Mrs.O's writing room.

Dear blog/diary My parenting woes continue. My little hero just don’t like school . He loves to play, watch cartoons and scare his little sister but the will to write (put pencil to paper to make legible symbols) is like “bad” blood given to an anaemic patient. What happened to my truthful little pumpkin? Lies fill his mouth like a hungry man attacking his first meal in days. The bible teachings seem to have flown out the window together with all the nice toys - now broken that were bought over the holiday season. His cutting remarks slice me right down my middle like the sword that led King Caesar into eternal sleep. His disobedience is so out right almost engraved (I shudder), like a rock. But I must chip at it, one little piece by one little piece. It’s frustrating. How do parents love a child into obedience without considering lunatic asylum? I’m speechless, I need the Holy Spirits intervention to articulate these matters before father God, Romans 8: 26 So too the [Ho

Last Friday, Brent and Diane, Mich, Sam and I took a trip to Lancaster county to visit with the Amish . I find their lifestyle quite fascinating, so when Diane brought up the idea I was more than thrilled to check them out. The Amish are a religious sect originating from the Mennonites, who arose directly out of the reformation struggles of the sixteenth century. The first thing that I saw that set them apart is their transport -  the buggy. Its a horse drawn carriage. They don't use cars. "Englisher", "Yankee" or "High People" are the names given by the Amish for anyone who is not Amish. They are known as the plain people because they wear plain colored clothing, they live in scattered farmland locations across America. They live within highly personalized relationships, avoiding more than casual contact with strangers who might attempt to educate them to the ways of the outside world. While the Amish avoid most of the conveniences of the 21st C

Last night the moon peeped through my open window His smile lit my room His rays sat gently on my naked frame Last night the wind waltzed through my open window Her breeze sent shivers down my back bone Little goose bumps flowered this ebony skin Last night I saw a fairy Pretty beyond my simple words to describe She sparkled from top to tiny toe She a little bigger than my tiny finger She skittered onto my shoulder and showered me in pixie dust Mmm the aroma simple words do not articulate Petals of lavender, peach, lilies, cherry pie, honeysuckle I was young again Fresh again New again Again Last night Candles Butterflies

I love the sound of horses trotting over paved streets. I find the firm muscles in their hind legs very captivating, a connotation of strength and power. Just! Yesterday I was listening to I choose by India Arie off her album Testimony: Vol. 1, Life & Relationship. Something in there kept me bobbing my head; it was more than just the beat, I was feeling the lyrics. (And I choose) to be the best that I can be. (I choose) to be courageous in everything I do. My past don't dictate who I am. I choose. (And I choose) to be the best that I can be. (I choose) to be authentic in everything I do. My past don't dictate who I am. I choose. Because you never know where life is gonna take you and you can't change where you've been. But today, I have the opportunity to choose. I used to have guilt about why things happen the way they did cuz life is gone do what it do And every day, I have the opportunity to choose. Sam, Mich and I are loving our little bundle of