All We Hear About in The News Lately is Michael Jackson this and that

I think I have heard enough about Michael Jackson. I realize he was a music icon and was admired and loved my many. I think that the media has beaten the story to a pulp. Let him rest in piece. In my opinion I think he was a troubled and lonely person. You could tell by the way he lived. I think when he was younger his childhood was taken from him, because he had to rehearse and record songs and such. I think that is one reason Neverland existed. He wanted to relive his childhood. As well as give other children a chance to live out theirs. I wish that the right people would have seen his problems before now. I know he was trying to make a comeback to pay off some of his debt, then tragedy struck and he is gone. Now look at all the people coming out of the woodwork to get a piece of the pie. It is just sad to see something happen to a musical icon and then the media digs up all sorts of dirt on that person.

There should be a law passed that when an icon passes away for what ever reason, after 5 days there is no mention of that person in the media any longer.

I just feel for the families of all involved.

Till my next post...

Living with Bipolar, depression and ADHD

Hello all and good morning.

Well we are pretty much moved into our new house. I just don't have the energy to do anything. I am thinking it is because of my Bipolar that is causing my lack of wanting to do anything.
For those of you unfamiliar with Bipolar, here is a short description.

Bipolar disorder (also known as manic depression) causes serious shifts in a person’s mood, energy, thinking, and behavior – from the highs of mania on one extreme, to the lows of depression on the other. More than just a fleeting good or bad mood, the cycles of bipolar disorder last for days, weeks, or months. Unlike ordinary mood swings, the mood changes of bipolar disorder are so intense that they interfere with your ability to function.

I have not been able to get into the swing of things. I know there is a lot to get done but can't seem to find the energy to do them. To top it off I have ADHD. So I am thinking of all the things that need to be done. In my mind I am bouncing from project to project. However the Bipolar is stepping in and causing me not to want to do anything. So I am in a state of raw confusion.

Lord,

I come to you now asking for help, my mind is so cluttered with things that need to be done but yet I don't have the energy needed to complete even one task. Please Lord give me the energy and the clear headed-ness to accomplish the things that need to be done.

Where Have I Been Lately..

Hello,

I am really sorry for the severe time lapse since my last post. There has been so much going on lately. For starters we just got back from our week long vacation in FL. We went to Disney of course as well as the Atlantic coast. It was a good time of fun and relaxation. Now that we are home, we have to shift into moving mode. Yes, we are moving in the next few days. We already had the trip planned and paid for then found the house we are going to rent. We wanted to jump quickly on the house so that it would not be rented out from under us. So we are now in a time crunch to get things packed for the move. This move is going to be a bit different then all the others. We are actually hiring a moving company to come in and move us. They are taking all the major stuff and we will be left with the little things.. We are going to try to get them (the movers) to move as much as possible in the time we have and can afford. Any help during the moving process would be greatly appreciated :-)

Anyway that sort of sums up what has been going on.

Until my next post...

Mike

Why Be Ridiculed for What You Believe?

The recent events with the Miss USA Pageant has drawn a lot of attention. The runner up was asked what she thought about gay marriage and basically it was a why or why not question. So, the contestant answered with what she believed. The person that asked that question raked her over the coals, all because he thought she should have answered the question differently. I think when you ask for someone's opinion you should be ready for the answer whether it is what you want to hear or not. Also don't ridicule the person for the answer that was given. You asked their opinion and they gave it to you.

On the other side of the coin, if you are asked a question and it boils down to what you believe, then you should answer that way. Your answer should not be based on what you think that person would like to hear. Go with your heart and let it lead the way.

Something that we as Christians should be able to do and should do is stand up for our faith. Christianity is not something that we put on before Church on Sunday and take off when Church is over. When I was in high school, I was a member of the Future Farmers of America. There were a set of "guidelines" that you had to follow while wearing the FFA jacket. I was always curious about that. If you are a member of a club, organization or whatnot. My thought is you represent them at any given time not just when you are wearing the "jacket." Because even though you may not have the jacket on, people around you know who you are. Again it is the same way with Christianity. The words of an old hymn run through my head.. "They will know we are Christians by our love."


Till my next post..

Mike

How Does a Person Born and Raised in CT End up in MO

Well.. That is an interesting question, to which I have an interesting answer.

     As I mentioned in the title, I was born and raised in CT. I am the youngest of six, I have four sisters and a brother. Everyone had gotten married and moved out except myself. One night like most nights, over dinner my dad starts talking about the day that he had. Tonight was a little different then other nights. He started talking about this lady that came into his work place. Just so we are on the same page. My dad at the time was a service writer for a car dealership. Anyway, she comes in and starts talking with my dad about the problem she is having with her car. 

Meanwhile it is a pretty hectic but typical day in his shop. So dad writes up to ticket for her car but before she leaves she asks dad "how can you deal with all this stress?" My dad says "what stress" She began to point out the "stresses" then followed it up with a statement. "Where I come from there is not all this stress." So my dad asked "where is there less stress then here?" She replied "Arkansas" My dad said "where?!" Again she replied "Arkansas"

     She gave my dad her name and number and said if you are ever in the area look me up and I will show you around. Over dinner we discussed maybe taking a trip and checking out Arkansas. We did not really have very high expectations of what we would find when we got there. After all we were used to the CT way of life. We concluded that we would spend a couple of weeks there and see what it is all about. 

So we head out to see Arkansas. I think we could have picked a better month to visit. We chose to come in August, it was just a tad bit warmer then we were used to. During our two week visit we had a great time. We saw the lake, we went sight seeing, we took in all we could in those two weeks. Our trip ended all too quickly, before we knew it we had to head back home. On the way home we had plenty of time to discuss the prospect of moving. It all sounded great there was just one problem, houses were not selling. 

So we made a pact and we also prayed about it. If we put the house on the market and it sells in a reasonable amount of time we will move. We were all in agreement. When we got home we did not waste any time listing the house. We contacted the realtor on a Thursday, the house listed on Friday, sold sight unseen Monday.  We were just in shock.. My dad contacted the realtor and asked if the buyer knew about the issues with the house. Dad was just trying to make sure everything was on the up and up.  She replied "I told him everything and he still wanted it." So we got everything packed and we moved.. That was twenty three years ago. We have never regretted the decision at times we questioned it, but never regretted it.

In the posts that follow I will tell you about the restaurant we owned in AR. How I ended up in MO and whatever else I think of as the thoughts roll around in my head.

Till my next post

Mike

Well..

Here I am sitting in the dark blogging. My brain is wide awake, so laying in bed is pointless. It is a nice night out to have the window in the bedroom open. There is a nice cool breeze coming in. I am looking forward to this weekend. My wife and I are going on a date. We are not too sure where we are going though. When too people really enjoy being in each others company. It really does not matter where you go, as along as you are together. We like going  out on "dates" as it gives us some alone time. Speaking of dates, my parents have been married 56 years. They still act like they just got married yesterday. They are full of love for each other. They even hold hands when going somewhere.. Now that's love

Until my next post

Mike

My wish for you.. A Sandpiper..

The Sandpiper

by Robert Peterson


She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live.
I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world
begins to close in on me . She was building a sand castle or something
and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
'Hello,' she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.
'I'm building,' she said.
'I see that. What is it?' I asked, not really caring.
'Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand.'
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.
A sandpiper glided by.
'That's a joy,' the child said.
'It's a what?'
'It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.'
The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself,
hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed
completely out of balance.
'What's your name?' She wouldn't give up.
'Robert ,' I answered.. 'I'm Robert Peterson.'
'Mine's Wendy... I'm six.'
'Hi, Wendy.'
She giggled. 'You're funny,' she said.
In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.
Her musical giggle followed me.
'Come again, Mr. P,' she called. 'We'll have another happy day.'
The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings,
and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out
of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.
The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was
chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.
'Hello, Mr. P,' she said. 'Do you want to play?'
'What did you have in mind?' I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
'I don't know. You say.'
'How about charades?' I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. 'I don't know what that is.'
'Then let's just walk.'
Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.
'Where do you live?' I asked.
'Over there.' She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange, I thought, in winter.
'Where do you go to school?'
'I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation.'
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was
on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day.
Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no
mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt
like demanding she keep her child at home.
'Look, if you don't mind,' I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, 'I'd
rather be alone today.' She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.
'Why?' she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, 'Because my mother died!' and thought,
My God, why was I saying this to a little child?
'Oh,' she said quietly, 'then this is a bad day.'
'Yes,' I said, 'and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!'
'Did it hurt?' she inquired.
'Did what hurt?' I was exasperated with her, with myself.
'When she died?'
'Of course it hurt!' I snapped, misunderstanding,
wrapped up in myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there.
Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up
to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door.. A drawn looking
young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
'Hello,' I said, 'I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.'
'Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much.
I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies.'
'Not at all -- she's a delightful child.' I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.
'Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia.
Maybe she didn't tell you.'
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.
'She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no.
She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.
But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly...' Her voice faltered, 'She left
something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?'
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman.
She handed me a smeared envelope with 'MR. P' printed in bold
childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach,
a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:

A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide.
I took Wendy's mother in my arms. 'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,'
I uttered over and over, and we wept together.
The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study.
Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.

A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand

-- who taught me the gift of love.

NOTE: This is a true story is by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20
years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder
to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other.
The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.
Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.

This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means,
take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses.
This comes from someone's heart, and is read by many
and now I share it with you...

May God Bless everyone who reads this! There are NO coincidences!
Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside
anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?

I wish for you, a sandpiper.

Until my next post..

Mike

What is this world coming to?

I saw this AM on the news that authorities have captured the youngest terrorist. He is 11 years old and lives in Afghanistan. When he was captured, he had a coat full of explosives. He was willing to kill himself as well as numerous others so that he could go straight to heaven. What happened to being a child? What happened to playing stick ball in the streets? Here is an 11 yr old that should be enjoying himself by doing the things that a child his age should do. Instead he is raised up with hatred in his heart and he is taught how to field strip an assault rifle and put it back together faster then most people can make coffee. Why on earth is this being taught?

In a strange sort of way, I think that there is something that can be learned from this. Each religion whether it be Jehovah's Witnesses, Muslim or whatever. They seem to be on fire to share or demonstrate what they believe. Some of them will even come to your door ready and willing to have you join in what they believe. Don't you think that we as Christians should have that same fire? Willing to go door to door to spread the good news. Where is the fire? What is holding us back from spreading the news?

Something we as Christians could do, when someone comes knocking at your door and starts telling you about their god. Why not invite them in and tell them about ours?

Until my next post

~Mike

You never know who you will come in contact with.

As some of you may or may not know, I worked for Wal-Mart for a while. I finally had to quit because it was causing my back to give me a great deal of pain. In that time I worked there I met several people. Some of them I forgot about as soon as they walked away from the counter. Others that I spoke with will remain etched in my memory forever.

One person that comes to mind is a little old lady, I am sorry I never got her name. She came back to the photo lab one day looking as if she needed some help. I came up to her and asked if there was something I could help her with. She presented me with a picture and said she would like to have a copy of it. I glanced at the picture to make sure it was not something that was copyrighted, it was of a teenager sitting in the driver's seat of a car. I sort of wondered to myself the significance of the picture. Not too much time went by and I found out about the teen in the picture.

She began to tell me that the teen in the picture was mentally handicapped. The picture was taken around his birthday. You see being that he was mentally handicapped he could not drive a car. This was something he had always wanted to do. So as a birthday gift one of his friends took him to an empty parking lot and let him drive his car. It really made his birthday special. Not long after the picture was taken the teen passed away from complications due to his illness.

I stood there... I just stood there looking for something to say. I could not assemble the words into a sentence that would have made any sense. The only thing I could mutter was " I am sorry..." It felt so shallow and cookie cutter like that it did not sound right. What does one say in moment like this? Then I gave the picture and the copy back to her. Still not knowing what to say. I looked at her and now she had tears welling up in her eyes. She said to me " you don't understand.. You see, that was my grandson...." I felt a wave of emotion come over me. I wanted to give the lady a hug. I was trying not to show my emotions, I am sure they were apparent on my face. I will never forget her and the look in her eyes.

I can only imagine how Mary must have felt finding out that her son was condemned to die. Then looking up at the cross and seeing her son there. "You don't understand... That's my son.."

Until my next post
~Mike