I know a place…

There is a place where my heart sink in tears,
Where rainbow never glare.
There is a place where dreams all die,
And pain you can not bear.

There is a place where once I cried,
And cried, and cried for long.
No touch could take away my pain.
No words could that explain.

There is a place, at mother’s grave,
Where nothing mater any more…
Where silence covers every bone,
That once was full of soul.

There is a place where angels stop
And wait, and rest, for long,
They fold they’re wings and play the harps
With hymns of cords and winds.

There is a place where hope is bright,
Where heaven opens wide.
So wide that, I can see the Lord
Who promise me that mom will rise again.

The Monkey syndrome

Exista sau nu?!…
Cei care au trait in anii ’40-’45, isi aduc aminte foarte bine de atrocitatile care au avut loc impotriva evreilor si a unor minoritati. Multi din cei care indeplineau ordinele de executie, o faceau doar ca sa-si apere pielea. Dar majoritatea tinerilor fideli lui Hitler si ideologiei lui, se comportau ca atare doar pentru simplu fapt ca acela era curentul la ordinea zilei.

Inainte si in timpul razboiului din Vietnam a aparut miscarea hippie. Daca nu aveai parul nespalat de luni de zile, pantalonii peticiti cu toate resturile din atic, chitara legata de git si daca nu faceai sex cu toate fetele din cartier, nu erai acceptat de restul clanului. Daca pina atunci nu suportai nici fumul de la chibritul care aprinea luminarile din sfesnic, acum erai versat in pufaitul marijuanei pina la ultimul milimetru de hirtie.

Daca toti vecinii de scara voteaza cu domnul Crin, votez si eu. Oricum nu ma pricep la politica. Doar ca sa fiu si eu cool.

Cu ceva ani in urma, am iesit la plimbare pe una din promenadele lumii, impreuna cu familia la care gazduiam. Cind am ajuns in dreptul unui magazin mai bengos, de firma, doamna a disparut de linga mine. Sotul ei deja se schimbase la fata…”Iar a intrat sa cumpere ceva?…Doar stie ca nu avem bani si nu ne permitem? Nu o intereseaza decit sa-si cumpere mereu ceva nou, ca sa fie la moda!”….Saracul om, avea dreptate. Consoarta era in magazin, bagata pina la umeri intr-un morman de boarfe asezate in mijlocul pravaliei. In fata gramezii de haine era afisat un semn mare de SALE, iar hainele aratau de parca fusesera imbracate si apoi folosite la spalatul podelei. Dar erau de culoarea care inca se mai purta in sezonul care era pe sfirsite.

Ne place sa primim oaspeti si sa-i tratam frumos. Fiecare o face din diferite motive. Unii ca sa se auda ce dragut s-au purtat gazdele cu ei, altii ca sa lase o impresie placuta musafirilor, altii pentru ca asa sunt ei de la natura. Daca ai musafiri, ai deobicei amintiri frumoase. Dar nu poti trece cu vederea opiniile unor trecatori de prag, care pe linga faptul ca nu au nici o cultura despre still, iti arunca ceva perle ca sa vezi si tu ca nu esti la curent cu ce se poarta. “Aaaa, dar nu se mai poarta still-ul asta de mobila. Iar peretii si geamurile sunt facute asa ca inainte de razboi! Si, nu aveti marmura in baie? Si nici cabina de shower cu sapte capete?”….

Vladimir vine de la servici, plin de bucurie ca a intrat in concediu si isi pregateste masina pentru excursia care au de gind sa o faca prin Europa. Domna, tocmai terminase de vorbit la telefon cu o buna prietena care o tinea la curent cu tot ceea ce facea rivala ei. Imediat ce a aflat ca acesta s-a intors din Belize, da buzna in garaj la oropsitu si-i spune raspicat:”Eu in Europa nu mai merg. Toata lumea cu pantalonii rupti in fund isi permite asa un concediu…Ori mergem in Belize, ori daca nu, facem concediul la mama la tara!”

Asa sunt oamenii. Unii trebuie sa se poarte la fel cu restul lumii iar la altii le este frica sa dea drumul la greanga de care se tin. E mare lucru in ziua de azi ca sa te simti bine in your own skin si sa nu-ti pese din ce directie bate vintul. Daca mergi la frizer, trebuie sa fii foarte atent cum vrei sa ti se faca frizura. Daca ai adormit cumva in timp ce ti se aplica vopseaua sau briciul iti secera zulufii, ai surpriza sa te trezesti cu o tunsoare ca a lui John and Kate +8 si sa nu stii pe care drum sa te duci acasa, daca inca nu s-a facut noapte.

Trebuie sa-mi iau ceva timp liber si sa-mi cenzurez garderoba. Poate ca da, poate ca nu! Am sa ma mai gindesc…

Mrs. Coock

In fiecare dimineata, soarele blagosferei rasare numai dupa cintatul doamnei Cocos. Foarte minutioasa, cu atentia marita cit dovleacul lui Hudin, isi priponeste desteptatorul pentru ora mijitului. De atita grija nici somnul nu o prinde. Cosmarurile o napasdesc mai ceva ca ceata care invaluie virful “Cu Dor”. Daca cumva, alta cuvintatoare, se desteapta mai devreme si-i fura rasaritul!?

In emisfera ei, toate cuvintatoarele ii dau onorul, fapt care o face sa-si imfoaie penele ciufulite cu pretentia de paunita. Ea nu poate savura succesul doamnei Lark. I se sleiesc oasele de oftica. Aripile o ajuta sa zboare doar peste gard la vecinul Rooster. Asa ca, se umfla in pene la gidiliturile care le primeste pe la spate, de la toate vecinile de cotet. Dimineata, isi face gargara din zeama oului care peste noapte l-a strivit. Domnul Coock, care nu prea e bagat in seama, se multumeste si cu o portie mai mica de omleta. El stie ca daca incearca sa cucurigeasca ceva, consoarta sare imediat gardul la vecinul Rooster. La vecinul, outele intotdeauna sunt mai improspatate!

Trebuie sa fie foarte trist sa traiesti toata viata ciugulind aplauze prin blagosfere. Sa crezi ca soarele a ajuns atit de sus datorita pliscului tau si sa mori nestiind ca in univers sunt mult mai multi sori, de cite bloguri in cotetul privat.

Multa vreme am crezut ca lipsa penajului doamnei Coock se datoreste deficientei de calciu si magneziu de care sufere din copilarie. Evident, acestea au fost necesare la formarea cojilor pe care le-a ciocanit ca sa vada lumina. Daca ar fi stiut atunci! Pe toate le-ar fi ciugulit. Dar pirloagele de chelie, care se afiseaza de la frunte pina-n ceafa, se trag de la ciufuleala de fiecare zi pe care si-o aplica in lipsa de orgasm. Saraca de ea! Atitea pene i-au cazut, ca nu o mai recunosti. Inventiva cum este, a gasit un bun uz pentru podoaba ei peniceasca. “Hm!”… “Daca mi-as folosi doar cite o pana pe zi, imaginati-va cite postari voi avea pe blog? Si cite prepelite si cintezoi vor ciripi drept ecou la cucuri-gaga mea?”

Trist, dar adevarat. Si povestea nu se termina aici. Sunt convinsa ca va continua. Pentru ca in fiecare zi rasare soarele, la aceeasi ora in ograda ei. Nu stiu ce face cind este innorat!? Aha! Mai indoapa un pumn de graunte farmaceutice ca sa-i treaca migrena si cu prima pana care -i zboara dupa ciufuleala imaginara care o primeste de la domnul Coock, se aseaza si scrie, scrie, scrie…..in timp ce isi roade unghiile ca tratament anti-stress.

Mai sunt ceva ore pina rasare soarele in poiana doamnei Lark. E liniste si toate fapturile se refac dupa munca din timpul zilei. Aici soarele rasare cind vrea el si apune cind il alunga luna. Nu e nimic mai placut, decit sa te relaxezi fara sa te gindesti ce ai mai putea face doar ca sa deranjezi linistea cuiva. Trebuie sa fii nascut pentru asa ceva. Dar daca oul din care ai iesit a fost putin ciocnit de tata care era in stare de ebrietate, sau de mama care se grabea sa-l aduca inapoi de la alta pasarica!….

Buna dimineata dragii mei, si nu uitati ca soarele rasare si fara mine.

De vorba cu muntele

Zi dupa zi, seara de seara, privesc la muntele care s-a ridicat in spatele profilului meu. Basculante intregi de gunoaie, lucruri de nimic, deseuri bune doar pentru foc, etc… Mormanul este asa de mare, incit nu mai vad nici soare rasare, nici soare apune. De jur imprejur, totul este doar desertaciune.
Odata cu peisajul cenusiu, trec cu ochii peste cele aproape 365 de zile care au trecut, zi dupa zi, apus dupa apus, si ma intreb: Cind si de unde s-a adunat atita gheena? Aha! Stiu de unde:… Bloguri de nimic, muzica decoltata, filme ne-koshere, navigari de ore in sir pe ici pe colo. Toate si-au facut loc printre cele bune, le-au darimat si au ramas doar ele, mindre si impaunate, cu o elevatie de trei ori mai mare decit numarul zilelor dintr-un an. Daca le dau foc, pot sa-mi arda si nadragii. Daca le mai las, se inmultesc sobolanii care au intrat cu chirie pe timp nelimitat. Deci cum sa fac?!
Daca as avea ce trebuie, macar cit o saminta de mustar, totul s-ar rezolva doar la o miscare din virful nasului. Dar, se vede ca totul este doar abureala. Nici nu incerc ca sa nu ma descurajez. Asa ca, ma voi aseza la poalele muntelui si voi incerca sa stau de vorba cu el. Poate il induiosez si se va muta de la mine, nu la altcineva, ci in largul marii.
Iluzii desarte…Mi s-au uscat si pletele de atita pledoarie dar rezultate, nu. Cred ca daca aduc un buldozer sa ma ajute, as avea mai mult succes. Incercarea a iesuat si solutiile se imputineaza. Mi-aduc aminte cum pe vremuri oamenii dadeau foc la gunoaie si asa scapau de ele. Ar fi o idee! Dar daca incerc, toti vor simti mirosul si vor fi curiosi sa vada de unde vine…Si ce! Asa este cind faci curatenie generala si toata lumea procedeaza la fel.
Multumita ca am gasit solutia cea mai buna, ma indrept spre containerul cu combustibil si ma pregatesc de prapad. Ceva ma opreste la timp. Este un semn care deabia il mai zaresc din gunoaie: Focul interzis! Pericol de incediu!
Haaa! Nu se poate! Eu acuma ce ma fac?!
Ma asez din nou la poalele muntelui si una cite una, incep sa sortez nimicurile adunate. Muntele se micsoreaza in timp ce altii mai mici s-au format in jurul meu. Nici nu mai vad de ei. Cred ca am complicat situatia, asa cum am eu obiceiul ca din prea multa evlavie s-o dau in bara. Imi plec capul si apelez la drojdia de bine care a mai ramas sub creasta mea. Parca lucrurile se mai lumineaza. Doar spun muntelui sa se mute de la mine si el s-a mutat.
Incerc sa pastrez din saminta de mustar si pentru anul care vine. Este singurul leac care se aplica in cazuri de urgenta. Mai are nevoie cineva? S-au preferati sa stati de vorba cu muntele! Eu am incercat si nu am avut succes.

Living in her shadow…

If you are like me, burying your Mom was the hardest thing you will ever have to doo. Knowing that she is gone is still unimaginable and maybe the reality hasn’t hit me yet.  My rock, my safety net is gone. No more phone calls, no more shopping,  no more advice…No more reminders to talk to God and pray when life gets complicated. It’s so hard to know that she is gone!

 I just wish for the day when I can think of my mom without crying. Why does it seem to last for so long?!

     Mom lived her life for love of those in need and family,

     Neither asking for nor wanting a return.

     Her days became a  sunlit homily,

     With others’ joy and main concern.

     When we were ill, she also became sick;

     When we were cut, she, too, began to bleed.

     Of our oil lamp  she was the wick,

     Drowing her bright  flame from our need.

     Some say that such behavior’s out of date:

     That self-fulfillment is the way to grace.

     But Mom, without much choice, then chose her fate,

     Finding greater truth in an embrace.

     She lives on in the sparkle in our eyes:

     Laughing, quiet, gentle, loving, wise.

Aniversare

Cine spune ca dupa 20 de ani, dragostea nu mai are aceeasi parametri ca la kilometrul zero, greseste cu desavirsire. Cine isi traieste viata din plin, netinind  cont de obstacolele vietii si de orice alte forme de culoare cenusie care incearca sa intunece orizontul unui  cuplu, are ca trofeu o casnicie implinita, plina de  surprize placute, nopti feerice si zile nenumarate.

Se implinesc peste 32 de ani, de cind am spus “I do”, si totusi, mi se pare ca toate acestea s-au intimplat  doar cu ceva zile in urma. Inca experimentez aceeasi  dulce si emotionanta stare de indragostit, in care stomacul este plin de fluturi iar mintea nu poate gindi la nimic altceve decit la : “Ce asi putea face pentru iubitul meu, ca el sa fie fericit?!?”

Pe masura ce imbatrinim, devenim mult mai asemanatori cu copiii. Avem mai multa nevoie de atentie, tandrete, cuvinte incurajatore. De ce nu ?  Pina la urma, toti sintem niste copii, cel putin la minte.  Daca viata nu  a reusit  sa-si puna amprenta pe prototipul nostru, asta inseamna ca sintem inca vulnerabili .  “Toate pinzele sus!”  Odata ce sintem angajati in aceasta drumetie, nimic nu ne va sta in cale.

Daca ma uit in urma, este ca si cum totul s-a intimplat ieri. Nimic nu este diluat,diminuat sau lipsit de importanta. Toate isi au locul lor, iar setea dupa dragoste este aceeasi. Nimic nu este mai  feeric, decit sa-ti petreci timpul  cu iubitul tau, care te  pretuieste si te doreste in orice clipa.  Imi doresc si mie si iubitului meu, tot atitia ani ferici, chiar si mai multi, cit Dumnezeu v-a ingadui.  Iar pentru cei care deabia fac primii pasi, tot ce le doresc este ca  sa -si pastreze candela arzind!   Fiecare are dreptul la fericire. Trebuie doar sa o caute cu sinceritate in gradina lui!   Niciodata in gradina altuia!

Wisdom on the Sexes

- A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend. A successful woman is one who can find such a man.

- Men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed. Women somehow deteriorate during the night.

-A  men is a person who will pay two dollars for one item he wants. A women will pay one dollar for a two dollar item that she doesn’t want.

- To be happy with a man you must understand him a lot and love him a little. To be happy with a woman you have to love her a lot  and not try to understand her at all.

- A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but doesn’t. A man marries a woman expecting that she won’t change and she does.

- Man marry because they are tired. Women marry because they are curious. Both are disappointed.

- A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband, while a man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.

- A woman will always cherish the memory of the man who wanted to marry her,a man, of the woman who didn’t.

- There are two times a man doesn’t understand a woman – before marriage and after marriage.

- Only two things are necessary to keep one’s wife happy. One is to let her think she is having  her way, and the other one is to let her have it.

- Married man live longer than single man. But married man are a lot more willing to die.

-  Any married man should forget his mistakes – no use in two people remembering the same thing.

- A woman have the lst word in any argument. Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.

From “Clean Jokes!” ChristiansUnite

The Mirror

The first thing we do when we get up in the morning is probably the same thing we do every day. Some of us flip the switch of the coffee maker, maybe you make the bed as soon as you get up, but most of us are coming face to face with the mirror. We are still pretty scary looking. Our eyes have that dazed look, our hair is sticking out in strange places and the whole picture is not pleasant at all.

I think mirrors are honest things. They cannot compromise. They show us our defects, wrinkles, gray hairs and zits. As you know, the better the mirror, the more of the flaws we see. We all have our mirrors in the bathroom. We do take a good look at ourselves and make some major or minor adjustments so the rest of the world is not going to see that morning face ! We figure that it is better to face the truth so we can make the necessary changes to make ourselves presentable to the rest of the world.

Remember the saying: “Mirror, Mirror on the Wall”… Well, the witch got very angry and jealous. She did not like the truth. She did not know that mirrors are not laying. They let us know the real self or person we are.

I read about a man who lost his job. He was desperate to find a place to work so he noticed that there was an opening at the local zoo. His resume was good enough for many jobs but there was nothing that he could find. So he applied for the job at the zoo without knowing much about the unusual position needed to be filled. Their gorilla had died and until they could get a new one, they needed a replacement, even someone to dress up in a suit and act like gorillas. They did not ask for too much work: just sit, eat and sleep, jump and make faces. Thanks to a very fine gorilla suit, no one will guess what’s under it. They offered good pay for this job, so he decided to take it. He started to act like a gorilla: sit, sleep, walked around the cage, jumped up and down and even tried a few gorilla noises. The visitors liked that and they clapped and cheered and threw peanuts at him. Trying to please the crowd he grabbed a vine and swung from one side of the cage to the other side of it and … guess what? The vine broke! He landed in the lion’s cage next door. He panicked and started to scream: “Help, help!  Get me out of here!” But the lion quickly laid over him and whispered: “Will you shut up?! You are going to get both of us fired!”

Who am I really? What do I see when I look into the mirror? I have seen my reflection in a spoon and it is kind of funky. I have seen my reflection in a window and that is pretty dim, too. While there are certain things we won’t know until we get to heaven, like whether or not Adam and Eve had belly buttons, one thing we can know is who we are and what we look like. When we read the Bible, we’re supposed to see ourselves in it. But often we wish that person “X” could hear that. We think they really need it. God in His love and power didn’t see it like that. He did not say things so that ”X” could hear. He put that message in the mirror for me. I have to change. Whatever I see not good about myself, I need to get rid of.  So,  I will try to become more like the full length mirror so people can see who I am. That is the only way I can get an accurate picture of how I look and what others see in me.

“Love from your Valentine!”

If a person is your Valentine that means he/she is the one you love the most!  But, can anyone tell me how Valentine’s Day started?

There was a priest  that lived in Rome about 250 AD.  His name was Valentine.  At that time, Rome was ruled by a very cruel emperor by the name of Claudius. The emperor wanted  a big army and he thought men should volunteer to join.  Most men did not want to go to war because they did not want to leave their wives or girlfriends behind.  That created a problem for Claudius and he started to act like a mad man.  He came up with the crazy idea that if men were not married, they would not mind joining the army.  Claudius decided not to allow marriages anymore.

This new law was very cruel for the young people. Valentine, also, thought it was ridiculous!  His favorite job as a priest was to conduct wedding ceremonies. Long after this law was passsed, he  kept on performing marriage ceremonies – but secretly. He had to whisper the words of the ceremony, so that the soldiers on the steps outside would not hear it.  One night, while he was performing a marriage, he heard footsteps. The couple that he was marrying escaped, but he was caught, thrown in jail and sentenced to death. He was the most visited inmate at that time.  Many young people  visited him and threw flowers and notes up to  his window cell.

One night he got a visitor. It was the daughter of  the prison guard. She asked her dad for permission to visit the priest Valentine and he allowed her to visit him in his cell. They often enjoyed each other’s company and  talked for hours . He was convinced that he did the right thing ignoring the Emperor and performing marriage ceremonies. On the day of his execution, he left her a note thanking her for her friendship and loyalty. He signed it: “Love from your Valentine.”

The Love Language

Almost everything ever written on the subject of love indicates that at the heart of love is the spirit of giving.  A gift is something that you keep in your hand and say: “Look, somebody thought of me and remembered me.  He loves me”.  A gift in itself is a symbol of thinking. It’s not important if the gift costs money or it is free. It is important that he thought about you and expressed his love in this way.  Gifts may be of any size, color and form. Some are expensive, very expensive! For the one who receives the gift, joy and value is very high.

It’s been almost a year since I got the most expensive and desirable thing in my life. The occasion was unique. I finally got to the half-century of my life, close to be antic, which adds value to my age!  Bonnie, my husband, brought me a big bouquet of roses. I did not want to count them. I knew that I would fall into depression.  At the end of the stems there was one object that resembled a key chain. I really enjoyed the flowers, I embraced him and so. I was focused on finishing a project. The next day we were to go on vacation and I was preparing for that. So, there I was, wearing only Victoria Secret stuff, ready to try on the pants which I just fixed. But before that, I took one more look to that key chain and to my sweet surprise, that was a key from a new Mercedes Sport, waiting for me outside in the parking lot. I start jumping and screaming.  But inside of me I was embarassed.  How come I did not notice this in the first place? I wonder what was in my husband’s heart? I still feel bad about it . Well, I wanted to run outside but remember, I was only in underwear…..I guess the moment of surprise could have been sweeter, but,  I blew it!

I want to assure him how much I appreciate the gift and all the little things he does for me, cleaning the dead bugs from the windshield, making the wheels look bright and shiny, vacuuming and cleaning it. I know he wants to be my James Bond, the one that rescues me, the one who provides for me. He is my hero, the one who will take a bullet for me.  I love you my sweetheart!  You do everything so well.  That is exactly what Apostle Paul says: “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her”. That means, my husband is going to protect me, share his concerns, fears and tears, and he will stand against the winds to protect me.  Nothing  can bring peace to a woman like a strong, velvety heart of a husband. Thank you, Baby!