They fought our battles, now they fight theirs . . .

Photo Credit - U.S. Army

We sign them up. Promises of bright futures, benefits, bonuses, a military that will cherish and be there for them. 

They get their uniforms, their weapons, their training on how to kill and not be killed. 

We send them to war. MRE's. Thrills. Tragedies. Boredom. Chill. Sweat. Camaraderie. Dirt. Always dirt. Care packages of toothpaste and deodorant. They volunteer.

We tear them from their families, and then war and the system chew them up and spit them out. Changed men and women walk off the planes. Back to something that used to be home.

Banners wave. Welcome homes and red, white and blue and little children running into multicammed fathers and mothers. Smiles all round.

They go home to places they don't fit anymore and into the streets of America that offer cold sidewalks and averted gazes. We equip them to fight our battles, but discard them when they need help to fight their own.

Without their uniforms, they are just another body who can't quite get it together. 

But that body stood up, stood in the way, absorbed the stress, the sweat, the fears, the horrors, the loneliness, for teenagers and mothers and fathers and business men and women and caseworkers and secretaries and fast food workers and salespeople and salon owners and pig farmers and little girls just learning to walk and little boys running across playgrounds and couples at the altar and mountain climbing tourists and professors and songwriters and builders and anyone in America who has ever had a dream. They stood between us and . . . 

They - hardened, hurting, proud, confused, independent and sometimes broken servicemembers - stood between Americans and fanatic murderers who cried "Death! Death to you all!" 

Dignity. Respect. Appreciation.

Wolves among Sheep - Why Are We Paying People to Mislead Us

Picture by George Gastin

I'm saddened by our spiritual leaders today, by many who have the Bible at their fingertips, who are paid to study and commune with God and then teach. ... Why do they tickle our ears and give us only what we want to hear? Why do they seek to draw crowds and the laud and praise of men while God's face saddens? Why is success calculated by numbers, persons and monetary? Why is it about what God can do for us, and not about who he is and how we can become a living sacrifice for him? 

What would that look like? If for one minute we stopped and fully contemplated what truly believing in God looks like, that he is who he claims to be, wouldn't we be down on our knees, quiet, worshiping? Not this gaudy, "Claim Jesus and live the American dream" that I hear so often. If we truly believed (think about it - just stop and think about even one of the claims of Jesus in the Bible - like the one where He rose from the dead, or the one where He created the world, or the one where he gave sight to blind people, legs to cripples, food to the hungry, life to the dead), wouldn't our fears dissipate? Wouldn't our worries climb the stairs to rest on his shoulders? 

And yet, we hear spiritual leaders, mike to mouth, hyping up a crowd on "claiming Jesus's power for ourselves" and like blind, itching-ear sheep, we follow believing in our impassioned moments of euphoria. Jesus has power and he blesses and uses it in our lives, but this lemming rush towards getting that power for ourselves, for our own benefit, reminds me of Simon trying to buy that power in Acts 8:18. Slow down. It's not about the American dream. ... (Quick disclaimer - this is not in regard to the church I attend.)

Let Me Celebrate . . .

Life moments . . . 

Water beckons. 

Take your swings, 

your slides, your chip bark playgrounds, 

your tunnels, your ladders, 

even your walking, rocking ducks 

and breadcrumb tossing. 

Let my hands in, my arms in, 

let me 'plash and buffet the glistening pleasure. 

Let me revel in its coolness, 

its wetness dripping, tickling.

Let me grin and blink 

up at the fountain rain.

Let me celebrate.

A little too much of me, a little too clearly . . .

As I read I sometimes come across quotes that resonate with me. One was from a interview of Camille T. Dungy shared in the May/Summer 2014 edition of The Writer's Chronicle. 

"The reflecting pool has a life of its own. So do my poems. When I am writing a world as I see it in that pool, I am writing what I see, and I have to account for the fact that anyone else looking in the pool brings in what they see too. They bring themselves, for one, and also sometimes a crazy old coot or two. A loon, perhaps. If you want to see yourself when I describe that loon, that's on you. And if the reflection you apprehend in my poem is such that you feel reproached, perhaps that is something you ought to address in your own heart. What I happen to see, and say, reflects me. I can't erase myself from what I see." 






It's a scary thing being a writer. The world says, "Don't share, or I will judge you." But the writer says, "I see, therefore I must share." 

People may see a little too much of me reflected a little too clearly in my writing...and it gives them power. If I let it.

Linking up with Thoughtful Spot Weekly Blog Hop, Crafty Spices, Pursuit of Functional Home, Kirsten Oliphant.

Above picture by © Tomas Castelazo, www.tomascastelazo.com

How to Clean and Refresh Your Chicken Coop Naturally!

 Wikimedia Commons

"Many of the cleaners used on chicken coops, like bleach and aerosol sprays, can have disastrous effects on a flock. Chickens are very susceptible to respiratory illnesses and cleaning a coop with harsh chemicals can cause problems. Let me share how to clean your coop more naturally and still leave it smelling fresh (and even like an herb garden) when you are finished."

Read the rest of my article here!

The All-Natural Way to Clean and Refresh Your Chicken Coop.

Linking up with The Prairie Homestead,Enchanted Homeschooling Mom, and Pursuit of Functional Home,  Crafty Spices, Simply Beth.

Writing and Parenting Without Feeling Guilty OR Losing Your Sanity

 Gary Bridgman, SouthsideArtGallery.Com

I was asked just recently how I find the time to write and raise a sixteen month old son. The honest answer is that I'm not entirely sure, but it happens. I am passionate about writing. Getting paid for my articles helps too. It makes it a little easier for me to justify not keeping the house clean all of the time and not having the best of meals prepared. And, I'll admit, that my husband does come home and rescue me sometimes. Though, I'm not entirely sure if I can blame that on my writing. Sometimes life with a toddler...is...well...crazy.

I wrote this article recently for Thalo Artist Community about being both a parent and a writer. There are some secrets to making it work. The Parent/Writer: Secrets to Surviving.

First, it comes down to what you're passionate about. Because it takes work and sacrifice. Too many people feel guilty for making their writing a priority. I'm a mommy and wife first, but there are times when I place my son in his playpen or I let him play by himself, or I make another hamburger and pasta meal. There are times when my husband watches my son so I can write. In the future, I think I'll begin asking a babysitter to watch him sometimes so I can write. It's because I see my writing as important. While I may not be "working," at least not for cash all of the time, writing is my work. In many ways, I feel like I am called to it. So, in short, passion is key. Don't put yourself through the grief and stress if you're not passionate about it. It's not worth it.

Secondly, creativity and flexibility are your friends. Love them, marry them, vow lifelong devotion to them. Get creative in finding times and places to write. Carry a notebook with you when you go to the park. Place a notebook on top of the stroller when you go for a walk. Get a voice recorder and dictate your ideas when you are making supper or driving in the car (though if multi-tasking is not your strong suit, please, please, just focus on driving). Get up earlier or go to bed later. Institute quiet times during the day. Make meals ahead. Love your crockpot. Don't feel bad for telling people "no" when they ask you to volunteer for something.

Thirdly, don't feel guilty. Every parent writer has to work through it for themselves, but I know for many of us, writing is not a "hobby" or a "selfish pursuit." It's something we agonize over. It's something we make ourselves sit down and do even when we just want to drink a hot cup of tea and crawl into bed. While I know it can be easy to feel guilty for "wasting" that time writing, I wonder if in actuality we're sending a strong message to our children. We are saying, "Here, son, this is what passion and calling and drive look like. This is what dreams and hard work looks like." While I have twenty or more years to wait until I know if this is the message I'm getting across to my son, I hope I can give him a heritage of what dreaming and doing looks like.

I'm still learning how to make parenting and writing work. I'm passionate about both. Any and all ideas are welcome! So, share away, what do you do to help you write and parent? 

Linking up with Pursuit of Functional Home and Enchanted Homeschooling Mom, and Crafty Spices.

 

How to Cut Grocery Costs and Still Eat a Variety of Healthy Foods!

 MrMcDonnell - Wikimedia

 "As it becomes more and more expensive to eat, we are all trying to spread our food dollars further. There are a number of tricks I’ve learned that can help keep costs down but still allow you to enjoy quality, great tasting food. In fact, you may end up eating better when you start cutting costs than you did before!"

To read the rest of my article, click here - 7 Simple Secrets to Shrink Your Food Bill.

Linking up with Pursuit of Functional Home, The Prarie Homestead and Enchanted Homeschooling Mom.