Trust

It was a dark and stormy night. No wrong, it was a sun filled day of flowers and birds. Nope not right either. The heavy snow twirled and danced caught glimmering in the headlights, mesmerizing me in to a hypnotic daze....nope, that won't do either.

Where does one begin to write a novel? Please, someone tell me the secret. I am not a planner by any means of the word. I hate editing, despise it truthfully. I am a writer of the heart. My emotions pour out of me, bleeding on the pages. Characters are often real people in my life, those that have touched me one way or another. 

Writing is tough. Whoever thinks you just sit down and write is either a genius or has never attempted to give birth to a story. However, I have written. I have written poetry, stories, long letters, speeches for weddings, retirements, holidays and a couple of unedited novels. They sit in drawers, file folders on my office floor, and some of my writing has been published via the Internet. 

Today, I rustled through my dusty and unused office to find the one story that has been begging me to read and edit. My muse has been encouraging me to write again. Thanks dear friend Tina. So, my mission was to unearth it from under the clutter where I left it back in 2011. My first novel that I actually found an ending to.

It is sitting next to me at this very moment, my palms have grown sweaty and my heart has picked up speed. Fear knots my stomach as I turn over in my mind if I should just bury it in my grave pile of other writings and run, do not walk away from it.

I have recently been taking a creative art journaling course, playing with paint, (truthfully something I have no talent) and words. See above photo. It is unclogging my long hidden away God given gift to create again. I am rusty, weak in the knees and my own worst critic. Yet this journey in art has allowed the little girl I was never allowed to be, come out and play. 

My novel needs to be read, edited and seared once again in my heart. It is my long journey towards forgiveness and understanding someone very important in my life. It is due to the fact this was written from my heart and guided by God, that makes me want to finish it. However, in doing so, it will return me to another long and painful journey of the past.

My fear is....hard to word...facing the scary parts of my life and accepting who I am because of it. It's personal, it's painful yet is full of love. 

Earl Nightengale once stated; " Don't let the fear of the time it will take to accomplish something stand in the way of your doing it. The time will pass anyway; we might just as well put that passing time to the best possible use."

The course I am taking is teaching me to let go of fear and flow. I am learning to brave my fears of not being good enough to being satisfied with challenging myself to try. My novel is part of me, my baby, my growth, my journey towards forgiveness and allowing myself to love.

The story is waiting for me. I will take the steps to complete my journey and be satisfied. Is there something you fear? Are you putting off becoming the person God has designed you to be? Are there others out there like me ready to take a step beyond your comfort zone? I would invite you to step with me and reach your dreams.

Teresa Gale

Good Morning! 

 

It's Friday! I woke up with my normal aches and pains, stumbled out of bed and grabbed my dark rich coffee, liquid energy as I call it. Ahh! 

Mornings are good to reflect, prepare and by prepare I mean pray, read and catch up on family news. 

My oldest daughter traveled out west this past week to see her sister. I have been keeping track of their visit together on Facebook. I love the family photos, the smiles, the times they are sharing together making more memories. Today Jennifer, my oldest and my oldest grandson Jordan will return back home. Parting is never easy. I know each time I am with any of my children no matter how short or how long the visit, it tears my heart to leave. This is no different when your children live so far away. You wish to hold them tight, tighter, tighter even and never let them go.

"Sigh..." I got all teary eyed as I viewed the photos from last nights hugs and kisses between my grandchildren, my daughters and my son in law. I know today as she boards the plane, she will leave part of her heart with Suzanne. I know this, because I have done the same. I posted for them to cherish the times together for this is the purest of gifts.

A mother, always wants her children close. However, we also wish them wings to fly. I know I have lived far from my parents, my family for most of my life. I did what I had to do to raise my family, but...I have missed so many things, so much time together. So now, I try to make the most of it. We all need to make the most of it. 

The bible is full of stories where children wander off to the great unknowns building lives. It is the circle of life. It is not God's plan to hold our children back from His plans, whatever they may be. As a Christian mom, I have faith that the decisions they make will all be for His greater plan. I pray that in the mornings, as I wake in the middle of the night when one or all of them cross my mind. I lie awake wondering about each of the six children we are blessed with and all the little grandchildren as well.

As much as my heart aches, as much as I dream of owning a huge property where all my loved ones can dwell together, I have to be at peace knowing we carry each other in our hearts.

God's gift to me this morning as I hobbled out the front door, was to bless me with the beautiful flower above. His promise to me that he cares for each little one and has them in his hands. As I passed by this happy Daisy, my heart soared as I knew each of my children bloom where they are planted by His loving hand. I smile when I see my favorite flower gracing my morning. Thank you God for promises.

Be safe my loves and come home soon.

Love you more,

Teresa Gale

Momma T

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