Do I Have a Colour Personality?

If I had to name my colour, “the hue of me” I can only answer with orange. Sun glowThis was not always the case. Most of my life I was controlled by fear. A blue person. Deep inside, that wounded little girl within me desperately wanted freedom from her pain. I could not let that little girl surface because I was afraid. I was controlled by fear. Fear of disappointing others, fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, fear of physical abuse. Fear of being alone.

God has healed me. I am set free from fear. I am free to be the person I was born to be. I am free to embrace my orange personality.

Are bees innocent? Have they got a bad name for no reason?

I love socializing and being with people. This is new for me. There was a time, not too long ago, that I could not speak in the smallest group. I was controlled by fear. Phrases like “they will laugh at you” “That’s stupid” and “no one cares what you think”, bounced around in my thoughts.

I enjoy being physically active, particularly in the outdoors, whether it’s simply going for a walk or paddling a canoe.a look back

I went to the web site

Colour psychology is the explanation of how colors affect our emotions, our moods, our health, our well-being, our energy, our mind and our spiritual awareness at both a conscious and subconscious level.

I believe more in the power of God than the power of colour, but I found it fun to read. Especially when they say:

“The color psychology of orange is optimistic and uplifting, rejuvenating our spirit. In fact orange is so optimistic and uplifting that we should all find ways to use it in our everyday life, even if it is just an orange-colored pen that we use.  Orange brings spontaneity and a positive outlook on life and is a great color to use during tough economic times, keeping us motivated and helping us to look on the bright side of life.  

With its enthusiasm for life, the color orange relates to adventure and risk-taking, inspiring physical confidence, competition and independence. Those inspired by orange are always on the go!”

It goes on to say another truth about me: You may be lousy at housekeeping as it is not that important to you – you love having fun too much and don’t like the mundane – a little dust on the mantelpiece is not that important to you.”

oh yeah, that’s me alright.


Go ahead, laugh… the jokes on me today.

Last evening was a quiet evening. I enjoy times when I can simply get myself cozy on the loveseat, all alone with a book and a chai tea as company. All the lights were out save for a lamp to read by. I really do enjoy living alone, I felt so content, my feet propped up on the one arm of the seat, my head against the other. After a while, I felt a quiet rumble in my tummy and remembered I had not eaten since lunch.  There was left over pasta in the fridge, so without turning on the kitchen light, I grabbed it and went to get a bowl. Being a procrastinator, the dishes were still in the dishwasher. I knew I should unload it, I had filled it earlier in the day, but this was not the rime. I would leave it till later or tomorrow. I heated the pasta in the microwave, threw on some parmesan cheese and dug in. Simply delicious.

I was nearly finished when I noticed dog hair sticking out from under the bottom of the bowl. “That’s weird” I said to myself “how did that get there?” (I have a dog that drops hair everywhere but still, I was puzzled.)

I am sorry, but It's not my fault.

I am sorry, but it’s not my fault.

Slowly a light flickered in the recesses of my blonde brain. I jumped up and checked the dishwasher. Sure enough… the soap lay undisturbed in the bottom. I had not pushed the button to actually wash the dishes. I realized I had used a dirty dish to eat from. Horror of all horrors… It must have been the dish I had placed on the floor the night before for the dog to lick clean. EWWWW… dog germs all in the bottom and now it was too late; I had already eaten my dinner… from the dogs bowl…

I will pray I don’t get sick and let this be a lesson about procrastination.

I am Shattered Pottery

He took the broken pieces of my life and put me back together.

Let me tell you the story from the beginning. It was the Sunday after my husband’s arrest.  I was clinging to my sanity by a single thread. I slipped into church and sat alone. I wished I was invisible.Mended with Gold I did not dare talk to anyone, the tears were balanced on the edge of my eyes, threatening to fall.

The Pastor spoke about the verse from – 2 Corinthians 4:7   “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.”

As I listened, I had a vision. I saw myself as a clay jar, sitting quietly on the edge of a cliff similar to the Grand Canyon. Suddenly, a very large boot kicked me hard. I flew off the cliff and fell down, down, down into the deep dark canyon. I landed hard and broke into a hundred pieces. brokenThe darkness overwhelmed me, and, as my tears fell, I sensed a light beside me. I turned toward the light and I saw Jesus pick up a broken piece of pottery and he began to wipe it clean. As he worked, he gently told me that he would put me back together one piece at a time. He told me it would take time. He asked me to be patient. He explained that he would be using gold to hold the pieces together.

In the weeks after the vision, I came to learn about Kintsugi. It is the Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold. The act of repairing beautiful and precious ceramics with pure gold demonstrates that something broken and skillfully fixed can become more beautiful and stronger than the original.

I am holding on to this vision. When darkness threatens to flood my soul once more, I close my eyes and I can see Jesus sitting beside me, healing yet another broken part of my life.

It has been over a year since I had that wonderful encounter and I feel that many of my broken places are back in place and are more beautiful than ever before. My life is richer and I have loving friends who lift me up when I fall down. My heart continues to heal and each day is a new opportunity. I am no longer afraid of my tomorrows. I take the gift of each new day and walk the road I am on. It is not the road I chose to follow, but I do believe it is the only road that will lead me to wholeness.

Post written as part of the weekly writing challenge: Backward.

Tangled in a Web of Manipulation

Today I feel a bit like this dragon fly. I sat on my deck and watched this lovely insect struggle.Caught in a web

It was enjoying the day, flitting around the garden as dragonflies do, when a nasty spider caught the red beauty in its web.

As I watched, the dragonfly became completely tangled. The spider watched from the edge, licking its lips.

waiting to devourI felt rather like the innocent dragonfly. I too have been caught in a web spun from lies and based on betrayal. I have written of this before and most of the time I enjoy my freedom and flit through my days quite happily.

Then I became ill.

I felt very alone during the long nights in the hospital room. When I came home, the phone calls from my ex-husband began in earnest. He told me of his concern for my well being. He told that once he was out of jail, he would take care of me. He told me how wonderful he is, how he has changed. He spun a web with strands of lies and promises. In my weakened and lonely state, I became caught in the web of his manipulating and contolling words.The calls came at least twice a day sometimes three or four times a day.hanging upside down

I took a couple of photos of the dragonfly, then I grasped the strands of web and placed the insect on the deck. It struggled and tried to fly but the strands of the web held it down.



I too struggled. Like the dragonfly, I needed a helping hand. I needed my friends to guide me out of the tangled web. Through talking it out, I came to realize the truth. I came to realize that I had to choose. I could remain in the web struggling or I could use my wings. I knew what I had to do. I had to choose freedom.

Finally the dragonfly flew a foot, then two and then it shook off the last of the silky strands and took to the air. It was free and did not look back.

Today I took flight.once more. I have learned that I must not look back. I have learned to consider whatever is good in my life and I have learned to keep my eyes off the bad. I do not want to dwell on the negative because those are the kind of thoughts that drag me down. I am able to see the promises he makes are all part of his sick and twisted mind. He continues to try and control me and, if I am not wary, I could fall for his promises and become tangled in his web once more. I have a choice: freedom or slavery to his perverted mind.

Like the dragonfly, I choose freedom. My wings are delicate. I do not want the edges to become ragged and torn. I know I must protect my new found wings if I want to keep on flying and enjoying my wonderful new life.wings

Am I Being Stalked?

I am sure it hunted me down, stalked me, waited for the opportune moment before the strike! Yesterday I was stung by a bee. Not once, but twice. the second sting coming hours after the first.Yellow Jacket


see the yellow pollen on his backside?

I know I always blame the bee, but it was actually a wasp. While bees are busy gathering pollen from the flowers in the garden, wasps are the predators. They feast on other insects, animals and me. I have heard that they feed insects, flies and even caterpillars to their young. Their bodies are sleeker and more streamlined for hunting for me down and attacking.

Wasps are the ones with the thin waistline, bees are the chubby hairy things. They do sting, but do not target humans.


Is this a bee or a wasp? (I can’t tell) or another kind of bug?

I visited a friend and, as I walked along her path to the front door, a wasp (or bee) jumped on and took a ride on my shoulder. While I innocently sat chatting, the nasty killer stung me on the neck. I swiped at it, it fell to the floor where it met its demise.

Later on in the evening, after sitting on the deck and throwing the ball to the dog, I made a phone call to a friend. I was busy chatting again when I felt something crawling under my shirt. My dear friend must have thought I was being murdered. I threw the phone down and ripped off my shirt screaming “don’t you dare touch me” “get off me” “Help!” then a loud thump as I dropped a book on its head. (Mind you, she was still on the other end of the line when I picked up the phone again.)… hmmm … Some friend, she should have called the police, what if I was being attacked by something larger than a wasp… It’s ok E. I forgive you.

Are bees innocent? Have they got a bad name for no reason?

Are bees innocent? Have they got a bad name for no reason?

Do you think it is possible that the first wasp was able to signal his tribe? is it possible that they have my number and I am being hunted? Stalked by the world of wasps?

“I will get revenge.. You killed my brother.
Me and my brothers will get you!!!” We will hunt you down, you cannot hide from us.”

American News Changed This Canadian Girl

I entered the teenage years in the sixties and I remember three particular news events, three days that impacted me and influenced my thinking about life and the world. I am a Canadian and all three events happened in the United States, yet I felt each one personally.

November 22, 1963, the day of President Kennedy assassination, rocked my world. I was a typical teenager, living in my own little sphere, going to school and listening to music.  john john salutesThe school principal announced that Kennedy had been shot and that the school would be closing. We went home early that day. I remember how scared I felt, somehow vulnerable. I remember thinking that if a president could be killed, was I safe? Were any of us safe? My world expanded that day in November. I became aware of politics and crime and the evil influences that lurk among us. I watched the news with interest for the first time. I felt such compassion for his children. Who could ever forget Little John, John saluting his father’s coffin? We all cried with him.


Anchorage Alaska

The following spring, on Good Friday, there was a massive earthquake in Alaska. It seemed that the earth opened up and tried to swallow parts of the city. I lived in British Columbia and we were all told to stay away from the water because a tidal wave was coming. For a few hours we waited, our ears tuned to the news. I remember trying to imagine what a wall of water would look like. I did not see the rise of the water, but a town not too far away, Port Alberni, sustained a lot of damage, and lives were lost.  This was the first natural disaster that touched me. This event opened my eyes to the power of nature. I learned that this earth we call home is fragile and volatile. I learned that disasters in one country have a global effect.

The third event that affected my thinking was the Apollo 11 mission to the moon. Such an incredible event, watched around the world as the Eagle landed softly. life-lunar-landingThe next day, Neil Armstrong stepped out of the lunar module and spoke the now famous words “That’s one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.” The universe opened up for me that day. The vastness of space seemed incredible to this small town teenager. I felt tiny and yet part of something cosmic.

Each of the three events broadened my thinking. My world grew larger and I became part of the global interconnection we all feel. I know I became a global citizen during that time.

The war in Vietnam escalated while I was a teenager. The protests and marches of the sixties were more significant to me because my awareness of the world had expanded. It is important that we all understand that a famine in Somalia is a world problem, that a Tsunami in Japan, an earthquake in Haiti or a war in Afghanistan or Vietnam affect people wherever they live, or at least they should. We are all part of a global community and we need to step in and help when the need arises.

I believe that we all have events that influenced and shaped us and possibly changed our outlook of the world. The tragedy of 911 was another such event. I feel we are also influenced by the music we listen to. I spent a lot of time listening to folk songs, Pete Seeger, Peter Paul and Mary and Bob Dylan. What do you remember? What influenced your thinking?

(images provided by Google images)

This post is part of the Weekly Writing Challenge: I Remember, Other Posts in the challenge are:

Weekly Photo Challenge: Foreshadow

I Will Listen to the Signs Next Time.

The ominous sunset was a sign, a foreshadow of doom. But I had heard that old adage: ‘Red sky at night, a sailor’s delight” so I took a few photos and went to bed with a smile. Would it matter that I was on a road trip and not a cruise?

Time would tell…
ominous sunset

Our chosen route that day was the back roads from Likely to Barkerville.The Gold Rush Route over the mountain and through the pass.

In the cute little town of Likely, we crossed a river and found a strange sight: there in the middle of the rushing water… a stop sign.. curious indeed. Foreshadow maybe?

is this a sign? I mean, a warning? A foreshadow of trouble ahead?

We picked up a couple of things at a small store near the gas station. There on a bulletin board, my eyes fell on a little notice “road to Barkerville closed”. I asked an old guy sitting in a rocking chair about the sign. “Oh, thats an old sign, from last winter, it’s always closed in the winter. Probably forget to take it down.” What a relief.

A snake crossed my path as I walked to the car. I thought I heard it chuckle.

Hee Hee hee.. sucker..

Hee Hee hee.. sucker..

The sign just out of town did not worry me, “we are on an adventure” I laughed at the sign.

Wilderness road

The tree across the road did not worry me either and we easily moved it to the side.

The tree across the road did not worry me either and we easily moved it to the side.

Have you ever seen those signs; “Watch for Falling Rock?”  Well, there was no sign that day, just the fallen rock.  It was starting to get creepy. Was this a sign, a warning? a foreshadowing?rocks on road

Then the rain started. The road turned into a muddy, pothole filled mess.

The road was muddy and the sky grew dark.

The road was muddy and the sky grew dark.

We drove for an hour through the rain. No visible mountains, no other traffic, not one car. in fact, not another sign of life anywhere. I felt we were alone in the world. Even the birds were no where to be seen..

Just after the rain stopped, a mudslide stopped us. There was a tree sitting in the middle of the road. Not scary, but it did however get my attention. Another foreshadow of what was to come? Naw, this is the worst it can get.. right?

No problem, we squeezed past the tree on the narrow dirt road.

No problem, we squeezed past the tree on the narrow dirt road.

We were too far along to turn back now, only twenty five kilometers to Barkerville, I was releived and relaxed, threw some lively tunes on the radio and started singing along.

I had my eyes closed when he hit the brakes. I bolted upright, my eyes flew open. What was the matter?

The road was gone, washed down the mountain into the canyon far below!

where is the road

Half the road washed into the canyon, was this other half safe?

Safely past the washed out road, more trouble, bigger trouble.

Road block

The hard part was driving around the cement roadblock. The choices: drive on the mountain or the embankment.

I refused to stay in the car while he inched his way over the broken road, on the edge off the embankment. I stood by and watched.

It is funny the things that run through your mind as you watch a scene like this, off in the middle of the mountains, not a soul around….In the middle of worrying about him, I thought.. “Oh no.. What about me?” I knew at that moment I should have grabbed my survival kit, I should have grabbed some water and some snacks. and my phone! All I could think about was me. I thought, if he goes over,  I have to walk twenty or so kiloneters alone in these mountains. AND it is already getting late, it will be dark before I make it out.

“I NEED A FLASHLIGHT!!….  I screamed. but he didn’t hear me. I held my breath and prayed.

The good news is: he made it, I jumped back in the car just in time to see my reward for a harrowing day. Next time I see a foreshadow, a warning, I will pay attention…. maybe.

The hard part was driving around the cement roadblock. The choices: drive on the mountain  or the embankment.

Are You Stuck Behind a Wall?

Heartbreak and pain are good teachers.

It has been over a year since my world exploded. The trauma set me adrift in a storm, I was tossed about in a whirlwind of emotion and pain.  Even though I had done nothing wrong, I felt like I had failed at life.

Once the raw pain subsided, I was left with a dull ache in my heart and a lot of broken pieces. Looking back at that first few weeks, I know I was scared. My carefully planned future dissolved. Self-pity overwhelmed me. I did not know how to go on. I cried out to all who would listen:

“Poor me”  “Why me?” “It’s not fair”.

Unforgiveness became a stumbling block. I wanted revenge. I was tripping over the bricks of anger, shame and worry that had fallen on my path. wall

If I left the bricks on the road, they would pile up and become a wall blocking my way. I did not want to get stuck and be unable to move forward in life. I did not want to wallow in sorrow, bitterness and depression. I did not want to harden my heart.

I saw that wall starting to form. The way seemed dark and forboding.

I saw that wall starting to form. The way seemed dark and foreboding.

In the midst of my moaning, I heard that “still small voice”.

While I was still crying out in despair, I came to realize that I had a choice. I could continue to build a wall with bricks of unforgiveness and anger or I could build a bridge to a new future.

I chose to start working on a bridge. With much prayer, I started removing the bricks from my path The first step, for me was forgiveness. 

bridge of courageIt is not easy to forgive when the pain is deep. It is not easy to forgive someone who has hurt so many people.

I learned that forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling. By forgiving, I was not condoning his actions; it simply meant I would no longer seek restitution. I released the debt owed to me. I set myself free to take the next step toward my future.

It took courage to let go of the past and embrace a new road. Wallowing in the pit was easy but I am blessed to have friends who offered me their hand and helped me climb out of the pit.  I am blessed with friends who are walking the road with me and praying with me. I now have a new hope and lots of love.

My prayer is for any of you who find yourself stuck behind a wall of negative emotions. I pray you will find release with forgiveness as the key to breaking down the wall.

I have found that unforgiveness is the mortar that holds the bricks of anger and resentment together. It is time to free yourself. It is time to forgive and move into your destiny, your future.

Jeremiah 29:11

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Can I Have a Little Wisdom with that?

Today I am celebrating a milestone birthday.. This past year has been a year of discovery, of growth and learning. I managed to get through all my earlier years, mysteriously oblivious to many truths. This past year, truth blind-sided me, then sent me on a journey of searching for Lily. I am happy to declare that I am brand new, re-invented, unmasked and ready to embrace this coming year with enthusiasm and joy.heronssunset





I celebrated early with friends, both at lunch yesterday, then watching the sunset. Today I am continuing the celebration. My friends and family are wonderful people. My friend and writing coach gave me beautiful roses to celebrate and she picked my favorite colour. Patti, you are the best. ( her blog is t )

Thank you for the beautiful roses Patti

Thank you for the beautiful roses Patti

Speaking of joy and fun, I wanted to have a birthday laugh this morning as I enjoyed my morning coffee. I discovered that a lot of people (many of them unknown) have had some funny things to say about birthdays and age. These are a few that gave me a giggle

I’m sixty years of age.  That’s 16 Celsius.  ~George Carlin, Brain Droppings, 1997. (And since I live in Canada, I muct be around 16 years old now. Another great advantage to being a Canadian)

The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age. ~Lucille Ball

It’s sad to grow old, but nice to ripen. – By Brigitte Bardot  

A  birthday is just the first day of another 365-day journey around the sun.  Enjoy the trip.~Author Unknown 

 Men are like wine. Some turn to vinegar, but the best improve with age.   C. Joad  (I recommend getting rid of the vinegar and sticking to the wine, I know I did)

Wisdom doesn’t necessarily come with age. Sometimes age just shows up all by itself. – By Tom Wilson

They say that age is all in your mind. The trick is keeping it from creeping down into your body. – By Unknown Author

Birthdays are nature’s way of telling us to eat more cake. – Unknown Author 

Who is that behind the masks?


Am I still a Lily? or is there some other flower under my masks?

I did something bold and really out of character last night.

Before I tell you what, let me fill you in. You see, I am on a mission. I am on a journey of self-discovery. I am searching for Lily… I need to find Lily under the debris of a broken marriage and betrayal.

I wore many masks to disguise the shy, scared person who searched for approval from everyone.

Suddenly my world turned upside down and many of the masks I wore came off. I retired, so can no longer hide behind the role I played at work. My marriage ended suddenly but I gave up the wife mask gladly. My daughter and grandson moved out to pursue their own lives leaving me living alone. I still wear the mom mask, but the role of mother and grandmother is different when your children leave home and become your best friend.  I also found myself led to find a new church home, and with leaving, I gave back the masks that identified the many roles I played.

I wanted to look into the mirror but I was afraid there would be a stranger staring back at me. Did I lose myself along the way? Who is this stranger that has risen from the ashes?

With an unmasked face, I have ventured into a world of discovery. I took art lessons. (Perhaps there is an artist mask waiting for me.)

Am I a photographer? I like wearing that mask.

Am I a photographer? I like wearing that mask.

I joined a photography club to improve my skills hoping I look good in that gorgeous mask.

Drama on the lake, the colours match the Sangria in my glass.

Drama on the lake, the colours match the Sangria in my glass.

I found two great social groups (We meet monthly for fun filled evenings socializing and doing crazy stuff like mini golf, murder mysteries or wine tours). I get together with new friends and old, often in the hot tub eating Jell-O or sitting on the dock sipping sangria and watching the sun set. (I love my friend mask)

I also belong to a writing group. (My writing coach and mentor has her own blog at,  I recommend you have a look, you will be glad you did) Do I look OK in this writers mask?

My newest venture is Toastmasters. I went to my first meeting last night and discovered a wonderful group of people who are striving to become better at verbal communication. I have always struggled speaking in front of a group. I know what I want to say but when I stand up my mind blanks out and my tongue hangs limp. My vocal chords tighten and all that comes out are the soft murmurs like” um” or “ah”. In the past I have avoided the speaker mask. Perhaps the one I tried before didn’t fit so I am giving Toastmaster a try.

They tell me they will give me “the opportunity to find my voice while learning to tell my story with confidence” in a “positive and supportive atmosphere in a community of learners.”

Toastmasters… I take up your challenge and look forward to wearing the “speaker” mask with pride.

Toastmasters International

Toastmasters International (Photo credit: Wikipedia)