Goodbye Kristy,

  It seemed to me, she was always smiling.
Her eyes lit up with pure joy when her Dad spoke her name, even though her tongue refused her brain's command to speak.

She radiated something, bright, beautiful and hopeful, even while trapped in a little body racked with pain and paralysis.
She couldn't feed herself, or go take a bubble bath, or pick up her phone and post on Facebook.
 At 28, she was as helpless as a six month old baby.
She looked sort of like a doll,  legs immobile and locked in a permanent sitting position. 
10 years, that's what the Doctors gave her. 
"Enjoy the time you have with her but prepare yourself to lose her."
She proved them wrong and stayed with them for 18 more years.
She knew they needed her, they needed something to cement them as a family. She blessed them,  She bonded them. 
They lavished care and attention on her and seemed to forget it was hard work. They didn't see a tragedy, they saw Kristy and loved her with a fierceness.
They changed her diapers, wiped the drool from her mouth, combed her hair and kept her body clean.   Jennifer, Brandon, Dean and Sherry poured themselves into her.   She gave them something in return. She became the heart of the  family. The epicenter of their world.  Her care and comfort was the common cause in the Blake home. She made them all better at giving and loving and caring.
She was a blessing to them all. Their Angel of light and joy.
They took turns with her. Feeding her, patiently and catching the food as it dribbled out of her mouth and gently spooning it back to make sure she had enough.  
Holding a cup of water or 
kool-aid to her mouth so she could drink, then wiping the excess from her chin.  They watched her favorite TV shows with her, praised her art work and lovingly teased her till her face beamed with pleasure.

When one of them became tired, the other was there to spell them. Sherri gave birth to her but they all helped raise Kristy. 
She was reared on a mother's love as well as that of her dad, sister and brother.
Kristy has a piece of each of their hearts.
That is why her loss, cut them all so deeply. She never uttered a word but her presence filled up their home.
When the end was near, they knew it. They didn't want to let her go, but they wanted her to be free of the pain racked body that betrayed her. They wanted her to run, and talk and be the person God knew she was. They wanted her to rest. So when she closed her eyes and left her suffering  behind. they mourned and rejoiced. They knew she was finally and mercifully at peace and free.
They knew she was with the Father and in the midst of joy unspeakable. They knew, we all know that Kristy is with the Angels in the place of never ending sunshine and happiness.
We miss her but one day, we will see her again.
Until then we will cry, smile and be grateful for our time with sweet Kristiana Blake.

When The Dog Bites...


Only two months old and already injured in the line of duty.   Today I found a minuscule crack in the windshield of my little red Nissan Rogue.
One of the things that make me go... arghhh!!! 
Seems there's been a lot of them lately...

The visit to the tax man that ended with the gut punching revelation that instead of getting cash back, we owed good old Uncle S. this year.

Remembering that it's my turn to do the week long graveyard shift at work. 4 and a half hours of sleep followed by ten hours of piecing together an hour long early morning newscast. Swigging coffee through the night to stay alert then driving home in a zombie daze at 8am when the shift ends.
The soul sucking reality that I don't have ten thousand dollars in my rainy day fund  so my kid can go away to college.   Turns out her scholarship covers tuition not room and board.
Apparently they think parents who can't afford to pay their kids way through college, but can handle the ten thousand  dollar need for books and board.

These are the disappointments, let downs, slights, all of them woven into the fabric of my everyday life.   
It reminds me of one of my favorite songs, "Favorite Things"
The line goes, "when the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling saaaaaad".
It goes on, "I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel soooo baaaad."
That may work for Maria and the children but not for me.

When my life gets rude with me, when my circumstances seem to work against me and sneer in my face, when I feel like I'm in a six feet deep hole with no way out.
I look to the hills,  not the ones in the Sound of Music.  I look to the hills from whence cometh my help.  (Psalm 121:1-5) I look to my Father in heaven, my Savior and friend Jesus.
He has me even when life lets me down.
Even when things are bad, God is good, Jesus is with me. I can rest in him, lean on him, walk in his strength, guidance and peace.  He will help me, he will walk me through it or help me out of it.   
"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be removed he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold he that keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper, the Lord is your shade on your right hand."  

When the bee stings, and the bills are unpaid, and the dog bites, and the jobs drives me nuts. 
I Look up!  God is never far away, I talk to him, I lay my burden at his feet.

My problems don't disappear, but his presence and peace appears.    He lifts me above my circumstances.

He is there when life gets ugly and hard. That is enough.

The Little Things


The sweet sunny sounds of jazz warbling from the radio on the drive home.

The red and orange streaked evening sky

Getting three hearts and a happy face emoji from my Husband in the middle of the day.

Sitting on the beach on a Friday morning with him instead of being at my desk.

The way it feels when I get a hug from Cassidy or Connor.

Seeing the new fluffy white buds on the little tree in the back yard in March.

Watching a yellow butterfly flitter by.. seeing a green breasted humming bird hovering at my front porch feeder.

Hearing God whisper wisdom in my ear as I soak my heart and mind in his word.

Holding hands with Tracy as we cross a street or walk along the Riverfront.

 A morning walk to clear the cobwebs and get my heart pumping.

An unexpected, uncontrollable belly laugh.

Watching a kite dance in the wind.

Browsing through the Paris Market.
A good book that you just don't want to put down.

The far away sound of a lawn mower or the drone of an airplane on a hot June day.

Watching children play in a fountain when it's sweltering.

The Atlanta skyline at night.
Watching an old movie in a pair of comfortable pajamas.

Catching up with an old friend.

These are the things that soothe me.
These are the things that feed my soul.
When there is stress, fear, uncertainty, frustration, these are the things that calm, encourage,  provide peace and give hope.
These are the little things that make life good.

I'm Not Her!

 I'm not her.. I'm not the 8 year old listening to them downstairs laughing over pancakes, feeling left out and alone.

I'm not her..  Watching him lavish love and attention on the youngest daughter while directing irritation and criticism my way. The constant question at the dinner table, " why are you primping?"  I was a clueless kid with no idea what he meant and how I was primping but his tone told me it was something I needed to stop.

I'm not her.. The middle girl, fourth of eight  Not the oldest, the youngest, the show off, the pretty one, or the bold bad boy. I was lost in the crowd of stand outs.

Laughing with everyone but only pretending to feel it.  All four eyes and pudgy with a cry they laughingly told me sounded like a cow mooing .

I'm not her..
I'm not that 8 year old little girl.. I'm 53.  
But she has always been beside me.. trying to make the world realize that she's not ugly and unexceptional.
Looking for acceptance and approval like the hope of rain.

I'm not her.. I'm his. He sees me, knows me, loves me. 
The little girl is gone, in her place is the woman who has a Father.
I'm in his family.. He has filled up my empty spaces and fulfilled my longing.

I'm not her... I'm his.      

Some Days.....


   I'm not up for the fight.  I want to fold up like sweater and lie on a shelf in a quiet, dark, cozy  closet.

Days when the alarm on my I-phone shatters the sweet nothingness of sleep. 

When it seems I'm moving through molasses while the seconds on the clock speed by.

Days when I look in my closet and I ask myself what was I thinking?   I wonder if wearing pajamas to work would really be such a bad thing?

When work is one big white knuckle, blood pressure raising, stress inducing exercise in frustration and futility from the minute I sit down at my desk to the  moment my newscasts goes off the air.
Days when I spend more time worrying what they are thinking about me than being grateful and gracious.

When I take for granted, ignore or are indifferent to those I care about the most.
Some days I forget who my Father is and I forget the wonderful gift he has placed in my hand.
Days when I steam and bubble and fret like a teapot left on the stove too long.
Days when I look at my life and see the work to be done, the bills to be paid the dreams and wants still unfulfilled.
Days I can't see past my self pity to see the glories  and grace God showers on me constantly.
Some days fatigue, and ego set the tone instead of peace and humility.
Some days I fall down, I miss the mark, I stay in the valley.
I fail.

But thanks be to God, I get back up and move forward.
Even on those dark days, hope is never far from me, and neither is my Father.
Thank the Lord, for now, there is another day ahead.

THANKS MONICA!!!

       Today a legend gave me a refresher course in "How to do journalism the right way"
Monica Kaufman Pearson was the keynote speaker at the 65 Annual Southern Regional Press Institute at Savannah State University.

The is the first lady of TV Journalism in the Southeast and arguably the country.  Reporter, anchor woman, college professor, author, the woman has done it all and done it well.

She came to SRPI to share her more than 30 years of wisdom and experience with college students on the cusp of a journalism career. 

Today I was her student, as she spoke to them, I am the one who got schooled.
She reminded me about the essentials.  She reminded me of what a good journalist looks and sounds like.
She remained me that you can't do the job without the tools of integrity, hard work, common sense and a devotion to the community you cover.
She remained me that passion is important She reminded me that one should never stop learning, growing, reaching.
She reminded me that being gracious and knowing when to keep your mouth shut is sometimes the difference between success and failure.

She reminded me that I can't wait until conditions are perfect to get busy doing what I want to do.

She remained me that now is the time to  make it work, to work your plan and plan your work.

She reminded me that it's never too late, and always treat people like I want them to treat me, even when they don't deserve it.

She reminded me why I got into journalism in the first place. and she inspired me to share what I have instead of looking to feather my nest.
Thank you Monica, for waking me out of my stupor of complacency and preoccupation with my bottom line.
Thanks for reigniting the flame in me.
Thanks for the reminder!!!

The Next Season

   What's next for me? Where do I go from here? 35 years.. that's how long I've been playing the TV news game.
Intern, chryon operator, weekend weather girl, producer, reporter, fill in anchor, assignment editor. I've worn all these hats over the years.
Rearranging your life around breaking news, working holidays or nights or overnights or weekends. Constantly mindful of the 5 or 6 o'clock deadline.
 Standing outside in a snow storm or hurricane or tornado telling viewers to stay inside and be safe.
Telling them about the drive by shootings, and baby murders and the corrupt politicians between car commercials and kickers about a dancing squirrel.
It is has never been dull, and I've been blessed to be in this business for so long.
But I'm growing restless and ready for a change.  I am eager to move into the next season of my life 
What is next for me??
Graduate school, a creative writing career?
Teaching, working on films?  Those all sound wonderful. I've been praying about it
for awhile now. I know God knows the plan and will bring it to pass in his good time. 
I am looking forward to the future, I don't know exactly what it holds but I know who has it in his hands.
Bring on the next season!! I'm ready to fly!!!