The Cabal Fall Down

Folks, I want to preface this blog by asking that you do your own research. I am seeing so many vloggers, bloggers and Twatters-some that I have followed for years-put out faulty and even dangerous information as of late. It angers me beyond the point of reason-many of these so called Patriots are raking it in-and they’ll do anything to get you to notice them; including clickbait, which I find absolutely deplorable.

Speaking of Deplorables-Trump has ended the mainstream media. Rachel Madcow crying, on live television, was worth the wait. The very same asshats who screamed ORANGE MAN BAD are the ones who have something to hide-and trust me, it ain’t good.

It is my staunch opinion that these are the end of days under the festering, murderous regime of literal vampires who stalk their prey right out in the open, as if they are untouchable. Believe me when I say their days are numbered. Tom Hanks, Ellen DeGeneres, Madonna, Courtney Cox and even Julia Louise Dreyfus-you can see them on Twitter, disheveled and withdrawing from Adrenochrome. Harrowing I know, but let’s look at this from a sane perspective.

I am not trying to frighten you, that is the last thing I want to do. Fear is a liar, and it will get you nowhere fast. The best thing you can do right now is have faith that we are in a biblical time in which God is wiping evil off of the face of the earth. You are safe in your homes. God is using this to turn his children to Christ. The Plan ( has been in place for years. Trust Donald J. Trump, trust the military. They will not let us down, this I know for sure.

So what can you do? I am getting my house in order, literally. Cleaning and organizing gives you a sense of control-desperately needed in times such as these. Check in on your elderly neighbors and family, reassure them with the knowledge you have gained-ask of their needs, and play nice with others. I have seen some ugly things over the past week, and although I put myself in the middle of more than an argument or two? I am now focusing on loving the crud out of people who appear to be unlovable. The general population (especially the normies) are frightened. Fear is often hidden by anger-you know how you felt when you first woke up-lost at sea. Find a way to love and comfort those around you.

Americans are overworked, overscheduled and exhausted. Here are a few ideas to help you keep hope alive.

  • Play outdoors. Not only will this give you a much needed break from stress, the oxygen the trees and fauna give off are rejuvenating.
  • Break the rules-eat that donut, take an extra piece of pie-go for the shot of tequila. Not every day but some days. A little self indulgence is liberating.
  • Journal-you’re living in the most amazing time in the history of the world-next to Jesus’ overcoming the grave. Beautiful things are happening all around us-perhaps a gratitude journal? It helps us to see just how well God has provided for us.
  • Reignite your sense of humor-playful people have more resilience.
  • Do nothing. We are not meant for unrelenting stressors. The very act of doing nothing is important.
  • Activate your vagus nerve-the key to calming down. The vagus is the longest of the 12 nerve fibers emanating from the brain. A cheap way to do this is by cold-water face immersion. This reduces your heart rate and blood pressure.
  • Take a hike! Pay attention to God’s creation wherever you are-refigure your relationship to everything around you.
  • Learn a new skill. Always wanted to learn a new language? Paint? Each time we acquire a new skill we strengthen our brains.
  • Get more sleep! According to a new Gallup pole, 40% of Americans report getting less than the recommended 7 hours per night. You may just see a dramatic difference in your physical abilities in three to four years.
  • Emotionally connect with family and friends. Mood follows action. Call an old comrade, send a cheery note to your great Aunt Jane-you get the drift.
  • Get your hands dirty. Exposure to biodiverse soil is good for your microbiome-scientists correlate this with improved mood and sleep.
  • Ask your physician about CBD oil for anxiety. Be wary if a product claims to cure anything-you may be eligible for a prescription for medical marijuana if you have one of several medical conditions. I was diagnosed with CPTSD-there aren’t enough hours in the day for me to wax profane on its ability to help me cope.
  • Focus on one thing, one day at a time. Multitasking is a myth-it simply doesn’t work.
  • Want to relax? Learn how to knit. There are many websites devoted to teaching skills we never had the time to learn before.
  • Try Tai Chi-again, a marvelous way to center yourself.
  • Plan a dream vacation. You may not be able to book it, but the dream of better days ahead is a panacea to the soul.

And last but never least-pray. Read the Psalms, the New Testament, any scripture you find brings you solace.

Read Psalm 91-not only my favorite, but a Psalm for miracles-

For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

I Want to go to Mars

Yes, I am well aware of the fact that I used this song in a previous blog this week. I am so enamored of this woman, and it appears as if she wrote the words for all of us, and none of us at the very same time. What I do know is that she knows the pain of betrayal, and possibly the pain of rejection, loneliness and addiction.

So, this is part two of my testimony. There will be an ending, as with all things-but I haven’t written it yet as my life has just begun to unfold. When you accept Christ, you die to this world. I wish I knew that as a child, banished to the kingdom of naught. It is more than enough that I know this now.

I write this blog in order to come alongside my brothers and sisters, the words written by the Holy Spirit and all glory going to God-my writing has taken on a life of its own-I am just the vessel in which He uses to communicate His message of hope and goodwill to all of His children.

“People” have never, ever understood me. Until I read Ezekiel I had no clue that the reason I didn’t fit in was because I was literally not a part of the game called life-I had no interest in popularity, no interest in money, not one iota of interest in what others find interesting. And although there have been times of extreme emotional pain? Each day in bed, each bout of depression and each earth shattering scenario has made me the person I am today-and I like her. I like her very much.

As a matter of fact? It wasn’t until very recently, and due to my salvation that I realized that God doesn’t make junk. My mother had some mental health issues related to her own upbringing. As a young child, I recognized the importance of pleasing her-and I did everything humanly possible to make her realize my profound love for her. I cleaned the house and took care of her Saturday hangovers. Oh, the joy I felt when she called me her little angel! That all changed when I reached the age of 11 and wanted my own friends, my own life.

“Only whores play street hockey,” she said to me one morning as I was placing her Tylenol and coffee on the side of the bed.

I didn’t understand. My heart crumbled into a million pieces and I had to do a double take-this wasn’t the mother I knew and why in the world would she call me a whore? The answers lay in her own insecurities, her need for control and her Borderline Personality Disorder-not officially diagnosed, but I know it wasn’t Narcissism because later in her life she changed, dramatically, and I knew we were loved.

My relationship with her in my formative years was indescribable. I remember picking her Tiger Lillys, telling her I loved her, begging her to love me-but as I grew her resentment of me took on a life of its own. She verbally abused me on a daily basis, then wondered aloud why I had no self esteem. This is when the shameful voices began, so ingrained that I distinctly remember the day that they stopped.

It was a few years after I got sober. I sat down at my computer early one morning, and instinctively knew that something had changed. But what? I called out to Jesus and asked Him, what is happening, am I losing my mind?

No. I was regaining perspective. Gone were the taunting, cruel and unusual whispers of persecution.

You’re a piece of shit. You can’t do anything right. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Lose some weight you pig, why can’t you touch anything without it turning to crap? Nobody loves you, why would they? You don’t deserve love, no whore does.

It was constant and I drank to get rid of the ghosts. I drank to feel something but less than, to quiet the rage and the thoughts that led me to weeks in bed at a time-depression so severe I often thought of offing myself-I just didn’t have the courage.

A few years ago I went to a doctor’s appointment-a specialist. I had been measured at 4’11” my entire life. When the nurse called out 5’1″ I thought she was talking to someone other than myself.

“Umm, can you take that again? I hardly think I’ve grown two inches in the past year,” I laughed.

She did take it again and with the same result.

It finally hit me like a ton of bricks. The shame, self loathing and mocking voices had kept me hunched over. As I grew in my recovery and healing, I stood straight for the first time in 50 years. My self loathing had been so horrific that I had literally crippled myself.

In tomorrow’s blog I will address my rebirth as a born again and how Jesus took me by the hand and taught me the greatest lesson I have learned.

Keep hope alive, dear ones. God is real and true and loyal and He wants you to know that above the din and darkness of this world? There is nothing but love awaiting you.

I’m Not No Limberger

This blog is dedicated to the woman who keeps me grounded, keeps me going and keeps me safely tucked inside her heart. I love you sweet Lynn-may God bless and keep you…

Momma also told me there’s be days like this, but did I listen?

George hates my guts, he really does. What began as a nice comradery has turned ugly, and quick. The owner of the Brickerville House, the cozy little tavern with food to die for, has not taken kindly to my commiserating with his wait staff. Today for instance, I am quite sure he wanted to throat punch me-for hugging a waitress no less. As I moved in for the weekly embrace Miss Shannon delivers, I can see his beady little eyes watching every move I made.

“Take a picture, dude!,” I did not yell, but hey-I wanted to.

As we paid our bill, I went to say goodbye.

“I just got in major trouble for hugging you. The fucking Coronavirus crap. I guess we aren’t supposed to be physical, you know.” She went on to say she didn’t care, but the look on her face begged to differ.

That would be because the man detests me-not a reflection on you, my dear.

“Why does he hate you so much?”

Ah, well, that would be because his waitstaff loves me, and he thinks I slow you down-get in the way.

We collapsed into giggles, just as Mr. Personality hit the bar. I ran as if my hair were afire. I could give a crap, you know me, but the last thing on my mind was getting her fired, to be sure.

On to my grocery store “experience.” My husband was in the store aside of Dutchway, where we do most of our shopping. I used to do food display at this store, as a result I have many friends that are like a family to me. I was discussing the “virus” with Judy, who works in the meat department.

I just love him so much, I mean, thank GOD for President Trump.”

The circle of ladies grew larger, we all agreed, yep, Donald J. Trump is going to save this country, as God ordained him to do so. Knowing my husband was waiting, I left the group and headed towards the corned beef-a rarity around these parts-and St. Patty’s day is coming up…suddenly, my bionic ears took over.

“Better watch what I say around her, she probably has a gun in her pocket.”

As the minions grabbing the last of the toilet paper passed by in a blur, I turned and said:

What did you just say?

She proceeded to yell at warp volume:


I admit it-I thought about spraying her with the mace I did have in my pocket.. I shook, from the bottom of my feet to the red curls that fell across my forehead. I wanted to hit her in her freakishly large cranium that held very little inside.

I took a step forward, then another. I stared into her eyes. And in a moment of intense rage and disgust?

I took her freaking toilet paper right out of her cart.

She didn’t beg to differ.

I Must be Hercules…

What is up with the folks who say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle?  I mean, even Moses couldn’t handle His mission without losing it, and as a matter of fact?  David deemed himself unworthy for his tasks as well.  Who handles a cancer diagnoses, the death of a child, or even the loss of a career?

Hey, you have the wrong person!!!

We cry out to God, then have the unmitigated gall to suppose that He doesn’t know what He’s doing.  That being said, the world is full of beautiful and very horrible things: the only way, truth and life is literally the only way.

I will be writing about my testimony in an upcoming blog, but for now I want to talk about what we do when our world, as we knew it, comes crushing to a bitter end.  How do we pick up the pieces?  How do we not put a bullet through our skulls, or have the faith that our persecution has a distinct beginning and end?

God will not ask you to suffer indefinitely.  

We need to know that there is always a purpose for trials, persecution.  When I think of how my life has been completely transformed (no, not saying I’m a saint) after a lifetime of abuse, despair and hopelessness?   My gratitude for the peace He has given me knows no bounds.  I mean, I went my entire life without a diagnoses of autism, which looking back?  I still catch my breath when I realize that not one single adult, teacher, doctor or family member caught this?  I grieve for the child and young adult who struggled so badly she turned to drug and drink.   Like my brother says, mom and dad were in the midst of their own struggles, their personal demons.  But how, you ask, how in tarnation can a child grow to become a woman and then some without the skills necessary for a healthy and productive life?

The answer will always be Jesus, no matter the question.


As we drove to church this morning, I thought of my first day of kindergarten.  My golden retriever, Chipper, was so distraught that after she and mom dropped me off?  She ran back to the school and jumped through the screen window-  this happened twice, and after that she was no longer allowed to accompany us.

To my surprise, a tear dropped down my cheek to my chin, from my chin to my poncho.  I believe that Chipper knew full well that her human had some disabilities.  I also believe God sent her for that very reason, to love and nourish and protect.  She was the love of my life, and it is no surprise that her little brother lay at my feet, Jesse Bocephus Happy Hoffmananoff.  His love and devotion to me is not unlike his predecessors, but Jesse is special in a way that defies explanation; and he has been loyal and true and beloved, during the hardest six years of my life.

I slowly succumb to the nurturing only Jesus can orchestrate, my sweetest boy at my side.

I marvel at what my beloved Jesus has brought me through-yet I know that this newest storm will not be the last.  As followers of Christ we will know the pain and isolation Jesus knew at the foot of the cross.

There is a beginning and an end, the pain does not endureth forever.   If we pick up our cross with the foreknowledge that we have the Holy Spirit in the stead of Jesus, and what the power behind that truly is?

We can do all things through Christ, who strengthens us.

After church I did some researching and finally reached out to a complete stranger on Twitter-I know I was led to him, because he gave me answers to questions that have plagued me for the last few years.

John F. Kennedy, Jr. is dead.

Dwain find me in the kitchen, regrieving Junior’s death, and beating myself up for my lack of discernment when Jesus whispers-you had hope, there is nothing wrong with hope.

The stranger tells me I should take a break, leave the truther community for a bit.  I am pondering this when my husband runs into the house.

You are NOT going to believe this!!!!

It is 42 degrees here in Pennsylvania.  My husband had given me a set of dragonfly and lights, of the solar variety.  I keep it outside during the day to charge, then bring it inside for the light show at night-red, blue, violet, yellow, red, blue…so surreal.

“Look honey,” my husband says.  “I was getting your light out of the garden and look what flew out of the ground!”

With that said he released the most beautiful red dragonfly.

This is how it has been for years-His presence made visible through the eyes of a child.

Slap Me With the Splintered Ruler


Good Saturday morning to y’all.  I need you to know that I only have a laptop on the weekends, as mine took a crapola last week.  Of course, my husband offered to take me to Best Buy this weekend, but I am not ready.  Very interesting…a week ago I felt like someone took my nubby-How Will I Ever Exist?  I won’t be able to write, go on Twatter, see the REAL news.  Yet God, in His infinite wisdom, had much greater plans.  Goosebumps….

Let’s just say that I had been way too preoccupied with the web, and with my addictive personality?  I had cut down on pc time, but still carried the computer with me, room to room.  True confession time:  I took it to the bathroom with me.  Don’t judge me, that room is the only room in the house with a door!  Sometimes a girl needs to breathe.  So, while my husband, friends and support network were extremely concerned (I have to say, my brother was probably ready to send for the men in white coats-haha!) Wouldn’t that be special?  My sister tried to have me committed to a facility the night I tried to take my own life-wise, you are saying to yourselves.  I just covered my ears until the social worker on duty promised me there would be no psychiatric institutions.  The very next morning they released me, gave me an Atarax (boy, if I could get my hands on some of those babies-but nah, just the drug addict in me) which allowed me to sleep my entire first day of sobriety away….giving my man time to drain the booze, and anything expensive was given to the neighbors. 

When I awoke that stormy October afternoon, back in 2007?  I went directly for the booze cupboard, searching for something-anything alcoholic-to my surprise I found a jug of white wine.  I sat that baby on the table and we had a talk, until Jesus intervened.

My precious child, when?  When will you say enough?  How much more of this life will you waste?

That did it.  I put the jug back where it belonged and waited it out.  This would be the beginning of years of cravings, big and small.  Relapses.  Drinking upstate without my husband’s knowledge-at the beautiful cabin we are gifted access to from time to time-I knew that was a big bowl of WRONG, yet I couldn’t, or wouldn’t give that once a year libation up-and one day, I thought of all of the miracles that Jesus had performed for me, personal triumphs, freedom from cancer, the very fact that I was alive and breathing spoke volumes to me.

What if I made a covenant with God?  What if in exchange for all He has done, I put away the thought of ever drinking alcohol again, and prayed for Him to give me the strength to do so.

That conversation took place a year ago.

Not.  One.   Craving.


I could not give up on the worldwide web, the loss was profound…and if I can tell you anything about myself, I can tell you that I am highly adaptable to almost any situation.  They say it takes two weeks to form a habit, and that is why I said “No thanks,” when Dwain offered to buy me a lap top.  I am perfectly content writing on the weekends, and once I am convinced my internet addiction is tamed?  Only then will I purchase new equipment.

It turns out?  I have a life to live.  I cannot fathom the chunks of time I wasted, sitting in my hidy hole, reading every bit of the Great Awakening news I could find… I went down Rabbit Holes no person in their right mind would want to travel.  And again, once I got the monkey off of my back?  I began getting things done.  Actually working on the farmhouse, baking, cooking, finding me again.

My husband drove out to New Hampshire for a business trip last week.  And so it was, on Monday evening, the house quiet, no music, no television-that I found a picture of me and my father.

“Wow.  I always hated this picture of myself.  Not so much anymore, huh dad?  Umm…it’s/been/hard…”  The words tumbled from my mouth, and before I knew it, I was crying-my body wracked with emotional pain, I sensed something huge was in the air.

Jesus spoke to me again.

Child, it is time to let go of your shame.

Was I hearing Abba correctly?  Why, I didn’t realize I still carried it with me, the deep seated self loathing.  It took some time, but everything came together, as if a giant piece of the puzzle had been found.  I turned the pain into gratitude, as I remembered why I had such shame to begin with.

As a child, I knew shame.  My mother would go for days without speaking to me, and for the life of me, I truly never knew what provoked her ire.  I stopped a moment to think about what deep shame could do to a child in her formative years.  Eventually, I would buy her a card or pick her flowers.  I came across one such card in my mother’s bible just a while back.

Mom, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I love you very much.

Your daughter,


In school I suffered total shame because of my weight.  The kids were cruel, and the taunting was so persistent?  It took me well into my thirties before I could jog or walk past a group of teens.  No matter that I had lost the weight, I still felt the shame.

In High School, considered a jock and oddball, (Varsity Crew Coxswain) I began to realize that this wasn’t going to resolve itself, but I had no idea where to begin.  At Villanova, my shame came from not having or being enough.  Surrounded by incredibly wealthy and beautiful people, I made up a story about being a Jontue model.  Unfortunately, people not only believed me, they spread the word.  I mean, who doesn’t want to be friends with a famous model, right?  In college I learned to reinvent myself, and the only person I was hurting was me.  Why wasn’t I enough?

After college, my drinking career became legend in some parts of King of Prussia.  I began seeking attention (love) through a series of promiscuous love affairs-and the reputation stuck.  I began doing cocaine as a way to lift my spirits and self esteem; what could possibly go wrong?

The day I found myself on the doorstep of my rented home, due to losing an eight ball of coke.  I had given my brother a birthday party, and while I had my back turned, one of my nearest and dearest friends (I had only invited people we were very close to) had lifted the bag I had hidden, way in the back of my closet, under a stack of love letters.  I had promised Ted, my landlord, that I would sell it all that night.  There are no words to express my horror at finding I had been robbed.  I had no money to give him, and that didn’t sit well, not at all.

Ted sold drugs for the Gambino crime family.

I went on the run.  My room mate and best friend, Mel, beside me-we drove away like bats out of hell, and didn’t look back, not once.

So, with my worsening alcoholism and drug addiction, there were reasons to be ashamed.  And as I sat in my bedroom, weeping between the litter boxes, I asked myself this question:

What is there to be ashamed of now?  Why do you feel unworthy?  Why do you punish yourself for simply existing?

Let me light my lamp, says the tiny star; and never debate whether it will dispel the darkness.

– Rabindranath Tagore

May you shed your shame like the cloak of darkness it has become.

You are special, unique and loved-let your freak flag fly, baby~


The River of Deceit

Ah, as He would have it this song just popped up out of nowhere-one of my favorites as it speaks to my own personal pain, self chosen. I’m not quite sure how all of this happened-the knowing, the peace I felt at every turn. It was a bunch of little, then not so little things that cracked my very foundation, then led to a joy I can’t put into words. Almost like childbirth, I would suppose.

You don’t get the miracle. No-not until your body has twisted inside out, every single cell of your body transformed with the life and truth of something so big, so biblical? It literally brings to mind the phrase-

“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

And then, when you’ve learned the ABC’s of it? When you think all is lost and the world is crumbling at your feet, a stroke of the painter’s brush and you see it, you see the LIGHT. You have come home, beloved. Discernment is a very touchy thing: water it with love and care-your truth and power are directly tied to Christ. After the desolation and despair, I come to the part where it gets good-really, really good.

I want to share it with you, but I must be careful in how I do this as these are touchy times in which the word misspoken can break the fragility of Christians around the world who are troubled, unsettled, panicked even. So I will leave the writing to God, although I know what it is I have to say to you.

I received a text from my close friend Jay. He is suffering on a daily basis: you guessed it-the Corona Virus. Now, [they] have been trying to silence me for years. Can’t have the truth out, now can we? After writing my blog entitled Who is Somerset Belanoff? my computer blew a gasket. Prior to that, I had been banned for life on Twitter. After sneaking in the back door so to speak, I realized I had a conundrum.

I could tweet on the phone, but not write my blogs. I had access to so much information that simply can not be shared with you all-without my pc my world became much smaller. I chalked it up to God wanting me to take a break, rather than beat my head against the wall trying to stop the censorship.

Back to the worm moon.

This video is a must watch if you’ve ever wondered, Why God?

Okay. This is what White House Photos had to say on Twitter about this #SuperWormMoon:

You are the mother of all life/

when we lived only in thevseas, you gave us hope/

You caused tremendous waves to tell us ‘leave the sea’/

You ordered us to go to land n build the paradise on earth/

You have been sailing for us in the universe’s ocean.


Now, we all know the number 144,000 spoken of in Revelations. Would it shock you to know that there are approximately 144,000 sealed indictments awaiting unsealing. This is key. What states have the highest concentration of the Corona Virus? The following video contains the information: the areas of highest concentrations of CV are the exact same areas for the highest number of indictments per state.

Let that all sink in.

Gives a new meaning to Q’s constant phrase: [These people] are sick.

Just suppose our beloved president is a 5D chess player genius. What if the Corona virus, patented in China before the outbreak, was a false flag, a hoax. What if the deep state colluded with the Mainstream Media to create a pandemic and hysteria of mass proportions to take our minds off of what is happening in real time: Trump is using this faux virus as a boomerang right back at the feckless cabal?

So, then @POTUS could turn it around to play the deep state. He can use medical martial law to contain the masses, lessen the threat of rioting in the street, looting, etc. People would stay home, and he could use the border closings and flight restrictions to round them all up, with minimal wear and tear on America’s psyche.

I laid in bed this afternoon, exhausted by grief-it’s my father’s birthday and I miss him terribly. I watched Fox News talk of precautions one must take to protect themselves from the “virus.” The more they talked, the higher the Dow Jones rose. I was transfixed in time, knowing that I was a part of something so big, so amazing and so biblical. I nodded off and slept for hours; deep, restorative REM.

Be blessed beloveds~

Rally Round the Family…

Before I alarm my readers, I want to say that I wrote this in December of last year.  If you are a regular, your eyes would be bugging, you’d be thinking –

For crying out loud?  Is she left unattended on a regular basis, and if so, why?

That reminds me of the time my step son was pulling into the driveway one day last Spring.  I was in the garden as he turned into the driveway.  And then, I wasn’t.  Yep, stepped on a rake-just like you see in the movies-and knocked myself into a concussion.  To this very day?  I mind my business around them, try not to get too close.  Sneaky bastards.

This is the season of my content.  And that is precisely what I was thinking as I stood in my garden and thrilled to the Monarchs and hummingbirds.  I was feeling pretty overcome with emotion, gratitude on a level that is hard to put into words.  This was all I had dreamed of and more.  Not just the garden…

And then, all hell broke loose.

I bent down to watch a particular butterfly, caught by her beauty and grace.  It took approximately three seconds for me to realize that a mother effing praying mantis was eating her head.  There were muffled cries, lots of cursing mother nature, and, inevitably?  The hysterical spraying of said praying mantis with dawn dish soap I usually reserve for my roses.

On that note, have a fab Sunday and hope you enjoy~


Life goes along at warp speed until something stops you dead in your tracks: As was the case Sunday morning, after a full weekend of loving and socializing, the enemy came to take his due-you don’t think he isn’t out there trying to devour everything good in your life? Au contraire, mon amies! But here’s the good news-call out to Jesus, and you are free. He can’t hurt you if you are covered in the full armor of God.

But what about those times when evil does strike? Well, Abba will protect you in ways you couldn’t imagine, and that’s why I’m alive and writing this blog-my Lord and Savior sent His angels, and they protected me from a massive head injury and internal bleeding.

Just out of Dwain’s truck, exhausted from a weekend of frivolity, I could barely pick up my feet. I had promised my husband that I would collect the myriad of dog toys that lay around our yard, at the whim of my golden retriever, who thinks he has to entertain the grasshoppers and blue jays with his cacophony of babies. It’s so sweet, until it isn’t.

I had my purse in one hand, my drink in the other, AND I was carrying six, that’s SIX dog toys to boot. We have concrete stairs, no railing, and the stairs are ridiculously dangerous. It did not escape my mind, while sitting in the ER, that I had traipsed up and down said steps while drunk, high on cocaine, and worse. Never once even tripped. But yesterday was different. My boots caught on Jesse’s blue elephant, and down I went. I had no hands to put out, and I landed on my noggin.

I immediately called for Dwain, who could hear me, but couldn’t find me. Pain so severe I thought I would vomit, I remained perfectly still until my husband arrived on the scene. I am an EMT, and a CNA-I have volunteered in the Emergency Room, with hospice and prison ministries-I have seen it all and maintained my composure. This is the precise reason I am prone to freaking out when I get hurt-I simply know too much.

Head injury? I was out of my mind hysterical. It didn’t help when my husband picked up my head and his eyes bulged out of his-

“My GOD, is it THAT bad?,” I wail. He didn’t answer, he was too busy putting my ample white behind in his truck, grabbing ice and driving like a bat out of hell, towards the ER I had recently walked out of-after calling out the employees no less. As I walked in, I immediately placed my eyes on Dawn, who calmed me as she directed me towards the door. I knew where to go all right. I just didn’t know if they would help me, or hurt me. They had so much power at that moment.

A friend of mine, Katie, was the charge nurse, praise God. She gave me a hug and an ice pack, told me the doctor would soon be in. As Dwain sat on the bed, this came over the PA System:


“Fabulous,” I murmured. And then it hit me, we were the only people there, aside from an 83 year old man with a dizzy spell. What the Harry???? They were talking about me for crying out loud! I couldn’t figure this out as the knot on my head was the size of a peach, but the wound wasn’t bad, it bled very little.

Dr. Ammons didn’t waste any time checking me over. I was told it would hurt like hell for a few days, but that I was extremely fortunate as if I had hit one inch below, I could have had serious eye trauma. If my cranium had hit a few inches lower? I could have knocked out my front teeth. But I knew about head trauma, and I was frightened. I kept what I knew to myself, forgetting that my man is a first responder.

And so it was, that I woke this morning with a shiner the size of Texas, and a headache to beat the band.

And because of His love? I’ll be strutting my stuff, sooner than you can say the words accident prone.