When I first saw this mornings prompt I thought it was going to be a walk in the park. However, once I sat down to answer the question it became clear that it wasn’t going to be such a simple task.
You see, I don’t really know what I would give as my tagline. At first, I was going to come up with a snappy add-on to Wiwohka, but it became apparent that what I came up with wasn’t a tagline, at all! All I was getting accomplished was to give myself a rhyming last name… not what I think that the prompt was asking us. So, I did a quick check on Google for a clear definition of what a tagline actually looks like.
After looking at the examples of some taglines, I again tried to select an appropriate phrase that captures what others might think of when they hear the name Wiwohka. I’ve now sat in this chair for over an hour, going back and forth on several different ideas. Who’d of thought a WordPress prompt would cause such an uproar?
I tell stories, I bake virtual cookies, I overshare my personal business far too often, and I’m quick to talk about Jesus or the bible or God’s forgiveness or love or grace or mercy. According to the definition of tagline, the answer to the prompt shouldn’t be more than two or three words… huh? That’s entirely unfair, I think. Are they really asking me, the oversharing, novel length explanation giver, to choose only two or three words to describe myself… sheesh!
Ok, fine! Let’s give this a try…
I’m going to settle on something simple like, oh, I don’t know,
One of my favorite songs about babies has to be from Lady and the Tramp, when Lady first meets the new baby. Put an adorable dog together with a baby and a tender song and what do you get? I get all emotional and start crying!
So it seems that it is fitting and right that I start your Monday off with the sniffles… but in a good way, of course!
Guess what?
It’s a girl!
Well, she’s here but not ready to come out of hiding just yet. That’ll be on or near November 25th. It makes me smile whenever I think on that date since my daughter’s birthday is the 18th. Wouldn’t it be the funniest thing if she is born on my daughter’s actual birthday day?!
They’ve still not quite settled on her name, at the moment, and neither have I. NO, I don’t get to name her! But, what I do get to do that nobody else can is to give her a special Meemaw name, just like I’ve done for all my other grandbabies.
Let’s see, there’s my first grandson “Peanut”, then my little Peach, my pinecone, and Little Man. Following them is my Chipmunk and our little Firefly, too. That makes five in all, so far. I’m also a Godmother to a very special Peapod.
Why the namesakes? Simple terms of endearment left with each of them for their memories… and, let’s be honest here… my memories, too!
It’s funny that I started doing this all the way back when my girls were born. My girls would never forgive me if I stopped referring to them by their personal nicknames, no joke!
I guess it never occurred to me how important it was for them, til a few weeks ago. I was sitting with my oldest grandson and talking about when he was smaller. I thought to apologize to him for always calling him Peanut when he was little, as he always made a fuss at me for doing it.
When I said that I was sorry, my grandson stopped what he was playing on the computer, looked at me funny for a moment, and then said, “why are you sorry?” I told him that I thought it bothered him, but he just smiled and shook his head in disagreement.
Apparently, he would like me to continue calling him Peanut… I’ve been given the all clear!
Ever since that conversation I’ve not stopped thinking about the importance of those little things, those tiny details. Often we find ourselves getting so caught up in doing the big things, we lose sight of what’s possible in a tiny, tiny thing…
All big things begin small, right?!
So, now that you’ve been given way more information than you probably needed for this next part… it’s time we think on a very special name for our newest family member. Yes, I said we! Don’t you want to help me think up an adorable new nickname for my soon-to-arrive granddaughter? Give it some thought if you would and then let me know in the comments. If we all put our heads together I know we can come up with something really adorable.
Anyway, I hope everyone has a wonderful Monday … hugs
I think that dreams say a great deal about who we are… on the inside. Before you start preparing for some kind of mental health episode of some sort, I’ll leave that to the professionals, thank you very much! My thoughts and considerations will be looking at our character, our personality, or we can label as our true self, if you will. As I always tend to do, let me explain what I meant by my initial statement.
First off, I want to break dreaming into two categories here, one being a waking daydream, while the other is a sleeping dream. Waking daydreams are the ones in which we control the dream in its entirety. Obviously, the sleeping dreams are when we’re not awake, therefore we have no conscious control of what goes on in our dream, nor any control of the outcome… we just gotta ride it out, so to speak.
When I write these thoughts out, I’ve no intention of trying to figure others out, based on their dreams! I guess I’m writing out something that I’ve discovered about my own personality and tendencies, that’s all. Some say that they don’t really dream much, while others dream often and deeply… people like me.
Being a child from trauma, I sought fantasies and daydreams from a very early age, as a way of safety or escape, if you will. To this day, I can vividly remember things from those years, most especially the dreams and recurring nightmares that I experienced. Weird, right?!
Anyway, I had one of my re-run daydreams from when I was small, just the other day. As I was thinking on the memory of my dream, I noticed something sort of funny about myself, or, the way that I saw myself in the daydream. It made me want to look back through some of the other dreams, just to see if I did that in all of them. Guess what I discovered? I did, in fact, see myself in a particular way, when it was a sleeping dream and another way when it was a daydream… just two starring roles… two!
In every waking dream that I created, I cast myself as the assistant, the helper, the heroin through heavy lifting! I was either Charlie instead of Willie Wonka, or the Mad Hatter instead of Alice, or the child who helped Dr. Doolittle. Even to this day, I never see myself as the heroin or hero in anything… always, always, always, I dream myself behind the scenes. In my stories, it feels better to focus on my desires for the cast members in the tale. I think that’s why I prefer you to see me through Tilly, Eustace, or any of this site’s characters when I write. They seem to capture who I am, there within the pages of their stories.
The sleeping dreams are a far different representation of how I saw myself back then, and even now, today. That little girl only experienced the nightmare portion of the dreams, for many, many years. I was a frequent bed wetter, and struggled with severe anxiety. I had no one to talk to, no one to comfort or rescue me from my hell. I’m sure that this is why my waking dreams were so intense and real to me. I even learned how to wake myself out of my night terrors. I actually began to flip myself from my bed and onto the floor, so as to force myself awake. That child was always running, fighting and/or in pain during those dreams. Over the years, I changed in appearance as I grew into a woman, wife, and mother, but I still continued to be the victim… or the villain. Yes, I even saw myself become the villain, but what could I do? I had no control, there in the depths of my darkness.
Ok, no more of that part, as it’s not who I am now! Now? God holds my dreams in the palm of his hand, shielding and comforting me through anything I may experience during my sleep, which is now rarely more than a goofy recap of what I’d watched on television the night before. It’s funny, because the transformation within this wild child has been miraculous, to say the least!
Waking daydreams are now filled with a purpose, not my own, but of one who is so much greater!
Night dreaming is no longer a place of fear, but of peace, protection, and security!
I’ll not forget the child of my past, no no, as she is the one who survived!
I’ll not forget the lost wild one, for she is full of fiery spirit, and tenacity!
While I may not ever be a hero of anything special, Charlie did end up with the factory, so that children would hold onto their dreams!
That child who followed Dr. Doolittle… they carried on the doctor’s work to care for others, whether it was a Push-Me-Pull-Me or the captive sea lion… always the less fortunate!
What do I daydream about now? I dream that everywhere I go… I smell like cookie dough, pulling children’s imaginations along with me, just like the pied piper! For all the rest of you… I pray that I leave a trail of cookie crumbs in my wake… get it, wake… hehehe!
Reaching land after being at sea for such a long time can be like standing upon the sand, as the sea pulls the waters back into the depths. It feels like you’re moving while standing still, as the sand moves beneath your feet. I stand upon the shore of a new land (sort of), having nowhere to go, but forward into the unknown. It feels both exciting and confusing, as you’ve no idea what’s beyond your vision, or where the path will lead.
We’ve spent the last five years living in the same small space, climbing over one another, and putting one foot in front of the other… adrift in uncharted waters!
We’d forgotten how to live without constant and immense pressure, pushing at us from all directions; often forcing us to move fast, while leaving everything behind! When you live for so long with little on hand, you become accustomed to letting things go, and/or making due. I am a bit shocked at how much that was lost along the way to this particular shore. For goodness sake, I haven’t had a vacuum cleaner for five years, let alone a working oven, or a working toilet (that was only in the last year and a half). I guess, my point here would be that I feel a bit lost and out of sorts, when it comes to living like a normal person.
I will be taking another week off from writing, in order to focus on rest and recovery from a very costly time at sea. The physical toll it has taken on us this time has been costly, so rest and recovery are the priority, at the moment. Spring quarter will begin for my husband in less than 2 weeks, so he’s going to be getting his first taste of college without the pressure of homelessness and loss hanging over his head all the time, thank goodness! He’s nearly there, with only spring and summer left on this degree. It’s incredible how well he has done in the midst of such turmoil, and I’m so very proud of his commitment to finish… and finish well!
Me? I have another book to write, but first, it’s time to put the first one out there…
It’s time, wouldn’t you agree? If God deems it time, then I’ve no doubt that it will be done. I shall enter this new part of the journey with the grace, faith and confidence given my by my Creator, going wherever I’m called to go. I’ve always loved a good adventure, how about you?!
F.Y.I. , these new shores are quite beautiful from where I’m standing!
Sometimes, it’s the way he looks at me and smiles.
Then there are times where he doesn’t even have to smile or anything… I can see it in his eyes.
Sometimes, it’s the way he laughs at the silly things I say.
But there are still those moments when things aren’t so funny… he won’t laugh or say anything at all, really. He just rests his shoulder against mine to let me know that he’s there.
Sometimes, it’s the little things he does… like bringing me that first cup of coffee in the morning, or surprising me with my favorite candy bar. It’s not even about receiving a gift, it’s about the planning or forethought, if you will. It makes me feel so loved that he was thinking about me, even when I wasn’t with him. You know, sometimes I’ll wake up from the sensation of him tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear… he’d been lying there watching me, as I slept. Isn’t that so adorable!
I could go on and on about all the sometimes that I have felt loved… and these examples are about my husband. I haven’t even gotten to God, yet! If I could share with you all the times that I have felt God’s love, it would fill a book… oh yeah, I already did that!
Let’s just leave it at this:
With enough examples gathered together, one might say that I always feel loved! But, since it was very hard to pick just one time to tell you about, I opted for a handful of my sometimes.
I really had no good answer for the prompt this morning, so I peeked into my prompt archives, in hopes of remembering what I’d said last year. I’m rather glad that I looked, though I never did locate last years response. Oddly, I rolled across a response that wasn’t attached to any specific prompt, but it felt somewhat relevant to this mornings query.
From November of last year,
… When it comes to being a writer, I’ve mentioned before how I like to answer the prompts because they help me to think outside of my writing box, if you will. I can write about things I normally wouldn’t, and often dabble in poetry or other forms of writing that aren’t my usual style. I try to stretch myself as a writer, so that I can develop a deeper skill and literary depth, for writing that which is in my heart.
Thinking outside the box has been an adage used for far greater a time, than even I can remember. It’s a fantastic analogy for more than just writing, as it comes into play in every corner of our internal processing. In every part of us there are boxes of beliefs, boxes of opinions, boxes of hurts, boxes of memories, and boxes of behaviors… all of which eventually get full, or sometimes hold nothing at all. What do we do with them all, when there is no more room to even cross the floor, without walking on or stepping in differing boxes to get there?
On the flip side, what if the room were vacant with no boxes at all? Humans need boxes to navigate the crossing of the room to the doorway in the corner.
Boxes are just boxes, quite benign. They’re neither good or bad… just useful, in sorting through life’s experiences. However, what we do with the box, is a whole different ball of wax!
Do we seal them up with packing tape, pushing them to the sides of the room to be forgotten? What if there’s something useful we may need later? Just in case, we might take a sharpie and put a label on the box like, *Remember me when you are ready to throw in the towel*. We seem to live in some of our boxes, refusing to come out and cross the floor, finding comfort and safety in the familiar surroundings of things unchanged by outside forces. The flap on these boxes are worn, tattered and torn… no longer able to be completely closed. Neither of these two extremes is very healthy.
That is where thinking outside the box comes into play… maybe even evolving into something like Navigating the Ins and Outs of Boxes. For this we need tools… mental, emotional and spiritual tools. I wandered for most of my literary life, existing for the most part, sealed inside boxes of my past… one that couldn’t be altered or undone, no matter how long I hid myself within those boxes.
I sort of think that our painful journey over the last 4 years, actually tore the lids off all my boxes… forcing me to come out into the light. Had things not gone badly, as they did, I would still be sitting in my recliner, there in Virginia, over 100 lbs. heavier, completely doped up on medications, and so hopelessly depressed that suicide was actually looking good, and I am not being flippant!
Fast forward to now, living the way we do and writing the way I currently have been, I can say with certainty that my writings would not be possible, nor could they even have been born into my imagination… were I still back there in that old recliner (box).
I like living freely… skipping from one box to another, moving items from one hidden corner, and bringing them out into the light to organize and sort through for the useful stuff, even though sometimes I don’t feel like expending the effort.
For me personally, living this way has brought that which I had sought for all my days… Joy in the Journey… I found it!
Nothing worth having is easy, and putting forth the effort (routine) is what makes all the difference in the world!
As I’m soon to be looking back at 55, I think my path is pretty firmly set in one direction… God’s!
We’ve recently answered a prompt, regarding taking a risk at something new, and another prompt asking if we were guaranteed not to fail, what would we attempt… so I’m not sure how many more times the prompt can try to beat a dead horse, as they say.
Still, I realize that not everyone has seen these questions before, so I shall do my due diligence at answering with something decent, for those that are new to the daily prompts.
To answer this prompt here, today, straight up… While I have pursued multiple different careers throughout my younger years, I’m no longer interested in any of them. Add to that, the fact that I’m not considering any new directions at all, aside from the path I now follow… this one’s a deal breaker on any other pursuit I’ve ever chased after!
My career pursuits involve following only One CEO, One Leader… One! How boring and confining, you might be thinking. On the contrary, my friends. This career path has me fully engaged, at every moment, and in every action or thought. I walk with a magnificent Leader, who has me in the word, on my knees in prayer, feet on the ground out here in the trenches… and fully sustained, at all times!
My life is full of joy, adventure, action, suspense… and He has me constantly on the move… and with Him, at all times.
In all my years, never have I been hired by someone who knows me better than He does… and I’ve not been fired yet!
Before you start thinking that I’m lazy or something, maybe living the posh life, and too comfortable in my current position… you might consider my resume before being too quick to form an opinion on this matter:
0 to 13 years of age, severe childhood trauma
13 to 18 years of age, ^#$%^&^
18 to 34 years of age, pregnant 9 times with only 3 born to me, divorced, denied by the church, disowned by my family, and abandoned by those I knew as friends.
Lost and running in the wastelands for 16 more years… 16!
The rest of my career credentials, as well as my production timeline, will be within the archives of My Closet. I’ve already shared far more of my job description than anyone should have to wade through… and no, there won’t be a cover letter to accompany this Responsume…
But I did make cookies…
Honestly, I don’t know how these exec’s are going to get anything accomplished, with their mouths stuffed with cookies… sheesh guys, slow it down!
The mood around the barnyard has been rather sad, as of late, due to the sudden departure of Squagon. Earlier this week, as I sat studying in my office, a thought occurred to me, regarding our guests within the rafters.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that the arrival of our Twilight Dreamers, as I like to call them, occurred suspiciously around the time of Squagon’s kin disappearing from Acorn Valley!
Right about the time that I sent Brutus to start searching for them, young Squagon began having bad dreams, often waking in tears. The tiny squirrel’s nightmares were the reason I’d gone and sought answers from the Holy Rollin Ravens, if you recall the musical and cryptic song they offered up.
There were a number of nights that I simply slept in the barn, as the squirrel’s night fears began to spread like a sickness through the barn, causing quite a disturbance among the rest of the babe’s. No one was getting much sleep, including myself, what with all the crying and asking for a juice cup!
It seems to me, like, right about that time, we discovered our little guests appearing up in the barn’s rafters. Oddly, as soon as they showed up in our midst… the nightmare’s of each babe, began to subside and fade away. All that is, except for young Squagon, who still continued to suffer within his little dreams, though not as badly as before.
Anyway, I’m still digging into my memories of that time, to seek a number of answers that are yet missing, regarding the connection between Squagon and our little dreamers. Nothing worth knowing is ever that easy, so I’m still studying.
When I say studying, what I really mean is observing. I know little about these small flying creatures, but one of the first discoveries was their sleep schedule…
Why do you think I’ve begun calling them TWILIGHT dreamers? Yup! They are nocturnal, or awake during our sleep time, if that helps. What this means for me… a great deal more coffee than usual, that’s for sure!
I’ve set myself a schedule of observing their activities for several hours each night, while the babe’s are all dreaming… and yes, that’s where I chose the Dreamer portion of describing our guests. Early on in their stay with us, I noticed that these little things are the most active during the time when the babe’s are sleeping.
The strange little creatures spend much of their wakeful hours, busily flying silently overhead of my little ones sleeping hidey holes. What are they doing, you might be wondering? Well, I was wondering the same thing, so I camped myself in the corner of the barn for an entire night, just watching and listening.
Guess what these little things do all night? While they flit to and fro across the barn, occasionally hovering over one babe or another, these little dreamers are singing softly, sometimes even praying tiny little prayers of comfort and rest. In case you were wondering, they are rather quiet, even when they are singing.
I had to put ear phones in and listen through a high powered recording device, just to hear them.
I’ve still so many unanswered questions, as I’m sure you do too, but only time and continued studying will truly uncover all there is to learn. What I can tell you is that I’ve begun getting to know one of these little night flyers. She caught my eye, right from the beginning! I compare her to popcorn, because everyone knows how popcorn in the microwave can make the whole room smell yummy! That is Beatrice!
I’m still getting more familiar with my new friend, so you’ll have to wait until next week to learn more of her, along with her kin. I think that I may have struck gold with Beatrice, as I think she may be the eldest, and possibly the most knowledgeable of the bunch!
While I will be sharing everything I discover, if you have any suggestions or first impressions about all this, I welcome the help!
This is rather confusing to my brain, first being told that it IS a lazy day… and then asking if one feels restful OR unproductive?
I wanna ask Google…
According to Oxford, the definition of lazy is “unwilling to work or use energy.” The example given was, “he was too lazy to cook”, so there’s that!
I suspect that if we go with the ACTUAL definition here, won’t we feel both rested AND unproductive? And, shouldn’t that be what we are aiming for?
Just askin…
Anyway, if you read my regular post this morning, you would already know that my brain is visiting a Nothing Box, today. I borrowed my husband’s box, since he doesn’t use it while he’s busy studying.
And yes, you could call today a LAZY day, so I have every intention of feeling both rested… AND unproductive!
Here, grab a cookie before you go. You didn’t think I would forget that? Not even on a lazy day…
The mood around the barnyard this morning is rather sad, with a number of hugs and tissues being handed out among all the little ones. It’s literally a tearful and snotty mess in the barn!
Remember me telling you that story about how all the squirrels in Acorn Valley were gone? When I questioned those ravens about it, all they gave me was a very cryptic song that I was expected to decipher. Well, it turns out that due to problems within their own kingdom, the Acorn King and all his kingdom were forced to accept help from the Pinion Kingdom… you know, Lady Ophelia’s kin from the southern woods.
You may be asking how I came to know this information, and in truth, I didn’t even know that, until I arrived at the barn this morning. Let me explain…
Early this morning, a large armada of stern looking squirrels, all dressed in royal guardsman uniforms, arrived at our barn door. They bore the insignia of House Pinion upon the breast pocket of each of their uniforms, so I knew right away who they were! An older, and seemingly high ranking squirrel, stepped forward and handed me an official looking piece of paper. Awkwardly, I broke the tiny wax seal and opened the letter. As I did so, I noticed a very subdued and sorrowful looking Squagon standing between two heavily armed Squirrel Guards. I didn’t even need to read the contents of the letter to understand what was happening… I’d just been given orders to release him to his mother’s kin, House Pinion!
I knew this day might come, but quite honestly, I thought we’d have more time together… and I certainly didn’t expect him to be taken all the way south to his mother’s family. The suddenness of things was rather shocking, and all of the babes were a wreck… especially Squagon, the poor little thing!
Helplessly, we all just stood and watched as they marched him away, though I will tell you that I sent Brutus straight away, to secretly follow them all the way back to Pinion Valley. He’ll make sure that nothing bad happens to Squagon… at least nothing physical, anyway. The dragon will watch over young Squagon!
With Brutus watching over him, I do not fear for the little squirrel on his outsides. Though it pains me to think about it, sometimes dangers and injuries can come from within the heart, where one must rely upon themselves to overcome. He may be a young one, but I do know that Squagon is quite smart and has a stout heart!
For now, while Brutus does what he must do for Squagon’s sake, I too have much work to do, here in the barnyard. Teaching the babes how to cope with loss is not something I’m looking forward to doing, but it needs doing, none the less.
Now don’t worry too much, as Brutus has everything in hand with young Squagon… and we’ll be getting regular updates on how things are going for him with his kin. He is a very brave young squirrel, and I would be ashamed to let him see us blubbering on about the situation. We must be strong for Squagon, so that he knows his barnyard family will be here, when he returns.
I think I will use today’s classroom time for writing letters to Squagon, telling him how much everyone loves and misses him. Perhaps, with Brutus carrying notes back and forth between all of us, the distance will not seem so great. While I’m not certain of when, I am confident that we shall see Squagon again, soon.
While the squirrel might be bigger, older and a bit changed when he returns, he will forever be our tiny furry baby with funny wings, all wrapped up inside a walnut shell.
Uh Oh… we’re all out of tissues! I gotta go get more before Miss tilly starts blowing her nose on the sleeve of her dress… ewww!
Journey With Me! 