Writing

I am writing. Yes, me, writing. It's been a long time since I have unclogged my words and let them flow. I have always been a writer of emotion, I write what I feel. So, I started the old fashioned way, got out a notebook, my favorite pen and began.

Writing with ink and paper prevents the critical me to keep fine tuning and blocking the flow. When I type, I stare endlessly at the stark white page, freeze, delete, reword, correct and finally get two sentences. Whew! Not worth it.

So, I decided after some discussion with a fellow writer friend, to begin from scratch, no editing, just write. It's working, to my amazement. Not that I have gotten far, but that does not matter. I am pouring words out on a page and seeing an idea form, editing will come later.

I am not sure what direction I am headed, I have decided against a map, characters and no names to protect the innocent writer. I am creating. I am hungry for words, I am fighting my way out of the abyss of wordless existence and forging ahead. 

Today I read a quote by Woody Allen who once said. "80 percent of life is showing up". I like that, so I am showing up, what do I have to lose?

Teresa Gale

The Long Road to Joy

Joy has always seemed most elusive in my life, mainly because I am my own worst enemy, constantly dwelling on being responsible, serious, accountable in life. Being a Martha in life, when I should be a Mary sitting quiet at the feet of my Lord.

I feel a new season in my life approaching this old woman who wishes to find the girl inside screaming to be let out. I wish to play more, create more, write more and just live more. I do believe God wants us to be happy, to be full of joy. He did not create me to be so joyless.

My destiny is to create, to use my God given gifts to write, to reach beyond myself and to enjoy this life. My sometimes too intense emotions make me a prisoner in myself allowing fear to rule my soul. There has always been a deep need that requires my letting go of the fear.

I feel it today as I sit in my dads chair back home. His passing left a void in me that is irreplaceable. I tossed and turned last night in the room that was his, dreams haunting me. I dream of him often, now part of the background in those places, close by but just out of reach. He watches me, quietly And
I feel him telling me to "Move! Snap out of it!"

I have a jumble of words stuck in my head wanting to be releaed, yet I falter, stutter and stumble over them. How often do I allow fear to stifle my joy?  I am never to old to be childlike in life, to find that inner joy and peace I so crave. I am on the road to joy starting now, it may be rough ahead, but I have faith.  

I have signed up for a journaling course online to tap into my writing again. I step slowly through the words, sprinkling pages with short ideas and thoughts. It is a start. I am sure my dad would nod in agreement, "Start where you are, one foot in front of the other and don't stop moving. "

Teresa Gale

Time to Bloom

It's that time of year, to forge ahead and bloom. I marvel at the nature around me, what was dead now reborn. The leaves now wave in the breeze, petals unfurl and pop with color. I love this season of growth in nature and in self.

We have had much rain this month and humidity high enough to frizz my hair. My body aches with arthritis and fibromyalgia, yet I still praise God every morning for a new day. My heart expands in love and acceptance at this new season of my life, I am going to embrace it.

The key words are "going to" for I have not been a happy camper about the pains of aging. I groan, complain and whine a lot. The truth in the matter, I cannot bloom if I do not open myself to this stage of my life. I wish to accept, to grow in grace.

There is not much gracefulness in my hobbling around on hips that need a good can of oil. Tin man! Where are you? However, I laugh, make jokes and smile. My favorite refrain is "I'm old you know? " in Old Testament time, biblically speaking, I am a babe.

God worked with old people in those days. Most of the people I read about were having children at my age. At ninety years young, they were ripening with age, unfurling their petals and blooming. It takes us awhile even today to mature in ways that are fruitful. I want to be fruitful, maybe even a little fruity at this stage.

So Lord, rain on me, bring it on! I am ready to ripen and to live. Anyone else with me?

Teresa Gale

Hello It's Me

It's been a long time since I have posted here. I have missed the stirring of words and speaking my heart. I am testing the waters again, breaking free from my self made prison of silence. Once again I want to not just peek through the window, but open wide the door and enter once again the land of writing. 

Teresa Gale

See you soon. 

Good Morning Daddy

Good Morning Daddy


Every morning, in the wee hours, we start.

Three AM has become my time with Dad and I normally have him all to myself. It has become a special time together and each message is treasured more than the last.


“Good Morning Dad!”


“Good Morning back to you.”




Then the early morning chatter begins. While most sane people are tucked into bed, my dad and I spend some quiet time typing words back and forth as early as 3 AM. Neither one of us sleep through the night, never have. Some mornings I sleep in and I will often have a response back.



“Good Late Morning to you, did you over sleep?”



Some mornings, especially when I know he has not felt well, I let him try and sleep before I peek into his phone.



Often we chat like this (text) for awhile; sometimes it is only a quick hello, love you and take care of yourself. But the ritual has begun and we both look eagerly forward to it.



I am not sure when it started, especially since I never was one to text much, that is until the last two years when children went off to college and another out west. I used to write about the long lost art of letter writing, phone calls and face to face. I have not surrendered mind you, I still like the old fashioned way of communication. However, I willingly succumb to the need to just hear from my loved ones and I will take whatever form I can get.



I would much rather visit my parents, but living 4 hours away and working many hours sometimes prevents my return home. When I do arrive, the whole family seems to swoop in to see us. I love them each and every one, but I truly treasure my parents and grandmother time. I often wish I could bring them up to our place so we could have that quiet time and we could take care of them.



It is not possible to do this. So I settle. I have learned to take what every tidbits of time I can have with them and this new “Texting” ritual has been a joy of discovery. A few times, my mom has been up at same time and we pass messages back and forth to each other.



Recently, I told my dad to let mom know she was my “treasure”. He returned with an answer that she called me her “Pearl”. What joy in that word, what love I felt when I read the words. I can not begin to describe it. I only wish it were all in letter form so that I could save it forever.



My parents are too far from me and with recent illnesses back home, I long to be there with them and for them. I will text often during a day when I truly am concerned. We share little bits of news, weather and love back and forth in short, choppy sentences. We laugh over the auto-correct which often distorts our words, but never our true feelings for each other.



God has blessed me with modern technology. I know, I am eating my words. I blogged about the lost art of letter writing a while back and here I am praising the technology that drove me nuts. What I have learned is whatever form of communication you can get from those you love is worth it. I still write letters, send cards and try my best to keep in touch. However, my morning time with my dad is the thrill of my day and I hope his.



Teresa Gale

Time Flies

Time sure flies! I am living proof of that fact. For example, it has been ages since I last posted here. Life is busy, computer is ill and time flies.

I was getting ready for work this morning and glanced in the mirror to put on a bit of make up so as to not shock the world and noticed I had aged. Yes, aged! I mean really, I look in that same mirror every day of the week, but at 4 a.m. this morning it was as if time came in the middle of the night and crept up on my face erasing my youth.

Or maybe I am just tired.

Or maybe, I am old.

Yes, I think it is the later. No amount of sleep and face cream can erase the fact my face has lived a pretty long life. It has weathered many storms and as I look closer, I see the lines tell a story.

My story, etched upon my face is not too bad. Through the storms it has weathered, I also see some laugh lines. I will call that line my road of joy. My life has had much joy.

When I ponder that thought, I begin to count my blessings. I have loved and been loved. I have six wonderful children and several grandchildren. I have good friends. I have my parents still with me whom I love deeply and a grandmother I adore. My husband is the best and we have a home with pets.

Yes, my lines tell a story. So I will apply my make up lightly, not to cover up, but to enhance. I will treasure these lines, those wrinkles showing the time I have walked this earth and I will embrace the next journey.

As I apply the last bit of mascara to highlight my eyes, I notice a bit of gray peeking out in my hair. Hmmm, okay, my lines can stay, but I am calling in the help to hide this gray. I am not totally ready to let it all go.

Have a blessed day.

Teresa Gale

Vacation Day 8 - Last Day

July 7th, 2012

Last Day


Temps today are supposed to reach 100 degrees once again. Mark is going to run wires for our friend’s electrical problems which means turning off the power. We are hoping for one last boat ride before we turn it in tomorrow.

I will have one more morning here in my little hideaway. It’s been good. Despite the heat, no power and water, I got my wish. My wish was time away from the entire world’s technology and relaxing. Today while Mark works around the electric problems, I am going to clean a bit, then scrapbook outdoors.

I spend the morning under the shade of the tree and periodically check to make sure Mark is okay. The heat is rising and the power is off while he makes the repairs. Sweat pours off my poor man and he is running into some problems. I work on some pages and then begin to pace, trying to help Mark while I can. The cabin is stuffy with no fans and the temperature registers 90 degrees and climbing. Mark had started in the cooler part of the day, but the one hour job has now turned into four.

The birds are oblivious to the heat and sing to me while chipmunks rustle in the leaves. The sun is hotter and sweat pools in uncomfortable places. The morning air was not too bad, but by the time Mark finishes around 12:00 I watch the thermometer climb over 90.

Finally, success! Mark ended up running separate wiring for the fridge and got things back on. I cleaned the floors, dusted and we both showered. The fans back on and moving hot air around us. I will remember this time when I head back up to Cleveland for our winter freeze.

We decide to drive to Cadiz and get some food instead of taking the boat out in the heat of the day. As we leave the cabin, the temps are now a little over 100 degrees. Once in the car, the AC goes on full blast and we can feel our muscles turn to mush.

I am sad. It hits me hard we are soon to leave and vacation will end. Tonight is our last night, in the morning we will pack, clean the cabin and drive home. We will return to the work world, the stress and things that wait for us. I am a little homesick, but dread the return. I could have spent the whole summer in our little hide away.

For some time now, I have been fighting some anxiety and a little bit of depression. Agitation over small things, things that should not matter, has made me snap at poor Mark and the kids. Our oldest daughter had moved in with us for a little over 18 months with our two grandkids. I loved having her, but we also all needed our own space. It was hard watching her move out. I was happy she would be on her own, but missing her very much. She and I would spend many an evening talking, playing games and sharing. I had watched her and Mark grow closer. However, I wanted to return to being a grandma and not a second mother. So her moving out was a bittersweet event.

Then, to top off my anxiety, our second oldest informed us her family consisting of son in law and two grandsons were packing up and heading west. My heart broke. I wanted to tell her not to leave, but could not. Part of being a parent is allowing our children to make decisions, to fly from the nest and to soar with wings like eagles without their mother hanging on for dear life. We met with the kids several time that last week, but could not bear to say goodbye. Finally, the night before they flew out, we had dinner together. I watched my daughter get irritated and restless and knew her heart was also feeling a tug. It is hard being torn in two by our decisions. We hugged hard not wanting to let go of each other. When we parted, I cried all the way home.

Two big changes in our lives happening weeks apart gave me no room to breathe let alone grieve. Then to make things even harder, our baby was going to graduate. While all of this will be part of my next blog, I have to let my heart ache a little as I write. Wham! Wham! And Slam!

I took most of this out on my poor hubby. He is very patient and surely a gift from God. I love him very much and getting away I tried hard to relax, reflect and pray. God surely was present this past week and our trials were many and tough. I think God with his sense of humor thought it might lighten my mood to be subjected to the heat, no power and primitive conditions. What I had not counted on was that it truly did. I enjoyed this time of healing.

The drive to Cadiz was sunny and the AC blasted the coolest air ever this last day. I felt wonderful in the cool comfort of the car. We stopped at a fast food joint, loaded up on not to good food and tried our phones out. The internet was slow, so I gave up quickly, but called our son to make sure the house was still standing.

We left the air conditioned restaurant and headed back out into the hot furnace with no where particular in mind. We drove aimlessly for awhile, snapping photos here and there, dropping mail off at the post office and ending up at the grocery for one last meal before we left. Neither of us liked the thought of cooking and were both feeling unmotivated, but we finally settled on a pack of hot sausage. I must tell you, I am not big on sausage, was only half hearted in the purchase, but unable to stomach much of anything.

As we head back to the cabin, to the heat, thoughts of boating far from our minds we settle into a silent ride. We stop here and there to snap photos of a huge downed tree from the storm and an old cemetery.

Once back to the cabin, we turn music on and focus the fans blowing hot air on us while sitting at the picnic table. We plan our morning out and survey the cabin as we moan over the chore of cleaning and packing that lie ahead. All of a sudden, the fan stops dead, radio goes silent and Mark and I stare in horror at each other. No breeze, no sound but the party next door and across the lake.

The fan shudders, starts and stops again! Mark and I wait, look at each other and moan. We try to figure out if it is everyone or just us. Could it be the electrical work he did in the morning, something gone wrong? Since it is still day light, we cannot tell if others are out as well. Music bounces off the lake loudly as boater blare the radio. A party across the way with chatter and laughter makes us wonder if we are not the only ones.

The deck thermometer rises higher still, over 100 and sweat is pouring over us in the still air. Heat index is several degrees higher than what we can see on the dial and the ice is melting fast.

On-off-on-off, the fans hum, and then stop. We start dinner and wait. Mark tells me he has had enough. We will either pack up tonight and go home, or stay in a hotel and return in the morning to clean. I do not like the idea and feel sad. This was to be our last night; our time alone and now I feel angry it may end too soon. I know that sounds silly in sight of the heat, but I wanted every second before I returned home to an empty house.

My sweet husband is encouraged by the sad look on my face to drive up the hill to investigate. I pray. I pray more. “Listen God, this has been a good bad vacation. Good for me, but hard on Mark. Can you do us a favor please, and turn the power back on?”

I run some water in the sink while we still have some in the pump, go to the bathroom. I continue praying. God is good; let me tell you, GOD IS GOOD! Suddenly, mid-prayer, lights flicker, music starts up and the glorious sound of fans. I praise God; say a word of thanks just as Mark arrives back. It seems there was some repairs being done up the road and the power went down while the men worked. I sigh deeply, our last night not ruined.

My husband makes the best dinner of our vacation. It’s funny how humble one gets with the little things in life, the simple things. God works in mysterious ways. He provided us a last night of power, a wonderful meal of meager potatoes, peppers and the hot sausage (which I might add is now my new favorite) and blessed us with safety. Life is good. I will cherish the lessons he taught me this week, one big important one is to turn to him more often. James 4:2 “You do not have because you have not asked.” The scripture is so true.

Trusting in God is something I strive more for these days. I shall rely on him to sustain me during the storms, the grief of an empty nest and the anxiety I have been having.

We are full and satisfied, not just from the dinner either, but from God who is taking care of us. We settle down in our sleeping spots, televisions on, fans positioned and comfort of being together one last night in our cabin hide away.

I would like to say, I slept good, but I had a restless night with thoughts of packing dancing in my head. Darkness envelopes us like a blanket thrown over us, finally my lids grow heavy, flutter, and close and dreams drift in like a heavy fog.

Good night – Sleep tight- Good night.

Blessings,



Teresa Gale