Monday, March 23, 2009
Angels in Romania
I met a wonderful woman named Roberta, and her husband Doug last week. They run a home in Romania for abused and pregnant girls/women. They actually live in Romania, they were just in the States visiting. Roberta inquired about The Tablet of My Heart, and the more we spoke, the more I felt compelled to offer the book to her. I ended up sending her off with 9 and an audio CD. These girls and their hardships are nearly unfathomable. Talking with Roberta for the brief time that I did, I walked away heartbroken. I only know the name of one of their girls, the youngest; Daniella. I don't suspect her name will ever leave me. Her mother was raped for the first time at the tender age of six years old, by her own father. She lived on the streets of Romania as a run away for 20 years. Beaten by her boyfriend, addicted to drugs and pregnant, she came to Doug and Roberta for help. She lived in their home for victims and they counseled her through the pregnancy hoping to see her through, to move on to live a happier, fuller life. Unfortunately, Shortly after her daughter was born, she fled and returned to the streets. Daniella is three months old and in the care of Doug and Roberta. Thank God, that at the very least this young woman gave her daughter the gift of a chance at hope and happiness by cleaning herself up for long enough to give birth. How heart wrenching on the other hand, that she couldn't find herself worth as much. My story has now traveled over seas and is in the very hands of young women like Daniella's mom, who see themselves as worthless, as I did, because of the wrongs that have been done to them. I hope they find strength in the pages. you see - they don't have many people to talk to about their fight with this demon. Sexual abuse is not a welcomed subject. Finding someone to relate with them, to their pain, is near impossible. It is no easy task to find help and encouragement in a country where, according to Roberta, Sexual "abuse" is not classified as child abuse at all. There is little help for them, there is little compassion for them, and there is little talk about the subject entirely. Prayerfully they can see The Tablet of My Heart as inspiration to talk about their pain, to help them heal from it. An example that there is no shame in being the victim, and inspiration to lay down the burden of pain so that they do not remain one. I will be keeping in touch with them, and as they have inspirational stories that they want me to share, I will gladly pass them on. In the meantime, please, continuously pray for Doug and Roberta. Pray for their victory over abuse in Romania through Jesus Christ. Pray for the girls whose lives they are trying to save, and, when you pray - Don't' forget to thank God for Daniella, I wonder what miracles God might use her for. After all, when you consider where Daniella might be at this very moment, had Doug and Roberta not answered the call....I suppose we can rightly say that her safety alone is a miraculous thing.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Something about Gold and Dreams
Something About Gold and Dreams
I woke with a heavy heart,
For, once I fell asleep
I dreamed of children finding gold
And hiding it to keep.
I placed their rocks so carefully
Into a hiding place,
And made the gold a secret
So they could keep it safe.
I told them each, "Don’t tell a soul
For they might come to see.
The treasure that we’ve hidden here
Could be removed by thieves!"
"But what good will it do us there?"
One innocent inquired.
"If we cannot enjoy the gold
Has not the theft transpired?"
© Elizabeth Walker 2009
The truth is, I did dream about gold last night.
I fell asleep with a heavy heart. I was, and have many times gotten so wrapped up in circumstances, whether they be obvious to others or entirely hidden inside of me, that I can’t see the solution even if it is directly in front of me. Though some people may question it (feel free to comment) God has brought answers to me in my dreams before. Profound, unmistakable answers. No, it doesn’t happen often… but, sometimes I wake up from a dream with an image that won’t erase…and sometimes it turns out to be an unmistakable answer – or gift.
Well, usually those dreams come only when I don’t ask – and they surprise me. Last night, though, I asked.
All day my frustration in trying to get book reviews, trying to find out how in the world to get "internet presence" for the gazillionth time, trying to find a way to pay for publicity since I am an internet MORON and can’t seem to create it on my own - I had decided in a fit of confusion that I was simply going to put this book down. I felt tired of hitting walls in trying to contact the media – who only wants to be contacted by professionals – who don’t want to talk to me unless a different professional has told them that I am a professional. Tired of the roller coaster of watching sales rise and fall, rise and fall, (but never rising much) tired of people that I consider influential saying they will do one thing or another for the book, and then never being able to find the time to help because they actually are professionals and they are friggen busy!! (That is not a statement against them – I most certainly do not expect my priorities to take precedence over theirs. Please don’t misunderstand.) I am not a sales person! Never was. Hate it, actually. The events that I have managed to set up thus far are miracles in themselves. Often, I look for contacts intending to make sales, and end up finding more people who I feel can benefit from the book and instead of selling one, I give a bunch away. All the while, I have a regular job that I work during the most productive hours of the week, Kids’ soccer practice three times a week – games once a week, boy scouts once a week, a middle school concert next Tuesday, etc.
In frustration over sales and publicity (or lack there of), and a few other things, I cried all the way home from work. I dried up long enough to rush a kid to soccer practice then cried in the car while he practiced. I dried up again before he had the chance to see me. Finally, I closed by telling God " You know what God, this project was supposed to be joyful, and make more time for my family not less. So, here – you have it. If it sells it sells, if it doesn’t…what the hell, I gave it my best!"
The night rushed by as usual.
Once the four of my kiddos were settled and snug in their beds (takes a while), I went to bed too, toting the remnants of the headache that I had caused by crying my little baby head off!
That’s when I said, "God, I‘m terrible at hearing you sometimes. I get so confused that I just miss it entirely. So please, tell me what you want me to do. Tell me LOUD and CLEAR so I don’t mess up!"
Off to sleep I fell and I mean it! I did not drift off to sleep, I fell. Just like I do when I trip over my own feet (often), one moment I’m there and the next…..I’m down.
When I first woke up I thought, " what in the @#$$% was that?"
In the dream, one of my children came to me with buckets of gold rocks. Big gold rocks! He brought it to me with his face beaming! He wanted to share it with all of us, so I went to the store and bought big containers with lids. I separated the golden stones into the four containers equally, one for each child, then I closed them up and hid the gold. I told them. We’ll leave it here. Don’t tell anyone! Some one might steal it.
One of my children (the one who most often questions me) say’s, "But if we keep it there, it will be just like it was before we found it. Like we never had it at all."
Then – the dream ended. I woke up feeling just as heavy in my heart as I had when I fell asleep – with no answer to my tearful prayer.
Or was there?
I decided, out of a desire to teach my children about healing and compassion, to present this treasure of hope to any heart that would receive it; To help people heal, to help them realize that God is not this menacing presence looming over us, toying with us when ever we step out of the lines, but that He is an active contributor to the mending of our scraped up spirits when we fall down. Whether we fell because someone pushed us, because we lost our footing all on our own, or both (which is often the case, isn’t it?). And you know what, that hasn’t changed.
What good is a treasure if you never see the benefits because you’ve hidden it away? If it remains hidden forever, was there ever a treasure, or is it worth little more than the dirt that buries it?
I won’t bury it. It was buried for too long. I’m gonna let it shine.
The Tablet of My Heart by Elizabeth Walker is Available. Get you copy today!
I woke with a heavy heart,
For, once I fell asleep
I dreamed of children finding gold
And hiding it to keep.
I placed their rocks so carefully
Into a hiding place,
And made the gold a secret
So they could keep it safe.
I told them each, "Don’t tell a soul
For they might come to see.
The treasure that we’ve hidden here
Could be removed by thieves!"
"But what good will it do us there?"
One innocent inquired.
"If we cannot enjoy the gold
Has not the theft transpired?"
© Elizabeth Walker 2009
The truth is, I did dream about gold last night.
I fell asleep with a heavy heart. I was, and have many times gotten so wrapped up in circumstances, whether they be obvious to others or entirely hidden inside of me, that I can’t see the solution even if it is directly in front of me. Though some people may question it (feel free to comment) God has brought answers to me in my dreams before. Profound, unmistakable answers. No, it doesn’t happen often… but, sometimes I wake up from a dream with an image that won’t erase…and sometimes it turns out to be an unmistakable answer – or gift.
Well, usually those dreams come only when I don’t ask – and they surprise me. Last night, though, I asked.
All day my frustration in trying to get book reviews, trying to find out how in the world to get "internet presence" for the gazillionth time, trying to find a way to pay for publicity since I am an internet MORON and can’t seem to create it on my own - I had decided in a fit of confusion that I was simply going to put this book down. I felt tired of hitting walls in trying to contact the media – who only wants to be contacted by professionals – who don’t want to talk to me unless a different professional has told them that I am a professional. Tired of the roller coaster of watching sales rise and fall, rise and fall, (but never rising much) tired of people that I consider influential saying they will do one thing or another for the book, and then never being able to find the time to help because they actually are professionals and they are friggen busy!! (That is not a statement against them – I most certainly do not expect my priorities to take precedence over theirs. Please don’t misunderstand.) I am not a sales person! Never was. Hate it, actually. The events that I have managed to set up thus far are miracles in themselves. Often, I look for contacts intending to make sales, and end up finding more people who I feel can benefit from the book and instead of selling one, I give a bunch away. All the while, I have a regular job that I work during the most productive hours of the week, Kids’ soccer practice three times a week – games once a week, boy scouts once a week, a middle school concert next Tuesday, etc.
In frustration over sales and publicity (or lack there of), and a few other things, I cried all the way home from work. I dried up long enough to rush a kid to soccer practice then cried in the car while he practiced. I dried up again before he had the chance to see me. Finally, I closed by telling God " You know what God, this project was supposed to be joyful, and make more time for my family not less. So, here – you have it. If it sells it sells, if it doesn’t…what the hell, I gave it my best!"
The night rushed by as usual.
Once the four of my kiddos were settled and snug in their beds (takes a while), I went to bed too, toting the remnants of the headache that I had caused by crying my little baby head off!
That’s when I said, "God, I‘m terrible at hearing you sometimes. I get so confused that I just miss it entirely. So please, tell me what you want me to do. Tell me LOUD and CLEAR so I don’t mess up!"
Off to sleep I fell and I mean it! I did not drift off to sleep, I fell. Just like I do when I trip over my own feet (often), one moment I’m there and the next…..I’m down.
When I first woke up I thought, " what in the @#$$% was that?"
In the dream, one of my children came to me with buckets of gold rocks. Big gold rocks! He brought it to me with his face beaming! He wanted to share it with all of us, so I went to the store and bought big containers with lids. I separated the golden stones into the four containers equally, one for each child, then I closed them up and hid the gold. I told them. We’ll leave it here. Don’t tell anyone! Some one might steal it.
One of my children (the one who most often questions me) say’s, "But if we keep it there, it will be just like it was before we found it. Like we never had it at all."
Then – the dream ended. I woke up feeling just as heavy in my heart as I had when I fell asleep – with no answer to my tearful prayer.
Or was there?
I decided, out of a desire to teach my children about healing and compassion, to present this treasure of hope to any heart that would receive it; To help people heal, to help them realize that God is not this menacing presence looming over us, toying with us when ever we step out of the lines, but that He is an active contributor to the mending of our scraped up spirits when we fall down. Whether we fell because someone pushed us, because we lost our footing all on our own, or both (which is often the case, isn’t it?). And you know what, that hasn’t changed.
What good is a treasure if you never see the benefits because you’ve hidden it away? If it remains hidden forever, was there ever a treasure, or is it worth little more than the dirt that buries it?
I won’t bury it. It was buried for too long. I’m gonna let it shine.
The Tablet of My Heart by Elizabeth Walker is Available. Get you copy today!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Try, if you can, to step outside of your grown up skin and slip into the skin that you wore when you were a child. Pick an age - whichever age you remember feeling most vulnerable. Now, think of an adult that you trusted with your whole heart.Your mom, your dad, your aunt or uncle...? Now, instead of wrapping yourself in a warm and comfortable memory, let the room turn dark. let that vulnerability evolve into absolute helplessness. Let that trust disolve into a pool of fear and confusion. I'm certain you know where I am going with this....you can let that scene fade.
uncomfortable, wasn't it? Well, now picture trying to tell someone.
Every day, children all over the world face this horrifying blackness. Often, the children who find the courage and the words to tell, end up in a court room - facing the person who robbed them of an entire childhood. There is no comfort there, it is cold and empty and frightening. put yourself in that witness chair. Imagine a small sea of faces that you have never seen before watching you with wide eyes, waiting to gobble up every one of the words that finds it's way out of your throat, then chewing them a while before they decide whether to spit them out or not. And that one face, the face of the person who hurt you. Now tell them the most intimate, private, embarassing, shameful event that ever happened to you - and tell them in detail. The betrayal, the fear, the uncertainty.
Now...look back out into that sea of faces. Standing out from the rest, rough faces, tough faces, faces ontop of broad shoulders covered with leather and patches. bandanas wraped around their heads to tame wild hair that falls over shoulders sturdy enough to carry weight of this moment for you - and there isn't just one face or two, there's an island of them. An island in that sea of faces. Now imagine that they are there for you.
Those are the faces of BACA. Bikers Against Child Abuse. You know them because they came to your house and told you they would be there. They rode on their roaring stalions, an army of them, right up to your front door to tell you that you are in their family now, and that they protect their family without question or hesitation. They came to tell you that you can do this, and that they will be there to make sure that you don't feel alone and vulnerable any more.
now tell me....do you feel a little stronger, like maybe you can do this?
I would have.
Check it out: http://www.bacausa.com/
BACA has accepted 10 Copies of The Tablet of My Heart to distribute to the children that they "adopt".
Send them a thank you note, for their commitment to leaving a heavy boot in the A#@$ of child abusers! God love 'em.
Love, Elizabeth
uncomfortable, wasn't it? Well, now picture trying to tell someone.
Every day, children all over the world face this horrifying blackness. Often, the children who find the courage and the words to tell, end up in a court room - facing the person who robbed them of an entire childhood. There is no comfort there, it is cold and empty and frightening. put yourself in that witness chair. Imagine a small sea of faces that you have never seen before watching you with wide eyes, waiting to gobble up every one of the words that finds it's way out of your throat, then chewing them a while before they decide whether to spit them out or not. And that one face, the face of the person who hurt you. Now tell them the most intimate, private, embarassing, shameful event that ever happened to you - and tell them in detail. The betrayal, the fear, the uncertainty.
Now...look back out into that sea of faces. Standing out from the rest, rough faces, tough faces, faces ontop of broad shoulders covered with leather and patches. bandanas wraped around their heads to tame wild hair that falls over shoulders sturdy enough to carry weight of this moment for you - and there isn't just one face or two, there's an island of them. An island in that sea of faces. Now imagine that they are there for you.
Those are the faces of BACA. Bikers Against Child Abuse. You know them because they came to your house and told you they would be there. They rode on their roaring stalions, an army of them, right up to your front door to tell you that you are in their family now, and that they protect their family without question or hesitation. They came to tell you that you can do this, and that they will be there to make sure that you don't feel alone and vulnerable any more.
now tell me....do you feel a little stronger, like maybe you can do this?
I would have.
Check it out: http://www.bacausa.com/
BACA has accepted 10 Copies of The Tablet of My Heart to distribute to the children that they "adopt".
Send them a thank you note, for their commitment to leaving a heavy boot in the A#@$ of child abusers! God love 'em.
Love, Elizabeth
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Hey, Check out the library page at www.tabletofmyheart.net!!!!
I have an idea, we'll see how it pans out, follow me:
I want to lend out books. I have ten of them set aside. The idea is to get this message, the message that there is freedom from the dark shadows that are cast by abuse, into the hands and hearts of people who feel that they have reached the pit of their pain - and fear that there is no way out.
I'd like to see people leaving messages in the book, for others who borrow them to read. I'm hoping to see this get some attention and really reach right in to people's darkness. If all goes as well as I am hoping, maybe I could even add more books to the library - not just mine. Books that inspire and lead people to hope and healing. Any suggestions?? I'm incredibly open to ideas!
When you have a minute, read Proverbs 3:3
I have an idea, we'll see how it pans out, follow me:
I want to lend out books. I have ten of them set aside. The idea is to get this message, the message that there is freedom from the dark shadows that are cast by abuse, into the hands and hearts of people who feel that they have reached the pit of their pain - and fear that there is no way out.
I'd like to see people leaving messages in the book, for others who borrow them to read. I'm hoping to see this get some attention and really reach right in to people's darkness. If all goes as well as I am hoping, maybe I could even add more books to the library - not just mine. Books that inspire and lead people to hope and healing. Any suggestions?? I'm incredibly open to ideas!
When you have a minute, read Proverbs 3:3
Well, the book signing was absolutely wonderful! Aimee ( the events coordinator) at Barnes and Noble was kind and helpful. Every one at Barnes and Noble was kind and helpful! A lot of people stopped in and spoke with me, and 15 books sold in that one hour!
It is so amazing to meet people who want to know about this story, about it's purpose, and about how they can become a part of fight against child abuse. I am so encouraged. Thank you to every one who came and offered their support! I can't wait to do another one. As I mentioned before, I will prayerfully be doing a radio interview with Rick Crandall, the host of the Breakfast club (KEZW 1430 am) in March. I will keep you posted on dates. In the meantime, it couldn't hurt for you to visit the site and let him know that you are hoping to hear from me!! ;)
Lots and lots of love!!
It is so amazing to meet people who want to know about this story, about it's purpose, and about how they can become a part of fight against child abuse. I am so encouraged. Thank you to every one who came and offered their support! I can't wait to do another one. As I mentioned before, I will prayerfully be doing a radio interview with Rick Crandall, the host of the Breakfast club (KEZW 1430 am) in March. I will keep you posted on dates. In the meantime, it couldn't hurt for you to visit the site and let him know that you are hoping to hear from me!! ;)
Lots and lots of love!!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
I want my job back!
From the dawn of time, mothers have had special relationships with their babies. Relationships that form foundations for self esteem, compassion, responsibility,…a long list of positives. Foundations that cannot be removed once they are placed, or replaced if they are lacking. Of course, fathers have and will always have an important role. Both parent’s roles are equally important, but today I want to talk about relationships between children and their mommies.
Moms take constant care of their children. They wake them in the morning. They feed them, often before they eat themselves. They bathe them and guide them through their day – wiping their boogers and their butts without flinching.
Moms quickly learn the difference between this scream and that holler, and whether one or the other means play, frustration or disaster. Of course, that knowledge comes only after countless leaps through the air in the heat of the moment, with a dish towel draped over one shoulder and a laundry basket attached to one hip, to run literally from one end of the house to other just to find that the high pitched squeal that sent her heart on a journey to visit her belly was simply that an older sibling looked at a toy that was clearly for the eyes of the two year old ONLY. Or, because that the little baby in the sun shine that floats above the make believe mountain on the teletubies, was rudely interrupted by a commercial.
But then, there are the days when those screams or squeals turn out to be something more serious. She dread those moments, they scare her more than anything. You’d never know that when you watch her in the middle of a crisis. She knows that she is the glue that holds her broken child together, and does not afford herself the option to fall apart. At least not until her children aren’t looking. On those days a mommy might end up putting pressure on a bleeding wound with the hem of her dress. The same dress that she likely spent 30 minutes on just the day before, removing a stain left by a previous accident. Her husband tells her, “just throw it out, I’ll buy you a new one.” But she will clean and repair the dress until it is nothing but a rag, because she wants to make sure that there is enough money in savings to buy the kids their school clothes at the end of summer vacation.
Let’s not forget the important ingredients that our children add to this relationship. I will never forget the moment in the grocery store when my eight year old son realized that a man in the store was checkin’ me out…..the audacity! He kept tugging on me saying, “Mom, that guy is looking at you.” I just kept shopping. Finally, he had reached the end of his patience. If I was not going to address this situation, he most certainly was! He pushed his young face in the direction of that unsuspecting man (who likely thought my child was harmless) and hollered “That’s My Mom!” Stunning everyone in the checkout lane into silence.
No…I didn’t look to see his reaction, but I am relatively certain that my son got his point across because he didn’t complain about that man looking at me anymore.
Still curling the ends of my mouth in to a smile, is the memory of the day that my 5 year old came to me and thoughtlessly told me to “open this, mommy.”
“Say please Mr. bossy pants!” I told him, only to be tickled by his response, “Please Mr. Mommy pants.”
And so, she (the mommy) carefully collects and stores all of these memories, from the ones where the rolls reverse and the child becomes the protective one, to the silly, to the sweet ones that fill her heart completely – like the first time her child said, “I love you” or “you’re so pretty mommy.”
The thing is, though memories of my little boys are framed in my heart…I miss my children. No they aren’t grown. They are still quite young – 7,9,10 and 13. But, while I am on my way to work in the morning, they are eating breakfast without me, each one helping the brother that is smaller than him to get his teeth brushed, socks and shoes on, coat on, and out to the bus on time. During my one hour commute home in the afternoon they are wrestling wits with each other, doing chores, and burying their nose in their homework (well, they are supposed to be) with out me and some days I find myself thinking….I want my job back. This day that I strive for, the day that I will be able to sustain income from my little dream machine in the basement so that I can have that wonderful job back, simply can’t come soon enough! Though I wish often, with all my heart that I could be at home with my children, it is simply not an option financially. So, for today I just want to say to moms who have found a way to bring in that necessary income from their own home offices, and have the sweet luxury of raising their own children…So blessed you are, and…KUDOS!...for what you have accomplished! It is no easy task.
PS.
April Hunt loves photography, and she is good at it! It is simply delightful, what she can do with a camera. She doesn’t have any fancy equipment or framed diplomas on her wall … but she has taken some of the most beautiful pictures of my children, and I plan to have her take sooo many more!
Rebecca is the mom that we can’t figure out how in the world she fits 40 hours of work into a 24hour day. Even in the midst of doing upholstery from her basement, trying to promote her husband’s new business, looking for additional income outside of the home, and volunteering on the homeowners association - She volunteered to coach her son’s basketball team this season when parks and rec told her that they did not have enough coaches. She has been doing upholstery since she was 15…yes, at 15 she got her first job which she did so well that people started asking about her…she is self taught.
Kristi is wrapped entirely in her love for her daughter, who has never even seen the inside of a daycare. Even during her daughter’s infancy (you remember how time consuming that was!) she has worked from her home office doing real-estate. She has just branched out in a new venture to provide all natural cleaners and wellness products to concerned families.
Now, after you have looked at this small but important list….look at it again. If you could benefit from any of the services that these wonderful ladies have to offer, please send an e-mail to the following address with a request for the information you are interested in. I will forward your requests directly to them. Let’s support our work from home moms, and the moms who want to be!
E-mail me: Information@tabletofmyheart.net
Moms take constant care of their children. They wake them in the morning. They feed them, often before they eat themselves. They bathe them and guide them through their day – wiping their boogers and their butts without flinching.
Moms quickly learn the difference between this scream and that holler, and whether one or the other means play, frustration or disaster. Of course, that knowledge comes only after countless leaps through the air in the heat of the moment, with a dish towel draped over one shoulder and a laundry basket attached to one hip, to run literally from one end of the house to other just to find that the high pitched squeal that sent her heart on a journey to visit her belly was simply that an older sibling looked at a toy that was clearly for the eyes of the two year old ONLY. Or, because that the little baby in the sun shine that floats above the make believe mountain on the teletubies, was rudely interrupted by a commercial.
But then, there are the days when those screams or squeals turn out to be something more serious. She dread those moments, they scare her more than anything. You’d never know that when you watch her in the middle of a crisis. She knows that she is the glue that holds her broken child together, and does not afford herself the option to fall apart. At least not until her children aren’t looking. On those days a mommy might end up putting pressure on a bleeding wound with the hem of her dress. The same dress that she likely spent 30 minutes on just the day before, removing a stain left by a previous accident. Her husband tells her, “just throw it out, I’ll buy you a new one.” But she will clean and repair the dress until it is nothing but a rag, because she wants to make sure that there is enough money in savings to buy the kids their school clothes at the end of summer vacation.
Let’s not forget the important ingredients that our children add to this relationship. I will never forget the moment in the grocery store when my eight year old son realized that a man in the store was checkin’ me out…..the audacity! He kept tugging on me saying, “Mom, that guy is looking at you.” I just kept shopping. Finally, he had reached the end of his patience. If I was not going to address this situation, he most certainly was! He pushed his young face in the direction of that unsuspecting man (who likely thought my child was harmless) and hollered “That’s My Mom!” Stunning everyone in the checkout lane into silence.
No…I didn’t look to see his reaction, but I am relatively certain that my son got his point across because he didn’t complain about that man looking at me anymore.
Still curling the ends of my mouth in to a smile, is the memory of the day that my 5 year old came to me and thoughtlessly told me to “open this, mommy.”
“Say please Mr. bossy pants!” I told him, only to be tickled by his response, “Please Mr. Mommy pants.”
And so, she (the mommy) carefully collects and stores all of these memories, from the ones where the rolls reverse and the child becomes the protective one, to the silly, to the sweet ones that fill her heart completely – like the first time her child said, “I love you” or “you’re so pretty mommy.”
The thing is, though memories of my little boys are framed in my heart…I miss my children. No they aren’t grown. They are still quite young – 7,9,10 and 13. But, while I am on my way to work in the morning, they are eating breakfast without me, each one helping the brother that is smaller than him to get his teeth brushed, socks and shoes on, coat on, and out to the bus on time. During my one hour commute home in the afternoon they are wrestling wits with each other, doing chores, and burying their nose in their homework (well, they are supposed to be) with out me and some days I find myself thinking….I want my job back. This day that I strive for, the day that I will be able to sustain income from my little dream machine in the basement so that I can have that wonderful job back, simply can’t come soon enough! Though I wish often, with all my heart that I could be at home with my children, it is simply not an option financially. So, for today I just want to say to moms who have found a way to bring in that necessary income from their own home offices, and have the sweet luxury of raising their own children…So blessed you are, and…KUDOS!...for what you have accomplished! It is no easy task.
PS.
April Hunt loves photography, and she is good at it! It is simply delightful, what she can do with a camera. She doesn’t have any fancy equipment or framed diplomas on her wall … but she has taken some of the most beautiful pictures of my children, and I plan to have her take sooo many more!
Rebecca is the mom that we can’t figure out how in the world she fits 40 hours of work into a 24hour day. Even in the midst of doing upholstery from her basement, trying to promote her husband’s new business, looking for additional income outside of the home, and volunteering on the homeowners association - She volunteered to coach her son’s basketball team this season when parks and rec told her that they did not have enough coaches. She has been doing upholstery since she was 15…yes, at 15 she got her first job which she did so well that people started asking about her…she is self taught.
Kristi is wrapped entirely in her love for her daughter, who has never even seen the inside of a daycare. Even during her daughter’s infancy (you remember how time consuming that was!) she has worked from her home office doing real-estate. She has just branched out in a new venture to provide all natural cleaners and wellness products to concerned families.
Now, after you have looked at this small but important list….look at it again. If you could benefit from any of the services that these wonderful ladies have to offer, please send an e-mail to the following address with a request for the information you are interested in. I will forward your requests directly to them. Let’s support our work from home moms, and the moms who want to be!
E-mail me: Information@tabletofmyheart.net
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Thank you "Her Freedom"
Sarah from Childhelp called in and contributed to the interview today! I had a great conversation with Janna Kasza at the Her Freedom radio show (http://www.castlerockradio.com/), and we were able to touch on some truly important points. It is my hope that many people were reached today and that, because of this broadcast, more opportunites to reach out will become available.
Child abuse is an evil that is everpresent but by the grace of God, victims can turn what was once their own abuse into a mighty weapon to fight against the very evil that created it. Child abuse awareness is one of many great tools for fighting the battle to end the cycle of abuse. This book is reaching people! My excitement is un containable, so bear with my while it spills over onto your computer screen! What a wonderful, overwheliming moment to see the beginning of my hope for being a boot in the @%$ of child abuse, coming to reality! I can't wait to see where God takes this, I just can't wait.
1-800-4-a-child - If you need help, Call!
If you are being hurt
If you know someone who is being hurt
If you want to hurt yourself
If you are afraid that you might hurt someone .... Call! There is help, there is hope, there is an end to this darkness at the end of your silence.
Please, join me in supporting Childhelp.org for the treatment and prevention of child abuse
Don't forget to visit me at the book signing! I'm looking forward to meeting you.
Ps. Thanks again Janna, you're simply wonderful!
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