Walking through Wal-Mart parking lot. I see a bumper sticker that said, “Don’t worry about tomorrow, God’s already there”.
Which got me to thinking.
I tell people a lot that He already has a book written of your life – so He knows what’s happening tomorrow. Then started thinking about what His library would look like. 📖
Photo Credit goes to Nemanja Sekulic.
What were your parents doing at your age?
I am 36 years old right now.
My parents – at 36:
My mom was 36 in 1998 – a mother of two and married to my father. Four years before she passed away. My brother was 12 && I was 11. She worked at… I want to say a restaurant called “Baldwins” – she was a cook.
My dad was 36 in 1983 – a father of four (three boys && one girl) and married to his second wife – who he was in the process of divorcing. He was a drunk – this was a year before he met my mother – three years before they’d be married. If memories are correct, he’d go to jail at night && sleep there, during the day they’d let him out to go to work. He worked at a… junk yard? named Dulaney’s in Amarillo, Texas.
I never really notice an age difference until I start doing things like this. My mom was 36 in 1998 when my dad was 51 – my dad was 36 in 1983 when my mom was 21. In 1983, my dad had four children, ages 16, 14, 7, & 4. They both lived in Amarillo, Texas though.
They eventually met in 1984. Got married in 1986 on their lunch break at work and went bowling that night.
They are both gone now. Mom died in 2003 at 40. Dad died in 2011 at 63.
If I had to pick one thing, && only one thing – I would want them to understand how much I love them.
We have accumulated a lot of cats through the years – not on purpose – some are strays, some are babies of a stray that we thought was a boy who turned out to be a girl cat && now we call her Mommy Bean. Some of them irritate the snot out of me – because you know, they are cats. But at the same time, I love them so much.
I think I’ve mentioned how before I would actually chuckle at people who told me their pets were like children to them. Because who could feel like that? && up until Dotty was born, &&& I fell in love with her, I didn’t think it was possible. But I did. I fell for that Siamese cat like it was something I do all the time.
I’ve had pets before Dotty. I had a cat when I was 15, Kitty Kittie (it’s all she’d answer to), but when I lost her it didn’t hit me like it did Dotty’s death. It’s been almost a year and I still miss her so much. Still cry. Still miss her trying to smother my head.
When I lost her I didn’t want the other cats anymore. Because it hurt my heart to look at them. Horrible, yes, I know. But Lucci, Dotty’s Uncle – he knew I was hurting and sad because he was trying to do what Dotty used to do. Lucci, I love that cat && I hope he knows just how much I love him. I hope Dotty knew how much I loved her. Because I did. I loved her way too much.
My brother && I have always said that we were going to get a really big piece of land && put houses on it together. I told him I was still down for it. But I can’t now. I buried her in this yard && I refuse to leave her again. I guess if I win the lottery I’ll just have to buy out this road.
Soulmate: noun. A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.
People are given two soulmates in their lifetime.
A lover.
The one person who opens your heart to a whole new world and wonder no one can give you. A single touch electrifies you. Intensity. Love. Honesty. Affection. Spiritually.
A best friend.
Someone to spend life with that doesn’t hate you, scar you, && is always there to help && protect you. Love. Honesty. Spiritually.
You can love many people in a single lifetime. Some stay, but most leave. Boyfriends. Girlfriend. Friends. Co-workers. Life hands you hundred’s of people in your life but the ones who matter never leave. You may not talk daily, or see each other often – but you know, deep inside, they are there forever.
Growing up I always said, and believed, that a person can only have one soulmate until I realized that’s not exactly true and funnily enough, I realized this while watching One Tree Hill. I will always believe you can only be “in love” with one person in your lifetime. I don’t believe you can feel something THAT strong for multiple people. (You can love as many as you want. Big difference between loving someone && being in love with someone.)
But sometimes I forget about best friends. That one person you meet and you simply think to yourself this person, I like this person, they will be mine forever. &&& it’s true, you may not see them on a daily basis, or even monthly basis. But you know, &&& they know, &&& everyone knows – they are your person.
Your. Person.
Your bestfriend.
Your companion.
Everyone needs that person too. You need the one person in your life who isn’t going to tear you down, or make you feel inferior to everyone else. Someone who doesn’t crumple your spirit, or squeeze you like an orange if you want to believe in rainbows and unicorns. Someone who will not get mad when you trip them into the mud, or lock them out of the car on a rainy night.
Reading that you started thinking about your wife or husband. Boyfriend or girlfriend. But do you think of your best friend. The person you met in elementary school or junior high. Possibly high school or college. Or if you lacked social skills and didn’t develop much until adulthood, maybe you’re thinking about a person at work. A girl or a guy that makes your life a little less stressful and enjoyable. Life is hard enough trying to maneuver your way around it – it’s even harder when you’re alone – that’s why God gave you people. Two people. The two people that will get you through life without too much struggle, or too much pain, heartbreak, or sorrow.
Those two people.
Your lover.
Your best friend.
Your soul mates.
Found on RebelCircus and wanted to share:
Legend has it there’s an intangible string of fate that binds two people that are destined to be together. Those connected are bound regardless of time, place or circumstance. Nothing can break the invisible thread between two people who are meant to be together.
The color red is strongly tied to the attraction and desire. It is also the color of the string of fate that binds two soul mates. The red string of fate is derived form an ancient East Asian belief. According to this myth, the Gods tie a red string around the ankles of those that are destined to meet each other or help each other in a certain way.
The concept is similar to the Western concept of a “soulmate” or a “twin flame.” What is different is that this proverb focuses more on the concept of being “bound” to someone rather than finding your other half.
Like many old legends, the story behind the red string is somewhat problematic. It is said that walking home one night, a little boy saw an old man reading a book. He asked him what he was reading. The old man said it was a book of marriages, and told the young boy he was destined to marry one girl. When he showed the little boy the girl he was to marry, though, the boy didn’t like the idea because he didn’t want to get married. He threw a rock at her and ran away as fast as he could. Years later, a marriage was arranged between the boy and one of the most beautiful girls in the village. But, when he unveiled her he noticed his wife-to-be had a small scar over her eyebrow. When he asked her about it, she told him that a boy had thrown a rock at her as a child. Thus proving their fateful union…
At the crux of this proverb is submitting to a higher power. Destiny will take its course and in time all will fall into place. It is important not to fight the red thread. Even if you find the person on the other end of the fateful red string, that doesn’t mean staying together will be easy. The proverb is meant to instill loyalty, devotion, and compassion. The string is also there to make sure lovers remain faithful to one another.
No matter how near or far you are from the person, the thread remains. There will be times when mentally or physically, you feel distant from the person, but that doesn’t affect the thread that binds you two together.
“The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind I was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” –Rumi
According to Chinese legend, the deity in charge of the “Red String of Fate” is believed to be Yuè Xià Lâo, the old lunar matchmaker god. Yuè Xià Lâo is also in charge of marriages.
In Japanese culture, it is said the red string is tied around the pinky finger. Hence the phrase “pinky swear.” Originally, it indicated that the person who broke their promise had to cut off their pinky finger.
Caroline Highland of Thought Catalog writes, “The red threads don’t wind their way around our ankles as we walk, don’t catch on us as we brush past things – the Chinese believe that they emanate from us from birth, from the moment we enter the world. As we age, with each passing year, the threads grow tighter, bringing us close to the people whose lives are destined to intertwine with ours in some way.”
The same writer interprets the red thread as liberating. “How much easier it feels to fling ourselves out into the unknown, into a new place or stage of our lives, knowing those red threads are there, winding out into the future as they always have been, holding onto souls that will be waiting to catch us, teach us, touch us, and change us.”
According to Wikipedia, “The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.”
Do you believe in romantic destiny?
I think everyone should at least be able to play one instrument.
I find myself digging through pictures a lot. Never sure of what I’m going to do with them and which ones I am going to put in frames. My memories, my family, are left with just pictures. Millions of pictures throughout my house. Memories that I sometimes forget. Like the trip to Walt Disney World my family and I took with I was 15. I haven’t forgotten it. However, I cannot piece together every single thing we did or seen. Everything that was said, sometimes is a blur to me.
Pictures, however, make me remember. I remember the small things. Like the guy standing in front of me when I was trying to take a picture of a large parade they do every night before Tinker Bell swoops from Cinderella’s castle and flies around in circles before flying back into a window at the top. Looking at those pictures I realize now that it’s the same guy with his family.
After the parade, Tinker Bells flight are fireworks. Fireworks, at which I’ve never seen anything more amazing since. They lit up the night sky in multiple colors as the crowd around me found love. Couples holding hands or stealing kisses. Flashes of colors in everyone’e eyes. My dad wrapping his arm around my mother as I stare in bewilderment at the sight before me.
Love.
It’s such a small thing to remember. The whole trip. Without pictures, however, I can only remember the not-so-great parts. The day we were walking and I didn’t realize there was different types of heat. Florida, a heat all of it’s own, threw me out. I waved my imaginary white flag above my head as I took a seat on a bench above a large beautiful tree over looking a water ride. I sat, breathing, in the shade as people whipped past me on a water ride that left the ground and slide far into the sky. I wanted to ride it. Every part of my being wanted to stand in line, get into one of the logs, and ride through the water as it splashed the passerby’s that got a little too close. I didn’t, though. I was scared. I was petrified of leaving the ground. Being too far into the sky. Instead, I sat on that bench and watched everybody walk around munching on snacks that are way over priced, drinking out of a bottle of water that is nearly fifteen dollars.
My attention was quickly drawn back to reality the moment an older gentleman squirted me with water in my face. My eyes flashed around until I caught him, staring. My mom smiled and thanked him, no one else thought to. He smiled back. “She looked a little white. I was worried. She needs water.”
I couldn’t get over just how generous this man was. As I continued to sit there, breathing, letting the water run off my face and sizzle on the ground I felt something hit my head. Not hard. Just a small thump! I felt my hair. Pulling my hand back I realized there were birds in this large tree that I decided to sit under. Birds don’t quite know how to find a restroom.
My mom laughed for hours. She is probably still laughing as I write this.
Pictures show a persons life. It shows what they did, who they were with, including the love and affection one person shares with another. I remember a time where I took pictures upon pictures. Snapping pictures so quickly people were hiding my camera. I loved it. Still do. But the urge has faded a little since my brothers wedding.
I had one job that night. One. Pictures. Take nice pictures as they walked down the aisle. As they said “I do!” As they finally had their first kiss as man & wife. I couldn’t even do that. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my brothers wife’s friends that I needed the lights on. Because they didn’t. The camera’s they purchased were better than mine. Digital. Compared to my 35 mm, that needed light besides the flash, I let them control them. I let them decide for me that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I took the pictures. I took many pictures. I didn’t receive one single good pictures. They were either too dark, or too far away, or someone standing in my way.
Haven’t taken pictures much since.
Early yesterday morning someone asked me to do their Christmas pictures of their family. They’d pay me. How can I turn down an offer like that. There are only two things in life I’ve ever had a connection with. One: Writing. That will always be my baby that nurture. Will, until the day they put me underground. Two: Photography. To show the world how I see things compared to them. The beauty in things. I can’t draw it by hand. I use camera’s.
I am going to take her pictures of her family. I’m going to speak up and I will make sure they turn out decent. I just wish that I would have spoke up at my brothers wedding. Because then, they’d have pictures that were decent and not complete crap.
Pictures can mean a lot of things for a lot of people. For me, it’s life. It’s love. It’s memories. It’s family. It’s everything wrapped up into one single multi colored piece of paper. Something so small means so much to me. I have cried over pictures ruining. Water being sprayed over them, sticking together. Then, by the time I realize it’s too late. They are glued together. As I listen to the pictures peel apart, that wretched sound of paper stripping the life from itself, I cry. Tears streaking down my face as I grip the pictures tightly in my hands. It’s a heart breaking moment. Losing life. Losing memories. Losing love. Losing family. Especially when you’re family is gone.
Moments in pictures. A stolen kiss. A stolen laugh. Someone caught off guard as they shove the biggest corn dog in their mouth at a large fair. Moments, small moments, caught by a single flash behind a camera.
Take more pictures through your life. Write on the back of them. That way when you’re eighty and you open a box from you life. You can remember exactly what is going on in that part of your world. Something so small.
♥The Barbosphere♥ 