The year was 2006 and my son was graduating from Georgia State that had roughly 55,000 students, and by the way, he graduated Magna Cum Laude. He was 0.001% away from a Complete Harvard scholarship. Bragging rights… Only a mother really cares, but the story is heightened by knowing this tidbit.
Back to the CIA and wanting to be hired by the clandestine organization. My son, whom I’ll call code name Crocus, went to the job fair and filled out a CIA application. He heard nothing back and several months passed. His graduation was set for May 2007.
He had a private dorm room. One day, between classes he opens his private door and found a letter addressed to: Christian Anderson. So, he took the letter down to the student mailboxes for “Christian” to pick up.
Later, that letter was under his door again. This went on three times and he always returned it to the student mailboxes.
One of those afternoons Crocus receives a phone call on his personal cell. The conversation:
“Did you get it?
Crocus: “Get what?”
“The letter?”
“What letter?” Crocus was baffled for the utter whispering and the raspy voice.
“The letter with the money?”
“Not sure what you’re talking about.”
They hung up and there was the letter again addressed to Christian Anderson. Crocus took it to The Dean of Students who said, “We don’t have a Christian Anderson in our school.” 55,000 students….
“Okay.” Wondering what he should do with the letter, he opened it. In it he found $5,000.00 from a mosque in Philadelphia. He panicked a little and called mom…
“What should I do?” He asked.
“Take it to the pd now!” I insisted. As 9/11 had not been too long before…
He did and they told him “it is a federal offense to open mail”. They gave him the money and said nothing more. He called mom again. “What should I do?
“Take it to The State Department immediately.”
He did and they said, “Thank you very much.” And that was all. He went on his academic way.
In the middle of the night around 3 am or thereafter, Crocus received a phone call.
“This is your interview with The CIA.”
“Huh?” He said… They talked about whatever and the CIA said we will call you again in the middle of the night, expect your second interview (in a certain amount of days).”
“Okay.”
That call came again and was followed by a rejection letter…
“We regret to inform you… blah, blah, blah…” But, they added, “Volunteer for Americorps.”
He did just that.
From there…. The saga continues…
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“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind.”
“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind.”
Time is a Thief
Fleeting ~ Time
Left are memories of the children voices
Left are the visions of sand castles
Time is a thief ~ so subtly it steals
The moments thought unimportant and harried
If only for a moment ~ my mother and father
We could gather at the playground together
Instead of doing my own thing
Would look only at you and carefully listen
Because truly ~ Time is a thief
BJ
Hidden from sight the old trees still protect
As if intruders enter out of disrespect
Inside the castle tucked deeply far away
Is a beating heart who yearns for their play
When they visit again and all will be restored
To the time and place where the children roared
The dogs barked when visitors approached
And all was well, once upon a day
BJ
The laughter of voices of children are still heard
Looking at the image seeing what once was
And nothing will bring back the innocent days
Moving time forward, can never return
And the cycle of voices of children presently heard
Are the ones who'll whisper in future playgrounds
And the cycle goes on and on and on perpetually turning
Making the maddening cycle stop
Takes fortitude, strength, courage and truth
That the voices of children stay presently in your heart
BJ
Her Mysteries
Ascending an abandoned staircase stood once gloried and adored
Still remains inside a crumbling castle’s walls ~ yet still lovely
She held secrets no one had explored, she waited to share
The mysteries, now ghosts, of people who once were
Back, caught in time, and the twirling vacuum of memories
Went ~ Swept away. But the antique staircase could bring them back ~
If only a wandering visitor came to stay.
BJ
“Please, whisper. As you enter a sacred place, be reverent. It is the granite that shields her heart, and the only way to enter is in quiet solitude.”
So, it’s been said, regarding the odds of becoming a famous writer that, “4 out of 5 people, want to write a New York Timesbest seller, book.” Clearly, the odds of becoming a famous author are stacked against every writer. It maybe easier to win the many lotteries, which have a winner every day, somewhere.
Looking at the traits of many writers when younger, we will find a child who had/has/have an incredible imagination.
To watch for a potential child writer, one should notice and observe traits. The traits vary, and these traits, I’ve listed, are certainly not (all) the characteristics of (all) young writers. But, these are a sampling or examples of some observations a parent may see in their youngster or youngsters.
Does the child change the story/stories that a parent reads them? Do they have another ending? And to add about this trait, it may occur at very young age. Perhaps, even before, age 2 or 3 and on up. It depends on how early the child was exposed to books and stories.
Does your child love stories? Do they open a book (often) without prompting by a parent? “Here, please, read this to me.” And, “No, that’s not how it ends, mommy/daddy!” They clearly change the setting, plot and characters…
Does your 7, 8 or 9 year old love to write poems and do they keep a diary or journal?
Has anyone accused your child of “not telling the truth?” Or, have they been accused of “lying?” Many times a young writer will suffer punishment for being creative. The parent may not understand, nor their teacher. Perhaps, the person who will/or has recognized this gift, in a child is someone who is also gifted… After all, as it’s said, “It takes one to know one.” Non creative people often become frustrated with the creative child. The parent or teacher is unable to understand the trait, they simply don’t resonate with a child who is unlike their self or themselves … They can’t.
On to the characteristics: Does your child make up better endings of stories, or more violent scenes, or change any part of their world that is unsatisfactory, as well as stories? Does your child perhaps change Medusa? I laugh at this statement, because this is what I did when I was a child. I made my mother change the snakes to dragons or horses, and my mother, always obliged me… She was a creator, as well.
Does your child pretend a lot? Do they have imaginary friends? Do they talk to themselves? Can they entertain themselves with fantasy for long periods of time? Are they as happy to be with themselves, rather than, being with friends?
Do they want to know historical facts? Are they obsessed with hearing other stories over and over again? Do they have foresight? Are they intuitive?
Do they live in a dream world? Do they daydream? Has the teacher at school gotten on your child for, “Not paying attention?” Perhaps, your child is partially listening, but is making the explanation better or more interesting… ?
Has your child been treated for a psychiatric disorder? Did they put your child on medications to clear up delusions, hallucinations or mental illness? Does your child have nightmares? Do they see things at night or day? Do they think the boogie-man is truly under their beds?
Now, please understand, there are mental disorders that do need to be treated. However, a consideration for imagination vs psychiatric diagnosis, must be clarified. Asking and verifying, are these behaviors an active imagination or symptoms of a psychiatric illness? (is absolutely necessary)
If your child is surely not suffering from psychosis or a mental illness, then it maybe a good idea to have your child placed in a group of young writers, poets, lyricists and artists. Often artists do suffer from some sadness like other non creative people do, but creativity plus sadness often is interpreted as mental illness. (Very sad face). The equation is not 1 + 1 = 2 … It is merely 1, you have a creative child and 2, the child is depressed (like many uncreative humans). Too often, the 1 + 1 = 2 means a psych diagnosis, medications and a label that follows a child the rest of their lives. (very sad face, again).
Children will need to have this gift of imagination developed by the right person. It is a parental responsibility to help cultivate an imaginative child and to teach the child when to turn the fantasy off and when to create… After all, an imaginative child will create ALL THE TIME… that’s their gift, just like a vocalist or an artist of pictures … Writers create worlds, kingdoms, magical places and wonderful stories if we nurture them, understand them, and assist them. For an example, if you forbade a writer or creator from mentally creating, they would not/could not stop imagining. It is as natural as a natural born vocalist. Writers are intuitive manifest-ors. They will need positive instruction and direction from someone who is also creative. They will need direction from a positive influence.
I don’t know about becoming a famous author, screenwriter, lyricists or poet, but I do know, from being a creative child, they will thrive in a protective, supportive environment and who knows what anyones future might be… Except the little author… Oh, they can create their world… It’s as far as their imaginations can venture…
Happy writing little ones…
Please feel free to write your experiences or your child’s character traits of being a writer… I would love to know yours…
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Sometimes God Whispers, and sometimes He is silent.
Silence is golden it’s been said.
When God talks to you, the body and mind come into one unit of sheer joy during the synchronization of the two separate parts of a person. Some have called this meshing of energies, “Goose bumps.” Anyway we see or experience God’s communication, it is an awe inspiring moment and during that moment life seems to stop. Life matters no more because the coming together or the meeting of our minds to God’s is beyond words, expressions or explanation. When it occurs, time dissipates and what is or remains, is a moment of pure clarity with The Mind and thoughts of Gods.
So weirdly, at age 62, I dreamed, last night that I was pregnant. I felt terrified because, I knew, after experiencing child labor two times in my earlier years, I wasn’t physically able to birth this child that I was carrying. I looked down at my belly. It was huge! The skin around my umbilicus was tight and round. It was a 9 month pregnancy round. I looked up at God who said nothing, but He continued to work like a grand old surgeon does. And then, my first birth pang began. Horrified and vulnerable to His plans, I had no choice, but to surrender. God let them start. The thoughts of not only did I realize that I couldn’t physically give birth at 62, but the mental and emotional aspect for parenthood and raising another child was beyond my capabilities. The energy needed was greater than my reserves. I whispered back to God and said, “Please, no, I can’t do this.”
It, the birthing process, began anyway. God did not stop this birth. He didn’t speak to me, nor have eye contact. His internal presence and His will was understood by a fearce impression of I know that I know and there are or were no if this, and that, nor any whining persuasions using the words, but God.The horror of it all was before me and I knew what I had to endure His plan no matter what. I said, then, Knock me out! And the next thing I saw was an epidural needle. They placed it in my back after they rolled me to the side. I fell deeply asleep.
I awakened this morning at 0400, as I usually do, and remembered nothing, but that I felt happy. By the time 0600 came the memories of this dream began to creep back. I noticed my abdomen is unusual feeling. It is at this time, I realized that God whispered something to me in the night hours. Something occurred. I must wait, listen and heed as His whispers are revealed.
I suspect He has told me, that no matter how big the circumstance appears, I will go through it and even if I do not understand all things, it must happen. For our ways are not His. Trusting Him is the only way. There is no negotiation, no complaining, no pouting, no refusal at this stage of the game of life.
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Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
The green hospital walls passed by as I seemed to float down the hospital corridors. I was detached, though still alive, but emotionally removed. The pain of the fact of knowing he would soon die caused the separation of my own spirit and soul from this bad news. I simply couldn’t handle the news. It threatened my being. It meant my life would change forever. And, if I could change places with the loved one, there would be no hesitations, I would. But, that’s what loving mothers do, isn’t it?
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Oh, Lord what does this mean? Because in a state of flux and turmoil, who really knows what this promise is or suggests? I suppose you’re saying you will fight for us and we should have comfort in knowing this as fact. I guess. But, to help you out, I called on my deceased loved ones to help. The saints took their places with the angels.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Even though, life is a battle and many forces and foes play a part in this warfare we fight daily for our souls, oh. I wonder, do we all take a time out from the war, and sit down to sup with each other, friend and foe alike, then get up from that table and pick up our swords just to continue the raging disagreements for our souls? I mean, how does this work? And, why?
There must be a galactic force that has waged war on the entire planet. Our planet, is effected. Perhaps the others are as well…
But, however huge or overwhelming the situation these 3 verses sustain many, including me. The power behind the 3 promises is astounding.
Dreaming and entering life because we choose to fight our human battles… Now fight with faith Believe
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Mimsi Flowers and Notions 