Connections to my Past

Wow. Less than a week blogging and she puts a photo like this out? And she grew it from a generations old bulbs? Whoa! And there is more to come from what I understand. Click her and Follow her. Wow!

Dazzling Whimsy

Connections to my Past

These irises have been in my family for generations. Lovingly cared for and nurtured. As they have grown in size over the years they have been split and shared. One bulb has turned into many to be enjoyed by all. When I see this flower, I see my aunt and my father from a time long ago in their gardens teaching me to surround myself with beauty. I see my Pap Pap and the lessons he has taught me. The Earth is a gift from God to nourish our souls if we take a moment, get a little dirty, and spend time together in the garden.

© Copyright-All rights reserved – solitaryfuture.wordpress.com – June 18, 2014

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A Father Leads You Through This World…not just brings you into it.

A Father Leads You Through This World…not just brings you into it.

by: Ronovan

 

I met my father in the second grade. No, it wasn’t that he had been away for so many years or anything like that. My father is what you would call a step-father. Too me, he’s the real thing.

Father

The person that brings you into this world isn’t always a parent. It’s the person that raises you and helps you become what you are that is your parent. That could even be a grandparent really. For some that is who raises them. My grandmother, who I wrote about in Maw Maw’s Lovin’ raised two of my cousins.

 

But my father showed up in the second grade. He never tried to push any of his own thoughts onto me. In fact years later when I became heavily involved in church he said he didn’t know how it ended up happening because I didn’t get it from him. It’s not that he wasn’t a Christian it’s just that we didn’t go to church. My mother wasn’t a Christian so my father didn’t want to force anything on anyone. I never stepped foot inside a church until my 20s and that was on my own. He had been a Deacon and Sunday School Director and all of that. Oddly I ended up doing the same.

 

People have seen him, my step-brother and me together and say how much my father and I look alike and that my step-brother, his actual son, doesn’t favor him at all. I think it’s the mannerisms mostly that show a resemblance. Well that and we both can cook anything. I get my adventurous foodie from him.

 

I’m proof that it’s not just your DNA that makes you what you are, but your environment as well.

 

One of the stories I like best that he tells is about his time in the military. He doesn’t talk about it much though. But he and some men were flying into someplace. It was a smaller plane and the front landing gear wouldn’t lower. The pilot made them all move to the very back of the plane so as they landed the weight would keep the plane on the back wheels and slowly lower the front of the plane down as they slowed.

 

Another thing about him, and this isn’t really a flattering story but it does show something about him, is that every time he was promoted in the military, he would go out and ‘celebrate’ and be busted back down the next day. He didn’t want positions and promotions. That’s not why he was in the military.

 

He’s in his 80s now, but you would swear it’s his 60s. I know someday it’ll be a last Father’s Day. He’s been through some heart problems and now has diabetes, but he’s actually one of the healthiest people I know. He stays active and is in church.

 

Years ago he came close to dying…again…because of some medications he was given in a hospital. I called my pastor after having visited him because he had wondered why no preachers had been by his room. Back in the days a preacher would have come around to visit, but there are rules and laws now.

 

It was a Wednesday and my church has services on Wednesday nights and youth activities. Well, I called my pastor and told him what was going on and asked if maybe he could visit him the next morning because he was going into surgery and was asking about a preacher.

 

I came back the next day and my pastor had dropped everything on Wednesday, driven an hour away, sat with my father and talked, and then made it back for church. As soon as my father was able to drive again he was back in church for the first time in over 30 years. Sometimes people think that God does bad things for good reasons. But that’s not it. God takes bad things and turns them around to make good things happen.

 

On this Father’s Day I just wanted to say that it’s not who brought you into this world, it’s who helped lead you through it. If you only have a mother, wish her a Happy Father’s Day today…from me as well as from you.

 

Much Respect and Much Love

Ronovan

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 15, 2014.

A Loss of…?

A Loss of…?

by: Ronovan

Loss: The experience of having something taken from you or destroyed.-Webster Dictionary

 

Everyone loses something in their lives. Sometimes there are happy losses, like you lost that hideous sweater your aunt gave you for Christmas one year, actually your mother’s aunt so you had to wear it, until it mysteriously was ‘lost’.

Most often the word loss brings about feelings of sadness. I’m no different, in a way. This is a story of something I lost.

August is unbearable in the South. The sun burns through the walls of your house to tickle your skin with a glisten of perspiration. I’ve said in poetry that the sun is a jealous lover, and I say that with knowledge.

Early Sunday mornings are for relaxation and rejuvenation in most small southern towns. You make sure your clothes are straight and unwrinkled and you sneak in the back door of the steepled building with seconds to spare before the opening prayer of your class.

That’s an ordinary Sunday.

August of 2013, the first month of my life, wasn’t an ordinary Sunday. The sun had taken its toll on me over the course of the previous week and it was about to take revenge on my having enjoyed life in spite of her.

My Sunday sneak in for prayer did not happen. My brain ached, my world spun, and I needed a splash of cold water on my face. Or so I’ve been told. Mistakes are made without warning. You walk down a hallway you’ve walked down thousands of times before, passing slowly from the bright white walls lit from the living area through the grayed area midway and into the dark.

 That is when IT happens.

 Broken Glass on Floor

gettyimages © Original Photo by Matej Michelizza

Was it passing from the bright lit walls to the dark? Is that what turned my mind from light to dark? Was that passage what made me lose my mind?

A few hours later I was in the hospital with strangers around me. Everyone was a stranger.

Days went by as white coats came and went along with brief hopes that quickly vanished. I say I write through the eyes of a Lost Mind. That’s what I lost that day. I lost a filled mind. It is empty now, except for brief flashes of what might be memories.

“It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”
― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 05, 2014.