Stand up or play dead?

Writing on top of piles of papers of projects in various stages as I sit reflecting on the message of tonight's movie. When one is dashed to the ground, one is to get up . Does it still hold if the enemy is still there with his dagger? Do we challange death to the soul or do we hide, keep silent and carry on?

My trials are so small compared to others. So small. Almost insignificant. I do not have a life threatening disease. I no longer have a brutal husband. I have moved away from the community who deserted me in time of need. I have the use of my limbs, my eyes, my ears. I have a husband and family that respects, loves and supports me. I have the blessings of a home, an income, and food on my table. So why does my old battle still rage, bringing me to my knees, pleading for an end to my endless tears?

Years ago, many years ago, I suffered injustice. It might seem a small injustice to some, but to me it has been the thorn that continually wounds. It was not the demeaning acts, but the betrayal of those who were supposed to be there to protect me. Further, it was the tearing of my faith as I, an innocent victim was mocked, then accused, confirmed wicked and insane and finally punished and austracized.

It was their power I gave them by my beliefs that would continue to fuel my agony for years to come. It was my belief that they represented God that allowed me to 'know' that God had abandoned me. It was my belief in their power which held me in fear, trembling, and in a pitch black hell for some twenty odd years.

I was not tortured in the literal sense, I was not tied or hung or beaten. They left my broken heart, my broken faith, my new insecurities to sew their own seeds. Time after time, I would believe all was healed, when someone would question my worth, my motives, my life, my perception, or my credibility and I would fight the losing fight as my self-worth began diminishing and crumbling before my eyes. I cringe, I run, I hang my head in shame. I once again, relive the pain as I re-live the past maliciousness, deceit, and the shove it under the rug mentality.

I look at where I am now, with not a problem in the world yet here I am, falling apart. Do I fight for the honor that was taken from me? Do I stand and speak and dare to suffer the consequences once again? Or do I lie down, shut up and play dead? If I didn't have to speak up for others, if it was just to speak up for me - my dignity, my rights, my life... would I think I was worth it? If I spoke truth to those who destroyed my life, would it be finally over? Could I then begin living again? What could life be if I became the power in my own life?

What does a garden do for you?

A garden connects me with the miracle of growth. It is so easy to get out of sync with yourself and a garden allows you to get back in tune with the greater energy of nature/God. It quietens my mind, dissolves my frustrations, worries and busy mind. It allows me to just be; to just appreciate. That is the planting season. When things begin to break through the mind set is full of excitement, the promise of things to come. Hope begins to make its way through my life. The picking season is wonderful, the taste of fresh raw peas, so good, I have to eat the shells as well because there are so few peas at first. The taste of home grown tomatoes is like none other! I love it. All the waiting is worth it- a lesson for the rest of my life- patience is a virtue and well worth the wait. Then the end of the season is busy, picking, blanching, freezing, canning and eating. It's very satisfying, having worked with the season, the earth, sun, rain and soil, but there is a sadness as well as the time in the garden is finished until next year. But there is something to look forward to before spring: the seed catalogs, the next patch of grass that you know will be uprooted come spring. The dreams of fruit trees, more strawberries and raspberries- if you could only find room in your small back yard.

The Skinny Street Dog with a Bone

First start with nothing, on the wrong side of the tracks, no money, no clothes, no luxuries like water or sewer like everyone else has. Live life with everyone staring down their nose because your father's occupation doesn't fit with everyone's notion of acceptable. The jokes, the leering looks, the separation, and dismissal. Yet you fit with the has been's, your home is open to the misfits of society, the drunks, the lame, the jobless, the minorities, your family is always welcoming them to the only place they are allowed. You see the best in them, although the world sees the worst. They are your friends: loyal and kind. What do you know, you are only a kid, all but three years old. You see the worst in the people [who people look up to] and the best of the people [people look down on]. As the years pass, you subconsciously begin to believe the lies that you are not worth anything, but consciously, you believe you are doing well, gaining ground and earning respectability by your hard work, slowing earning the luxuries everyone else takes for granted. Luxuries like shampooing your hair every day, having the money for the shower and a magazine once every couple of years. School ends, you get married to someone who will share your life and dreams with you. You leave town and make your way through school, well at least part of it, a good two months before your nose is broken by your knight in shining armor, telling you that you are worthless. Being the kind and forgiving person you are, you stay. Ditto, twice more and you leave for higher ground. The church, your friends, and the entire town turns on you for turning in a persecutor (no, not him, another one). There is no one to talk to, no longer friends to visit or places to go. History repeats itself with another fun marriage and again you are told you are worthless, this time with 6 little ones. You struggle through false accusations, court affidavits of people you thought were friends and there to support you, but no... everyone knows you are not worth anything. You still believe, you still have faith, you still try to find the good. Your children hit their teens and echo the same message. You are no good. Your will to believe in yourself begins to crumble. You work and the boss swears at you in front of customers and proclaims you are no good, to everyone. You change jobs and this time you are beaten up by a client and you think that maybe someone would stand behind you, but no, not by your partner, not by the company, not by the lawyer and not by the government. Injured, you go on. You begin to believe that there are one or two people who are not very kind. You still have some faith left. You still give your all to everyone. Life persists with the same lesson, your house and all belongings are sold for a dime on a dollar and your insurance turns a blind face as you are left going from one friend to a relative and back again with a husband and children in tow. The struggle that doesn't kill you makes you stronger you are told. You begin losing your sorrow by serving others- children, because they are innocent. You can hide in the relative safety of your own house. You sit for single moms who need a leg up, because they need it. One youth pulls a butcher knife off the counter, holds it against the other childs neck and threatens to slit his throat. Two other children come and tell you their weekend didn't go well, the police showed up, again. Memories return of the kids across the road, slinking, almost in fetal position on the front lawn when Dad yelled at them, followed by their three year old sister coming into your bedroom telling you she was afraid that Daddy would hit her brothers with that 2x4 again. Your house was the safe house of the community where you welcomed and made your home a home for the community children and teens when they needed warmth and nurture after crimes had been acted out against them. How could you tell them there was no hope. You had hope. You had hope in them. You believed they could win. Win what? Win respect and dignity. You were the unpaid councellor of many, and felt you could not reach them all. That book had to be written. It was. There came out of nowhere a mentor, an inspiration to help pave the way. It made it to the public. The public were oblivious to the precious answers so hard won, that worked so well to get you through your life. Oh, well. You did your best. Maybe you could work in the community, build a garden, a small sampling of a big dream. You invest time, labor and budget money to prove or disprove a gardening theory, involving many who buy into your little experiment, and then, suddenly, ...there is someone to help you. Horray. But wait just a minute, they want to discard the name, change the program, take down the architectural structure, take over the project, and proclaim to all powers that be that the project is their's... hmmm, the sound is the same... you have no worth, what you do is of no worth, you will never win, we will see to that.

The question: So what do you do now, give up because the life long fight is just not worth it... stand strong because there is always someone watching you, ready to follow your path (win or lose), ...give in and let that person steal your vision, passion and project, ....or get angry, get even and take over, ... let it fall and pursue your dream of a better place, a place of peace. Maybe a garden where the disenfranchised have a place to go and share their friendship with each other, helping each other, lifting each other's burdens without the $100.00/hour fee, making their day a little brighter in a small way- making a quilt for a friend or looking after their child for the day so the beleaguered mother can have a few hours of kid-free time and do something good for herself. You know, build a 'we made it from scratch, but it's a pretty nice resort'. Maybe we could call it Peace Gardens... what do you think? Yeah, you're right, it would be money, time, energy and effort given and it would sit on the shelf like the book. So what would be the point? Maybe it is just for you, to prove your love is worth something after all. It's only time- you have to do something while you live your life. It's only money- you can't take it with you (Here's a thought-You could spend it- maybe pay off your house or have a retirement program).

But.. what if...there really are people who need it like you did/do? What if they truly wanted to come? What if they would have come? What if you let them down when they were counting on you? What if... [what a game]. What if you give up just minutes before you reach the finish line? What if it worked out. What if it isn't as bad as you think? What if the miracle happens? What do you do?

Love it when things come together

Some days the world turns into chaos, the clouds blacken and we wish for it to be a long weekend where we could just stay in bed until Monday goes away. Thank you Lord for having another side to life. It all started when I got an email from a cousin. She had a relative who was looking to find out some genealogy background to our family. This was odd, but what the hay... I got in touch about three weeks ago and we emailed. Nothing much happened, but I was getting the feeling that this was more than a strange coincidence- I felt it was a nudge to do some work on family history. I had been thinking about it prior to this and bought a whole scrapbooking idea and all the craft tools, paper etc to finally do my family history book I promised in 2004 when we had our miraculous Yaworski family reunion. It felt very similar to that time, when all sorts of little miracles came out of no where. Well, back to the story...

I resolved to get my user names, passwords and long forgotten accounts out from under the layers of dust and get them useable again. This took two days (8 hours each) and a couple of phone calls to the various genealogy sites. Finally, that was done. I thought I'd check out what was in the one site- I was amazed, there were names back to 1617 or something and then all belonged to my daughter! (My husband's side). So I spent the next two days compiling a starter kit for my daughter to get excited about rooting around for her long departed family and get to know her cousins, aunts and uncles better.

I no more than came back from the post office from mailing my daughter her georgous looking gift with priceless records inside, than I got a phone call from a fellow from an association I had been trying to make headway with for the last year and a half. He relays the message I left and tells me he has a proposition to make. He has arranged a community fair in the community next to me and asks me if I would be interested in a table so I could promote my idea/cause of City Roots Community Gardens for Woodbine (which is now 2 years of work with no light at the end of the tunnel). Then he tells me it is free, courtesy of his association.

And they say there is no point in having hope. or faith. I now have interested parties in the community garden and for PGE-Peace Gardens (on the Meetup Community). WAHOO! Love it when things come together!

Thanks to Doug

It's just wonderful when you meet that special person who challenges you to do greater things and challenges you to change your very character traits. Douglas Vermeeren is a wonderful friend as is his amazing wife Holly. It is with gratitude I jot this quick note. Thanks to you Holly; Doug and I met and my world has not been the same since. I found the role model and inspiration I had been looking for. My life stands as a tribute to the quality of Doug's messages. They work, and they work fast! It has been two incredible years.

Since I met Douglas Vermeeren, I have published four volumes, "The Inner Prophet & Paradise Gardens" volumes 1-4, which are at McLeod Trail- Southland Chapters in Calgary as well as in every branch library in Calgary, with a number of book signings last fall. I have developed a first class web-site with a News Blog as well as this blog; The Paradise Gardens Fanclub on Facebook. I have developed a number of new products, connected with other entrapraneurs and are hosting them in the Mandolin House Giftshop. I was included, by Doug's good graces in the movie, The Opus, as an extra which was so much fun and my family and I enjoyed The Calgary's Premiere of The Opus. I have my next book 9/10s finished. And... all this was all in my spare time. It was like I was being lifted and doors were opening everywhere just because now had my head was on straight. I finally had confidence building within me because of the experiences I was having and by spending time with Doug and people like Frank Maguire, Jennifer Alexander and Garth Roberts.

I now have a full slate of children in my Paradise Gardens Daycare. All in all, I have tripled my income in less than a year and it is stable in this recession. My next challenge is getting fit again- now where were those principles?

I have conquered my resistance to air travel and vacations. This is a HUGE DEAL for me. I had anxiety leaving my family because something just might happen to me and would leave my family in crisis. However, I have just returned from a wonderful family vacation in San Francisco, and will be touring LA later in the summer. Previously, I had 2-2 week vacations in 30 some years. Not only did I take a two week leave from my family and daycare in the midst of the swine flu but I experienced NO anxiety! That's amazing! Confidence does replace fear and boy is that nice. I am rarely overwhelmed, and have energy to spare. So thank you Doug. My hat is off to you.

Weddings and Other Family Dues

Family Get togethers are the tradition I chose to continue and to build upon as I began my life as a married person. It was a good idea, highly recommended by family, church and my own moral code. The idea of having family together to share good times, significant moments and just to have fun on the long weekends, family home evening and trips to Mom and Dad's. It all started well, with lots of enthusiasm, and more ideas than I could ever do in a lifetime and I had my first baby. It was great, just playing together, establishing the goal as a habit. I bonded with my first son and we had a great time, him smiling at me and me adoring him; not able to break the trance I was in. This little man had just left heaven and had come to me to share my experience of life, but more, I was honored to share his life with him. He became my best friend (and still is- well, all my children are).

Then life came in. My husband (at the time) worked shift work and was often gone. This was not in the plan. We were to be together to build this tradition - how could I do it if he was not there? This dilema repeats through the next generation. What do we do when there is a missing or not interested spouse? What becomes of the tradition? The fact is that it changes. It becomes Mom's agenda and suddenly this beautiful time together has metamorphized into the evil and conniving plan that must be opposed. The children grow and suddenly they look at Dad and his absence and begin asking: Why do I have to do this? Why can't I go to my friend's? I have plans! And the family tradition plunges lower and lower on the priority scale.

Yet, this is a wonderful organization- this family; it only makes sense that we chose to be together in a life before this one, so why does everyone fight to get away from our past and glorious relationship we must have had in the heavens. If only I could convince them that we really are friends and we really did like each other at one time. This is an impossibility as the children hit their teen mentality and mother is just there to make their life as painful as possible by making them be at home for Christmas, Easter Dinner and sibling's birthdays. Family Home Evening disintegrated years back. Heaven forbid (rather- children forbid) that there should be any sign of spirituality in the family. I trudged on through every conceivable trial my children could throw my way and still I believed there has to be hope. They have to see that home can be heaven on earth. They have to see that a mother's love is unconditional. They have to know that family is the most important thing there is. They have to get past the hurts and the pain because one day they have to love one another before I am not here to convince them that they do love each other from some distant place and time eons ago. The rifts grow like noxious weed roots, seeded from a father who disowned each one and began the intolerance and hate that keeps brother from brother, brother from sister, sister from brother and keeps sisters at odds.

Finally, a family opportunity! Horray, God has given me one more chance to help them get past the past and move on in love, harmony, good will and forgiveness. Finally, my dream would move forward instead of backward. Well, nope. There were successes, but my interference in their lives was blocked one more time. It was a wedding, my son was taking the path of growing up and joining the old-fashioned tradition of loving a beautiful girl, then marrying her; you know starting a new family where they could have loving family time together.

I planned a get to know you again opportunity for two of my non-speaking children (I was in charge of seating arrangements at the dinner) but one sister refused to remain where she was seated and unseated her brother taking his spot thus making any conversation between the silent war parties impossible, then blamed her sister of initiating the action. How does one win? The natural forgiveness process was sabotaged, plundered into oblivion, again. The odds are so set against me. Too angry to spit, I vow this is the last family gathering I will attempt (again).

I will move to the Caribbean, live in a little shack, too small for company sleepovers and far enough away, I will not be expected, nor give in to my soul's desire to have another family function. I enjoy the anger, the rage and retailiation, for I know in a few days from now I will probably be planning the summer festivities; but wait my grandson's birthday is in two days. How does one miss something like that and live with one's self. The anger will have to be postponed.