Bathroom visitor

I thought I lived alone.

But one day, in the bathroom, I realized I wasn't the only one in there.

An 8-legged intruder hung from the ceiling.

Normally, arachnid ridding is a ritual in a household.

 But I don't live with other humans. So, not wanting to be entirely alone, I let the spider live.

Sure, I can kill it when I'm ready. On my time. I don't have to comply with the standard of snuffing the spider just because someone is freaked out. Actually, it's okay with me that I'm never alone. That I have a guard over the toilet. And the spider doesn't seem to mind, either. Maybe it's grateful for my willingness to let it live. Maybe it doesn't know how lucky it is to live in a spider friendly house.

The ants on the counter are another matter. They have to go...

Making a big splash

Two-year-olds provide their own entertainment for themselves, and for those of us with more birthdays than they.

Not realizing he had an audience, my lil' tyke squatted by the puddle, stick in hand. He smacked the water like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Apparently, the maneuver was intriguing. He smacked the water again, watching the ripple effect. Then he struck in staccato, not waiting for the ripples to subside. Eight or nine whacks.

Then he stood, moved to another side of the puddle, stick in hand. He squatted and repeated the aforementioned procedure.

After his third session, I giggled. He looked up, detected. Then he turned back to the water and spoke on the puddle's behalf: "Ouch! What did you do that for?" he said, imitating the water's supposed reaction to his striking.

The light in the tunnel

 It's here, finally... 2012... the best year of my life!
2011 wasn't hard to beat, in my opinion. Depression. Anger. Separation. Divorce proceedings. Blah blah blah.
When you don't sleep in your own bed (or any bed, for that matter). When you hear she's with another man, you know, it kinda rattles the ol' cage...

But 2011 is gone forever. Yippee!

And now, its up to me. 2012 is gonna be my personal best. I may not have everything like I want it, but get this: I can change myself into whatever God wants me to be, with His help! All I gotta do is ask, and believe, and seek Him!

God's Word does NOT return void. Proverbs 16: 3 says, "Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and your plans will SUCCEED! Not a bad verse... If that's true (and it is) then I am gonna commit to the Lord my pursuit of my wife. I'm not gonna try to make her mine anymore. I'm gonna romance her through God's romance filter. I will pursue her as HE directs me.
I will keep away when He says keep away. I will pursue when He says pursue. I will listen to God and His Word.
My life's tunnel is DARK. I can't see my hand in front of my face. But with the light of God's glory, I can see perfectly. I can see that it isn't the light at the END of the tunnel, it's the light IN the tunnel with me that matters. It's His light. It's his purpose. I am not alone. I am not afraid. I am no longer angry and bitter. Thank you, Lord, for the light of your truth shining so brightly it overshadows the blackest, longest tunnel!

And, because I am learning to be content in this tunnel, with God's light, imagine the incredible joy awaiting me when I reach the end and step into the actual light of living victoriously!
Sure, troubles will still be there. Conflict won't go away. Issues will arise.
But I will have been equipped with the light IN the tunnel and I won't ever have to walk in the dark again, come what may on the outside of the tunnel.

Christmas Eve

This is the first year apart from my family on Christmas. The boys and Shannon are in Chicago, and I am alone. No tree. No stockings. No music.
But in my mind, I picture them resting with visions of sugar plums in their heads. My wife has left me, but I am with her in my mind. Holidays can be "hollow days" without the family. They are my reasons for the celebration. Nothing else seems to matter much. Being left behind in a dark, quiet trailer isn't my idea of Christmas.
I sure wish I had a story to read to my boys before tucking them in. I sure wish I could slide in next to my wife tonight.
I sure wish I could wake to the excitement of Christmas with them.
In my mind, that's where I am tonight.

Does Time Heal All Wounds?

I am startled at how easily I can cry. Christmas music is everywhere this time of year. It makes me incredibly sad. I miss being with my family. I miss watching "Rudolph" and "The Grinch" and "Frosty the Snowman" and "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and "The Little Drummer Boy" with my kids. All the classics I grew up watching.
My wife set up the tree and decorated it without me this year. Our annual family tradition didn't include Dad.
I don't have a tree in the lonely single wide trailer.
I don't have any Christmas deocorations. Maybe I'm a Grinch, or a Scrooge. Or maybe, I'm just broken hearted that I can't have anyone to decorate for.
I miss my wife. I miss holding her hand. I miss how she used to throw one of her legs carelessly over mine while we watched TV.
God, I'd do anything to feel her leg on mine again!
You know that saying, "Time heals all wounds?" Well, it's not true.

"I miss how she used to throw one of her legs carelessly over mine..."

Tricked out of Treats

 I heard a startling news report the other day: 70 percent of parents admit to stealing their kids' Halloween candy. 70 percent! What kind of society are we living in? You know what that tells me?

That's right, it tells me that 30 percent of parents are LIARS!

Woman's advice

 My friend is going through a divorce after 17 plus years of marriage. Sounds familiar.
She shared that if only her husband would pay attention to her; she would have stayed in the marriage. "He acts like he doesn't care," she said. "If he fought for the marriage, I wouldn't have filed for divorce."
She heard my story, about how my wife wants nothing to do with me, but unlike my friends' hubby, I want to fight for the marriage.
 She offered an idea.
"Send her flowers at work. Leave a note that says, 'I'm sorry.' "
If only my friend knew how many times I'd said, 'I'm sorry' to my wife. Each apology makes her harder and more cold.
But, if a woman going through a divorce says to give my wife flowers, maybe there's something to it. Maybe shared bitterness among women is universal. Maybe flowers really do melt the hard heart.
I found a nice fall bouquet with lillies in it. My wife loves lillies.
 I called the floral company back to make sure they had been delivered. They had.
A day went by. No mention of the flowers by my wife. I went by the house. Nothing.
Two days. Three. A week.
Ten days later, my wife came home from a one day surgery. I noticed she had flowers from co-workers and the church.
"Hey, whatever happened to the flowers I sent?" I finally blurted.
She hesitated. "I gave them to someone else," she said flatly.