a work day or not.  I work part-time so that is an easier judge for me.  Nevertheless, I have trouble in this area.

I’ve been feeling an overwhelming need to contribute  to the world.  To volunteer, to write something, anything with meaning to someone more than myself (Not that this is).  I’m hopefully going to start a group for parents and children at my church.  We are a poor, small, and largely elderly lot in a colossal, stone church with magnificent Tiffany windows that is also elderly and in need of repairs.  It is my hope that younger families and children will become interested in joining although that is not my primary focus.

Young, stay at home parents are frequently isolated, lonely, full of questions out of answers  and bored with the daily routine. When I was younger, there was a program in our town where parents would meet once a month for a program while their children were babysat.  The program each month would focus on a different aspect of importance to parents. A speaker might talk for 20-30 minutes, followed by a question-answer period. Topics could include: Saving for College funds, When to get a tutor for your child, First Aid, Budgeting for childhood expenses.  There are plenty of relevant topics to draw from.  (If any of you have suggestions, please let me know).

Children would be in a separate area with minders who have been background checked. Activities would be provided for participation. At the end of the parents’ time, there could be a potluck lunch.

Out of this, a couple of programs could evolve.  First, a babysitting co-op could be developed.  A parent needing a few hours off could find another parent in the co-op to babysit.  The parent would then owe the co-op a number of points which would need to be eliminated by babysitting for someone else in the group.  A small steering committee would keep track of the data and ensure quality care was being given. For instance, if a babysitter talks on the phone or works on a computer the entire time, watches inappropriate (adult, violent) shows,  or is using drugs or alcohol during babysitting sessions the person could be eliminated from the program or warned, depending on the severity of the issue.

Another program I would hope to see emerge from the program would be playgroups that met weekly or every other week at different parks or places in the area. My children were in a playgroup from the time my oldest was five months old until he entered kindergarten.  The playgroup mothers continued to celebrate births or other special occasions after the kids went to school.  We even had an annual mothers’ weekend away at the beach.

There are a couple of more ideas I have for this population but they can wait a while.  The nice thing is, once started, my contribution would be obtaining speakers while all else could be run by the parents.  I’m past those years so it would not be appropriate for me to be involved any more.  As I said, suggestions are welcome.  Puleaseeee . . .

 

 

The Lord’s Guidance

Lord, I ask you to guide me.
I am lost . . .
I have squandered the life you gave me
by being afraid to live.
Fear has dogged my every step.

Dreams I’ve turned to nightmares.
People see me as fragile,
how self-created is that?

Lord, help me out of the quicksand
I am sinking in before it goes
above my nose.

Help me have the strength
to free myself
from my self-created prison.

Inside is a published author of books,
a healthy person –
someone to give to those in need.

A woman who has the right
to find love and a lover.
Someone who wants me.

There are many facets of my being
and I only show the worst
the helplessness, the sorrow . . .

Release me from the burden of myself.
Show me what it is like to be free,
confident, inspired –

for I can not find my way out alone –
not without you.

 

 

 

 

 

Revirginated

I suspect certain women become re-virginated.  It is a physical, mental, and perhaps spiritual state of mind and being.  No, for all you wise-asses out there, they don’t go in and request a new hymen. (Although they could if they wanted I suppose). But, that vagina might tighten up some.

For some, it could be the result of countless years alone. .  by choice or not. For others, a woman might need time to regroup after a bad relationship or rape. But whatever the reason, I think a woman needs to develop a space within herself for her own purposes and not a man’s. I’m not anti-man – but I am certainly pro-woman. In fact, this could well apply to lesbians – after all, women have relationships with both, either, or neither.

I think the process applies even more to a woman’s mind. Time, the eternal healer, needs to grasp a woman’s heart and gently enclose it, protect it, until the time a woman is ready to share it with another. We all need time when our hearts need mending – as if embraced by a loving parent and rocked in that old chair, being sung lullabies and playful songs until the heart is eased.

So if you need to – Re-virginate.  It could be the best thing you can do for yourself, to take back ownership of your body.

The small and large, the Lord sees them all

There are days when the most you can do is observe. Look at the clouds and see pictures in it. See the contrast between small grasses and the glory of water and sky, all part of God’s creation. All for us to cherish and protect. To be able to look the children of this world in the eye and know I did all I could.  I am just an infinitely  small piece of dust and water yet I have a job here.  To glorify the Trinity and thank them for the magnificent world they gave us.  And to be a gardener and garbage collector, to show what we have at stake to loose, and to safeguard this world for our children. So I have to remember baby steps.grass against sky water scene MD

Picture by Marty Dugan

David: Chronic Doubter, Constant Believer

This is a post that resonated with me tonight by J.S. Park.  Struggling with this blog has been a 6-7 month challenge and I do believe I am supposed to be doing it for a reason beyond my humble aspirations. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

 

David: Chronic Doubter, Constant Believer

Originally posted on J.S. Park: One of the most remarkable things about David was his doubt. All through the Psalms, we see David contending with his doubts about God. Whenever there’s a stanza of praise, it follows just…

David: Chronic Doubter, Constant Believer

Originally posted on J.S. Park: One of the most remarkable things about David was his doubt. All through the Psalms, we see David contending with his doubts about God. Whenever there’s a stanza of praise, it follows just…

David: Chronic Doubter, Constant Believer

Originally posted on J.S. Park: One of the most remarkable things about David was his doubt. All through the Psalms, we see David contending with his doubts about God. Whenever there’s a stanza of praise, it follows just…

J.S. Park: Hospital Chaplain, Skeptical Christian

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One of the most remarkable things about David was his doubt.

All through the Psalms, we see David contending with his doubts about God. Whenever there’s a stanza of praise, it follows just as quickly with despair and confusion.

There are so many Psalms where David is singing in a flowery refrain of awe, but out of nowhere, he’ll say, “Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD, and abhor those who rise up against you? I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them my enemies.”   It’s all going so well, until you turn the page. These are like cysts that swell over the canvas, so jarring and troubling that you won’t see them on coffee cups and Twitter.

David was really all over the place in his faith.

But just as much as David interrupts his own Psalms with rage and grief, these are…

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Careful, you may end up in my novel

Dusty shelf, a writer’s million mugs, some holding things a writer thinks she needs, some rimmed with the crust of coffee, tea, what have you. Meant for convenience and inspiration. But what truth one mug holds.  Some say we write what we know. . . in my case, that holds true. So be careful how you treat me, what you say, what your face is telling, for a writer has a sensitive soul and you just trod all over mine.

Write Anything ?

Write Anything? Anything at all? The vastness of possibilities is mind numbing.  Okay – got one.  This blogging thing is so much harder than I thought it would be.  I write – love to do it. But on command I get a little stumped.  And setting up the blog for the way I want it to be is enough to make me scream (in deference to my neighbors, its an inside scream so only my head explodes).  Every learning experience I do is fraught with hazard and due to memory issues, I have to reinvent the wheel again and again . . . and again.  If I have to do it a couple of days later, I have to learn it all over.  Then I have to hunt – under rocks, under tables, up in the attic, god knows its not in my head – for where to find information to learn from or where to send it.  So Wednesday is a day like any other for me – “Groundhog Day” Revisited.

Target . . . Me

I was reading a new blog, Awkword and what Michelle has asked us to do in choosing a target audience and I realized not only do I not have one I am aware of, but I don’t know who the target me is.  I have lived alone for 20 years. No dating, not a really active social life, and though there are some reasons why, I also find myself saying, once in a while, why not?

My writing can tend to be somewhat, or very, on the dark side.  I have a low to mid grade bipolar condition.  It keeps me more on the depressed or withdrawn section of life.  I also have a boat-load of physical issues and have for all those years and before. So I suppose I might draw people who have similar issues.  These can range from the conditions: once I was on O2 for 2 12 years and have had asthma, chronic eosinophilic pneumonia, and emphysema in greater or lesser strengths for all my adult life.  Fibromyalgia dogs me. I lost more than 3/4 of my intestines and gall bladder when I went septic and my systems shut down and was in a coma 3 weeks.  When I woke it was to complete loss of muscle memory.  This past year I had back surgery which didn’t help. I’ve had a migraine most of the last three months.  See what I mean?  There is more but that alone can make for a target audience.

I have Traumatic Brian Injury – caused during the coma, but which creates its own set of problems.  My memory is not always reliable. I suppose it is an understatement.  My sister calls it CRAFT – can’t remember a fucking thing.

Because of these factors, I am legally disabled. Work is hard. Complex assignments are too hard to process. Simple assignments bore the crap out of me.  I can’t work too much because Medicaid and my body won’t let me.  So I have been a caregiver for numerous years. I started off as a Business Management Consultant with clients all over the country.  Quite the let-down.

I am a mother of two twenty somethings 3,000 miles away from me and happy that way. They are living their lives well and that is the most any mother could ask.  But I live near my sisters and my 8 year old nieces are my delight.

Oh yes,  I am a recovering drug and alcohol addict – and food.  I have been sober from alcohol for more than 35 years with a 5 year break for a 5 year addiction to prescription pain killers which ended 11 years ago and had a horrible effect of my kids, especially my daughter. So there’s guilt and shame I can’t seem to let go of.

AND – I’ve wanted to be a writer  and missionary all my life.  I’ve been published a few times and I have an opportunity to go on a mission in 2017.  Until then I do what I can here.  I write a lot of poetry, some memoir pieces, and non-fiction articles  about women who have achieved greatness through tremendous adversity.  I write about what I know and want to know; what is inspirational to me and religion and spirituality.

So if you can find a target audience in all that, except that I probably sound very self-involved . . . playing with my navel and all that; let me know. And I still have to figure out pages, widgets, you name it.  Learning to be a good blogger is taking a long time . . . did I tell you about my TBI?

I welcome tips and comments.  I truly want to grow. So give me a hand why dontcha’.

 

 

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