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Autumn Colors and Thankful Hearts

After church today (which was FANTASTIC and wonderful since it was the Primary Program) we had lunch then took all three of our gorgeous girls for a drive to spend time adoring the beautiful fall colors. We went out by Snoqualmie Falls and then to the little town of Carnation to MacDonald Park. Oh so pretty. We walked in the woods along the river and snapped a few pictures along the way. Here's Ashley and Steph striking a pose on the path.
The colors were striking...moss and leaves and trees. The air felt heavy and fecund with the fallen leaves and the dampness.
So much beauty...
Allison and Ashley and Lance walking ahead of me on a bed of Autumn leaves....
Allison and Ashley along the way. Oh how I love these girls of mine. This was a sweet interlude and there seemed to be a truce of sorts between the girls. A truce from the random and uncomfortable teenage-angst-driven-contention that occasionally pops up between them. Peace in abundance....
Ashley by the river at the end of our nature walk...
Ashely and Lance, each taking pictures...
Allison and Stephanie and Ashley Rose. Holding hands and walking.....
I've nothing witty or even mildly amusing to say tonight. The only thing I want to express at this moment is my gratitude for answered prayers and thankfulness for the beauty that surrounds us here on this earth. I'm grateful for a loving and merciful Father in Heaven who listens to His children and knows our struggles. I'm truly thankful for the gift of family.

I am blessed.


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A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
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I knew it would come soon
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And the path to the end

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Determined you would
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Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
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