*this one is old too..*
My heartaches
My headhurts
I can't breathe
I can't move
I miss the laughs
I miss the smiles
The parties, the jokes,
The girly days, pedicures
Us being goofy.
Us being cool
Why where you there
Why did you leave
Why are you gone??
I'm so mad you were taken.
We needed you here!
What were you thinking!
I wish you were here,
So I could yell at you or
Argue with you
You were my sister,
my firend my inspiration,
you made me fight harder
care more and never give up.
now you're not here; we're alone...
Wondering if things could be different,
if we could have changed it somehow...
I wished I'd made you come
home with me that weekend,
maybe then you'd still be here.
*on a side note of this* The first half of this is written about a month after my friend died. I wrote the second half later...once anger and set in past grief and denial...
It's ironic that I just told a friend last week that we can't over analyize things I said you can't live life on coulda, shoulda, woulda. I told that friend; when your times up it's up.
...i do believe that..it's weird how in anger you see may see things differently.
My friend would have celebrated her birthday this week. When I realized that; it hurt. She's gone but never forgotten.
Remember girl; not one day will pass in my life where I don't think of you. You definately changed my life forever; you were the unexpected friend in the most unlikely of places but you definately changed me for the better. Save me a seat; I'll see you when I get there! Love ~ME
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Shining Knight Dented Armor
* I wrote this last year for Veteran's Day in Honor of one of dearest friends. I finally was able to read it to him so now here it is for all the world to see ***
He says I'm no hero cuz hero's are dead.
He says He's a Battle Scarred Knight in Dented Armor
For almost 20 years this place he has severed.
His family has prayed, worried and waited to see him come home.
It's not all yellow ribbons; it's hard and it's cold.
Unanswered emails and no one to hold.
He finally arrives on that bittersweet day.
They are all glad to see him but know he's not the same.
Nightmares, cold sweats and pain no normal man can bear
Are all just part of the game for this soldier to bear.
His back hurts, his shoulders ache; somedays he can barely move.
To walk down the street and hear him be criticized and booed.
His knees are gone; and his son's almost grown.
A lifetime he has missed.
He hurts at night when he lays down to rest
He longs for the day when he can again wear that vest.
He loves this place; this land is his home
but for the battle scarred knight, war is all he has known.
This shining knight with his dented armor.
He says I no Hero cuz hero's are dead.
He thinks to little of himself; that's what I see.
He's something to all of us for the life that he leads.
Thanks for everything you've done...enjoy your retirement! You have earned it! Lots of love and gratitued. :) Robin
He says I'm no hero cuz hero's are dead.
He says He's a Battle Scarred Knight in Dented Armor
For almost 20 years this place he has severed.
His family has prayed, worried and waited to see him come home.
It's not all yellow ribbons; it's hard and it's cold.
Unanswered emails and no one to hold.
He finally arrives on that bittersweet day.
They are all glad to see him but know he's not the same.
Nightmares, cold sweats and pain no normal man can bear
Are all just part of the game for this soldier to bear.
His back hurts, his shoulders ache; somedays he can barely move.
To walk down the street and hear him be criticized and booed.
His knees are gone; and his son's almost grown.
A lifetime he has missed.
He hurts at night when he lays down to rest
He longs for the day when he can again wear that vest.
He loves this place; this land is his home
but for the battle scarred knight, war is all he has known.
This shining knight with his dented armor.
He says I no Hero cuz hero's are dead.
He thinks to little of himself; that's what I see.
He's something to all of us for the life that he leads.
Thanks for everything you've done...enjoy your retirement! You have earned it! Lots of love and gratitued. :) Robin
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
ok i posted this 2 years ago but it needs to be on here again just for christmas...
Three Letters From Teddy
Ok this is my all time favorite Christmas story. So I'm posting it on here for everyone. It's a story that was published in Home Life Magazine many many years ago. But it's absolutely Wonderful!!!
Three Letters From Teddy by Elizabeth Silance Ballard
Teddy's letter came today and now that I've read it, I will place it in my cedar chest with the other things important to my life.
"I wanted you to be the first to know." I smiled as I read the words he had written, and my heart swelled with a pride that I had no right to feel. I have not seen Teddy Stallard since he was a student in my fifth-grade class, 15 years ago.
It was early in my career, and I had only been teaching for two years. From the first day he stepped into my classroom, I disliked Teddy. Teachers (although everyone knows differently) are not supposed to have favorites in a class, but most especially they are not to show dislike for a child, any child. Nevertheless, every year there are one or two children that one cannot help but be attracted to, for teachers are human, and it is a human nature to like bright, pretty, intelligent people, whether they are 10 years old or 25. And sometimes, not too often fortunately, there will be one or two students to whom the teacher just can't seem to relate.
I thought myself quite capable of handling my personal feelings along that line until Teddy walked into my life. There wasn't a child I particularly liked that year, but Teddy was most assuredly one I disliked. He was dirty. Not just occasionally, but all the time. His hair hung low over his ears, and he actually had to hold it out of his eyes as he wrote his papers in class. (And this was before it was fashionable to do so!) Too, he had a particular odor about him that I could never identify. His physical faults were many, and his intellect left a lot to be desired also. By the end of the first week, I knew he was hopelessly behind the others. Not only was he behind, but he was just plain slow! I began to withdraw from him immediately.
Any teacher will tell you it's more of a pleasure to teach a bright child. It is definitely more rewarding for one's ego. But any teacher worth her credentials can channel work to the bright child, keeping him challenged and learning while she puts her major effort on the slower ones. Any teacher can do this. Most teachers do it, but I didn't. Not that year. In fact, I concentrated on my best students and let the others follow along as best they could. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I took perverse pleasure in using my red pen; and each time I came to Teddy's papers, the cross-marks (and they were many) were always a little larger and a little redder than necessary.
"Poor work!" I wrote with a flourish. While I did not actually ridicule the boy, my attitude was obviously quite apparent to the class, for he quickly became the class "goat," the outcast - the unlovable and the unloved. He knew I didn't like him, but he didn't know why. Nor did I know - then or now - why I felt such and intense dislike for him. All I know is he was a little boy no one cared about, and I made no effort in his behalf. The days rolled by and we made it through the Fall Festival, the Thanksgiving holidays, and I continued marking happily with my red pen. As the Christmas holidays approached, I knew Teddy would never catch up in time to be promoted to the sixth-grade level. He would be a repeater. To justify myself, I went to his cumulative folder from time to time. He had very low grades for the first four years, but no grade failure. How he had made it, I didn't know. I closed my mind to the personal remarks:
First grade: "Teddy shows promise by work and attitude but has a poor home situation."Second grade: "Teddy could do better. Mother terminally ill. He received little help at home."Third grade: "Teddy is a pleasant boy. Helpful, but too serious. Slow learner. Mother passed away end of year."Fourth grade: "Very slow, but well behaved. Father shows no interest."
"Well, they passed him four times, but he will certainly repeat fifth grade! Do him good!" I said to myself.
And then the last day before the holiday arrived. Our little tree on the reading table sported paper and popcorn chains. Many gifts were heaped underneath, waiting for the big moment. Teachers always get several gifts at Christmas, but mine that year seemed bigger and more elaborate than ever. There was not a student who had not brought me one. Each unwrapping brought squeals of delight and the proud giver would receive effusive thank-you's.
His gift wasn't the last one I picked up; in fact, it was in the middle of the pile. It's wrapping was a brown paper bag, and he had colored Christmas trees and red bells all over it. It was stuck together with masking tape.
"For Miss Thompson - from Teddy," it read. The group was completely silent, and for the first time I felt conspicuous, embarrassed because they all stood watching me unwrap that gift. As I removed the last bit of masking tape, two items fell to my desk. A gaudy rhinestone bracelet with several stones missing and a small bottle of dime-store cologne - half empty. I could hear the snickers and whispers, and I wasn't sure I could look at Teddy.
"Isn't this lovely?" I asked, placing the bracelet on my wrist. "Teddy, would you help me fasten it?" He smiled shyly as he fixed the clasp, and I held up my wrist for all of them to admire. There were a few ooh's and ahhs, but as I dabbed the cologne behind my ears, all the little girls lined up for a dab behind their ears. I continued to open the gifts until I reached the bottom of the pile.
We ate our refreshments, and the bell rang. The children filed out with shouts of "See you next year!" and "Merry Christmas!" but Teddy waited at his desk. When they had all left, he walked toward me clutching his gift and books to his chest. "You smell just like Mom," he said softly. "Her bracelet looks real pretty on you too. I'm glad you liked it." He left quickly, and I locked the door, sat down and wept, resolving to make up to Teddy what I had deliberately deprived him of - a teacher who cared. I stayed every afternoon with Teddy from the end of the holidays until the last day of school. Sometimes we worked together. Sometimes he worked alone while I drew up lesson plans or graded papers.
Slowly but surely he caught up with the rest of the class. Gradually there was a definite upward curve in his grades. He did not have to repeat the fifth grade. In fact, his final averages were among the highest in the class, and although I knew he would be moving out of the state when school was out, I was not worried for him. Teddy had reached a level that would stand him in good stead the following year, no matter where he went. He had enjoyed a measure of success and as we were taught in our teacher training courses: "Success builds success."
I did not hear from Teddy until seven years later, when his first letter appeared in our mailbox.
"Dear Miss Thompson,I just wanted you to be the first to know. I will be graduating second in my class next month.
Very truly yours,Teddy Stallard."
I sent him a card of congratulations and a small package, a pen and pencil gift set. I wondered what he would do after graduation. Four years later, Teddy's second letter came.
"Dear Miss Thompson,
I wanted you to be the first to know. I was just informed I'll be graduating first in my class. The university has not been easy, but Iliked it.
Very truly yours,Teddy Stallard."
I sent him a good pair of sterling silver mono-grammed cuff links and a card, so proud of him I could burst! And now - today - Teddy's third letter.
"Dear Miss Thompson,
I wanted you to be the first to know. As of today I am Theodore J. Stallard, M.D. How about that!!?? I'm going to be married in July, the 27th, to be exact. I wanted to ask if you could come and sit where Mom would sit if she were here. I'll have no family there as Dad died last year.
Very truly yours,Ted Stallard."
I'm not sure what kind of gift one sends to a doctor on completion of medical school and state boards. Maybe I'll just wait and take a wedding gift, but my note can't wait.
"Dear Ted,
Congratulations! You made it, and you did it yourself! In spite of those like me and not because of us, this day has come for you. God bless you. I'll be at that wedding with bells on!"
Ok this is my all time favorite Christmas story. So I'm posting it on here for everyone. It's a story that was published in Home Life Magazine many many years ago. But it's absolutely Wonderful!!!
Three Letters From Teddy by Elizabeth Silance Ballard
Teddy's letter came today and now that I've read it, I will place it in my cedar chest with the other things important to my life.
"I wanted you to be the first to know." I smiled as I read the words he had written, and my heart swelled with a pride that I had no right to feel. I have not seen Teddy Stallard since he was a student in my fifth-grade class, 15 years ago.
It was early in my career, and I had only been teaching for two years. From the first day he stepped into my classroom, I disliked Teddy. Teachers (although everyone knows differently) are not supposed to have favorites in a class, but most especially they are not to show dislike for a child, any child. Nevertheless, every year there are one or two children that one cannot help but be attracted to, for teachers are human, and it is a human nature to like bright, pretty, intelligent people, whether they are 10 years old or 25. And sometimes, not too often fortunately, there will be one or two students to whom the teacher just can't seem to relate.
I thought myself quite capable of handling my personal feelings along that line until Teddy walked into my life. There wasn't a child I particularly liked that year, but Teddy was most assuredly one I disliked. He was dirty. Not just occasionally, but all the time. His hair hung low over his ears, and he actually had to hold it out of his eyes as he wrote his papers in class. (And this was before it was fashionable to do so!) Too, he had a particular odor about him that I could never identify. His physical faults were many, and his intellect left a lot to be desired also. By the end of the first week, I knew he was hopelessly behind the others. Not only was he behind, but he was just plain slow! I began to withdraw from him immediately.
Any teacher will tell you it's more of a pleasure to teach a bright child. It is definitely more rewarding for one's ego. But any teacher worth her credentials can channel work to the bright child, keeping him challenged and learning while she puts her major effort on the slower ones. Any teacher can do this. Most teachers do it, but I didn't. Not that year. In fact, I concentrated on my best students and let the others follow along as best they could. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I took perverse pleasure in using my red pen; and each time I came to Teddy's papers, the cross-marks (and they were many) were always a little larger and a little redder than necessary.
"Poor work!" I wrote with a flourish. While I did not actually ridicule the boy, my attitude was obviously quite apparent to the class, for he quickly became the class "goat," the outcast - the unlovable and the unloved. He knew I didn't like him, but he didn't know why. Nor did I know - then or now - why I felt such and intense dislike for him. All I know is he was a little boy no one cared about, and I made no effort in his behalf. The days rolled by and we made it through the Fall Festival, the Thanksgiving holidays, and I continued marking happily with my red pen. As the Christmas holidays approached, I knew Teddy would never catch up in time to be promoted to the sixth-grade level. He would be a repeater. To justify myself, I went to his cumulative folder from time to time. He had very low grades for the first four years, but no grade failure. How he had made it, I didn't know. I closed my mind to the personal remarks:
First grade: "Teddy shows promise by work and attitude but has a poor home situation."Second grade: "Teddy could do better. Mother terminally ill. He received little help at home."Third grade: "Teddy is a pleasant boy. Helpful, but too serious. Slow learner. Mother passed away end of year."Fourth grade: "Very slow, but well behaved. Father shows no interest."
"Well, they passed him four times, but he will certainly repeat fifth grade! Do him good!" I said to myself.
And then the last day before the holiday arrived. Our little tree on the reading table sported paper and popcorn chains. Many gifts were heaped underneath, waiting for the big moment. Teachers always get several gifts at Christmas, but mine that year seemed bigger and more elaborate than ever. There was not a student who had not brought me one. Each unwrapping brought squeals of delight and the proud giver would receive effusive thank-you's.
His gift wasn't the last one I picked up; in fact, it was in the middle of the pile. It's wrapping was a brown paper bag, and he had colored Christmas trees and red bells all over it. It was stuck together with masking tape.
"For Miss Thompson - from Teddy," it read. The group was completely silent, and for the first time I felt conspicuous, embarrassed because they all stood watching me unwrap that gift. As I removed the last bit of masking tape, two items fell to my desk. A gaudy rhinestone bracelet with several stones missing and a small bottle of dime-store cologne - half empty. I could hear the snickers and whispers, and I wasn't sure I could look at Teddy.
"Isn't this lovely?" I asked, placing the bracelet on my wrist. "Teddy, would you help me fasten it?" He smiled shyly as he fixed the clasp, and I held up my wrist for all of them to admire. There were a few ooh's and ahhs, but as I dabbed the cologne behind my ears, all the little girls lined up for a dab behind their ears. I continued to open the gifts until I reached the bottom of the pile.
We ate our refreshments, and the bell rang. The children filed out with shouts of "See you next year!" and "Merry Christmas!" but Teddy waited at his desk. When they had all left, he walked toward me clutching his gift and books to his chest. "You smell just like Mom," he said softly. "Her bracelet looks real pretty on you too. I'm glad you liked it." He left quickly, and I locked the door, sat down and wept, resolving to make up to Teddy what I had deliberately deprived him of - a teacher who cared. I stayed every afternoon with Teddy from the end of the holidays until the last day of school. Sometimes we worked together. Sometimes he worked alone while I drew up lesson plans or graded papers.
Slowly but surely he caught up with the rest of the class. Gradually there was a definite upward curve in his grades. He did not have to repeat the fifth grade. In fact, his final averages were among the highest in the class, and although I knew he would be moving out of the state when school was out, I was not worried for him. Teddy had reached a level that would stand him in good stead the following year, no matter where he went. He had enjoyed a measure of success and as we were taught in our teacher training courses: "Success builds success."
I did not hear from Teddy until seven years later, when his first letter appeared in our mailbox.
"Dear Miss Thompson,I just wanted you to be the first to know. I will be graduating second in my class next month.
Very truly yours,Teddy Stallard."
I sent him a card of congratulations and a small package, a pen and pencil gift set. I wondered what he would do after graduation. Four years later, Teddy's second letter came.
"Dear Miss Thompson,
I wanted you to be the first to know. I was just informed I'll be graduating first in my class. The university has not been easy, but Iliked it.
Very truly yours,Teddy Stallard."
I sent him a good pair of sterling silver mono-grammed cuff links and a card, so proud of him I could burst! And now - today - Teddy's third letter.
"Dear Miss Thompson,
I wanted you to be the first to know. As of today I am Theodore J. Stallard, M.D. How about that!!?? I'm going to be married in July, the 27th, to be exact. I wanted to ask if you could come and sit where Mom would sit if she were here. I'll have no family there as Dad died last year.
Very truly yours,Ted Stallard."
I'm not sure what kind of gift one sends to a doctor on completion of medical school and state boards. Maybe I'll just wait and take a wedding gift, but my note can't wait.
"Dear Ted,
Congratulations! You made it, and you did it yourself! In spite of those like me and not because of us, this day has come for you. God bless you. I'll be at that wedding with bells on!"
Monday, December 14, 2009
here you come again...
We once seemed perfect for each other...
it ended so fast...
i thought it was a fling;
not meant to last....
then you were gone and i was left all alone;
then i realized that i was wrong.
it was stark reality through my heart as a realized
the truth was my life had become one big lie...
days turned to weeks, weeks to months ...
all at once I realized what I had feared had come true
I thought I loved him...thought he was my world..when all along
it was you...
i said things i didn't mean,
said things to make you stay away
when deep down all i hope for was the day
the day you'd return
now i know that's no more..
then all of a sudden your at my front door.
do i tell you the truth after a lifetime of lies..
do i let you know how hard i cried...
i held his hand stayed by his side
but every night silent tears i cried
tears for my loss of my friend and my love
tears for what i thought was a gain
that did nothing but cause me years of sorrow and pain..
you think i bounced back you think i never cried...
honey..i hope that you know that was a big lie...
the day you left part of me died..
you'll never realize how you hurt me inside.
can we move on even as friends...
i'm not sure...
all i do know is i'll love you till the end....
it ended so fast...
i thought it was a fling;
not meant to last....
then you were gone and i was left all alone;
then i realized that i was wrong.
it was stark reality through my heart as a realized
the truth was my life had become one big lie...
days turned to weeks, weeks to months ...
all at once I realized what I had feared had come true
I thought I loved him...thought he was my world..when all along
it was you...
i said things i didn't mean,
said things to make you stay away
when deep down all i hope for was the day
the day you'd return
now i know that's no more..
then all of a sudden your at my front door.
do i tell you the truth after a lifetime of lies..
do i let you know how hard i cried...
i held his hand stayed by his side
but every night silent tears i cried
tears for my loss of my friend and my love
tears for what i thought was a gain
that did nothing but cause me years of sorrow and pain..
you think i bounced back you think i never cried...
honey..i hope that you know that was a big lie...
the day you left part of me died..
you'll never realize how you hurt me inside.
can we move on even as friends...
i'm not sure...
all i do know is i'll love you till the end....
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