A letter to my brothers and myself

**I told myself that by doing this blog I would be real with myself. Sometimes reality isn't always pretty. I found this letter, written a few months ago, to my brothers. It is proof that I can and most of the time do, come through the storm. Sometimes I even get a nice tan afterwards!**
Dear Brothers,
Greetings from Scotland! In The Middle of Nowhere, Scotland.
I'm glad to be away from the hustle and hurry of every day urban life. Living out in the country has given me a new appreciation for nature. I thought I had it before, but this really seals the deal. It's breathtaking here. And it's definitely curbed my shopping habits!
I must tell yall, I wish that my life would settle down nicely into a steady stream of contentedness. That particular dream remains elusive to me. A rather constant series of ups, mainly downs, and unfulfilled dreams. I suppose that some folk are destined to be down. However much in my life I have tried for something more, something better~ I get a taste of the sparkling sky. Only to have the night shade pulled abruptly between me and happy. After varied stops and starts over a couple of decades, I'm tired of trying. I'm destined, it seems, this go-round for mediocrity. Or at best, just the far side of happy.
The past year, in particular, has been one helluva ride that I dearly wish I hadn't purchased the tickets for. Losing faith, finding my blood, watching my Mother die, feeling business opportunites slip through my rough fingers like dry sand...and becoming acutely aware that what I have believed in for most of my life is not there. I've lost my faith, faith in anything, brothers. I don't know why I'm telling yall, or anyone, these things. You both have your lives, crazy and bursting with potential. And since I last saw either of you, we haven't exactly been in touch. We are family, but strangers. Pity that time has to be so cruel. And timing even less forgiving of heart's desires.
Days go by, a series of awakenings. Life seems to be on hold, yet perpetually swinging in round-abouts. While I like to believe in my own resiliency, it's really not there. And if it is, it's doing a fine job of hiding from me. I can't even configure a "Plan B". Ah, well.
What do you believe? Do you really make your own destiny? Or does one have to be in the right place at the right time to fulfill said destiny? I think I keep missing the bus. Perhaps standing somewhere else will do the trick. Praying has certainly failed me. Maybe prayer is just glorified meditation. And maybe I don't do enough of it.

It's true, you know. What "they" say. "Be careful what you wish for". It may not be exactly as you wished...
1. I wished for a new life in Scotland. CHECK. I didn't wish for best laid plans to be made waste and to be here while my Mother was in hospital and my Daddy needed me most.
2. I wished to find my birth mother and family. CHECK.
~I didn't wish for her to be ill and struggling; I didn't wish to love my new family so deeply only to be sundered from them by land and sea. And honestly, by walls around hearts.
3. I wished for a knight in shining armour. CHECK. My husband is my knight who continually saves me. And most often from myself. I wish I could take more responsibility for putting his armour on and stop being the damsel in distress.

There.

I love you boys. So much. And I miss you. Deeply. I want yall to know that I think happy thoughts for you both ~ nearly every day. And sometimes the memory of Ft. Sumter and your quirky smiles is the kick I need to keep going.
I'm not all gloom and storm clouds. Here's to hoping I'm in the midst of a quickly passing hurricane!
Not sure what either of you will make of this ~ rest assured you don't have to make anything of it (except for the paragraph describing that I do, indeed and in fact, love you both, little brothers).
I am here. Wherever that is. But I am patiently waiting. I think I see the sun...
Love,
Your Sister

Random Love

I need to begin again.
Play tiny pictures for me.
Let the night fall down around us.
Find me, never.
I am always here.
Present in my past.
Are you walking in my garden?
Plant my fields with happy
Souls are dancing
Do you know how much it matters?
A sun rises every time I sense you
New dawn, not breaking.
Gently, quietly finding me again
Give in, lay back and watch the sky go by us
See that sparkle in my eyes?
That's your love, dancing with my soul.
Each dance brings on the twilight.
Dusky embers, periwinkle dreams.
Love me, encompass me,
With dusk it begins
That magic time, we are...
There is no time for us.
We are timeless, clocks can't catch up
Stars delight in the magic of our random love
Twinkling, celebrating the coming of the shade.
Dark sky, inky and midnight blue
That blue hushes away the dusk.
Shh. Do you hear my heart's desire?
Yes, I know you. I need you, too.
Darkness falls, but there is always light
From the sparks dancing between our skin.
The night is not eternally dark
We dance, we love, we know.
Endless, timeless. What a gift!
What hunger I have for you.
Nearly consuming me, yet I wait.
I await the dawn.
New dawn, not breaking.
A sun rises each time I sense you.
Find me, never.
I am always here.
Present in my past.
Are you walking in my garden?
Plant my fields with happy
Soul is dancing
And we begin, again.

Momma, Mamma and Flowers

Ordering flowers for a special occasion isn't usually an activity that reduces me to tears. Crying. I mean real tears. The kind that run down your face and drip off your chin before your hand can catch them. I ordered flowers today for two very special people; one that I've only been blessed to know since August 2008. And I cried like a four year old who dropped the lollipop in the mud puddle.

These people are my Momma (my adoptive mother) and my Mamma (my birth mother).

I've known all my life that I was adopted at birth. It's never been a secret. The issue of me being adopted, "given up", and "someone else's child" was a wide open affair. And not always a pleasant one. Figuring out who I was and who I am has been a life long struggle. For both me and my Momma . The hole in my spirit is something I've always known. It hurts. Many angry days and nights passed between us. All reconciled after years of disagreements, we ventured on to have a great mother-child relationship that I wouldn't trade for anything.

As much as she loved me, I ached as much to know my birth mother. I have always called her Mamma. (Now, it's important to note the difference...adoptive mom = Momma, Helen; birth mom = Mamma, Debra).

My little heart was broken in bits over Mamma. Worried about her, Iwondered if she was all right. I prayed she was warm and had food and was loved. I prayed even harder for God to bring us together. And wouldn't you know it, when I least expected it, He did just that! God brought us together, me and Mamma. Last year, on her birthday no less. It's been an amazing journey. Hearing her voice, the first thing she said to me on the phone was "I love you Baby Girl", and I hit my knees. Truly, I couldn't stand up. Good thing I didn't have to use the bathroom or it would have hit the floor too! I waited my entire life to hear that.

Can you really imagine wanting the one thing you seemed destined to never find and then finding it? Try hard. Really hard. Because that is exactly what happened to me. I found my Mamma.

No more "little girl lost". I am found. A broken heart is whole. I know why I like peanut butter. It makes sense to me, this open and wild spirit that I have. I get it from Mamma.

I've been dually blessed and for no good reason. I was adopted by the most loving and kind hearted parents who literally gave me the shirt off their backs. And a pony too! They didn't always understand me, but loved me for me. Blind love. Oh what a joy to see that gift working in my life before it's too late! And I have been reunited with the woman who carried me in her tummy for 9 months, gave birth to me and gave me life. She loves me! She has always loved me and I have always loved her. There has never, not one time ever, been an angry feeling toward Mamma. If it wasn't for her, I'd have never known my parents. I only ever wanted to tell her how much I love her and to thank her for my life. God saw fit for me to be able to do just that.

As most of you know, Sunday coming up is Mother's Day in America. Mother's Day has been such a confusing holiday for me. I celebrate Momma because she loved me and raised me. But I mourned for Mamma because I wanted to celebrate her too.

When Mamma and I were reunited last year, it was only natural to think of all the future holidays I would get to spend and celebrate with BOTH my mothers! Who could have predicted that just one month after meeting my birth mother, that Momma, my adoptive mother, would enter the hospital with an unknown illness and then pass away? Not me. But that's what happened. And now I am again a girl with a broken heart for a lost mother.

Is it irony that I mourned for my birth mother all my life and loved Momma who was with me and now I mourn for Momma who is gone and now get to celebrate life with Mamma? I'm pretty sure that qualifies for irony.

This Mother's Day, I am honored to celebrate Mamma. Debra. The woman who gave me life. A mother that I've longed to know and have always loved. By the grace of God I have her in my life now. I live in Scotland and can't be with her on Sunday, but the need to shower her with gifts on Mother's Day is overwhelming. So I ordered her a dozen long stemmed pink roses for this special day to be delivered right to her.

And this Mother's Day, I am honored to celebrate Momma. Helen. The woman who shaped my life and loved me so much it hurts me to think of it. She has passed from this world, but not from my heart. It doesn't matter where I live, she is with me always. The need to recognize her contribution to my life and the shaping of my spirit is overwhelming. So I ordered her a dozen long stemmed white roses for her grave site for this special day.

And that's how ordering flowers for Mother's Day can reduce a grown woman to tears. Those hot, fast tears that run down your cheeks and fall off your chin before you can catch them.

This is for my Mothers. From one lucky girl who, for a time, got to have both of them in her life. I love you both so, so much. Thank you Momma and Mamma, for this life. What a ride.

Me and my Momma Tyler TX May 2008, the last picture taken of us together

Me and my Mamma, Charleston SC October 2008, the first picture taken of us together

Beginnings-Day Two And Rocks

Right, so today is Tuesday. Just in case you didn't already know that. And I'm more than 24 hours into my starting over. And today feels a bit rocky for me. That's me, playing my best Sisyphus at Aberdour Beach on the North Sea in Scotland. Funny thing about starting over, you jump over the starting line and sprint. And sprinting without looking or being prepared can result in all sorts of drama. I was so full of enthusiasm yesterday! And today, I realize that just "saying" you're going to start over and reclaim your life isn't enough. Practice, practice, practice.
I woke up late. Not that I have a job right now to get to, but sleeping past 9:00 a.m. just seems to be wrong. Maybe I got up on the wrong side of the bed. And how does one know if it's the wrong side or not? Is the wrong side the one where the mattress tag is located? You know, the tag you shouldn't remove just in case the mattress police come and inspect your tag situation.
Anyway, I decided that I should go running. In my bid to reclaim my life, I'm also determined to lose some excess weight. And frankly, excess is an understatement. I won't tell you how much I need to lose, let's just say enough to make my Seven for all mankind jeans look good again.
I'm not much for running in the rain, but I was determined not to let that stop me. See? I'm putting action to my words. I think a lot when I run.
Mostly I think about not tripping on the trails here in Scotland. But sometimes I think about my Mom. I even talk to her. I fully believe she can hear me. Missing Mom takes up more of my time than I thought possible. And sometimes not admitting it is easier than dealing with it. It's hard. Being without her. Missing Mom today made me stumble. I'm putting up my own boulders along my path to reclamation.
How dumb is that? You'd think we'd learn by now. But I must admit I feel a bit like Sisyphus, doomed by Tartarus, to keep rolling the damned boulder up the hill only to have it roll back down and trip me up.
Well, today, I've made an effort to roll the boulder off the cliff. A cliff that looks just like this one...Off the North Sea again, seems to be a recurring theme for me. More about that tomorrow perhaps.

To push my boulder of the moment over the hillside or cliff, I've made some decisions.

I have decided to embrace my grief about losing Momma. Keeping it bottled up is making a mess of things. When we're children, crying and showing our emotions is such a natural reaction. Scraped knee? Tears. Fall off the swing? Tears. We lose that, I think, when we grow up. I don't want to lose the ability to cry, mourn and grieve. I need to be heard. If by nobody other than myself. Maybe that's the point of this whole "grown up" thingy. I've always said that if I'd known how flippin' hard it was to be a responsible adult I would have NEVER signed on. Alas, here I am. And day two, so far, isn't all that bad.

Dying Felines

Does this look like a dying feline to you?

Evil, perhaps. Cunning maybe? But dying? Not quite.

Spent a small fortune getting the cat pictured from Texas to Scotland last year as part of my "let's change our lives" plan that is currently being revamped. This male, Bo, is known to talk back (sassy pants) and to drop tootsie roll turds in a bath tub if he's upset. But we love him and couldn't bear life without him.

He's almost 13, and still an active old man. Curmudgeonly, but lovable. Because of incredibly stringent quarantine laws in the UK, poor soul had to spend 5 months in a quarantine cattery (sounds like a brothel but it's really quarantine kennel for cats). It was a bit like prison - his father and I had visitation rights 3 times a week! I still feel guilty for that, but who wouldn't?

Well, on his release date, March 22, 2009, Bo made the car trip like the little soldier he is: cried and sulked almost the whole way.

If ya look closely, you can see his tiny Mother, Joey, crouched down in the travel kennel. She got to make the trip too, but this story isn't about her.

Being an insane cat lover, I give Bo kisses. No tongues, please. But love and hugs. I noticed his breath had become, well, stinky. And not that cute "oh he's got kitty breath" smell either. I'm talking funk, straight up gingivitis. Dingy gingies as me and Obm Jean from back home used to say. I didn't think much of it other than "maybe we should brush his teeth." Yeah, that worked out well...Ever tried brushing the teeth of an angry, drunken sailor who's just home on shore leave? Well it's the same thing. Trust me.

After a couple weeks in his new home in Scotland, Bo wasn't playing, wasn't grooming and just wasn't himself. A mother knows. The hubby said "well what do you suggest we do?" to which I really had no answer. Couldn't pinpoint it you see, and didn't want to seem like a hypochondriac by proxy to any vet here in Scotland. Not yet anyway.

When his right jaw had swollen to the size of the planet Mars I figured I better call in back up. Luckily got him in to a vet who calmly pointed out he had an abscessed tooth that would need to be yanked out after a week of antibiotics. Let me just tell you...giving a 9 pound Maine Coon Cat capsules of any kind isn't easy. Tell me a thousand different ways to get it done and I will counter with a thousand different ways the little bastard can wiggle out of it.

I am now a professional cat wrangler. BUT, this isn't the end. Took the cat in for his op, and the vet chic (not the one from last time) said, and I do quote "Well I still hear the heart murmur and he is indeed in heart failure." Sorry, what? She repeated herself. Two more times. To which I replied with tears and I'm sure a twisted face. She said some other things that I can't really remember but to call later that afternoon to check on him.

I am not a mother, never have been and don't intend to be anytime soon. But this little dude is my baby. And I would wager that most of you reading this who have any healthy regard for pets would agree hearing "he has heart failure" would lead you to believe OMG he's dying!

For the next four hours I cried and was angry and all this shit came flying up out of my mouth that I couldn't believe I was upset about. (another post, another day). Fully prepared to bring this old man cat home to die, I completely and totally over reacted to what someone else told me (this goes back to my post from earlier today...don't believe all that you hear).

When the time comes to pick up the doomed and fallen soldier, the vet chic shows us an x-ray of a slightly enlarged heart. Not in the least bit upsetting or life threatening. Explaining various things to us about his tooth and dental hygiene, I finally interjected "So...he's not dying??", to which she replied "No, not today. Not imminently."

Could have slapped her...He's fine.

He's got a healthy dose of the trots (diarrhea) from the meds, and he still resists getting his pills 2x a day (got the scratch marks to prove it)...but as you can see from the next picture, he isn't, in fact, dying. Way to go, Bo~!

Followers Gadget ~ not just for stalkers!

Okay, I'm so totally new to blogging. But I would like to know who's reading what, what who's reading what thinks, and I'd like to read who's reading what's comments.
Simple, right?
To keep up with deborahstyle, just click the "Followers" link on the sidebar of my page, and follow my ups, downs and sideways forays into this thing called life.
Man, is this pimping? I'm not sure, but I feel like I'm putting myself "out there." Not such a bad thing. Exposure, not pimping. Although I mean no disrespect to the pimping community...
Just become a follower of this deborahstyle blog. Thanks!

Faith ~ Tested, Broken and Renewed*

So, I pray. And I've been blessed. I've had dreams of revelation that have forever changed my life.(That, my friends, is an entirely different note!!) I am a Child of God, claimed and loved and desired. And I've seen the Lord work in so many lives. In my own, it's been miraculous. Mind blowing, really.
So why do I lose my faith? Someone once told me that those who proclaim their faith loudest and are new in their walk with God may experience some serious trips and traps by the enemy. I thought, "Well, that's just NOT going to happen! I'm too on fire right now and I am living and breathing for Christ." I did my daily Bible study, my meditation on God's word, and tried very hard to walk my walk with the Lord. I even practised my breathing patterns on my daily runs to prayers and and proclamations of my faith!
But slowly, quietly...my faith slipped. My devotion slacked off. And I got caught right back up in this flesh, this world and away from the calling of God's voice to my heart. Oh I kept praying...when it was convenient for me.
I prayed for things I thought my family needed, things I thought I needed. I even prayed when my Mother was dying in Montgomery County Hospital. I kneeled in the chapel in ICU, and dropped everything I had at the foot of the Cross. I begged forgiveness for any wrongs done by me against my Momma. I prayed God would ease her heart and she would know no more pain and suffering. I prayed that any grace or blessings God had in store for me, that He would pass them to my Momma and Daddy. I begged Him, and gave up to Him, truly as I had never done before. I was away from her bed for less than 5 minutes.When I walked back to her room, she had passed. She died while I prayed. And I will never forget the absolute shock and anger I had. I even screamed out "I JUST PRAYED! THIS IS WRONG!!!!!". And it's taken me until recently to understand that God answered my prayer.
But you see, I missed it. I missed that message. And in my grief, I slid away from the Lord. When I should have been clinging hardest, I let go. And among other things, dreams that my husband and I saw nearly realized...were burst.
And I slid. So far as to begin to question God's existence. "Wouldn't it make more sense and be easier if I only had to answer to my fellow man and myself for my actions?" How can a benevolent God let us slip so far into despair? Well, He doesn't let us. Our free will is what trips us up. I turned away from Jesus and the salvation that the Cross has bestowed on each of us. I ran, because that's what I do when I'm afraid.
Being faithful isn't easy for me. It never has been and I really struggle every single day to make it fit in my mind and in my heart. But I know that the times in my life that I've stood closest to the Lord are the best times in my life. I don't mean easiest and most trouble free. No, I said best. And I have to remember that.
I am a shining light.
I am reclaiming my faith.
I am a Child of the Lord.
I am a princess of the King.
As each of us are sons and daughters of Christ,
I believe. I believe. I BELIEVE!
I've got a long way to go in understanding faith and salvation, but I can't give up. One must keep moving forward.
And its because of His promise for a blessed life for us that I am here typing this. I don't know what anyone reading this will think. I hope it moves someone. But I posted this because I am called to do so. What a gift, to get to know the Lord. Again and again.
Thank you God. For everything. For all that I have, and thank you even more so for all that I DON'T have.


*(This was previously posted on my facebook.com account on April 16, 2009)