Charlotte's Peace

Crazy Love

2012-02-14T22:20:00.000-08:00

Today is a very special day, not because it is Valentine's Day necessarily, but because this day 15 years ago something started that carried within it a life of its own, that brings me to this day, to write these words.

I am sure there are a lot of people who do not like Valentine;s Day because they look at it as the day when people 'in love' celebrate being with someone in a relationship. To me, however, this day has been continually about just sharing love. It is a day when I could let people I know just how important they are to me. I have done this since my early childhood, and continues to this day.

Love has many definitions. We each hold in our minds our own definition of what love is, and we look through those beliefs to shape our beliefs about Valentine's day.

Fifteen years ago I was in Paramedic School. I was also in a marriage which had not really been a marriage for a number of years. That is a whole other story, but I will state here that I stayed married for as long as I did (16 years) due to my religious beliefs. As the years past by I grew, I learned that staying with someone out of duty, or out of fear is NOT what God had in mind for two people to be together. In my new found self assurance and independence I went back to school to pursue my dreams and a life without abuse.

Classes began in the Fall of 1996. It was awesome. The old Charlotte came back to life. To LIFE. The dead parts of my soul were revived by the lives who touched me so deeply. My classmates allowed me to grow, to see that happiness is a way of LIFE, and that I did deserve happiness. For those people I shall always remain grateful.

My plan when I entered school was to get my Intensive Care Paramedicine degree and get a medic job and divorce my husband, take my children and create a loving happy life for the three of us. That was MY plan.

But fate, or destiny, or God stepped in and took those plans away and replaced them with another plan which I was not prepared for at all.

My best friend from Plainview, Tom, and I drove together each Tuesday and Thursday night to Winona for our classes. We were on the volunteer ambulance in Plainview, and went on so many calls together that I lost count. We made a great team. Tom became the only person I could tell the truth to about how difficult a decision it was to make a plan for my future. We spent many many hours talking during the our and a half we drove to and from class. Neither of us were 'happy' in our marriages, and we trusted each other and quickly Tom became the brother I never had.

I am not sure of the exact time which I found out that someone in class had a crush on me, all I remember was us driving back to Plainview in a blizzard. We were talking about the relationships that were showing up between people in our class, and I told Tom that there was a guy who I really thought was just very special, and sweet. He in turn told me that he knew there was someone who liked me. When he told me it was Marty, I just couldn't believe it, because Marty was the guy I had these feelings for. It was just crazy. Not only was I married and I kept reminding myself that I shouldn't have feelings for another man, I was a lot older than Marty. I just thought it was an infatuation. Something that would pass with time.

The weeks went by, and soon I found myself doing my nromal baking for Valenite's day, which included some special cookies I made every year since I had my home based bakery back in the late 70's in to the early 80's. I made special cookies for everyone in class, and homemade chocolate candies too. I gave everyone there cookies in class except for Marty. I waited until he was walking to his car after class was over to give him his gift. It was this heart shaped cookie box filled with homenade candies.

As I gave it to him I thought my heart was beating so fast and I was so nervous. I didn't want him to get the wrong impression, but I did want him to know that I thought he was a very special man. He thanked me, and many years later told me that he threw away some of the candy, chocolate covered cherries that he hates! And he thought, Oh, boy, I am going to get lucky!

So months past, my marriage continued to crumble more and more until therie was nothing but ashes laying in a heap all around me. The soul contract I had with my husband was complete. It was over. I won't write here that I made really wise decisions about how to end the relationship, and about how to handle the kids. I had already been a single Mom to my oldest two, and knew how hard it would be for me to work full time, finish paramedic shool and take full care of the kids, so we reached a compromise. I would finish school, get a job and then the kids would come to live with me. That is a whole nother story too, one which I will tell in the future. So, that is what I did. I moved to Winona, shared a home with one of my classmates, had one bedroom and Marty graciously said I could move some of my furniture into his apartment, since it was really crowded at the other place. I did my homework at his place and did my work study for our teacher there also. Truth be told, I was living with Marty. I moved in on May 1, 1997, and we have been togther ever since.

Didn't see that coming at all. Yet this man, three weeks into our living together, turned to me one night when we were in bed, and he said, "Charlotte, I love you." I was speechless. Totally. Thought he was just infatuated with me, and that we would enjoy each other while we were in school, and then say goodbye once we graduated.

That didn't happen either. Obviously, cause we are still togther 15 years later.

There is a lot more to the story, but I will close this by saying that he still makes my heart beat faster when I see him. He still winks at me and my heart just melts. I love him so much that every day is a miracle. He is all I ever dreamt of, all I ever imagined was possible in a man. He is my soul mate. Tried and Ture.

So this year, the 15th Valentine's day that we have known each other, I gave him another cookie heart....

So, for all the poeple who supported us, encouraged us and stuck with us through our relationship I send huge amounts of love and gratitude. For others who thought that this would never last, I say to them that I hope that they can find a love as true as ours. For my children and some of Marty's family who were (and maybe still are) embarrasssed about our relationship, I say...look at us know, look at how we made this work, and be happy for us, that we have found true love in each other.

All of us want to love and to be loved. Love knows no age, no race, no religion. Love only knows love.

May each of you really know Crazy Love in your lifetime.

It is awesome.

Happy Birthday to My Baby - Sarah Elizabeth

2011-07-11T19:25:00.000-07:00

Once when I was a young girl, probably in 4th or 5th grade, I went shopping with my Mom. She was looking at the racks of clothing at Sears, while I entertained myself by looking at the jewelry counter nearby. I heard a baby crying and as I turned to locate the baby, I saw a beautiful woman pushing the crying infant in a stroller. She stopped to look at some clothes for her older child, and I edged my way over to the baby. I sat down on the floor and began to talk and smile and make funny faces, until the baby was laughing with me. I continued to stay with the baby as my mom shopped and the baby's mom shopped. Before too long I heard my Mom call out for me, and I stood up so she could see me. She walked over to where I was, and I said, Mommy, look at this pretty baby girl." Mom acknowledged that the baby was cute, and made a remark to that fact to the baby girl's mother. Then we parted ways. I turned back just in time to see the baby look around the side of the stroller and wave a little bye-bye gesture.

I took my mom's hand as as we walked out of the store I told my mom, "Some day I am going to have a baby just like that one. A sweet baby girl."

My mother said, "Charlotte that would be impossible."

I remember looking up at her with a puzzled face, "Why Mommy? Is it because I may only have baby boys?"

"No," Mom replied, "It is because that baby is black, and your children will be white."

"I don't think so Mommy," I said so matter of fact, "I do believe I will have a baby, just as beautiful and black as that one." Needless to say Mom dropped the subject, and I don't remember ever thinking about it again....UNTIL.....

July 11, 1988 arrived. I found myself now 33 years of age, with two biological children, and one adopted bi-racial son. I am coaching a young black woman through labor and delivery. I met this 18 year old woman through the church I was attending at the time. She wanted someone to foster her baby until she could finish high school and get her college degree. The Associate Pastor at church had set up counseling sessions for the young mother-to-be to attend, and had appointments set up with Cook County Social Services so everything would be legal. Yet, up to this very moment in time, she had not attended any counseling sessions and had told me when we registered her at the hospital, that she did not want social services involved. I still held my promise to her that I would be her coach, not knowing what she would decide to do.

Since we had not been through the birthing classes through the hospital, I was not allowed to go into the delivery room, and I remember so vividly the while line on the floor, which said "Stay behind this white line".

I could hear the birth mother screaming, and screaming, and she was not calming down to listen to the nurses or the doctor. She screamed out my name, and finally the nurse came to me with a gown, and said that the doctor had agreed to let me in the room. Once the birth mother saw me, she calmed down, and was listening to what she needed to do. I held her hand, standing on her side, and I could see the baby's head come out, with lots of black curly hair. Then the Doctor told the young woman to stop pushing. I looked at the baby, now with shoulders out, and saw that the cord was wrapped around her neck. With one very gentle movement he slipped his finger underneath the cord, and pulled it over the top of the baby's head.

Two more pushes, and a healthy baby girl was born into this world. And such a beautiful one too!

Sarah and I enjoying some quiet time.

The story gets kind of convoluted, as the young mother relinquished her rights to this bundle of perfection. Then changed her mind, wanting the baby back, then changing her mind again, and finally she and the birth father met with a Social Worker and signed away their parental rights. I took this sweet gift home for good when she was 10 days old.

Signed, sealed, and delivered: Miss Sarah Elizabeth was my baby girl. She was just as beautiful if not more beautiful than the baby I saw all those years before in Sears. When my Mom got her first photos of Sarah, she called me and said, "Well, Miss Charlotte Jean, you were right! You said someday you would have a beautiful black baby girl...and dang nab it, if you didn't pull it off." I give the credit to God.

I nursed Sarah, like I had nursed all my children, with some help from the La Leche League. She might not have been the child of my womb, yet this little bundle of wonder was the child of my heart and soul.

She had a very special connection with her older sister, Kimberly. Those two were so close. Kimberly was 13 years old when Sarah was born. She was Sarah's 2nd Mommy really, and was such a help in those days of diapers, midnight meals...there were nights I remember coming out of the bedroom in the middle of the night to find Kimberly rocking baby Sarah, singing to her as she gave her a supplemental bottle of formula. It warmed my heart so many times to see the two of them together.

There was some rough roads that Sarah and I and Marty traveled on to get her through high school, hormones were shooting out of control on both ends...me going through menopause at the same time Sarah was going through puberty and all the teenage hormones that can bring with it SO much drama. There were years when Sarah wore the Crown of Drama Queen very proudly. Yet, no matter how rough the road, we kept at it until we worked through everything that needed worked through. She had lots to learn, and I had lots to learn, and we taught each other so many valuable life lessons.

So, as I sit here today, and I think back on the last 23 years that Miss Sarah has been my baby girl, and I stand tall and proud of the gorgeous young woman she has grown into. I marvel at her maturity (which came at great cost, and many hard life lessons). She has those womanly instincts that help her on her journey now. She has Owl medicine from her Ojibwa roots, she has my Mom, Granny, who watches over her always, and she has purpose and direction in her life.


Mother's Day 2011

This past week she graduated from an academy (these things must be held secret for her safety) and as her dad and I watched her in her uniform, watched her take her oath of service, of course the tears trickled down.

My beautiful baby girl has grown into a beautiful, strong young woman.

Look out World...Sarah Elizabeth has arrived!

Miss Foxy

2011-06-21T19:06:00.000-07:00

Feisty Foxy

The morning of April 1, 2010 dawned with beauty up in the high desert mountains of Arizona. My husband and I celebrated our 11^th wedding anniversary by going out for breakfast before we headed down to Phoenix to pick up our granddaughter so that she could spend Easter week-end with us. When we arrived at her school we had about an hour to waste, so we went to a couple of thrift stores, got something to drink and was headed back to her school when something caught our eye.

There was a little dog running along the sidewalk of some townhouses and it ran briskly across the street, cars having to stop for the little thing to get to safety. From the distance the dog looked like a long haired Chihuahua. We continued to drive slowly watching the dog as it continued its journey, with no one following it. The street we found her on dead ended into a desert landscaped mountain, where coyotes, hawks, and other predators could have very easily have gotten this little one.

My husband said, “OK, here is what we will do. We will drive around the block again, and if the dog is still there we will try to get it to come to us and then we can see if it has a collar on”. So, we drove around, and saw the dog had gone into the back parking lot for a fast food restaurant. We drove in and parked. I got out and totally expected the little thing to run away from me, as most dogs will do when a stranger approaches.

Just a few minutes after we rescued Foxy

To my surprise, as I knelt down and called out, “Here doggie, doggie,” the poor little thing ran as fast as could be to me. I picked it up, noting that it was a female. She had no collar on and I could feel her little backbones as they protruded from her skin. She was obviously malnourished and very thirsty, so the first thing we did was give her some water.

We picked up our granddaughter, drove back to the road we found her on to see if anyone was visibly looking for a dog. Not a soul was outside anywhere. So we decided to take her home with us, hoping maybe she had a locator chip.

We called our vet as we drove up the mountain to Prescott Valley, and she said to bring her by. We wanted her to just check her out before we took her home where our two other dogs and cat were waiting for us. On our way I noticed that the little dog didn’t have any teeth, which meant that she was an older dog.

We walked into the vet’s office and the receptionist said, “Oh, she is a little Pom.” That was when we really took a good look at her and sure enough, her little hairless tail curled up and her face really did look like an emaciated Pomeranian. Our vet gave her a quick look over, noting a heart murmur and her weight at 4 pounds 6 ounces. She was just a wee bit of a dog! We made an appointment for the next week for a thorough check up and we went home.

Hey, I need some attention over here

Our granddaughter helped us pick out a name for her, which was Foxy because she looked like a little red fox. We babied her all week-end long, and she spent most of her time sleeping on the couch, on a big stuffed dog we had bought for the grandkids to lay on when watching t.v. Occasionally she would climb up on the back of the couch and would watch me if I were in the kitchen.

One night as I was watching t.v, and Foxy was sleeping beside me, she started coughing and wheezing. It was a very strange sound and I had no idea what was causing it. I was just about to pick her up when she got very rigid and looked like she was having a seizure of some sorts. Then she just fell down limp, was incontinent and looked as though she were dead. Our daughter was home at the time, and we both looked at each other like…Oh my goodness, did we just save her for her to die in a peaceful place? I picked up her lifeless body, and all of a sudden she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Over the next few days she had a couple more episodes, and we thought she was experiencing seizures, but when she went for her total workup with the vet, it turned out that she was fainting, due to her heart murmur and her congestive heart failure. She was put on Lasix and Enalapril.

The vet agreed with us that part of Foxy's story may have been that she had been part of a puppy mill, since she was not spayed and had all her teeth removed, which is a common thing for Poms to have done as they age. Foxy also was not house broken, pointing us to the conclusion she must have been kept in a kennel all day where she didn’t need to be potty trained. She felt that what probably happened was Foxy began to have the fainting spells, and the owners no longer saw her as a viable source of income, so they put her out on the street, thinking that she would be part of the circle of life and be found by a predator.

So, life with this little mite of a diapered dog began for us. Our other dogs accepted her into the pack, although our female dog Ebony was none to happy that there was another female in the house. I had to assert that I was the alpha female, not Ebony and things evened out in the months to come.

Over the summer months Foxy gained a little bit of weight, yet just wasn’t too interested in food. She would go through bouts of diarrhea, and we had to put her on special canned food just to get her to eat. As Fall greeted us with cooler weather, Foxy went into heat. It lasted for just a few days, and she had another case of diarrhea, which was a lot for her. Once the diarrhea cleared up we noticed that she was having some discharge so we took her back to the vet only to find out she has pyometra, and it was open since it is draining, which is a good thing. The vet we saw that day was not Foxy's normal vet, and in asking her what we should do, she make a strong suggestion for euthanasia for Foxy. Our hearts were just hurting so bad, but we made the appointment for early on Saturday morning, when my husband, daughter and I could all be present to bid our sweet Foxy farewell, with her normal vet being there to administer the drugs compassionately.

Foxy and her doggiebed

Well, after one day of being with Foxy by ourselves, we decided that we would go on Saturday and ask if we could please try a round of antibiotics first, which is what we did. Our vet came through the door, and Foxy was very excited to see her, she was wagging her tail and she had that special little sparkle in her eyes. She loved Dr. McGill!Dr. McGill told us that she expected to see this lifeless little dog from the report of Foxy’s visit two days before. But here she was being frisky and happy, and looked very good, so Dr. McGill did agree with us that we should try a round of antibiotics, and if that worked to at least get the infection under control, then we could decide if we wanted to have the surgery for the removal of Foxy’s uterus.We headed out after the appointment to meet my oldest daughter, her husband and three of our grandchildren in San Diego for a few days. Foxy went with us, and she enjoyed her days at the beach, and the kids sure did give her lots of love.

Playing Wii with Daddy

After arriving back home, it was now mid November, and we had to make the hard decision about the surgery. The negative points were she might not survive the anesthetic, her heart murmur could develop into full blown cardiac arrest and we would loose her anyway. Once again we consulted with Dr. McGill, seeking and depending on her advice. She was truthful with us about the fact that Foxy might not make it through the surgery, but also pointed out the fact that Foxy was a fighter. That she was for sure.

Just before her surgery

On one December morning, with her little Santa hat on which read “Believe”, we handed her over to the staff at Kachina Animal Hospital and went home to wait for news.

I have to note here that every staff member at the office truly cared about what happened with Foxy. It is so amazing to find a group of people who see thousands of pets, yet can be so compassionate and kind hearted to one they have just met a few times.

We went home and and waited and waited for what seemed to be an eternity of time. I had posted on Facebook Foxy’s journey and all our friends were praying and sending good energy for Foxy to make it through the surgery.

Finally the call came….Foxy had survived! The surgery was a total success, and Foxy was recovering and would be ready to go home in a few hours. When we picked her up Cyndi (one of the vet techs) said that she kept watching Foxy’s heart rate throughout the surgery and that it just kept beating at a perfect rate. This was one dog that was determined to live.

And live she has done! When she went back in for her check up she greeted Dr. McGill not just with a wagging tail and sparkling eyes…she barked. It was the first time anyone there had heard her bark. Foxy was all feisty and letting everyone know that she was doing great.

Ebony, Mommy and Foxy

As we celebrated her one year of being with us in April, we were looking at a totally different dog. No longer does she just lay around sleeping. She barks when the other dogs bark, she chases our cat…a game which our German Shepherd, Jake, taught her…so now Inky has two dogs that play with her. Foxy loves to go outside now, she will stay outside and smell as much as she likes. She bounces and hops when we play with her. She is very spunky spoiled!

Foxy truly has been our miracle dog from the moment she ran into my arms.

She has gained weight, now tipping the scales at 5 pounds 11 ounces. Her hair keeps getting poofier and poofier. She stills wears her little diapers, especially on the days she takes her lasix, but she is dry most of the time. She is enjoying life and life is sure enjoying her.

What is Family?

2011-06-06T23:42:00.000-07:00

I was told one time by a woman who really didn't know me...that the reason I didn't have family around or have many close friends was that I was one of the most cold hearted people she had ever met. I have been called many things in my lifetime, but never cold hearted. So this one threw me for a bit, until I realized that she was angry at me for something that had nothing to do with me, it was her own issues of judgement and living a life of non compassion.

When I was a young child I thought that family was a unit of people all born in under the same family name, including children adopted into a family. I grew up in a very dysfunctional family (I have yet to find someone who grew up in a perfect home, whatever that is). I was adopted, as I have written about in my previous blog posts, but really never felt that I really fit into my mother's blood family (except with Cecil Jr's and his 4 sons

Uncle Roy who died before I was ever born
Uncle Cecil who died when I was 2, his son

Cecil Pearson and wife Rose Edna

Boys, Michael, Gary, Byron and Steve

Joe and Ethel and their children:

Pat and second cousins,

Penny and a boy whose name escapes me now.

Uncle Elmo and wife Aunt Evelyn, whose children I have forgotten their names, except that one son was a wrestler, and he had some beautiful daughters.
Aunt Juanita, married to Uncle Al,

Cousins Pam and Keith;

Aunt Edith, who was divorced by the time I remember her, with cousins

Diana,

Daughter Caroline, and Ricky (from 1st marriage)and Michael Schroeder (from her second marriage).,

Wanda Sue, (daughter Shannon),
Mary Hazelwood Sanchez and her family who moved to Oklahoma City.

My Dad's family we didn't have a lot to do with:

His mom Illian Traweek Bryan Johnson of Redondo Avenue, Long Beach, California.

His brother Ted Bryan died of polio when I was very young. Wife Maureen and Daughter Sharon in Dallas, Texas
His brother Max Bryan, who lived in Abilene State Hospital, and died sometime after 1985 when my dad died.
His sister Joyce, who died of leukemia in California, before I was born; married and had one daughter

His Grandmother Poll Traweek, lived in Abilene
His Uncle Dick Bryan of Dallas, Texas

That's about all I really had a family. It felt very disjointed and we never had any Thanksgiving or Christmases celebrated with any of them, except when I was very, very little. There are some old home movies showing Christmas morning with Pam and Keith opening gifts also.

Since my parents were 35 when they adopted me, and with my Mom being the youngest of 7 children, it is easy to understand that my grandparents were not around. My Mom's mother and dad were both dead when I was born, as was my Dad's Father. The only grandmother I remember is Grandmother Illian who lived in California.

As far as not having had a any close friends at that time,I had just gone through a divorce, and all my close friends were involved in the church we were attending at the time, and as so often happens, those friendships just slipped away like ribbons falling through my hands. I did not want my ex finding out anything about my life through them. I did however have new friends in Paramedic class, and I cherish those friends, and of course our friends in Owatonna. Priceless gifts of 'family'.

Anyway, along my life's journey there have been people who have come into my life who I would call surrogate moms, dads, sisters and brothers. I never thought it strange that our 'family' wasn't close. It was just normal. From my experiences in life, it has been friends that have played the very important 'family' roles.

So, to me family is much broader than my husband, my four children, our 5 grandchildren, one ex daughter in law (although she is not an 'ex' to me), one ex girlfriend who is mother to one of our grandsons. Marty's Mom and Dad and sister's are in there too. My 'family' includes my friends...those who I have known for more than since high school, since I was a young mother. Friends from Chicago, Friends from Minnesota, and now Friends here in Prescott Valley. They are family to me.

Friends are truly the family we chose........

Being a Mom

2011-05-07T23:12:00.000-07:00

For my sons, Shan and Joe....you still have all of me and you don't even know it. Yet, I will not allow you to keep me in the prison of guilt and blame that you have erected in your own lives, where you have place me for too many years. I am free. I am free. I am free to still love each of you.....

Dream On....Song for May

2011-05-05T22:35:00.000-07:00

Aerosmith - Dream On...and the music continues

Every time I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face getting clearer
The past is gone
It goes by, like dusk to dawn
Isn't that the way
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay

Yeah, I know nobody knows
where it comes and where it goes
I know it's everybody's sin
You got to lose to know how to win

Half my life
is in books' written pages
Lived and learned from fools and
from sages
You know it's true
All the things come back to you

Sing with me, sing for the year
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good lord will take you away

Yeah, sing with me, sing for the year
sing for the laughter, sing for the tear
sing with me, if it's just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away

Dream On Dream On Dream On
Dream until your dreams come true
Dream On Dream On Dream On
Dream until your dream comes through
Dream On Dream On Dream On
Dream On Dream On
Dream On Dream On

Sing with me, sing for the year
sing for the laughter, sing for the tear
sing with me, if it's just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away
Sing with me, sing for the year
sing for the laughter, sing for the tear
Sing with me, if it's just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away......

My Wings

2011-04-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

I want to set the record straight once and for all. Everywhere I look now people, male and female are wearing shirts and tops with angels wings on them. So, I feel the need to express that my wings are not part of this recent fashion fad. My wings were tattooed on at the end of 2006, into February 2007 That is way long before the wings wannabes came into existence!

Every year when the weather warms up and I am wearing sundresses and tops which will reveal wings, I get many comments. Most are compliments on how nice they look, some wan to know the meaning behind them, and others want to know how much it hurt.

This year I thought I would try to explain their meaning to me, and to let the world know that 'YES IT HURT".

My last post told some of my encounters with angels in my lifetime. There were songs that meant a lot during my two abusive marriages that spoke of wings, broken wings. That was exactly where I was at the time. My wings were tattered and torn. I could not fly.
Psalm 55:6 "I said, "Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest--"
Broken Wings by Martina McBride

Broken Wings by Mr. Mister

In 1997 my wings began to be repaired. Little by little they have mended, through much unconditional love from my awesome Marty. And through many nights of painting angels in the cold storage room in our basement in Owatonna. Yet the total healing happened when I began Seminary in 2004, I spent the first year going deeper and deeper into my relationship with God, Creator, Universal Life Force, my Higher Self and with my angels and spirit guides (Hawk and other birds as my name was "Little Bird'")

I experienced a life changing and life affirming moment on a trail that led to a waterfall at a camp we seminarians were staying at for retreat. The woman who was with me was Meridith, and we were walking by ourselves along this path. I will never forget the words she spoke that day, words which I just ponder within my heart, much as Mary pondered in her heart the things that Jesus did. They are private words which confirmed to me my life's purpose and who I am. There were others in my life, through my hospice work, who also, in the hours while they were making there way through the veil of this world, spoke to me in coherent words affirming my place and purpose here.

When I began my hospice journey, I wrote a journal entry for each patient I was with, and I would write something about them and what they had taught me while we spent time together. It was very meaningful to me, and it was also part of my Seminary work each month, to provide the writings as a way of 'homework' showing where I was at in the process of becoming ordained and ready to serve as a Minister of Peace in this world.

In 2006 I began to paint more angels, to feel their presence around the bed of a dying loved one, to know that they were always present in on form or another to minister to our needs. So I thought it appropriate to get some wings tattooed on my back, as a reminder of my work with hospice, and also I felt that my broken wings were now totally healed and I wanted to Know that the total healing had occurred.

I began to sketch some wings out, yet the smaller ones just didn't seem right. I kept getting them larger and larger, until they were the whole length of my back. I went to get my hair done and my hairdresser had just gotten a beautifully colored tattoo that I really liked, and found out that Kenny from Hold Fast in Prescott had done hers. She said he had a wonderful reputation, so I set up a time to meet with him. I showed him the photo of Gabrielle (my angel painting with the pick wings), and told him I only wanted shades of pink, no black on the tattoo. He caught the vision for what I wanted and we began in September. The First session took 3 hours and he completed the whole outline.

Alana (a wonderful friend full of light and energy) was with me, as was Marty. To say that it hurt is an understatement. I only got through it with prayer, with Alana holding my hand and encouraging me through it, and with Marty whispering in my ear that it was beautiful and I was a strong woman who could do this.

I went every three weeks from Sept. to February for 2 to 3 hours for all the shading in.I would bring the book of memories of my patients, and either Marty or Susan Wedl (my dearest friend) would read to me from the book, and I would dedicate a feather to that patient. My thoughts are still that I earned these wings...I made it through two abusive marriages, and much judgement from three of my children. I am not just been a survivor of sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse...I am an over comer and I have my wings totally healed and I can fly!

So, to me my wings represent my being healed of the past. They represent who I am, and the journey that it took to get me here.

Angels in My Life

2011-04-22T22:45:00.000-07:00

Uriel

I have had several occasions when angels have crossed my path in this journey of life. When I was in my late 20's I began to do some research into angels, and read a lot of books about people's experience with them. Once I even asked my guardian angel to show him/her self to me, only to wake up that night with the brightest light you can imagine shining from under the bedroom door. Every hair on my body seemed to stand on end, and I was so frightened by this majestic event that I pulled the covers over my head and said, "That's OK, I don't need to see you." I thought this must be much like the shepherds felt when the angel appeared to them announcing the birth of Christ.

Later on that year I had another encounter, on the way back from a trip to West Texas to visit a friend. I was in my trusty green Dodge Rambler, which had hardly any braking power and I had to add oil to it every time I stopped for gas...but I loved that car! Anyway, it was nighttime when I made it just outside of Brady, Texas, making my way home to Bertram. I saw in the distance some taillights, and as I got closer, I saw that the car was stopped and a man was standing in the middle of the road. When I was close enough to see the guy staggering in the middle of the highway, I had to stop because I thought I would hit him if I went further. I could hear the guys in the car yelling at the guy outside, and all of a sudden the car just took off, leaving this guy behind. He finally noticed that there was another car there...mine, and he walked up to my window, which I only rolled down about an inch or so. He was drunk as could be, and laughing because his friends had kicked him out of the car and told him to walk home.

I didn't know what to do in the situation, but I knew I just couldn't leave this guy out in the middle of nowhere, so I pulled the car over. As I did, the guy staggered over into the ditch and fell down. I got out of my car, went to the ditch and he tried to stand up by pulling himself up on a barbed wire fence, cutting his hands in the process. I tried to get him to get into my car, so I could take him to the next city...find either the police station or hospital and drop him off. He was stumbling around so much that it was hard for me to support his weight in the ditch. I had almost gotten him even with the car when all of a sudden he pulled away from me, stood up tall,with intensity and darkness said to me, "Do you know who you are dealing with?" My response to him was immediate and without thought, "Yes, but do you know who lives in me?" and with that he fell down into a heap in the ditch.

I was very much in kind of a shock state, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I had come face to face with darkness, and I wasn't afraid. (This has been a challenge in my lifetime to not live in fear), and I had stood in the power of the Christ who lives in me, and not been afraid. About this time I noticed some car lights coming towards me and soon a Chevy truck pulled up. There were three of the largest men I have ever seen sitting in that truck. The driver rolled down his window and asked me if I was OK. I told him the story of what had happened and he said..in these exact words: "It is all right Charlotte, you can go home now." I didn't really catch that he had called me by name until I asked him, "Are you going to take him back to town?" He just smiled at me and again said, "It is all right Charlotte, you can go home now." It was then that it registered with me that he had called me by my name, and I hadn't ever said my name. I looked very carefully at all three men sitting in the front seat of that truck, and I can still see them in my mind's eye to this day. They had this powerful majestic look, yet being in their presence I felt nothing but total peace.

I back stepped in kind of a dazed, shocked way, got in my car to drove to the next town. I was just about to Brady when I saw a police car, with it's lights on going in the opposite direction, and I thought that someone must have reported the guy, but just to make sure, I found the police station and went inside. There were three officers there, and I told them that there was a guy about 5 miles from town in a ditch very drunk. The woman officer said, "Oh, your husband was just in here and reported it, we sent an officer to get him." I explained that it couldn't have been my husband since he was home asleep with my kids. She then described my husband and even said his first name. She insisted that he had been there, reported the drunk guy, and left in a blue station wagon. OK, so by this time I am totally in shock. I don't know what just happened but I got in my car and drove home as fast as I could.

Gabrielle

My next encounter with an angel which I recognized as an angel was when I lived in Dover, Minnesota. I had to go into Rochester one day, and on Hwy 14 as I approached the city limits, there was a young man walking on the side of the road. With this now being 1994, and with my training in EMS, I never ever stopped for hitchhikers...although this young man was not really hitchhiking. But as I passed him, I got such a tug on my heart to go back and ask him if he needed a ride, that I turned around and did just that. He was a very young man, very thin and what I would now call ethereal. He said he was staying at one of the hotels downtown. He had a family member at the Mayo Clinic for diagnosis of something, and he had just set out on a long walk to clear his head. It wasn't a very long ride into Rochester to where he was staying. and as I pulled up to the curb to let him out, I told him I would be praying for his family and for him. He stepped out of the car and bent down to the open window and said, "I know you will, you are a compassionate and loving gift to all you meet, you work here is so very important". I said the only thing on can say when given what you think is a passing compliment. I said, "Thank you." and before I could even ask his name he said, "My name is Gabriel."

I drove away, as he was waving at me, and when I looked in my rear view mirror he was there and then he was gone. Just like that. Gone. And I pondered once again. What did it all mean? Do I believe in Angel's? You betcha!

A Country Built on MANY Spiritual Beliefs

2011-03-10T07:03:00.000-08:00

I was sent a video about a man who has painted a beautiful painting depicting Jesus standing in the middle of our founding fathers, and other Americans, as if he was presenting our Constitution himself. I usually just delete such things, as they are only a false perception of "Christianity" being at our nation's roots. But today I had a fire consuming me from the message at church this morning, and I could not stay silent. So I responded to this wonderful young man the following:

Although this is a beautiful painting, it really doesn't due justice to our founding fathers, who were from varied belief systems themselves. They had all come from a country (countries) where religion was forced upon them, and they set forth to create a place where all could worship freely, regardless of their religion. That is why America is known as a free nation. There was to be no one religion associated with our government. If one does a true account of the beliefs of all the founding fathers one would realize that they held sacred their own beliefs (many of whom believed in God, just not the Christian one as organized religions set forth), and in holding their beliefs sacred, not wanting anyone to tell them how or what to believe...this is what their hope was for the Republic of America. Sadly, most Christian's believe that this country was built on Christian beliefs alone...and that all other belief systems are in the wrong. So, ironically we are back once again to be living in country where one religion wants to dominate all others.
We are a country full of people from all races, all creeds, all countries....and we love it here because of our freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom to be who we want to be. It is time for all of us to lay down our religious beliefs that point out our differences and join hands together, looking for the things we have in common, that we are all citizens of this great nation, America, and BE the peace and love we want to see...to unite for the betterment of our nation.

Unfortunately this painting has been used as a tool to once again state how horrible it is to be 'liberal', to be 'accepting of all', to really be as Christ himself wants us to be....loving to ALL.

Love and Blessings,
Rev. Charlotte

.

The Thread Which has Woven my Life Together

2011-03-05T21:06:00.000-08:00

Hallelujah

2011-02-27T12:40:00.000-08:00

This beautiful word 1st comes to us from the writings of David in the Psalms. It is actually two ancient words: Hallelu Yah, meaning, and also often translated as praise The Lord, praise Jehovah or praise Yahweh.

In this song, written by Leonard Cohen, and sung by K.D. Lang, there are biblical stories mentioned. One is the story of David and Bathsheba, when King David's humanity is truly revealed. He sees Bathsheba bathing on a rooftop and he wants her. He calls for her, knowing that she is married to Uriah, one of his own generals, who is gone to battle. Yet, here the story usually told makes David and Bathsheba to be adulterers, which is not really the case. From a technical point of view Bathsheba was not a married woman since David's troops always gave their wives what were known as conditional divorces, just in case a soldier went missing in action he left his wife unable to marry again..The Bible does state clearly that David acted improperly, and although the Scholars and Wise Ones explain that even though David did not commit adultery in the literal sense, he totally violated the spirit of the law.

David sleeps with Bathsheba and she becomes pregnant. When David learned of the pregnancy he sent Uriah into the battlefront which resulted in Uriah's death. David marries Bathsheba and thinks all is fine, until the prophet Nathan is sent by God to rebuke David. When David is confronted with Nathan's words, he immediately is humbled and confesses. David was not a man afraid of admitting his wrongdoings. Yet, when the baby is born and dies, David knows that this was the outcome prophesied by Nathan. Can you imagine the heartache and despair he must have felt?

When David writes the poems and songs which make up a lot of the Psalms, he writes from the heart of his humanity. David is much like you and I in this way. He wore his humanity, his greatness, his weakness, his love of God very openly for all to see. There were times when he shouted Praise Yah, hallelujah, as he danced and played music to the Lord. Yet I think there is more to the depth of David's hallelujah, which went with him through the cold and broken times in his life. Broken times when he was in a forced to hide in a cave, trying to stay one step ahead of King Saul, because the old king wanted to kill David. He wrote some very gut wrenching psalms as he hid in those caves.

When I listened to this song, I was drawn to the power of the cold and broken hallelujah. When we, like David, are broken, when we are taken through times of despair, times of repentance, times of not knowing what will become of us. In the times we may feel crushed and as if our heart has been broken with pain of grief, our body ravaged with disease or the crippling of our mind from depression, anxiety or other mental anguish. We become like David hiding in a cave for protection when all the world seems to be crashing in on us.

I have experienced many times when I have cried out a cold and broken hallelujah to the Lord. I am sure there have been times when you also have experienced this human condition. Yet, what brings us through these times of devastation? Our faith? Our hope in the Lord? Our being able to trust in God's divine plan for our lives, no matter what the circumstances? Is it our ability to cry out, as David did, "I praise you Lord, especially in my brokenness."

The extraordinary thing about this experience is that once we have lifted our faces to heaven and mouthed the words, a little strength comes. When we move to the place where we sing out a small hallelujah, more strength comes, and we find we can sing louder, with more passion, even in the pain, we sing with our heart....hallelujah. Even in the pain. Even in the pain.

The words reach to heaven, and God hears our cry. The Spirit of comfort, of peace, comes to us in our darkest hour enveloping us with unconditional love. We are bathed in the Light of Christ, and are reminded that we are not alone, no matter how alone we feel in this world. Christ promised to send the Holy Spirit to comfort us. Especially in the pain. Especially in the pain.

If you are at a time where you feel lost, alone, cold and broken...I challenge you to begin to sing hallelujah. Praise God. Praise Yah.

In Better Shape Than I Thought (My Mother was proud of Me)

2011-02-19T11:49:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday I woke up and decided that I needed a good walk to clear the brain from all those old messages I spoke of last posting. I decided to walk the Pevine/Iron King Trail that begins in Prescott and ends in Prescott Valley. A simple 7 mile walk!

We got to the parking lot, got our backpacks on, dogs on their leashes and about to start this wonderful trek, when we realized that neither of us had the $2.00 parking fee. I was extremely disappointed and frustrated that I had gotten up my hopes for nothing. We were on our way back to get the truck from the end of the trail, when Marty pulled over into the parking lot that overlooks Lake Watson. We had to walk an extra 1/2 mile back to the Pevine Trail and I was still pretty annoyed and concerned time wise about how long it would take for us to walk the trail. We needed to be back home in time for Marty to get ready to work a night shift with the ambulance.

We began our walk at Watson Lake at 1 p.m. When we got to the Pevine Trail, there was this beautiful copper colored shaggy dog being walked by a volunteer for the Humane Society, and I stopped to pet her, and as I did all the stress and annoyance left me. I was grateful for that small yet much needed 'pet therapy' from Miss Copper. Now I could enjoy being on the Pevine Trail with our wonderful dogs.

The Pevine Trail is so beautiful with all the granite rocks surrounding the trail. Watson Lake is such a relaxing lake to view, as the calmness of the waters begin to be reflected in one's own soul, there is a peace that prevails for the rest of the walk.

There were lots of people on the Pevine Trail, some with their own dogs, others riding bicycles, and others walking in preparation for different charity walks to raise money. The weather was absolutely the best for walking at a brisk pace.

We stopped every hour to take a 15 minute break, eat some snacks and water the dogs. Our dogs are just the very best on trails. They have been hiking with us since they came to be part of the family, and are used to being off their leashes, and are still very well behaved and only travel so far up ahead of us, then they will wait for us to catch up. We kept them on their leashes for most of the Pevine Trail, but when we reached the split where the Iron King Trail heads toward Prescott Valley, there were only a few people walking, so they were off their leashes a lot of the time. They ignore other dogs and know that their job is to enjoy their own walk and not pay attention to other walkers or bicyclists. Unless the people actually begin to talk to our dogs, Jake and Ebony mind their own business. They didn't even pay any attention to the cows that we passed along the way. I love our dogs!

When we reached the 3 mile marker on the Iron King Trail, it meant that we had 3 miles to go to the truck, and I have to admit that after walking the 4.5 miles to get to this point I was still very excited and pumped. We were making great time, and I felt great, other than I felt a small blister on the pad of my right big toe forming. I was so amazed at my body's reaction to this walk. Not one time did I get short of breath, my heart never raced, and my legs didn't hurt. How could this be after all this time of inactivity after the stroke, and being on the meds to prevent migraines. Getting off the Propranolol was the best thing I ever did. My body was responding with more energy and less migraines than when I was on all that stuff!

So we continued on as the trail twisted and turned through the rocks going around Glassford Hill, and finally hitting the last two miles of trail which were very dull and boring to me. I liken it to the long drive from Kingman to Las Vegas, where you can see the highway spread out miles in front of you and there is nothing to look at but the barren land around you.

There was in the distance a gorgeous view of the San Francisco Peaks up in Flagstaff. They are beautifully snow covered, and I wondered when Marty and Sarah were going to plan their skiing day and my snowshoeing day. Left with not much of what I call beauty surrounding me, my mind went to thinking about how I wasn't satisfied with just walking a mile to start out with. I went for the longest trail I knew, without a lot of elevation changes. That is pretty much how I respond to challenges in my life. Go for the hardest, highest, in order to prove to myself that I can do it.

I remembered that when I took homemaking in Junior High school, we were required to make a full dinner at home. Now I had been cooking since I was in grade school. I had just about worn out the pages of my two cookbooks for children by Betty Crocker. So when faced with making a full 7 course dinner, setting the table with formal elegance in mind, I decided that for dessert I wanted to make something extra ordinary. I made Baked Alaska, complete with serving it at table side flaming with fire from the brandy poured over it.
My Mom and Dad were very impressed!

Then there was the time I was in homemaking again, this time in high school, and we were required to sew something for our final grade. Most of the girls in the class made simple skirts or dresses, but not me. I chose a pant suit so popular in the ate 60's, with a lined jacket to boot. My teacher wrote a note home to my Mom about what an excellent job I had done, and said that I could have chosen a much less complicated project. Mom wrote her back, telling her that I never went for the simple way, I always chose the hardest things to accomplish, and she was very proud of me. SHE WAS PROUD OF ME.

Wow! What a memory to come forth on this last mile of the trip. Even though at every turn in my home growing up, I did not manage to measure up to Mom's standards very often, she did on occasion express that she was proud of me. I wonder now, if her constant raising of the bar for my performance wasn't her way to ensure that I would become strong enough to reach for my own goals and passions of my heart. I guess it did instill in me a core strength that would come to surface many years later when I needed it the most.

I began to think of other things I have accomplished that showed my determination to tackle the hardest of adventures. I did not drop out of high school when I was pregnant with Shan, I graduated with my own class.

I recovered from a tragic car wreck which left me literally without teeth for 6 months when I was 19, and I had to use a walker to walk again, in such pain that my doctor wanted to put me back in the hospital, but I wouldn't let him because I needed to take care of Shan.

In my mid 20's I decided that I wanted to climb the highest mountain in Colorado. Mt. Elbert was climbed! And not on any trail leading to the top...we just started climbing from our campsite, and made it all the way to the top, where we could look out on the valley below, our blue station wagon just a tiny speck of blue on the valley floor. What a great adventure to add to my 'bucket list', and yes, even back then I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish before I died.

I guess the hardest and longest adventure I embarked on was the one of going through years of therapy to get myself healthy enough to get out of a dysfunctional marriage, to get my youngest two children away from the situation, and to go on to give them a stable, loving home in which to grow up in. Is therapy hard work? Yes it is....VERY hard. But I did it. I got out. I became a paramedic. I got the kids out. I faced a mountain of remorse and guilt, BUT I finally forgave myself for staying in the unhealthy relationship for 16 years.

I gave myself permission to find love again. But that is a story for another time.

I went back to college to Seminary and became a Minister of Peace, and with it set my sights on being a Hospice Spiritual Counselor. Which was accomplished and I had the honor of being with hundreds of precious souls as they passed from this life into eternity. I am the Peace I want to see in the world.

I set my sights on getting well from my stroke, and I have done that. My brain may be a little slow in some areas, and there are days when thoughts just fall into the white spaces of my brain, but I am back. I chose to get off all the preventative meds and determined that the Reiki work I do would work on my brain, and it has. Charlotte is back, energy and all.

So it was no surprise to Marty when I awoke on Sunday morning and told him we were walking the 7 miles. He is used to me pressing on the upward way, new heights to gain every day. Now I will admit that the last mile of the walk was not very pleasant, my legs were hurting a little and I thought for sure that the next day I was gonna be in tremendous pain. But I wasn't. My calves were a little sore, but not even the blister hurt. My conclusion from this adventure was...I am not in as bad of shape as I thought.
Seven and a half miles of encouragement to keep on keeping on.

We made it to the truck in 3 1/2 hours

Who is this Woman in the Mirror

2011-02-18T16:27:00.000-08:00

From my earliest memories of what a female's body should look like, I have never measured up. When I was young my mother told me quite often that as a young woman her brothers could put their hands around her waist, middle fingers touching, and that was how tiny her waist was. This mortified me, because I could NEVER put my hands around my waist and have them touch each other, no matter how hard I tried. I was never thin enough for Mom. She loved Twiggy when she was in the limelight, and made lots of references to me that I should try to look like her. Well, Mom, here I am 50 years later, and it just is not in my DNA to be a skinny girl. Never has been, never will be. Yet, here I am 50 years later with all those words playing like a stuck recording in my brain.

From 3rd grade on I was looked upon by my schoolmates and called these names: fatty Cathy (Chatty Cathy was a popular doll from those days); pudgy, pleasantly plump and a myriad of other hurtful names.

I can remember that I was always the last person to be chosen for team sports...which meant that the team I played on just got stuck with me. I hated sports.

In Junior High my mom sent me to Wendy Ward Charm School, where my best friend Vicky and I had so too much fun. I had by now grown taller and shapelier, like many adolescent girls, once the hormones kicked in, but I was still not thin by any means. Charm school was awesome. We learned how to walk with books on our heads, with one foot placed directly in front of the other, so that we glided across the floor. We learned how to take 'tea'...with one's pinkie finger up. We learned how to cross our legs the lady like way, how to sit down and stand with elegance. Oh my goodness...what a long way we as a society have come in the last 38 years.

I was feeling pretty good about myself until...until the day in gym class that we had to do pull ups. For the life of me I could not pull myself up to even do one. I was so embarrassed, and yet the gym teacher (who I will not name here) singled me out and made all the other girls come watch me, in her words, to cheer me on. Now you know how much junior high girls really want to cheer someone on when she is not part of the 'in crowd'. They ended up making more fun of me, and I ended up running into the locker room in tears.

There was not one time from then on that I ever could do a chin up, or pull up, or whatever the things are called. I just ended up getting a big X put on the spot for those. BUT, I did determine that I would find one thing that I could do better than the skinny, popular girls. I could do sit ups. I beat the record for sit ups in our girls gym class. For both years in junior high I rocked at those sit ups (you would have thought I would have lost more weight, but NO, I stayed the same.) It is just my DNA.

So, High school came, and now being thin is really in...You had to be thin, have long straight hair, and be able to wear hip huggers to be 'hip'. It wasn't like it is today, when females can wear the low rise jeans and have their bellies no matter the size, show for all the world to see. Nope, back in the 60's and 70's our abdomens were expected to be flat, and that was that. No wonder so many of us grew up to be anorexic/bulimic. Not me, the thought of throwing up food just to loose weight always seemed ridiculous to me.

Anyway, high school was pretty much OK. I didn't really worry about my weight so much, I had plenty of boyfriends, and everything was fine, until I got pregnant with my oldest son and gained lots and lots of weight. Weight that didn't go away immediately...although I look at photos of myself back then and think, who in the world in their right mind would have called you fat? My first husband did, and continued to tell me that the whole 8 years we were together. Even when I only gained 5 pounds when I was pregnant with my oldest daughter. Needless to say, living with those negative words and emotions took a toll, because now I had my mother and my husband telling me I was overweight and not attractive. Great combo.

The years went by and we divorced...yet the damage to my self esteem was well done. All I saw when I looked in the mirror was an overweight, scarred woman (I had my gall bladder out when I was 19, was in a car wreck when I was 19...all which left me with scars which were considered ugly and unattractive). I was 25 and weighed 135. NOW, I shake my head in amazement how I could have let what others think about me have such a drastic effect on my psyche. But I was young, and foolish.

I married again and my weight flluctuated for the next 16 years of marraige, when the divorce came I was up to 165 wearing a size 14. That was 10 pounds more that I weighted when I gave birth to my oldest son. As women so often do with divorces, I lost a lot of weight. I don't know how it came off, it just did. I was 42, pre menopausal, and it was easy to loose weight back then. When Marty and I married in 1999, I was in a size 10 and loving life.

Marty and I April 1, 1999

I stayed that size until 2002 when I had my shoulder surgery and couldn't be actively involved in any household remodeling, planting my garden, etc. I could not work either, since the injury was a work comp injury, and I had to go to court to even get the surgery to begin with. The case didn't settle until summer of 2003, and my lawyer was very clear on the fact that I could not do any thing to jeopardize the case. So, I spent that year scanning all our photos onto CD's, and began to gain weight.

We have now been here in Arizona for 10 years. The year we moved here...2003 was the year I started menopause. I used to write funny stories about the mood swings, weight gain, etc., that we women endure during those years. And back then it was funny. I still had lots of energy, and we were hiking the trails, remodeling our home and back yard. I was still in a 10/12 size and everything was ok. I felt good about myself.

Then the stroke happened in my brain, and I spent literally a year on the couch. I had no energy. I was exhausted all the time. Even watering my beautiful back yard was overwhelming. I gained weight of course. I was put on medications to help with the migraines that caused the stroke. Those meds put more weight on me. Before I knew it I was up to 175, 185, 190. And the drugs caused me to have a fatty liver on tope of everything else. My body doesn't even look like my body anymore. I do not recognize the woman in the mirror.

A little Irony here: the last 10 years of my Mom's life she spent battling weight. She got up to 189 and tried everything to loose it. We would talk and she would tell me that she didn't recognize the woman in the mirror staring back at her. She didn't recognize her pouchy belly and flabby arms. My Mom was 5 foot 10 inches, so the weight didn't look that bad on her. Anyway, it is just funny to me how my 'skinny' Mom came to the place I am at now. She who was thin all her life, me who battled weight all my life...both ended up with bodies we didn't want.

My doctor says: exercize, walk 30 minutes a day. Just thinking about that makes me overwhelmed.

I eat healthy, and very small portions, so it has nothing to do with my eating habits, I am not really hungry that much anymore. I listen to my body and eat what it wants, when it wants it. I know I need physical activity but I HATE EXERCIZE. Did you get that? I HATE EXERCIZE.

Three weeks ago I found a Pilates DVD that had never been opened at a thrift store for 99 cents. I bought it and have been doing the exercizes from 3 to 4 times a week. No weight lost. GRRRRRRR

Who is this woman I see in the mirror, every day, staring back at me? It's Me, still inside here, the same Me...I just don't recognise the body.

55th birthday 2010

My Cousin Gary

2011-02-11T22:11:00.000-08:00

Gary Brian Pearson, 56 passed away September 9, 2010, in a motorcycle accident in Houston, Texas

One of the greatest joys from my childhood were days spent with my cousins from Houston. All boys from oldest to youngest: Michael, Gary, Steven and Byron. Gary and I were the same age, and we always had such fun together. There are so many wonderful memories I carry in my heart of those childhood days. I don't have many photos of Gary when we were little because my Dad loved to take movies with the old camera. I do have lots of film footage of us at the lake enjoying the water on summer days.

My earliest memory of us together was when they had come up from Houston for a visit and we packed up my Dad's truck with all the things we would need to stay at our cabin for the week. The boys and I climbed in the back of the pickup (an old 55 Chevy truck) and we bounced our way out RM2222 to RM620, then from 620 to Commanche Rd, just East of Mansfield Dam. (Later this road would be the one that led to Hippie Hollow). Around some more curves and we would come to our Cabin on Lake Travis.We would hike the cedar covered hills, go on down to Windy Point to swim, and try to fish once in a while. At the end of the day we would look for lightening bugs or find the big dipper on those beautiful clear Texas nights. We all got to sleep out on the porch because there were lots of bunk beds out there due to my parents owning the cabin with two other families, and sometimes we would have about 15 kids total enjoying the summer nights.

I remember one summer Lake Travis water level was SO low that we could walk across the whole Lake. We thought that was just be best! We found tons of fresh water mussels, and we loved to break them open to see the beautiful colors of the shell inside. Those weeks spent at the Lake were perfect.

The postcard

As we grew a little older we went with Cecil, RoseEdna and the boys to different State Parks around Texas. One of them that stands out for me is Garner State Park. We had such a great time there. We stayed in cabins and cooked on the grill each night. There were paddle boats and a little dam that we could walk over and jump into the water below. We even went horseback riding, and later that year someone sent us a post card from Garner State Park which had all of us lined up on our horses riding through a stream. I still have that postcard.

I have a very vivid memory of a time when Gary, Byron and I had walked up to the 7-11 to get some ice cream, and when we came out of the store, there were two boys from the area across Braker Lane that housed quite a few people on limited income. They made some remark about me, and Gary and Byron told them to shut up and not talk about their cousin like that. (One of the reasons I loved the Pearson boys SO much was they were like wonderful protective brothers over me). Well, these boys didn't like what Gary and Byron had said, so one of them pulled out a knife, at which point we began to run as fast as we could home. Thank goodness we knew all the shortcuts through yards so we got away from the boys, but all of us were pretty scared.

One summer we went camping at Lake Summerville, and Gary taught me to play pool. We practiced so much that I became quite good at it, so it became a routine for us to challenge other boys to a game of pool. The boys would bet on who would win, and pretty much everyone bet against us because a girl was on the team. We always won, and it was truly one of the finest moments of my young teenage years. Me, a girl beat the boys, and Gary and I would just laugh and laugh. He helped instill in me a confidence that I had never had before.

There was another time we were camping at Lake Summerville and hanging out at the marina, putting money in the jukebox, playing 'Sitting on the Dock of the Bay', the summer of 1968, when Gary and I were 13. Some older guys (they had just returned from basic training before being shipped to Vietnam) were driving around in a brand new Barracuda, and we got to talking to them and Gary talked them into taking us all for a ride after our parents were asleep. We talked our parents into letting us sleep in the back of the truck in sleeping bags, so once we were sure they were asleep, we ran down the road to meet up with the guys. I got to ride in the front seat, in between the two guys (of course the gear shift was in the middle too), so really I was sitting on the lap of the soldier riding in the front passenger seat. We had so much fun just driving around feeling all that teenage excitement of doing something totally incognito. We got back to camp around 4 in the morning, just in time for the fishermen to begin to stir.

When I started high school that Fall I met a new girl in town who was from Houston. She was living with her brother and his family, while her parents remained back in Houston. I went with her to spend Thanksgiving with her parents, and while I was there I met a boy...my very first official going steady boyfriend. Chris Paxton. He played in a band and really was a nice guy. BUT, and here is the big BUT...I went back to visit for Valentine's of 1969, and I stayed at the Pearson's. There was a Valentine's dance at some dance club where we met up with Chris. Gary let me know by the end of the night that he had decided that Chris was not good enough for me. Since I trusted my bestest cousin in the whole world, I broke up with Chris when I got back home. After all long distance romances do not go anywhere I told him.

I don't remember exactly which summer it was that I flew to Houston and spent a couple of weeks with my cousins, but we spent a lot of time going to ride motorcycles on a corner lot not far from their house. Gary taught me how to ride, and we would go round and round and round the track for hours.

We just had the best times together Gary and I.

As we grew into young adults (me with a baby at 16, married at 18) we grew apart and didn't see a lot of each other. I remember the family reunions at Zilker Park, I remember him living with my mom...his Aunt Midge, for a while in Austin.

Byron, Shannon, Kimberly, Shan, Me, Wanda, Gary

The last time I saw Gary was at my mom's Memorial service in February 1998. He was the same wild and crazy Gary I had known from our youth. He had not lost any gusto for life, and he was living his life to the fullest, always on the edge. I loved him for that.

The last memory I have of Gary was when he called me in September of 1998 to see how I was doing. He had met Marty at my Mom's memorial service and knew that we had just moved to Iowa, taking our first paramedic jobs there. I told him I was doing OK, still missing Mom, and wishing that somehow I could have known what it was that she could never forgive me and my Dad for. I told Gary that I thought it had to do with my Dad siding with me about not getting an abortion when I was pregnant with Shan. Gary told me the truth. I could always count on him to do that...he was always truthful with me. He told me that the reason my Mom stayed so upset with me and at times expressed hatred for me, was that she believed that my Dad and I had been having an affair and Shan was my Dad's child. She had told Gary this when he was living with her. He also told me that she had told her whole family this untruth.

For the first time in 27 years I had the answer to why Mom always held herself at arms length with me. I knew why my 'family' had all deserted me, they believed what Mom told them. I told Gary that I was so very grateful for his telling me the truth, for it made so many things clear to me.

We spoke a few other times after that, then we drifted apart. Actually I lost his phone number when he moved and was afraid to call Cecil and RoseEdna to get it. I knew that they believed my Mom's story. So I just let go.

About a month ago I began to have dreams about Gary, he was always holding out his hand and getting me to try something different. I saw us riding what looked to me to be a Harley. I was on the back holding on and we were both laughing like we did when we were children. He stopped to let me off, and drove off waving goodbye. It was in January that I got a response from RoseEdna on Facebook (I had found Cecil's page over a year ago, and had written him after my stroke, to get my affairs in order, all my relations in order in case I had another bigger stroke). So, it wasn't until the end of January when I found out that Gary had died in a motorcycle accident riding his Harley.

I am grateful to have had the most wonderful cousin a girl could have ever had. I am eternally grateful for his being the Light that shed truth on my relationship with my Mom. And I am SO grateful that He rode by here in early January to take me for a dream ride and to say, 'Good-bye'.

Gary, may you always be riding your Harley through the roads in Heaven. Give my Mom and Dad a huge hug from me.

Patience with My Brain

2011-02-01T10:48:00.000-08:00

Today I have spent the morning going through files and trying to get everything organized. In doing so, I am reminded ever so 'right in my face' that my brain does not work like it did before the stroke. I have in one form or fashion kept writings, poems I have found along the way, things from my years with hospice, things from seminary all filed away in folders, yet there is no sense to how I just stuck papers into the various folders. As I sort through them all, and try to put them into some categorized order I have papers all over the desk and my brain seems to be as jumbled as the papers are. I can make no sense of any of it.

I must be very patient with myself. It is almost noon, I have not even gotten dresses, haven't done my pilates, I am out of my normal routine and it shakes, rattles and rolls my brain into a mass of firing nodes.

Pre stroke I could have had all this sorting done in no time, labeling the folders and putting them away into the filing cabinet. I could keep up with the piles of papers and the mess on the desk with ease and joy (I love organization). Yet, here I sit, typing on my blog, just to give my brain a break from thinking what to do.

It just amazes me how one tiny 1mm infarct can have this much affect on me. It gives me a greater compassion for people with major strokes and traumas to the brain. I cannot even fathom how much time and energy they put in to recover from such things. Some people never recover. They live out the rest of their lives in bed, or wheelchair, in a nursing home or other care facility because the demands of their care are too much for family to handle. And yes, I do believe that even the best of families eventually reach a place where they have no choice but to place their loved one in a care facility. Private 24 hour a day care is expensive and in the times we live in most caregivers cannot give up their jobs to stay home with their loved one.

So, sometimes there does creep into my brain the thought that someday, should I experience a major stroke, that I might end up in a care home also.

With that thought, I will go back to sorting papers and making some sense out of all of this mess I have created.

Little Girl Crushed

2011-01-28T19:11:00.000-08:00

In the telling of my story I promised myself that I would be totally honest, which in the past has gotten me into immense trouble, yet, I continue to be very open and honest about my life. Many people like to hide their past, pretend it didn't happen, or live in the past, as if they are reliving each hurt done to them on a never ending merry go round for pain and disappointment. I think that maybe I decided I would not live on the merry go round because that is where my Mom chose to live out her life. She remembered in vivid detail everything that anyone had done to her that caused her to suffer, and she would relive those moments over and over again. Sadly Mom never learned the freedom that comes with forgiveness.One of her famous sayings was, "I can forgive, but I will never forget." Because the memories brought her such anguish, she lived her life out being angry and bitter at those who wronged her.

So I continue my story as a young girl adopted into this dysfunctional situation. I learned at a very early age that I was adopted. Although my Dad's family totally accepted me as 'family', Mother's side was divided on whether I was truly family or not. There were cousins who told me at every family reunion until I was grown, that really I was not part of the family because blood was true family. There were cousins and Aunts and Uncles who never treated me with anything but acceptance and love, and whenever family reunion time came around I would try to stay beside them. Our reunions were always at Zilker Park, in Austin. Us kids would ride the train, and swim in the pool. I don't think I have ever swam in water as cold as in that pool. It was created from natural springs and it was freezing!

I keep faltering here with the right words to explain the darkness which crept into my little girl world. The darkness which stole my innocence from me when I was in the care of my mother's sister. I long to focus on the joys I find in those early years, and yet to be complete in my story I must tell what happened. I have written in depth the truth of those years in a story entitled "The Cavern". It is very explicit in describing the sexual abuse I experienced and was the tool I used to bring about much healing to little 'Charlotte Jean'. So, I have no desire to repeat here the happenings of those hot, humid Texas nights. I will just say that for months, if not years, I endured being molested by one of my female cousins. To this day, if I close my eyes, and picture the curtains blowing gently in the heated breeze, I can smell the interior of the room and feel the rabid fear begin to take hold. From those nights I grew into a adult terrified of the night. It has only been since Marty and I have been together that the night fears have faded and I am at peace with being alone.

I never told my Mom what was taking place because this was, after all, her family. Plus I loved my cousin. I admired her. She was older than I was and I remember watching her put on her makeup to go to school, or out on a date, and she would put lipstick on me. I loved to play cheerleader with her pompoms and she would teach me the cheers and we would laugh until our stomachs hurt. I felt loved. To say that seems like such a contradiction, but I was so hungry for someone to love me, that I mistook her affections for me as real love.

Many years later I was able to talk with my Mom about the abuse. She responded very casually by telling me that her older sister's daughter had been molested by the same cousin, and Mom had known about that before she allowed me to be babysat by this Aunt and my cousin. I asked her why she let me go, and she said she thought that my cousin had outgrown her tendencies to molest. I was stunned to say the least, that Mom was 1) so naive; 2) so nonchalant about the whole thing. It was then that she shared her own experience of childhood molestation and told me that she just didn't think about it. That was how she had tried to cope for about 65 years. It was after this talk with her that it became so apparent to me that my mother's side of the family was filled with incest and sexual abuse. Thank goodness that by the time I had this talk with Mom, I had worked through all the anger and hurt, and had come to a place of not blaming. All I felt was this tremendous sadness for my Mom's stolen innocence, and for the brokenness of so many of her family. It gave me understanding of so many of Mom's behaviors over the years, and I saw her as a frail little girl, just like me, who had been abused.

There was so much pain that lived in her family members. One cousin married a pedophile, he was caught taking photos of her own younger sister. Another cousin committed suicide. One cousin was an alcoholic/drug abuser for many years. One cousin beat his sons with a razor strap..which I witnessed on numerous occasions. And the list could go on and on. I look at each one of them NOW, and I hear the deepest, darkest painful cries of their own wounded spirits, and it just crushes me. I pray that as the years have grown on, that each soul has found healing and forgiveness to bring wholeness and peace to their lives.

It is my hope and prayer that each one of us who experienced the loss of our innocence be totally healed in body, mind and spirit.

I hold the deepest love and gratitude to each person who helped me through, to my angels, to my spirit guides, and also to myself. I would not have made it through to this place of peace if it were not for you.

Namaste'

Little Girl Lost

2011-01-27T14:52:00.000-08:00

My fondest memories of my childhood were days I spent with my Dad. I don't remember much about being with Mom, only brief glimpses of her sitting at the kitchen table smoking a cigarette, her hair always in an immaculate coif. She took great pride in her looks, and her weight. I can also see her standing with her hand on her hip wagging her index finger at me telling me to go pick a switch from the peach tree. If I got the wrong size then she would go pick one a whole lot bigger, so I learned quickly to pick the right size. The switch of course was to punish me for something I had done 'wrong'. But that is for another day's telling.

Right now I want to look at the early years when Daddy would take me to work with him on Saturday mornings. He would give me a hammer and some nails, and would let me hammer the nails into any piece of wood I wanted too. I wonder how many houses that he built in Austin have those hidden little nails standing at attention behind wallboard. I liked to go to work with Daddy because I thought it was just the most wonderful thing to have a Daddy who could build a house from the bottom up. Daddy owned his own contractor's business, City Builders, and he had two partners. They did not believe in unions. They were experienced house builders who could pour foundations, frame it up, put the windows in, put the roof on, do the electrical and plumbing, put in the cabinets and flooring, do all the drywall work and they even did brick work on some houses. My Dad built the house that I grew up in at 700 Sandpiper (now changed to 704 Sandpiper), just on the outskirts of Austin on I35. It used to be a beautiful red brick house with green trim, but the company that bought the property when Mom died painted the brink a gray color. Poor beautiful red bricks.

Other than building houses and doing some remodeling work, Daddy loved spending time fishing and working with amateur radio. He would take me fishing about once a month, and now I realize that he had to be the most patient of men, for my line would get snagged repeatedly and he would reel his line in and come rescue mine. Needless to say we didn't catch a lot when I went with him.

I loved being with my Dad. To this day when Marty is working on some remodeling project around the house, and he smells of sawdust and sweat, I am instantly transported back in time when I would run out to meet Daddy when he drove in from work. He always smelled so good....sawdust!

Those early years came to a close very abruptly when I was about 4 or 5 years old. I never understood why, but my Mom would no longer let me go with Daddy. And once my Mom made up her mind about something, there was no changing it. I spent the next 23 years not being able to have a normal father/daughter relationship. I did not realize it until the weeks before she died when she was able to share with me but she had been molested when she was a little girl. She never did tell me by whom, but her fear of leaving me alone with my Dad seems to tell her story. She was molested by her own father at the early age of 4.

What my Mom didn't realize was that when she stopped us from spending time alone, it opened a hole in my little girl heart. I felt lost and alone. Through the years that came and went, Daddy and I learned to adjust to mother's needs. We spent time watching TV together, when she was present. We would work on his HAM radio in the garage, with the door open from the den to garage so she could always hear us and see us. When I got older, and was not living at home, we had to make sure that if we had phone conversations, Mom was on the other phone listening, or we had to tell her of what we spoke about if she wasn't home. It was a very dysfunctional home, but it was home.

One of the things that Daddy and I did that was just for the two of us was this: we would have a bowl of ice cream almost every night while watching TV. That is why I went from this:

to This:

And so, my battle with weight began.

And my self esteem spiraled down.

Happy Birthday to ME

2011-01-11T23:11:00.000-08:00

So, today is my extra special Life birthday because it occurs on 1/11/11. Yep. January 11, 2011. Plus this is the year I turn 56, which 5 plus 6 equals 11. So I am anticipating some awesome things to happen this year. I took this photo at 1:11 pm (I already saw 1:11 am) when we were headed down to Phoenix to see our daughter Sarah and go out to the movies and dinner.

I am ready for whatever this year brings.....Universe? Bring it on!

And So the Story Begins

2011-01-11T09:20:00.000-08:00

So, 56 years ago today at 2:05 p.m., in a small hospital in Georgetown, Texas, I was born. But there is a wee bit more to the story than that, of course.

The woman giving birth to me was my birth mother, Rachel Teague. She was a young woman, single with one son already, and she could not afford to take care of me. She told me that my birth father's name was William "Red" Lawson, who was in the military at the time, either stationed at Bergstrom Air Force Base or Camp Mabry. She never told me which one. At any rate, he left Austin without even knowing of my existence.

I must digress here and say that there is still a little more to the story, and as my husband likes to believe, I just may well be kin to Elvis Presley. You see, there was a time when Elvis was in Austin, Texas, traveling in his pink Cadillac. Rachel and a friend of hers went on a double date with Elvis and a friend of his. They had quite the time dancing in Austin and various honky tonks, and driving around the Austin area with the top down enjoying the atmosphere of the 1954 era. I will let you be the judge as to weather Elvis plus Rachel could equal Charlotte!

I did find another interesting photo of Elvis when he was a baby himself, along with his parents and a baby girl who looks suspiciously like me when I turned one year old. I do believe Mr. Presley's ears have been passed on to the young girl. Hmmmm....very interesting.

Sticking to the facts of my birth, via Rachel, and the information that my birth father's nickname was 'Red' (and 100% Irish), and seeing as I was born with a little tuft of red hair meself, I do believe that I am the DNA product of Rachel and Red.
Since Red was no where to be found, and since her parents were the very strict religious type, her father being an Assembly of God preacher in Austin, she decided it best to give me up for adoption. She found Hunter and Clarine Degress through a mutual friend in the Sheriff's office, who knew that they had helped another girl 'in trouble' and found a home for her baby. Hunter and Clarine knew that my adoptive parents had been wanting a baby for the past 14 years. Hunter had been my Dad's best friend from his childhood days up until Dad died in 1984. So, they set it all up that Rachel would be taken care of, all expenses paid, and when I was born, I would go home with a new set of parents.

Waiting in the hospital to take me home were my new parents: Robert Eugene Bryan and Mildred Lucille Pearson Bryan. My birth grandmother Susie Teague Mooney was there also and she held me before I was taken home by the Bryan's. That incident angered my Mom very much because she had specific instructions that Rachel nor any of her family were to see me or hold me after I was born. One she found out that Nanny (my birth grandmother) had held me, she did everything in her power to get them to release me to go home, and after speaking with my pediatrician, Dr. Clifford Thorne, I was released to go home...at 8 hours old.

I have some old movie footage of Mom and Dad coming out of the little hospital in Georgetown, along with Clarine and Hunter, coming down the steps of what looks more like a house than a hospital. I did forget to mention that Mom did not want me born in Austin, so that the birth announcement would not come out in the paper. Hence, being born in Georgetown, which back then was very far from Austin.

I arrived home to 5102 Woodview, Austin, Texas...ready to be loved by my new family.

This is the Year of Music

2011-01-05T15:58:00.000-08:00

For quite a few years now I begin the New Year by finding it's name. This year began it's dawn as beautiful music woke me from my sleep. Over the next few days my world seemed to be filled with song, and I felt compelled to sort through all the CD's we have, and of course, putting them in alphabetical order! I even went through the songs I have on my computer and put them in order. (Aha..there's one lesson...music has order to it.) My heart soared as I decided that this would indeed be the Year of Music. From time to time I will be posting songs which have surfaced, wanting to be heard..to make the list so to speak, of the music that will guide me through this year. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I will.

Cat Stevens - Morning has broken

2011-01-01T00:30:00.000-08:00

Morning has broken on this New Year of 2011

"I Grieve" by Peter Gabriel

2010-12-31T23:59:00.001-08:00

I was happily getting ready for my daughter Sarah to get off work down in Phoenix and drive up to spend New Years Eve with me. I tried to get her to stay down in the valley and go out with her friends, yet she continued to say she just wanted to be here with her Mom. So I had made the snacks we usually ate when she used to live at home. All her favorites: Stew with Monkey Bread, Shrimp cocktail, chips and Velveeta cheese sauce, and hot spiced apple cider.

I was just about to put the bread in the oven when my phone rang. It was a message from Sarah, which I thought would be telling me she was on her way up the mountain. Instead the words "Mom, Ashley, Carlos sister just died. She got in a car accident." I instantly remembered that here I was in this intense grief journey myself, and now this. My precious daughter just lost one of her best friends. No details yet, but by the time she drove up the mountain I had found the news report from Maryland. One vehicle involved, no names released, but there were two young men who were flown to trauma centers.

Sarah came through the door, dropped her bags and we hugged. She cried. I cried. More loss.

We spent the evening laying on the couch, barely watching the movie we picked out...each lost in our own thoughts, yet being there for each other. I asked Sarah to tell me about Ashley...bringing out her happy memories of the two of them together. We laughed some. We cried some. All this loss.

We awoke at 12:10 with some beautiful music playing at the end of the movie we ere watching...we had slept through the New Year's arrival. We said, 'Happy New Year' and Sarah fell back asleep. I watched her sleeping for another hour, making sure she was sleeping soundly, my beautiful daughter...then I quietly added another log to the wood stove and went to bed.

Thinking about all the loss...all the loss.....and thanking God for strength, courage and peace that we would both need during these next weeks as we grieve.

Welcoming in 2011

2010-12-30T17:00:00.000-08:00

As the last days of 2010 trickled by I experienced intense grief over so many losses this year. It was an interesting feeling, to allow myself to be enveloped in sadness and to be comfortable with wearing this garment of grief.

I found it interesting that as I prepare to lead the new grief group forming at church, that I would be entering this sacred ground to look at all the loss in my own life. It wasn't pretty. I cried. I held a few sorrow events in my honor. Mostly I just allowed the grief process to take it's own course, and I followed.

It seemed everywhere I turned, grief was there. I heard the song 'I Grieve' on the TV one night, and found it on You Tube afterwards and with soul wrenching cries, I let a lot of the held in emotions to breakthrough to the Light. It was there, as the light shone on these painful memories, lost relationships, loss of mind function, loss of job, loss of health, loss of the only person in Marty's family who loved me unconditionally from the first time I let her, and loss of Marty's Gram, who came to love the hugs I gave her when we would go visit. There was just so much loss, so many tears, so much pain held deep within my soul.

I also noticed that those with whom I shared this intense grief with were not very comfortable at all. They were used to seeing me smiling, happy, full of Light and Peace and Encouraging words for everyone. They did everything they could to cheer me up, to lighten the load, to make sure I had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I did finally pretend, for their sake, that I was just fine (and I was, even in the depths of grief), and Christmas was wonderful and we were anticipating having a Happy New Year.

Yet, underneath it all. I grieve. And all is well with my soul...just as it is.

2010-12-09T11:19:00.001-08:00

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

2010-11-26T10:05:00.001-08:00

It has been ages since I wrote last. As I sit here thinking about the reasons why, my mind wanders through all that has occurred in the past months, so much that it seems like a tornado has run it's course through my brain, leaving in its wake bits and pieces that I must sort through, picking up what is important to keep, and throwing away the rest of it.

Sometimes in our lives we enter a place of silence. A place where no matter what is going on in the world we see and experience in these bodies that our spirit inhabits, we are at a still point in the dance of life. Things happen around us and we remain still, observing the occurrences with eyes of peace, allowing everything to fall in its place, without us having to do anything.

This still point is where I have resided these past months. No journaling has occurred. No need to record the events that continue to shape my life here on earth. I have been in a place where nothing on the outside truly matters, only that which is transpiring within my mind, within my soul, within my true self is important. Everything else has just fallen away to a place I no longer inhabit.

In this process of being at the still point, I look around and see all the people who are in my life at this precise moment in time, and I have realized that my 'story' is indeed a tool which can be used to encourage others to also strive for peace and contentment, joy and gratitude for all that happens to them in the journey of their lives.

So my last words in this blog, where I spoke about 'story', have now come out into the Light, and I find that there is indeed a place for my 'story' to be shared. So as I approach the end of another year, and the beginning of a new one,I am making space for my 'story' to unfold in the new year.

As I write those words, fear rises up within me...can I really tell my story here for others to read? I feel pretty safe in that my blog does not have many followers and those who do happen to find themselves reading these pages...I will trust that Creator has brought them to these words for a purpose.

If you have happened upon these pages, know that you have been drawn here by Spirit for a reason...it is up to you find out why.

I watched the movie 'The Last Airbender' this week, and gleaned a few words of wisdom from it.
We each have come here for a reason...it is up to you to find out why.

As I watched the movie I began thinking about a time 20 years ago when a friend of mine asked me the question, "Do you think that you are special? That God gives you messages, and only speaks to you?" I tried to explain that it was (and still is) my belief that we are each special, unique and all have the ability to hear from God (no matter what name he/she is known by). This answer did not go over very well with my friend, as she was trying to point out that I had delusions of grandeur in thinking that God could really speak to me.

Back then, the words she used to make me see that I was wrong and delusional did serve to cause doubt to arise within my mind and I felt thoroughly chastised.

Well, here it is 20 years later and I am more convinced that we are all SPECIAL and we are all connected, not just to God, but we are connected by Spirit to one another. Namaste'~The divine in me sees the divine in you. This is the highest form of acceptance and true love flowing between two people...to really 'See' them as the gift of who they are to the world.

I will shout it to the mountains, to the streams, to the oceans, to the fields: YES, I DO BELIEVE I AM SPECIAL. YOU ARE SPECIAL. ALL OF US ARE SPECIAL. We each have a unique gift to share with the world, and it is up to us to find that gift of who we are, and be bold enough to Be who we truly are.

I am PEACE. Who are you?

Vigil for Esther

2010-09-17T15:40:00.001-07:00

This week my journey has taken me to some interesting places, and yet as I look back on it, I see that the shift which has taken me to a higher place energetically and spiritually is allowing for more people in need to come to my attention.

I was beginning to think that the passion of my heart, being with those who are getting ready to shed their earthly clothing and fly free to the Source of All Life, was being directed into a different path. But this week I was honored to companion Esther, 94 years old, and her family on her journey through death's door. I spent two days vigiling with her and her son and daughter in law. What precious hours they were. Comforting. Peaceful. Sacred.

The first day I annointed her with Frankencense, and sang the song which I usually sing to those who are dying...Softly and Tenderly. Then a few of us from church gathered at her bedside and once a hymn book was found, thanks to Marcy, we sang to her the hymns of her faith.

Her son and daughter in law were with her also, and during the next two days we got to know each other pretty well. When Esther took her last breath it was after everyone had left her room, in the wee hours of the morning, as if she took flight as a new day was beginning, and for her it was a new day. A new day in heaven.

Thanks Grammy Esther for allowing me to spend those hours with you. You gave me such a gift.

Just life

2010-08-12T12:21:00.000-07:00

My beautiful daughter Sarah flew in from Maryland for my birthday. We stopped by so she could see granddaughter Lillian and her Mom Susan.

Our house

2010-08-12T12:20:00.001-07:00

Animals

2010-08-12T12:20:00.000-07:00

The Synchronicity of Life

2010-07-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

It has been a funny couple of days. Now, I can look at it and laugh, realizing that truly all things are in Divine Order.

Synchronicities are those times when things happen which we think have no significant meaning, yet they do. They are the times in which the divine touches our lives with direction and guidance.

For three days now I have been trying to post my paintings on deviantart.com with no success. I have to upload one at a time, and go through a huge process, taking much more time than I want to invest in putting them online so that my friends at Women Who Run With Wolves can view them. Especially since most of them are already on my Facebook site. But, some of the women don't have Facebook accounts, so I decided that I would open up another Ning account, only to find out that Ning will be charging for accounts beginning July 20. So, no Ning account. I am too cheap to pay for such things!

So, I ended up doing what I originally thought of and put all my paintings onto my Facebook site, and that is that. In the process what was the lesson? To just trust in my instincts to begin with. A very valuable lesson especially for women, for we have been given such a powerful instinctual nature, and we do need to learn to move through our lives listening to that still small voice inside guiding and directing us for our highest good.

Right now I am sitting in he office, surrounded by our dogs, listening to the sound of a jack hammer as Marty takes off all the old mortar in the main bath so that we can lay new tile. As I listen to the sound of all that old stuff being chiseled away, I am thinking that it is a very good image of all the old stuff that we as humans, carry around with us every day. Old memories, Old ways of thinking, Old ways of reacting, Old patterns, Old junk. It seems the older we get, the more like mortar those unneeded aspects become, until it truly takes a spiritual jack hammer to remove it all. So on a day when I am just simply 'being' I am faced with the mortar of my life, left stuck to me after having the outward masks I used to wear removed.
The mortar has to come off also...even if it hurts and is scary, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed. It has to come off so that I will be free to really 'BE' who I came here to be.

So, I lay here in the office and visualize the breaking away of the old...
and think about the synchronistic way that God works to get us right where we need to be...to we can grow and see ourselves as the Light and Love we truly are.

SO, my question for you today is "What synchronicities are happening in your life, guiding you to truth, peace, love and joy?"

Women Leading The Way by Karen Rae Wilson

2010-06-21T16:26:00.000-07:00

This Life

2010-06-13T12:28:00.000-07:00

There are quite a few of my friends who over the years have suggested to me that I write a book about my life and the amazing journey it has taken me on throughout the 55.5 years I have spent here in this present life. I will admit there have been times I have thought such an endeavor might be a possibility. I have been keeping journals since I was very young, all of which are in tubs, stored in our garage.

Yet, as I have come to realize of late, none of my 'story' really matters. At least not to anyone except myself. The reason for this being...it is my story, and story is not important. What lies in the past is truly past. Gone, like dust in the wind...chaff blown away from the grain...it does not exist anymore. The only thing that exists is who I am, this soul here for the time being, housed in a physical body, and the understanding that I have come here, I believe, to learn who I really am, to see the connectedness I have with the One, and with everything that exists. I am here to BE. That is all that matters.

The 'story' of my life is a series of events designed to allow an experience to unfold as I step into it, walk through it, and look back upon it having grown in knowledge and understanding. It was all created so that one day there would be this awakening within me to know the One and to know that I am One with the One. To know that all which exists is only the Beloved.

I do not look back upon any of the happenings of this life with regret or with any sense of having failed, for my responses to situations, my ability to learn the lesson, or just feel the feelings, were just what they were in that moment. I came here to learn, to grow, to let go of all that does not serve my highest good. I came here to experience everything that could be experienced in a human life. And when all is said and done, someday I will leave this body and return to my natural form of Spirit/Energy, where the veil is lifted and all wisdom is complete.

The journey has taken me through the study of many religions, and yet there has never been a time where I was really comfortable in following just one way. Like many rivers headed to the ocean are the religions of the world headed toward the Ground of Being, that which is higher than we, that which is so vast and without end that it cannot be named or put into a box. I have traveled quite a few of those rivers, and finally came to a place where I am most comfortable in the space of allowing that Spirit to be in me, all around me and flowing out of me. I see the connectedness of everything and everyone.

So, shall I let you in on one secret? I see and feel the divine in and around everything. No matter where I go, there is Divinity all around. The sky, the earth, the north, the south, the east, the west and all the guides, ascended ones, angels, archangels and divinities are there communicating with me as I need it. The plants, trees, rocks and waters emit the voice of the Beloved. Animals, birds, fish all have wisdom to share but for the asking. Voices from beyond the veil come as loved ones who have already made their transition from this life back to Source.

In dream states, in waking dreams answers come to questions I haven't even formed yet.

Ahhh, this is my life here. Surrounded by this Love, this Peace, this knowing that all is exectly as it needs to be for the experience, the journey. To experience everything in it's fullest in every moment, without judgments, without being attached to any outcomes...that is my heaven here. This is bliss. TO BE free to BE ME.

So, this life continues...getting more and more exciting and glory filled as the moments come and go.

2010-06-02T18:18:00.001-07:00

This Spring our Wisteria Vine, which provides much needed shade for our back porch, actually bloomed. It was so exciting!

The Iris which Susan W. gave me also bloomed, which ws surprising after they had sat in a tub for a few weeks (the weeks we went back to MN for Gram's and Aunt Velda's Memorials).

When I was a little girl gowing up in the Hill Country of Austin, Texas these flowers grew wild. We called them Indian Blankets, and they reminded me of my Great-Great Grandmother who was full blood Cherokee.

The Clematis has grown through the fence on the south side of the house.

The Bottle Tree

2010-06-01T12:51:00.000-07:00

Here is the bottle tree, with English Ivy, Butterfly Bush, Day Lillies, Columbine, and Hollyhocks around it.

Here is our trumpet vine, buttercups, salvia

I love gardening!

My home

2010-06-01T12:26:00.001-07:00

Well...Spring is quickly coming to a close here in the High Desert of Arizona. We have had a rather cool Spring, with the night temps down in the 30's and 40's, daytime highs in the 70's and 80's. Wish it could stay this way up until the Monsoons...which is really just the rainy season here.

The birds are chirping all day long now...our tile roof is a virtual birdhouse to lots and lots of sparrows and finches. There are doves, bluebirds (a huge one was on our back porch yesterday, close enough for me to see his beautiful coloring...and a sign that Aunt Velda is watching over us from the eternal side of life), and even a parakeet has been hanging around. They love the grapevine, and are keeping an ever watchful eye for the grapes to appear. Ebony (our Chowolf) thinks it is her job to run down the stairs and under the gazebo as fast as she can to let the birds know that she is in charge and that they must leave when she is in residence. It is very funny.

The backyard is blooming beautifully with all the plants from last year, plus a few new ones. It is such a peaceful place to have one's coffee in the morning, or an iced tea in the afternoon. Our oasis in the desert.

Many of you have asked how we an stand the heat of Arizona, and I will once again explain that we live at about 5500 ft above sea level. All around us we see mountains. Mingus Mountain to the East, Granite Mountain to the West, the Bradshaws to the South, and way in the distance to the North we have the San Francisco Peaks (which are up Flagstaff way). We are 15 minutes away from being in the tall pine forests which surround Prescott. The temps are about 10 to 15 degrees cooler than Phoenix. It is very dry here, and we do have to water a lot to keep plants outside happy, but it is nothing like the horrendous heat of the Valley.

I am posting some photos of our yard, which has only now really greened up and by the end of summer into the fall, will transform itself once again into a serene and peaceful contemplative place. It is a place where one can see all the stars twinkling in the night sky, a place for ceremony, drumming and dancing. It is a place blessed with angels, spirit guides and visits from the ancestors.

May the summer days bring many blessings to all, and as we travel this spiritual journey together, may our connectedness bring health and wholeness to us all.

A letter from Chief Arvol Looking Horse

2010-05-22T11:06:00.001-07:00

A Great Urgency

To All World Religious and Spiritual Leaders

My Relatives,

Time has come to speak to the hearts of our Nations and their Leaders. I ask you this from the bottom of my heart, to come together from the Spirit of your Nations in prayer.

We, from the heart of Turtle Island, have a great message for the World; we are guided to speak from all the White Animals showing their sacred color, which have been signs for us to pray for the sacred life of all things. As I am sending this message to you, many Animal Nations are being threatened, those that swim, those that crawl, those that fly, and the plant Nations, eventually all will be affect from the oil disaster in the Gulf.

The dangers we are faced with at this time are not of spirit. The catastrophe that has happened with the oil spill which looks like the bleeding of Grandmother Earth, is made by human mistakes, mistakes that we cannot afford to continue to make.

I asked, as Spiritual Leaders, that we join together, united in prayer with the whole of our Global Communities. My concern is these serious issues will continue to worsen, as a domino effect that our Ancestors have warned us of in their Prophecies.

I know in my heart there are millions of people that feel our united prayers for the sake of our Grandmother Earth are long overdue. I believe we as Spiritual people must gather ourselves and focus our thoughts and prayers to allow the healing of the many wounds that have been inflicted on the Earth. As we honor the Cycle of Life, let us call for Prayer circles globally to assist in healing Grandmother Earth (our Unc'I Maka).

We ask for prayers that the oil spill, this bleeding, will stop. That the winds stay calm to assist in the work. Pray for the people to be guided in repairing this mistake, and that we may also seek to live in harmony, as we make the choice to change the destructive path we are on.

As we pray, we will fully understand that we are all connected. And that what we create can have lasting effects on all life.

So let us unite spiritually, All Nations, All Faiths, One Prayer. Along with this immediate effort, I also ask to please remember June 21st, World Peace and Prayer Day/Honoring Sacred Sites day. Whether it is a natural site, a temple, a church, a synagogue or just your own sacred space, let us make a prayer for all life, for good decision making by our Nations, for our children's future and well-being, and the generations to come.

Onipikte (that we shall live),

Chief Arvol Looking Horse
19th generation Keeper of the Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe
(Wolakota.org)

White Wolf Woman

2010-05-17T23:57:00.000-07:00

White Wolf Woman

2010-05-17T23:52:00.000-07:00

I have been questing for my Crone Native American name and through much prayer and thought filled days and nights, Creator has gifted me with my new name. White Wolf Woman.

Let me tell you how this came about. My great great Grandmother gifted me with the name 'Little Bird' It was the name she called me when I was a little girl, and when I went through my Cherokee naming ceremony a few years ago, I chose to honor Grandmother by keeping the name. It seemed fitting for me, as my Spirit Guide is the Hawk, and during the naming ceremony when I accepted the name there was immediately the sound of many birds singing their songs. It was a symphony of bird songs being sung to say "YES" to their accepting of my name Little Bird.

Then, just last year when my drum was birthed, as it dried in the sun, there were birds that appeared in the skin of the drum. One looks very much like a hawk and was the first one to appear.

This year dawned bright with the Blue Moon telling me that it was time for me to be gifted with my Crone name. Being a Crone indicates that a woman is through her menopause years and is now ready to accept walking in Wise Woman's Ways. The ancient Wise Woman Crone archetype is emerging within women all over the world. We are beginning to realize that this third and crowning stage of female life (the one our culture throws away) is more authentic, creative, outrageous, powerful, funny, healing and profound than we ever imagined.(http://www.birthingthecrone.com/). I embraced this knowledge with great joy and looked with great anticipation for my name to be revealed.

First I thought that it would come from my Cherokee sister Ayanvli, who had performed my first naming ceremony. But as I sought direction from my ancestors angels and spirit guides it soon became clear that I was to quest for the name. So the journey began.

One weekend my grand daughter who is 5, came for a visit. She likes to find music on YouTube, so we sat one evening listening to songs she found. She asked to listen to a song that had a photo of a wolf on it as she loves animals. The song was 'Nothing Else Matters' by Metallica. A dear friend was here also and we both cringed because we were not sure if it was appropriate for a 5 year old to listen to. My grand daughter was insistent that we needed to listen to the song about wolves. So, I told her we would listen and see if it was an OK song for children. She stated that this song would be very perfect for all of us to hear. So, we began to listen.

And that was the beginning of a profound change in me...down to my cellular level I could feel this sound resonate with my spirit. My friend felt the same. My granddaughter in her simple childlike way had listened to Spirit and led us to this awesome song. We listened in silence, and we wept. And we watched the wolves in the photos. The only glitch was that whoever made the video had put in an advertisement which stayed on through the whole thing. Yet the wolves spoke to me from the screen.

The name came that night in a dream. I saw myself running with wolves. We were running through a forest, with the beautiful Full Blue Moon shining down upon us. I looked down and at first I saw my own body and legs and feet. Then slowly as I was running my feet changed into a Wolf's feet, then the legs changed, my torso changed, and I was running with the wolves as a wolf. I was a beautiful silvery white color, majestic in stance and running with power and freedom. I heard a howl in the distance, which changed into a clear voice "White Wolf Woman". Soon I ran into a glen, all the wolves stopped and formed a circle around me. They began to howl my name in the moonlight...White Wolf Woman. I stood in the glen and was showered with the moon glow, accepting the name and howling with the wolves.

When I awoke in the morning, I knew what my new name was, yet felt this tremendous fear at the same time. How could this be? The White Wolf Woman is one who is extremely powerful and wise. She walks in her own power with head held high and with arms outstretched to bring love and knowledge to other women and to the children of earth. I felt this was too high a responsibility and that I could not possibly have heard right. Who was I to be called White Wolf Woman?

As the days passed into months, there have been many confirmations that this is my new name. My own dog Ebony, who we believe to be a Chow/Wolf confirmed the name one night by coming and jumping into my lap while the song 'Nothing Else Matters' was playing. I began to look for photos of white wolves and other wolves on line. Each one spoke to my heart. I found photos of Hawks and Wolves together. The signs began to come every day until I finally bowed in reverence and accepted this name.

I thought we would have ceremony for this naming, yet realized that the naming was done by Creator and Spirit in a very powerful way. At some point I will have a gathering of friends to drum and celebrate with me my entering into my Crone years and have them bless me with my new name. But for now...I have accepted the name, and the mantle that comes with it. To walk in wisdom and truth. To love and protect.

I AM White Wolf Woman

For more information about White Wolf Woman and her medicine see:
http://www.eyeforbeauty.com/Personal/Galleries/Native/native5.html

Let Them Go

2010-05-05T11:35:00.000-07:00

By T. D. Jakes

There are people who can walk away from you.

And hear me when I tell you this! When people can walk away from you: let them walk. I don't want you to try to talk another person into staying with you, loving you, calling you, caring about you, coming to see you, staying attached to you. I mean hang up the phone. ... See More

When people can walk away from you let them walk. Your destiny is never tied to anybody that left.

The bible said that, they came out from us that it might be made manifest that they were not for us. For had they been of us, no doubt they would have continued with us. [1 John 2:19]

People leave you because they are not joined to you. And if they are not joined to you, you can't make them stay.

Let them go.

And it doesn't mean that they are a bad person it just means that their part in the story is over. And you've got to know when people's part in your story is over so that you don't keep trying to raise the dead.. You've got to know when it's dead.

You've got to know when it's over. Let me tell you something.. I've got the gift of good-bye. It's the tenth spiritual gift, I believe in good-bye.. It's not that I'm hateful, it's that I'm faithful, and I know whatever God means for me to have He'll give it to me. And if it takes too much sweat I don't need it.. Stop begging people to stay.

Let them go!!

If you are holding on to something that doesn't belong to you and was never intended for your life, then you need to......

LET IT GO!!!

If you are holding on to past hurts and pains .......

LET IT GO!!!

If someone can't treat you right, love you back, and see your worth.......

LET IT GO!!!

If someone has angered you.

LET IT GO!!!

If you are holding on to some thoughts of evil and revenge.....

LET IT GO!!!

If you are involved in a wrong relationship or addiction... ..

LET IT GO!!!

If you are holding on to a job that no longer meets your needs or talents

LET IT GO!!!

If you! u have a bad attitude.... ...

LET IT GO!!!

If you keep judging others to make yourself feel better......

LET IT GO!!!

If you're stuck in the past and God is trying to take you to a new level in Him.........

LET IT GO!!!

If you are struggling with the healing of a broken relationship. ....

LET IT GO!!!

If you keep trying to help someone who won't even try to help themselves... ....

LET IT GO!!!

If you're feeling depressed and stressed .............

LET IT GO!!!

If there is a particular situation that you are so used to handling yourself and God is saying 'take your hands off of it,' then you need to.......

LET IT GO!!!

2010-04-22T18:03:00.000-07:00

This past week I noticed that the doves who usually make their nest each spring in one of our hanging baskets on the back porch had given up hope that the baskets would ever be back out there, so they made their nest in the crook of the bottle tree.

Now those of you who have seen the tree know that it does not provide prime nesting conditions. There are no leaves to shade it from the sun. There is nothing overhead to keep out the various weather conditions that will occur during the nesting season. Plus, any predator birds flying overhead have a full view of the eggs if one of the parents is not sitting on the nest.

Today as it snowed, rained, and sleeted...there was Momma and Poppa Dove sitting on the nest, protecting the eggs as good parents do. And as I watched them through this day, I felt sorry for them and tried to put a couple of boards over the nest for a little protection, yet it really was more my attempt to feel better, for truly there is no way to protect the nest now that it has been built where it is.

It is really a sad situation, and I found myself saying, "You poor things, you did the best you knew to do, with the information you had at the time, not realizing what was up ahead and the perils that awaited you and your babies."

Then I remembered how many times I have said that to myself as a parent (or Marty has said that to me), or I have reminded my friends using those words, or counseled someone going through a rough parenting time, and even used those words with people who were facing their own death as they tried to figure out how they could have been better parents.

For those of us who are parents it is a no brainer to say that we could have all done things better looking back. Hindsight is really good at pointing out how much better we could have raised our children.
Yet the real heart lesson is not how much we could have done better, because those thoughts only lead to misplaced guilt and not forgiving ourselves for, after all, being human and NOT having all the answers.

Honestly, none of us have the answers. When we have children there is no user’s manual that comes with the baby when he/she is born telling us exactly what the child will need to be raised perfectly. No, we as parents do the best that we can with the knowledge we have at the time, and we make lots and lots of mistakes along the way.

Just like our little doves, we don't always make the nest in the right place.
We don't always protect our children from the things that can hurt them.
We don't always say the right things.
We don't always do the right things.
We love our children, there is no doubt about that...yet they don't always feel it, or see it.
We read books, we go to counselors, and we pray for help yet sometimes those things don't seem to help.

Yet we try. We do the best we can, with the tools and knowledge we have...and we must remind ourselves of something very important.

None of us is perfect. Our parents were not perfect. Our grandparents were not perfect. We as parents are not perfect. And last but not least, our children are not perfect either. We are all simple human beings on a journey through life doing the best we can. Let the judgments go.

We love each other, we forgive each other. We let the judgments go. Those are the key ingredients to being a parent, and being a child. Love and Forgiveness. The dance of Parent/Child. As old as time itself...

May is about here...Mother's Day.
June follows behind...Father's Day.

When was the last time you told your children how much you love them? Have you forgiven them for not being perfect? Have you forgiven yourself for not being a perfect child?

When was the last time you told your parents that you love them? Have you forgiven them for not being perfect? Have you forgiven yourself for not being a perfect parent?

We, like the dove, who represents Peace, do the best we can, and in the end, what really matters is that we open our hearts and love, forgive and dance together without judgments.

Enjoy the dance...

Peace Passed On

2010-04-08T10:50:00.000-07:00

I was thinking today about my Dad. He was a man of Peace. Always the Peacemaker. He moved through the world in a calm and gentle manner. Now I don't know what he was like in his younger years, because when he and Mother adopted me he was 35, so by the time I really came to know him he was in his 50's, and had a little bit of that wisdom which comes from having lived your first 50 years on this planet.

He had that way about him that if you were around him long enough you talked softer, your attitude calmed and you breathed deeper. He laughed a lot too. He enjoyed his life, his family and his friends. He played the harmonica, the autoharp...and when I would hear him play there was just something that brought immediate peace to my soul.

When Dad spoke, he spoke in gentle words, even if he was angry. I really only saw him angry three times, once when I was an adult and we had gone to an antique show out in the hill country around Austin, Texas. He had parked the car in front of a business (which was closed) on a Sunday afternoon, and when we came back after looking around, the car had been towed. A woman came out of the business and asked us if we had seen the no parking except for patrons of the business sign, and explained that she had called to have the car towed away. Daddy asked her if the business was open on Sunday. She replied no, but still retained the right that no one was to park in front of the business even in off hours. Daddy got angry and raised his voice to the woman. I had not seen him do this ever before, so this was a new experience for me. To make a long story short, Daddy got a ride from another nice man to get his car, came back and we all went home to Austin.

The next day I talked to Mom, she told me that Dad felt so bad about having gotten so angry at the woman that he had gotten up early, gone to the florist and bought flowers, drove all the way back to the small town and hand delivered them to the woman, apologizing to her for his conduct.

This was my Dad...he believed in owning your behavior, and making peace.

As I grew up, grew older, and grew wiser...I also saw and still see the benefits of being a Person of Peace. Really seeing my Dad I believe was a constant motivator pulling me towards the awakening in me to become a Spiritual Peacemaker...and to be a person who believes in the power of Peace...true Peace.

Thanks Dad...for passing the torch of Peace. I have it, and may I pass it on to those who will listen.

Peace is the only way this world can survive.

The Awakening (Author Unknown)

2010-03-10T21:01:00.000-08:00

The Awakening
(Author unknown)

A time comes in your life when you finally get…when, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out…ENOUGH! Enough fighting and crying and blaming and struggling to hold on. Then, like a child quieting down after a tantrum, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes.

This is your awakening.

You realize it’s time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety and security to magically appear over the next horizon.

You realize that in the real world there aren't always fairy tale endings, and that any guarantee of “happily ever after” must begin with you…and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.

You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who or what you are…and that’s OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions.

You learn the importance of loving and championing yourself…and in the process a sense of new found confidence is born of self-approval.

Your stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you – or didn’t do for you – and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.

You learn that people don’t always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and everything isn’t always about you.

So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself…and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.

You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties…and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.

You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. You begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.

You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you’ve outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with.

You learn that there is power and glory in creating and contributing and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a “consumer” looking for you next fix.

You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era, but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.

You learn that you don’t know everything, it’s not you job to save the world and that you can’t teach a pig to sing. You learn the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake.

Then you learn about love. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You learn that alone does not mean lonely.

You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO.

You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs.

You learn that your body really is your temple. You begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drinking more water, and take more time to exercise.

You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest. And, just food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul. So you take more time to laugh and to play.

You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you deserve, and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different than working toward making it happen.

More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline and perseverance. You learn that no one can do it all alone, and that it’s OK to risk asking for help.

You learn the only thing you must truly fear is fear itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens you can handle it and to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms.

You learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.

You learn that life isn’t always fair, you don’t always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people…and you lean not to always take it personally.

You learn that nobody’s punishing you and everything isn’t always somebody’s fault. It’s just life happening. You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls.

You lean that negative feelings such as anger, envy and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.

You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.

Then, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never, ever settle for less than you heart’s desire.

You make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.

You hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind.

Finally, with courage in you heart, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best as you can.

Blue Moon Welcomes 2010

2009-12-31T23:30:00.000-08:00

Tonight there is a Full Moon, which is a Blue Moon and an eclipse moon also. In my meditation time which I spend as each old year comes to a close and the new year is on the horizon, I keep hearing the words "It portends something new." Portends means the giving of an omen or an anticipatory sign of something new. So on this night the blue moon gives me an omen of something new.

I also am being surrounded today with messages to lay down my work with hospice in order that my hands and heart be free to receive something new, something that will fit with my 'true, real, authentic self'. This is not an easy thing for me, as anyone who has known me over these past years would guess. My connectedness to those crossing over has been such an intricate part of my being these past 5 years. I feel my guardian angels Gabrielle, Michael and Uriel covering me with their wings even as I type this, and I feel immensely protected and encased in this almost chrysalis type of womb. Something new is happening.

Been a while

2009-10-31T20:00:00.000-07:00

It has been quite a while since I last posted something here. Life has gone by very quickly it seems, like a swiftly moving river flowing ever so unnoticeable to the people who live near it's banks.

I am on new meds for the migraines. They are working and I have more energy than I have in years! Yeah! I have been able to share with people the message that Migraines are not just bad headaches, they are a disease process, and that has been a blessing. To be able to help others deal with their pain issues is my goal in this area.

As many of you know I took a sabbatical from actually working as Spiritual Counselor at YRMC Hospice at the end of last Year (2008). It has not been the year I expected, all full of meditation and renewal and such. It has been a year getting control of the Migraine disease, and I can only be grateful for Spirit's guidance into knowing that I needed this year. I cannot imagine what shape I would have been in had I been working and gone through the stroke symptoms I had during the summer. So once again, I look at the synchronicities that come into life and know that they are from someplace higher than myself and I say "thank-you".

I am grateful also that my work continues with hospice as a volunteer. I love being able to help families by providing respite and spending time visiting with patients, laughing with them as they talk about their lives and things that have brought meaning to them. To see a smile on their faces is a gift to my soul.

I also have still been able to officiate at some memorials through local mortuary and as strange as it may seem to some, I feel a special call to this ministry as well as to hospice. It is an honor to be called upon to speak about someone who has made their transition into the next life, and to allow for their family and friends to celebrate their life in a way that brings out the best in their life is a joy to me.

Fall has come and gone here in the high desert. It was beautiful this year. Lots of colorful trees around town. Now we have two cords of wood stacked and ready for winter, we have used the wood stove twice already with nights getting down into the mid 20's.

I will try to post more often...maybe with the new year, more postings will come from my heart to yours to encourage you in your journey.

Love to you,
Peace and Blessings,
Charlotte

Ch Ch Ch Changes

2009-07-29T08:07:00.000-07:00

Life is full of changes. Once we think we have an inkling of how our blocks are stacking up, they can topple down any moment. That has been my experience in the last six weeks. We set out of an journey to go and 'rescue' our youngest daughter at her request, and after making sure that this was something she really and truly wanted, we set out to drive across the country. From Arizona to Maryland, to get her, then to make a trip to Minnesota to see family and our Great Aunt Velda who is now in a Skilled Nursing Facility, and then back here to Arizona.

The trip did not go as we thought it would.

I myself, have no memory of past the point of dropping our beloved dog Jake off at a friend's house Saturday morning, until we got to some place in Wisconsin, and I only knew it was Wisconsin because of the roadsigns that said so. I sat there in the car, wondering why we were in Wisconsin, and the only thing I could come up with was that we must be there to take Sarah to Winona, Minnesota to go to college, as she had been wanted to go there. I also noticed that my left arm was feeling heavy, and my whole left side was weak. I had a really bad headache also. Marty drove us straight through to the Winona Emergency Department. They treated me for the migraine, did a CT scan, which showed brain swelling linked to the migraine and said the the amnesia was also from the migraine, something called transient global amnesia. The radiologist also said he saw an area of an old infarct (an old stroke) less than 1 millimeter. There was no way to tell when that had occurred, maybe last year when we were in California. At that time I experienced one pupil being much larger than the other one and it would not dilate right even when Marty used his pen light on it. They gave me some meds for the migraine and I left the ER walking and talking almost normal one again.

There were other issues going on at the time with our daughter, the normal ups and downs that we have gone through with her for years, dealing with someone who has a mental illness and who refuses to get counseling. This is not the place to talk about that although it is our belief that these issues and stressors may have brought on the migraines on the trip which caused the neuro episodes.

The rest of the trip was just as stressful. It is very fuzzy to me, memories fade in and out like shadows around a flame. I did have another neuro episode on the trip, trouble walking and talking.

Once home I went to see my primary care PA. She was wonderful. She put me through about an hour and a half worth of neuro tests and set me up to see a neurologist two days later. Well, we walked in and I felt like we were back in the 1950's. He had a long white doctor's coat on, all starched with his name embroidered on the pocket, his stethoscope around his neck. He asked me a few questions and when I was taking too long to answer he asked Marty to explain everything because I was talking to slow. He then looked at my form and asked me in a very condescending manner,"You have a Master's degree?" I felt very degraded. He had me walk to the wall, which I stumbled a few times and Marty had to stand up and catch me. Then he had me follow his finger with my eyes. That was the extent of his neurological exam. He informed me that he thought it as all psychological and I could have an MRI only IF I wanted one.

The only good thing he did was put me on Topomax, a seizure med now used for migraines, and he ordered the MRI.

I ended back in the ER the next week, and that the Infinite Being that watches over us all, the doctor was one who Marty knew and once he heard about all I had been through, he got a hold of one of the good neuro doctors in Prescott and I have an appointment to see him tomorrow.

Now that is the nuts and bolts of what I have been through.

My brain is tired of writing, and going back over each sentence to make sure it makes sense. I will write more about what all this has meant to me and what I have learned having experienced stroke like symptoms, whether these have been TIA's or just massive migraines which have restricted blood flow to the brain (yes that is what migraines do).

Waiting

2009-04-26T11:54:00.001-07:00

As many know we set our intentions and directed our prayers so that we would be able to move back home to Minnesota or Wisconsin last November. Marty interviewed with an ambulance company and was hired, we put the house on the market. At the end of December I quit my job, to go on Sabbatical. And we waited.

And waited.

We are still waiting.

We have become comfortable in waiting.

During these months of waiting, all manner of suggestions have come to us from all directions, on what we can do to hurry up the sale of the house, to get the energy moving, to clear out any negative things that may be holding us back. And all the suggestions have been given to us because of the love of our friends whom we cherish, and are deeply grateful to in trying to help us get back home.

Yet, we have done all, and are still waiting.

It occurred to me the other day, when I was wishing that Spring would get here and there would be no more cold weather sneaking up on us, that truly there is nothing we can do to make Spring arrive any sooner. There is no prayer, no ceremony, no ritual that will make Spring get here to stay. We have to wait patiently through cold snaps that come and go, until finally there are no more, and the days are filled with warm sunshine and we can finally say that Spring has arrived in all it's glory.

I have watched as the plants are in the same waiting room that we find ourselves in...they begin to sprout, they bloom, then the cold hits, and blossoms are frozen, leaves curl in and I imagine they do not like the waiting for Spring to finally arrive than Marty and I like waiting for our house to sell. Yet, they wait patiently, as we do, until Spring does arrive, and they can grow and grow and grow.

We as humans like to think that we can control things. We think if we pray enough, if we set our intentions and think only on those positive thoughts, that we can make things fall into place for us. And yet, as important as being positive and staying centered...it is just as important to say these simple words of truth: Thy will be done, not my will, but yours Creator.

For there is a higher knowledge that we have about perfect timing, and for us, for Marty and I, we know that whenever our house sells, whenever we get back home, it will be in God's perfect timing. We can trust because everything else in our lives has worked on this principle.

So, we wait, and while we wait, we enjoy this moment, this hour, this day that we have together, to love, to laugh, to enjoy friends, to bring healing to those around us, to give of ourselves as Christ gave of himself. Knowing we are exactly where we are supposed to be, for such a time as this.

If you are waiting for something, remember things always work out for good, in perfect timing. Enjoy where you are at, be happy with the simple pleasures of life and smile...it will pull up your heart strings and you will hear the melody of life flowing through your soul.

Floating on the River of LIfe

2009-04-15T12:55:00.001-07:00

Today I was reminded of an experience I had when I was much younger, living in Texas, and going to the San Gabriel River a lot to float down it with our inner tubes. I was headed home from church and felt impressed to stop and watch the river flowing, so I did. Once I reached the water's edge, Spirit led me to take my shoes off and stand in the middle of the river, which was about knee high. I could feel the current pushing against my legs and it took a bit of effort to keep standing upright. It wasn't too long that I felt Spirit nudging me to lay down in the water, at which I did protest, I was in my Sunday clothes after all. Yet, I knew there was some meaning to this event, so I did sit down, and as I leaned back into the water, the swift current took ahold of me and I began to float on the surface. Down stream I went, miraculously flowing with the main current, staying away from trees and boulders in the way.

I noticed that if I tried to steer myself or if I stiffened up and tried to make my own way downstream, I would drift to where the rocks scrapped my body, or I would run into overhanging tree branches. But if I lay very relaxed and allowed the natural current to pull me along, I was unharmed.

It did not take me long to get the lesson.

My life was like that river...a journey through beautiful landscape to be enjoyed and to relax and have fun with. As long as I trusted Spirit to guide me, as long as I did not try to make my own way, I was protected, I was nurtured, and I was in that perfect place of allowing whatever to come into my life knowing that I would be all right.

That still holds true today. There are a lot of things I may not understand about what life has brought my way. But one sure thing. I have traveled down the rapids no worse for wear, and I am a more peaceful, more beautiful, more confident soul for having the faith to trust in God, to know that Spirit's guidance is always there... no matter what.

May you know that no matter what may lie ahead... you are loved, you are protected, you are peace.

Books to help on the Journey toward Death

2009-04-15T12:33:00.000-07:00

Sacred Dying: Creating Rituals for Embracing the End of Life, by Megory Anderson.

Final Gifts: Understanding the Special Awareness, Needs and Communications of the Dying, by Maggie Callahan and Patricia Kelly.
These two hospice nurses have 20 years of close and comforting work with the dying. They share insight into the special awareness that they have termed Nearing Death Awareness. Unlike near death experiences, the Nearing Death Awareness is part of the dying process Itself and serves a very vital purpose. *Excellent chapter on what a person needs in order to die peacefully.

The Wheel of Life, by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.
Ms. Ross shares with us her life story as she herself faces death.

Graceful Passages, A Companion for Living and Dying, (book and CD)by Michael Stillwater & Greg Milkin.
Provides life-affirming music, with messages from celebrated leaders of personal development, guides us to examine what matters most, transforming fear and pain into a pathway of healing, compassion, and understanding.

Death, the Final Stage of Growth, by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.
Offers a spectrum of viewpoints about death including cultural differences.
Living with Death and Dying, by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.
Compassionate guide to communicating with the terminally ill.

Advice on Dying, and Living a Better Life, by the Dalai Lama.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama draws from a wide range of traditions and beliefs to explore what happens when we die.

Parting Visions, by Melvin Morse.
Dr. Morse shares insights from his research into near death experiences.

Life After Life, by Raymond Moody.
Accounts of Near Death Experiences.

The American Book of Dying, by Richard Groves and Henriette
Klauser.
Lessons in Healing Spiritual Pain.

The Sacred Art of Dying, by Kenneth Kramer.
How World Religions Understand Death.

Home With God, by Neal Donald Walsch.

If I Should Wake Before I Die, by Lamont Satterly.
Healing words for dying people .

Facing Death and Finding Hope, by Christine Longaker.
A Guide to the Emotional and Spiritual Care of the Dying.

The Grace in Dying, by Kathleen Singh.
Very deep, more through provoking and presents transpersonal psychology approach to dying.

The Place We Call Home, by Robert Grant.
A look at the death experience through the Eyes of Edgar Cayce.

The American Book of Dying, by Richard F. Groves and Henriette Anne Klauser.

HIV/AIDS Support

2009-04-15T12:28:00.000-07:00

Charlotte also provides spiritual support for those living with HIV/AIDS.

As an ordained Minister of Peace of the Beloved Community she brings a ministry of presence, which is centered on a caring acceptance, a nonjudgmental stance, unconditional love and physical and emotional availability. She knows first hand the wounds that organized religion can bring through judgments and seeks to bring healing to those wounds by guiding people through a journey to find that they are loved and accepted by that which is higher than we are, unconditionally and without condemnation.

About Spirituality:
Spirituality is a factor that contributes to health in many persons. The concept of spirituality is found in all cultures and societies. It is expressed in an individual's search for ultimate meaning through participation in religion and/or belief in God, a Higher Power, Allah, Creator, family, naturalism, rationalism, humanism, and the arts. All of these factors can influence how patients and health care professionals perceive health and illness and how they interact with one another!

Illness is a major life event that can cause people to question themselves, their purpose, and their meaning in life. It disrupts their careers, their family life, and their ability to enjoy themselves; three aspects of life that Freud said were essential to a healthy mind. Illness can cause people to suffer deeply. Victor Frankl noted when writing about concentration camp victims that survival itself might depend on seeking and finding meaning: Man is not destroyed by suffering; he is destroyed by suffering without meaning.

Charlotte believes that in addition to physical and psychological symptoms, people with chronic or advanced illness will suffer existential distress as well. Existential distress is probably the least understood source of suffering in patients with advanced disease, for it deals with questions regarding the meaning of life, the fear of death, and the realization that they will be separated from their loved ones. These issues take on greater importance in HIV/AIDS because of the stigma and judgment that still accompany people living with this disease.

In my own experience, I have found that people cope with their suffering by finding meaning in it. Spirituality plays a critical role, because the relationship with a transcendent being or concept can give meaning and purpose to people's lives, to their joys and to their sufferings. Quality of life instruments used in end of life care measures often include an existential domain which measures purpose, meaning in life, and capacity for self-transcendence. Three items were found to correlate with good quality of life for patients with advanced disease:

* If the patient's personal existence is meaningful
* If the patient finds fulfillment in achieving life goals
* If life to this point has been meaningful

In HIV, people often struggle with existential crises as do other people with chronic illness. However, the social stigma of the illness may affect how people view their illness, particularly for those who are religious. In a study of people with HIV, those who were spiritually active had less fear of death and less guilt about their illness. Fear of death was more likely among religious patients in this study who felt their illness was a punishment from God. Fear of death diminished among patients who had regular spiritual practices or who stated that God was central to their lives.

If you are living with HIV/AIDS please contact Charlotte to schedule a consultation for spiritual support. charmar35@gmail.com

Ministerial Services

2009-04-15T12:25:00.000-07:00

Charlotte Bryan-Matzke as an ordained inter-faith minister, is available to perform the following ceremonies and services.

Weddings
Commitment Ceremonies
Baptisms
Communion
Blessing to homes
Vigils for actively dying
Celebrations of Life (Funerals/Memorials)
Pet Memorials – Vigils for pets who are dying or being euthanized
Other ceremonies may be created specifically for your needs, be it for your own spiritual birthing process, for a family ceremony or any other ritual to meet your spiritual needs.

Gabrielle's Story

2009-04-15T12:16:00.000-07:00

Once upon time, in a place very far away, and yet not so far away,

there exists an enchanted kingdom filled with swirling auras of light.

A kingdom of dreams,

A kingdom of visions,

A kingdom of things no human can ever describe.

At the edge of the kingdom there flows a river.

Ever and always the gentle waters move

in perfect motion as if the river were literally breathing life into existence.

It is on this river that one of the most beautiful creatures

born of the kingdom spends all her time.

Her name is Gabrielle.

This is she who chose long before the dawn of this age,

to be The Light Bearer.

If we watch closely, I am confident that she will show us

what it is to bear the Light.

She is pointing to something,

way on the other bank of the river.

Can you make it out?

It is very dark over there.

Looks like a dense forest of some type,

and there appears to be tiny sparklettes of light

twinkling in between the trees.

Slowly as Gabrielle approaches the shoreline,

the tiny lights begin to float, one by one, onto her hand.

She cups them tenderly, smiling with gentle sweetness and comfort,

And begins to move ever so carefully back across the river.

Swirls of color rise around her, dancing as if that were possible.

There is a grand and glorious feeling

that permeates even the very air you are breathing.

Joy, Peace, Love surrounds all.

Notice those tiny lights in Gabrielle’s hand.
They have now grown brighter and have merged together
into a brilliant multicolored flame.

The glow from the Enchanted Kingdom
has also brightened,
and the skies are filled with sounds
that only may be described as angelic.

Soon Gabrielle lifts her hand,
the flame rises and is drawn magically
to the source of the Kingdom’s magnificent light.
Over and over again we watch as Gabrielle gathers
the fire lights from the forest,
transports them gently across the river and
lets them rise to the Source of Light,
the Source of Life.

Gabrielle has been on this river for eons of time,
as we humans know it. Bearing the Light.

And so it was, day after day, hour after hour, moment after moment.
Until one instant in time while Gabrielle was closest
to the forest that she heard horrible and terrifying sounds
coming from beyond the forest.
Great wails, intense sobbing,
and yes, words of tremendous fear.

For the first time Gabrielle sensed that the human beings
who chose to live on the other side of the forest were afraid of her.
They no longer were at peace with having to shed their physical bodies, and travel with her across the river.
It was as if they had forgotten who they were,
and why they had originally come to be human in the first place.

Gabrielle was puzzled just for the tiniest of moments,
then she turned and faced the enchanted kingdom,
crying out from the depth of her heart for the Creator of All
to help her with her mission.
Immediately great beams of light shot forth,
radiating colorful prisms of light across the sky,

Over the kingdom,
Over the river,
Over Gabrielle,
Over the forest,
Then each Light Beam arched,
and descended with the lightness of a butterfly,
onto the shoulders of human beings on the other side of the forest.

These physical beings experienced a great remembrance then.

They remembered who they were
They remembered from where they came.
They remembered what they had come to earth to BE.
They remembered their place as spiritual beings on a human journey.

And from that moment on,
each wore about them a magnificent mantle of Light.
A mantle of joy,
A mantle of peace,
A mantle of unconditional love.

Soon, each one of these beings,
Approached the forest, almost as if they were standing guard,
They took the hands of the humans whose time
had come to go through the forest, leading them gently forward.
Speaking words of encouragement
Until they shed their physical bodies and
their fire lights were all that remained.

It was then, that these mantle wearers picked up those tiny lights
and carried them gingerly to the shoreline of the river,
where Gabrielle was waiting.

To take them home.

Back to Source

Back to Light.

My fellow travelers, it is with great privilege that I present to you today, My vision of Gabrielle
Whom some say is the Angel of Death.
There are ancient writings, which indicate that
the Angel Gabriel was indeed a feminine form,
and in the earliest paintings and drawing of the Angel of Death,
we find the figure is truly feminine,
full of compassion and grace.

There was no shroud of darkness around her,
There were no black hoods covering her face.
There were no scythes in her hand.
There was only love,
Only peace,
Only comfort in her care as she called spirits
home from where they had come from.
She has called from her heart,
Asking for our assistance in guiding those who are transitioning to the next life safely into her loving arms.

Will you say ‘YES’ Will you allow your spirit
to guide you to this sacred knowing.
May Spirit take the ‘yes’ that you have spoken,
And blossom that word into something exquisitely beautiful
that each of you will carry with you,
as you sit the bedside vigils of our fellow beings

as they indeed travel towards the Light.

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you

Vigil Training

2009-04-08T11:47:00.000-07:00

Many people feel called to be present during the active dying hours of their friends, family members, beloved pets and loved ones. Sacred Sentinels Vigil Training makes it possible for men and women to hold sacred space with the dying, as they make the greatest transition they have ever made since they were birthed into this world as a newborn.

The purpose of the vigil is creating sacred space, so that there is a focus on sharing both physical and spiritual presence with the dying. The vigil may include praying, talking, and/or performing rituals. A Sacred Sentinel is present with a person as they make their transition from life to death creating an atmosphere of peace and love. This creates a sacred space, allowing the end-of-life transition to be an opportunity to enhance reconciliation and acceptance to the dying and their loved ones. The Vigil experience may include any or all of the following:

Sitting together
Talking and listening
Sharing silence
Reading inspirational text
Energy Modalities such as Healing touch, Lightwork, Energy Healing
Creating appropriate rituals

The Sacred Sentinel Vigil Program offers training in how to assist in creating a sacred space, and providing a spiritual presence to dying individuals and their loved ones. Sacred Sentinels trainees will receive information on how to communicate and put together a unique vigil experience for each individual, and learn to enhance emotional strength and clarity for those involved in the dying process.

For most individuals end-of-life rituals can create a sacred, meaningful and peaceful transition, which may include anything from a formal religious ritual to something very simple and personal.

An altar of treasured objects with special meaning for the dying person
Poetry and readings
Music
Candles

Can you come sit with me?
Can you hold my hand?
Can you smile into my eyes?
Can you touch my face?
Can you sit with me silently?
Can you sing to me?
Can you fill my room with love?
Can you be a peacemaker?
Can you listen
?Can you be totally present?
Can you stay?
Can you stand guard?
Can you watch with me this hour?
Yes?
Then come,
Be my Sacred Sentinel.

Sacred Sentinel Work

2009-04-08T11:44:00.000-07:00

Sacred Sentinels was created by Charlotte Bryan-Matzke as her Peace Project in her role as a Minister of Peace. It is the deepest desire of her heart to see major changes take place in America’s response to the death/grief process. Charlotte believes that bringing peace to the dying and their loved ones is a precious gift that we can give to our fellow spiritual beings as they make their transition from this earthly life back to the Source of all Life.
Charlotte became acquainted with death at the tender age of 5, when she held the hand of a beautiful elder woman who lay on the street, having been ejected from her vehicle during a motor vehicle accident. Charlotte experienced a peace in that ‘spirit leaving body’ moment. It was a peace that gave her the knowledge that death was, indeed, nothing to be afraid of. As Charlotte continued her life path as a child, and young adult, she faced numerous times when she found herself walking close beside death’s presence, and each time, she learned the uniqueness of each individual’s death, and yet at the precise moment of death, there always remained present that same peaceful, sacred space.
During her years as an Emergency Medical Technician, and Paramedic, Charlotte found herself with many individuals who were facing imminent death, or who died while during transport to the hospital. She found that even in sudden death cases and in traumatic death cases, there still remained the same peace, the same sacred space around the deceased.
In 2004 her official work with Hospice began, coinciding with her journey through the Beloved Community’s Seminary, she saw the tremendous need for bringing peace to the dying process for our American Culture. In developing Vigil Training, sitting bedside with the actively dying, for her local Hospice, Charlotte saw that this knowledge, this gift, could also be presented to groups outside of hospice organizations, indeed, gifting people with the ability to bring peace to the dying and their families. Thus was born the vision of the Sacred Sentinels.
Sacred means ‘not to be violated, criticized, or tampered with’. A sentinel is a person who stands watch, protecting whatever they are guarding. A Sacred Sentinel watches over the individual bring birthed into the beyond, bringing a sense of protection and peace when they are present. They do not criticize, violate or tamper with the person’s beliefs, or their decisions on how and when their death will occur. A Sacred Sentinel watches over the bereaved, giving them a safe, nurturing place in which to share their grief, and know that their feelings are a normal part of the healing process when we experience a loss that affects us so deeply. A Sacred Sentinel truly embodies a trusting peace, unconditional love and kind words of reassurance to the dying and their loved ones.
If you would like more information about Sacred Sentinels, or would like to set up the training in your area, whether it is for your immediate family, a church group, hospice group, concerned friends, or any other organization, please feel free to contact us to set up a consultation time.

Consulations

2009-04-08T11:41:00.000-07:00

My consultations offer you a holistic, compassionate and non-judgmental approach to bring enlightenment to areas in your life which may be holding you back from living your life to the fullest. You also may be struggling to discover who you are and why you have come to be here now in this human experience. I will help you create positive outlooks about your life and provide you with tools for you to use on your own.

Private sessions are provided to you on line through email or in person at Challice Centre in Prescott Valley, AZ.

All sessions are by appointment only.

Contact me via email to set up appointment: charmar5@cableone.net

In your email please include a phone number with area code where you can be reached during the daytime. Once I have received your email, I will call you or email you to set up your appointment time.

All appointments require a 24 hour cancellation notice. No refund will be given without this proper notification, as your time could have been used to help someone else in need.

Bio

2009-04-08T11:36:00.000-07:00

Charlotte Bryan-Matzke was born in Texas, spent 11 years in Minnesota where she worked as an EMT and Paramedic before moving to Arizona 5 years ago. She is an ordained interfaith minister graduating with her Masters of Divinity from The Seminary of Spiritual Peacemakers through the Beloved Community. She has been involved with Spiritual Counseling for over 20 years, most recently serving as a Hospice Spiritual Counselor and Spiritual Director for an HIV/AIDS wellness center.

Welcome

2009-04-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Charlotte's Peace My goal is to help you on your own path
to wholeness by providing you
with insight and the tools
necessary for your journey
through this life.

I offer a variety of services,
including phone or email consultations,
workshops, ministerial services
and monthly articles to give you
hope and peace.