Versatile Blogger Award 2

By Pandora Poikilos

The last time I was awarded the Versatile Blogger Award, I had just come home from my VP Shunt surgery. The blog-sphere still seemed very new and I was thrilled to bits. Someone out there thought my blog was worth giving an award too.

Now, it's been seven months after my surgery, 11 months of meeting some very blog-a-licious people and I've got my second Versatile Blogger Award. I'm ecstatic! Who was this generous soul who made my day? It's Roy Durham. Thank you Roy!

I first met Roy when he started the Daisy Lemmas Riff, a group of bloggers coming together to continue a story. Different time zones, different backgrounds, different writing styles and still it bloomed.

What good is it to receive such joy and not share it, I'm selecting seven blogs (for now, there's just so many awesome blogs) to receive the Versatile Blogger Award too.

1. The lady with a wee voice but a very big heart voicing out topics that lack much needed attention - Life - Inspired By The Wee Man
2. The advice columnist that offers a much needed laugh and an even more clearer perspective with a tinge of sarcasm - Sonia Rumzi
3. Technology never felt so simple or rather you don't feel so stupid when reading humorous web anecdotes - HumorTech Blog
4. The ever unfolding love story filled with little specks of empathy and even more hope and lined with anticipation of better days to come - Dot
5. Her posts are centred on all things ... life. From random thoughts to parenthood and more, this is one writer you'll keep going back to for more - Sweepy Jean Explores The Webby World
6. If you ever feel a little short on faith, hope and love ... then this is one blog stop you must make. - Melinda Todd
7. The blog that teaches you about fighting with food, literally and it comes filled with loads of recipes for healthy, sensible food - Searching for Sustenance

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A Teaspoon of Self Help From Paula Renaye

For those of you who follow the blog on a regular basis, you'll know that Wednesdays are one of my busiest days with Blog-A-Licious Wednesdays (750 blogs and counting, by the way).

So, while I go blog-hopping and meeting more great bloggers, here's to another blog-a-licious treat. Starting this Wednesday, 13 April Paula Renaye will be a guest blogger at Peace from Pieces.

Who is Paula Renaye? She is a certified professional coach, motivational speaker, regression hypnosis practitioner, award-winning author and consultant.

Her passion is helping people face reality in order to reclaim their own power and get what they really want. She provides individual and group coaching sessions and regression hypnosis by appointment.

Get to know more of Paula from her site, Hardline Self Help.

Welcome Paula and wishes for a great week to everyone!

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Goodnight

By Rich Barnes

It is time for bed... I need to get on my knees and thank the Lord above for another day. I humbly thank Him for being such a big part of my life and walking with me on my journey of self-exploration.

As I put my head on my pillow for another night's slumber, I ask myself... Did I do everything I could today, to make this day the best one yet?

Did I react to every opportunity to do a good deed, as to let someone go in traffic while others lay on their horn in disbelief that I should let the person take their left turn in front of me?

Did I act ethically in every aspect of life today? Did I help another human being with their taxing issue and put them in a better place?

Did I hold the door for the old man that was behind me and that had two boxes in his arms, right after the door was not held for me and literally slammed on my face?

Did I smile at the woman that cut me in line to get a carriage in the grocery store, who just spilled her pocketbook while looking for a pen to cross off the broccoli she just put in her carriage off of her list?

Did I offer to help her pick up her belongings or did fear of helping someone riddle my body? No, I helped her, because fear stops people right in their tracks and lives in people's minds... I do not let fear live in me.

Did I kiss my daughters goodnight and was I the best Daddy I can be to my children?

Ok, I think I can go to bed now because I answered, "yes" to all of my questions.

Goodnight!

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When I Am Old

Seventeenth Century Nun's Prayer
Author Unknown

Lord, You know better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old.

Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.

Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.

Make me thoughtful, but not moody. Helpful, but not bossy.

With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but You know, Lord, I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the endless recital of details; give me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.

I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening sureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally, I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint - some of them are so hard to live with. But a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.

Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And give me, Lord, the grace to tell them so. Amen

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Strength Of A Man

By Betty King

Twisted, nude and soaking wet on the floor of the shower stall I sat. "Bill," I hollered, "Bill," I screamed!

Bill is hard hearing mind you, thus the reason for my bellowing.

"Yes," he said on hearing my scream. "What'd you want, Oh my goodness!" he exclaimed upon arriving in the bathroom and seeing my predicament. "Here let me get you up!"

"Bill you can't lift me."

"Yes I can!"

I began to laugh.

"Now here, let me get a hold of you."

Picture this, a 'well' past middle age woman, 'well' past her prime weight of 120 pounds, weakened from the effects of Multiple Sclerosis, sitting twisted on the floor of a small shower stall. It was not a pretty sight even with the 'largest' stretch of the imagination! The shower stall had sliding glass doors, which limited his access to the whole of my generous physique. With my weakened legs there was no way I could untwist myself and stand upright. I was stuck! He was frantic; I was calm.

"You can't get to me, even if you could, you couldn't lift me, just see if you can help me on my knees" I said.

"Ok, Ok," he said nervously.

Picture this if you can, a whale still wet from the ocean, dumped out on a newly waxed rowboat. Those uncooperative legs of mine could not be situated so as to get me on my knees, not on that wet floor, no matter how hard the both of us tried. He placed a towel under my legs and it too only slid out from under me. So here I was slip, sliding and slithering around, not exactly looking like a desirable mermaid. You get the picture?

"Come on, let me get a hold of you and get you up from there," he still was not going to give up, no matter the extreme impossibility of the situation. By this time though, the water logged, nautical, wayfaring sea monster that I was, began to dry out and become somewhat less slippery. My husband though was no less frantic in his pursuit to get his disabled wife out of these circumstances.

"Here put that towel down again and see if I can't crawl out of here," I instructed. My position and the whole picture of me kept playing over in my mind and the more it ran the funnier it got. I started giggling - laughing and my husband became nervously irritated. Here I was in all my generous glory slithering out of the shower stall, he trying to be my caregiver, becoming more irritated that I was not accepting his need to help.

My laughter was becoming hysterical. His frustration became aggravation and increased with intensity. The more upset he became the more I laughed, until finally after much effort - I was somehow out, on my feet and in his arms.

We all deal with our disabilities in different ways. He became annoyed at himself for his inability to help me and interpreted my laughter as making light of the situation. I on the other hand was flustered with my loss of capabilities; only my pride had been injured. I could cry or laugh at myself. With his arms around me I explained, "Honey if I don't laugh and see the comedy in this, I will cry, so I choose to laugh; don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," he soothingly reassured me, "I just worry about you, you could have hurt yourself really bad."

"I know, I know, but I'm all right. You must admit I was a funny sight."

It takes a special man to deal with the disabilities of the woman with whom he lives and loves. When he sees the disease take her from a vibrant, young, attractive female to an aging woman, fighting for whatever dignity she can pull from the vice-like grip of such a devastating disease.

It takes a strong man in character though not necessarily in strength. It takes a love that lies deeper than what is seen with the eyes. It takes gentleness and kindheartedness, patience and a man sure of his own masculinity.

It takes effort and labor with his hands, his head and his heart. It takes an extraordinary man, a superior breed not often found; their care giving comes from the heart and soul. They stay for the duration no matter the outcome.

"I love you," I told him.

"I love you too," he assured me.

In his arms I feel his strength when I am weak. There are moments I cry in pain or frustration and he holds me and I am renewed by his devotion. There are days I laugh and am like a young girl again and I see that far away look in his eyes.

Sometimes I struggle like in the shower and he gets irritated, concerned for my safety and I look in his heart and I see tears fall. Sometimes I laugh to keep from crying. Sometimes we laugh together to keep from crying and when we do; we are both strengthened for yet another day.

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