Cricket Walker

We went to town to look at a new laptop. Instead, we fell head over heels in love with Taylor and knew instantly we would do anything within our power to adopt her, and take her home with us.

When the lady in charge of adoptions was interviewing me, I asked if she believed that animals rescue people every bit as much as people rescue animals. She understood . . .

Taylor lost no time making it clear that she is queen of this castle.

“Lady? Are you gonna be pointing that thing at me often?”

Welcome home Taylor!

In a time when most the world seems a little nuts these days, yeah I am still very proud to be an American, maybe more now than ever.

No, I am not hiding my head in the sand. I see the headlines about our nation’s economy and the current unemployment rate, but when I look at countries where so many people live a life surrounded in hunger, sickness, and war, I feel so very blessed.

As we walked through the C-5 (not shown) the look on the kid’s face was one of pure fascination. I was so incredibly impressed by the pilot (female) who spent time talking to Haley about what she does, how she got there, and above all for offering encouragement.

That same care and patience was shown in every flight crew member we spoke with at the 2009 Randolph Air Show.

The air show was a reminder of who we are as people, as a nation.

The strength of our country . . .

Our history . . .

When the F-22 Raptor flew overhead (not shown) the feeling inside of me was almost overwhelming. I looked over at the kid and asked if she felt it too. She told me it made her feel very proud.

Yeah, me too kid . . .

For the last few years, the kid and I have been extremely lazy about the holidays, especially when it came to Christmas.

The whole thought of decorating seemed like way too much effort, and shopping for Christmas presents? Heck we figured it was easier to go shopping together and buy what we actually wanted. How sad is that?

This year, we are thinking about doing it right with Christmas lights and everything. Does that have to include cooking? Or, can we do the IHOP thing again? Haley is getting into the holiday spirit a little too early for my taste and is already decorating her room. I’m thinking I would like to survive Halloween first! (grin)

Now for my letter to Santa . . .

Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas . . .

Well, I think I will keep that just between me and Santa.

If you feel like giving up right now.

If you think life is tough . . .

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched this video. It is such an inspiration to remind us that WE have the power to choose within ourselves “to get back up”.

Thank you Nick Vujicic for the lives you have touched . . .

Love seeing the rain breathe life into the world around me!

He’s thinking about landing!

Oh yeah! Fresh bloom just waiting for him!

Hmmmm… No bloom yet?

Even busy bees take a break now and then! (smiles)

Yeah, go ahead and bring on the rain!

Most folks know that I have a serious addiction errrr… love for coffee, especially good coffee. A discussion over at the V7N led me on a search for a Chambord (The Original French Press) by Bodum.

It was supposed to be as simple as heading over to a nearby Target, pick up the coffee maker, then come home and enjoy the best cup of coffee I have ever had. Life just has a way of taking a few extra turns, and I have a habit of overcomplicating things now and then.

Yup! I admit it, so hush!

Target was all out of the exact model (8 cups) that I wanted (which took about 45 minutes and two store associates to verify) and I was not about to start working my way through every Target around San Antonio, but my all time favorite store (World Market) jumped in and saved the day. They had one just sitting there waiting for me to plunk down my $39 bucks so I could find out if this thing is as good as everyone says.

That was when I realized my coffee grinder had no settings to choose a coarser grind and I didn’t trust my insticts on this one, so back to Target I went, in search of the perfect coffee grinder, which of course led to me deciding to try a new coffee and a new sugar free coffee syrup and so on and so on . . .

Was it worth it? Oh heck yeah!

I have a feeling this is how coffee is made in heaven.

She is back from summer vacation and hamming it up for the camera!

A quick run out to the river and she is sure to ditch her shoes . . .

and play in the water . . .

Gosh, it is so good to have her back home again!

Watching the sun go down on fairy tale dreams,
the warm breeze caressing my face and drying my tears,
bringing blessed acceptance and closure to what is,
and what is not to be . . .

Walking through the neighborhood
Seeing the homes with well kept yards
Dogs barking, children playing and laughing
Curiously detached yet hearing people talking
Staring at the couples holding hands
Witnessing all this without emotion
For you are not part of it, you are alone,
watching the world, from the outside in

Welcoming the numbness for now
You begin to run, blurring away their faces
Focus on the sound, just the sound
The sound of your feet hitting the sidewalk
Breathe in, breathe out
Listen to your heart pounding
Don’t think, just keep running
Keep running til it all goes away

Lungs heaving, you dare not stop
You dare not allow the feelings to come
For this time they will utterly destroy you

Raising your face to the sky, begging for peace
Gently the breeze reaches out and caresses your face
Tearing away the only thread left holding you together
For the breeze carries thoughts, feeling, and passion.

The tears come slowly at first
Building to gut wrenching sobs
Your mind screaming at your foolish dreams
Berating you for putting your heart out there
You knew better than to hope
To hope for even a moment . . .

For you are not part of it, you are alone,
watching the world, from the outside in.

It isn’t often that I get involved in the political discussions within the online community that I run. Today though, one of the conversations set off a strong feeling of anger inside of me. It took everything I had not to ask people what in the hell was wrong with them.

They were ranting about homeless people, telling the stories we have all heard before, about some homeless guy scamming them out of a few bucks and how the homeless don’t really want to work.

I finally responded, but with my heart, not anger . . .

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It was a stunningly beautiful morning in downtown San Antonio, the kind of day that hopes and dreams seem to be within reach and life just feels good.

Casually strolling through the park, drinking my coffee, and waiting for the stores to begin opening, I passed by a lady sitting on a bench without much thought.

Her belongings surrounding her, likely all she had left in the world.

I think maybe homeless people have become nearly invisible to many. I think they had become so to me. I had simply stopped seeing them.

Something made me look back . . .

The look in her eyes nearly dropped me to my knees, the look of utter despair. She wasn’t looking at anyone; she was not asking for help. It was clear that she had simply given up.

She did not have a single hope left . . .

As I continued to walk, her face haunted my thoughts.

There but for the grace of God go I . . .

I had turned around and walked back to her before realizing I had taken a single step. I handed her a few bills, telling her I knew it wasn’t much, but maybe it would help today.

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes and thanked me quietly.

I have looked for her several times since, wondering what happened to her, if she found hope, where she has gone.

Don’t tell me the stories of the panhandlers refusing to work.

Don’t tell me about the guy you gave twenty bucks to and he walked into a bar and drank it up. I don’t want to hear it. I truly don’t care because I believe they are the exception.

The fact is, there are people out there just like you and I, but for whatever reason they lost hope. Women, children and families struggling just to find a place that will allow them to use a restroom today, and we just look away . . .

I don’t claim to know the answer, but I do know this . . .

There but for the grace of God go I.

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A few minutes later, I followed up with this response to the conversation . . .

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For what it is worth, San Antonio is taking a stand to make a difference in our community. The place is appropriately called “Haven For Hope”. They will be going beyond providing a safe place to sleep. They will be transitioning people back to independence. It will be open by fall.

Treating the root causes of homelessness with a wide array of social services in a single and central location resulted in a 60% success rate (defined as a year of totally self-sufficient living). Campuses in San Diego, Miami, Phoenix and St. Louis were among some of the operations reviewed and analyzed to develop a set of operational best practices. Critical campus services include education, job training, day care, substance abuse treatment, medical care, identification recovery, case management, animal care services, hygiene, etc. www.havenforhope.org

I have been wanting to visit the Bussey’s Flea Market in Schertz, (about a 15 minute drive from here) for quite some time now.

It was a conflicting desire for me. Although I knew I desperately wanted to explore all the treasures there, I also know I am not a fan of large, noisy crowds of people.

This time my desire to explore won the battle.

Initially, it was no surprise that I found myself a bit irritated when even parking was a major event, let alone actually making it to the area where all the booths are. The flea market itself is absolutely HUGE! We wandered aimlessly for a bit.

I bought some bath salts that caught my eye, but was still thinking that this place was way more trouble than it was worth.

I stayed and kept my thoughts to myself though, knowing it was not a huge sacrifice for me to make when Haley and her boyfriend were enjoying themselves so much.

Although I brought my camera, I wasn’t inclined to photograph anything. I never even took the cap off the lens.

I was hot and very close to getting a bit cranky with it all, when a few feet ahead of me I saw it . . .

The booth was smaller than the others, and instead of someone standing at the front trying to draw people in, an older Native American man sat quietly at the back, just watching the people.

All of the chaos around me, including the constant noise and chatter, simply disappeared. He had the most incredibly peaceful look on his face that I couldn’t help being drawn further in.

I wanted to see the stones and crystals. I want to touch them, to feel them. As my fingers reached out to a tiny medicine bag in curiosity, I wondered if everyone sensed this feeling here within the booth.

I looked around me and was almost surprised that nothing had changed. The hustle bustle of everyone talking loudly, crying babies, and people shoving through the crowd was still there.

I turned back to the booth and realized that Haley sensed it too. It was clear in the pure serenity glowing on her face. She had picked a simple pendent and handed it to the man.

He was cleansing and blessing it for her. The smell of the burning sage (I think?) was pleasant to me and felt very spiritual. She stood there almost reverently as she waited for him, very much in the moment.

I smiled . . .

Once a very long time ago, a lifetime ago, I wandered into a huge corn field. I am not sure what I was looking for, but I found myself walking deeper and deeper into the field, without conscience thought.

It wasn’t long before I found myself completely lost, disoriented, and afraid in the middle of the field. The sun was going down. Darkness was nearly upon me. I couldn’t see over the rows. There was no sense of beginning or end. I was certain that I would never find my way out. 

At the very moment that I felt myself nearly overwhelmed with panic, I realized how foolish I was being. All I needed to do was walk straight ahead. The rows of corn stalks would guide me out.

I had no clue if it was going to take me a few minutes or a few hours, but it wasn’t important anymore. Eventually, in the full moon, I would be able to see clearly again, or at least enough to know where I was, enough to find my way back, back to where I belonged.

Over time, I finally came to find comfort in those fields.

When I needed peace, when I needed to belong, I searched for the fields. It did not matter if they were wide open fields of golden wheat, or fields filled with rolling hills of wildflowers. They all brought me tranquility, a secret moment of joy that I could claim as my very own.

Most of all, I dreamed of losing myself in the middle of a field of Texas Bluebonnets, perhaps because they represented home to me, the place where I was so very sure I could return to. Maybe I wanted to believe in fairy tales again. I don’t honestly know.

Then once again, the darkness found me . . .

Again, I found myself completely lost, disoriented, and afraid in the middle of the field. Confusion overwhelmed because I knew in my heart that I had already overcome this moment. 

Why then was I so very lost?

I have since come to realize that the field is somewhere inside me. The bluebonnets are every time my kid smiles at me, or I hear her laughter.

It’s up to me to find that peace within me, no matter where I am. 

That does not mean that I don’t hope to someday be able to live in the country again, because I do. I still dream of a little place somewhere up in the Hill Country with wide open fields, fields with no dark corners.

But to find joy, I need look no further than the silly antics of the child that has spent far too much time in drama class this last semester.

I only have to look at the child that has learned not only to tolerate the camera, but who has learned to love it, to ham it up and love life.

Why? Because when I look at the pure and natural beauty of her, I can be so very proud to know that I had a part in who she is today . . .

Who she is inside . . .

A blessing in my life .

I love you Haley Britton Walker, and I am so very proud to be your mama. You are so stunningly beautiful, inside and out.

Thank you for being my kid, for being who you are . . .

Are we so hung up on knowing exactly what it is on the other side of the bridge that we fail to take a single step? Have we forgotten to simply enjoy the crossing? To marvel at the view from the bridge?
 

Do we need to know what is just beyond the shadows around the next curve? Does our fear keep us from our destination?
 

Are we so focused on the scene directly in front of us that we cease to see the beauty across the river, tickling the very edge of our sight?
 

When we allow the world to go very still around us, close our eyes and feel the gentle breeze, perhaps that is when we are able to hear the voice within us, the voice giving us the sense of peace we all crave.